His curt tone had the desired effect and, before she could go off into another disaster scenario, Jacob had picked up the phone at the other end of the line. ‘Hello?’
‘Jacob, it’s Josie Peterson. I got your message.’ She abandoned pleasantries. ‘Please tell me everyone is OK.’
‘Sure they are. I didn’t mean to worry you, Josie.’
She clutched her chest and sent Kent a smile. He shook his head, but his lips twitched. ‘That’s good news. Is your mum recovering?’
‘Yes, she is. Look, Josie, I didn’t know if I should call you or not, it’s just...’
‘Yes?’
‘Marty and Frank have had a team of surveyors in at Geraldine’s Gardens.’
She blinked. They had? She searched her mind for a plausible reason. Maybe there was some kind of mine subsidence in the area or... Her mind went blank.
‘They’ve also had in a fancy property developer from the city.’
Her jaw dropped. She could feel Kent angle in on that straight away, so she hauled it back up. ‘Uh-huh.’ She couldn’t manage much more for the moment.
‘I don’t know what they’re up to, but I don’t like it. I think you should come home and find out what’s going on.’
So did she. ‘I’ll leave this afternoon.’
‘Good.’
‘Thanks for letting me know, Jacob.’
‘It’s the least I could do after everything you’ve done for Mum. If there’s anything else we can do...’
‘Thank you, but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.’
Marty and Frank were her brothers. There’d be a perfectly logical explanation.
But then again...
You can’t trust them. Kent’s accusation pounded through her.
‘Problem?’
After what he’d said about her and her brothers she had no intention of confiding in him. Not that he’d want her to, of course. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’ She pressed her hands tightly together. ‘Though I’m afraid I have to cut my holiday short.’
‘I heard.’
She swallowed. ‘I guess it’s only by three days.’
She wanted him to say something, anything. He shrugged and turned away. With a heart that flapped like a floundering fish, Josie stepped around him and left.
She was ready to leave in under two hours. That was, her bags were packed and she’d driven into Martin’s Gully to say goodbye to Clancy and Liz. And Bridget. Bridget had been busy on tennis-club business but Liz had promised to pass on Josie’s goodbyes.
They’d made her promise to ring and tell them she’d arrived home safely. They’d made her promise to return for a visit. Her heart ached, but she’d smiled brightly and promised on both counts.
Now all that was left was to take her bags out to the car, hand the cabin key back to Kent and hug Molly goodbye.
She didn’t want to do any of those things. She wanted to unfold the sofa bed and dive beneath its covers. She didn’t. If Jacob had spotted surveyors and property developers at Geraldine’s Gardens then so had the rest of Buchanan’s Point. And those who hadn’t would’ve been filled in by those who had. Speculation would be rife. Not that she could blame them for that. Her own mind seethed with it too.
What on earth were Marty and Frank up to?
A property developer? She gulped. The townsfolk of Buchanan’s Point wouldn’t want their seaside village turned into the latest tourist destination, with all its associated high-rises and traffic. They were happy just to meet the passing trade from the nearby hotspots.
At least the deeds to Geraldine’s Gardens were in her name, so Marty and Frank couldn’t sell it out from under her. And they couldn’t force her to sign anything against her will either.
Molly whined and pressed against her legs. Josie dropped to her knees and buried her face in Molly’s fur. ‘At least you’ll miss me,’ she whispered. From the moment Josie had hauled out her suitcases, Molly had done her level best to get underfoot. Josie was grateful to her for it.
But she couldn’t delay any longer. Not if she wanted to be home before dark.
Who cared about the dark?
Heaving a sigh, she pushed herself upright and shuffled over to her bags. She heaved them up then, dragging her feet, teetered to the door and dumped them outside. Kent jumped up from his seat at the end of the veranda.
How long had he been there? Josie gulped and gasped and coughed and found it near impossible to breathe. ‘I, umm...’
He kind of half scowled, his nose curling up at one corner. He scuffed the toe of a work boot in a patch of dirt. ‘Thought you might need a hand with your bags.’
Great. Was he escorting her off the premises? She bet he had his cleaning equipment out before her car reached the end of the driveway. She bet he couldn’t wait to erase all evidence of her stay here. After her rant at him on Monday, she didn’t much blame him. If she hadn’t attacked him like some shrill fishwife then this goodbye scene might be a whole lot—
She slammed a halt to that thought.
Still, it didn’t seem right for things to end like this.
‘Thank you. I’d appreciate that.’ She didn’t smile. She couldn’t. Not that it mattered. Kent didn’t so much as glance at her as he seized both bags and strode off towards her car. Trademark Kent—no backward glances.
His lean denim-encased legs ate up the distance. She wished she could freeze-frame time and drink in her fill. Not just of him, but of Eagle Reach too. She wanted to feast her eyes on Eagle Reach, and Molly, but mostly on him. She wanted to feast her eyes on him, unimpeded, and fix him in her mind forever.
He’s already there.
She spun away and stumbled back into the cabin, tripping over Molly in the process. ‘Sorry, girl.’ She patted Molly’s head, drawing comfort from her warmth. She scanned the single room one final time. Her eyes stung. Resolutely ignoring them, she swung her handbag over her shoulder, shoved the key to the cabin in her pocket and picked up her box of groceries.
‘C’mon, Molly.’ She tried to do a Kent—no backward glances—but she couldn’t quite manage it. She glanced longingly around the room once more before she shut the door behind her.
Kent’s shadow fell across her as she turned away from the cabin. She stopped and stared at his chest and wished his physical body would follow, wrap around her completely. For one heart-stopping moment she thought it would, but he’d only moved in to take the box from her arms.
Swallowing, she headed for her car. He kept easy pace beside her. The scent of wood and smoke and man swirled around her. She wanted it to last forever.
It lasted until they reached her hatchback.
She didn’t even try to avert her gaze when he bent down and placed the box on the back seat. He straightened and Molly started to bark and whine, circling around Josie’s legs, pressing against them. It jolted her out of herself. Dropping to her knees, she hugged her, hard. Then drew back to scratch her ears. ‘I’m going to miss you.’ Molly licked her and tried to climb into her lap. Josie shot to her feet before she disgraced herself and began to cry.
Kent’s eyes had darkened to that peculiar shade of navy. She could’ve groaned at the way it contrasted against the chambray of his shirt. She fished out the key from the pocket of her jeans and dropped it into his hand. ‘Thank you.’
He stared at the key for a moment then his fingers closed round it, forming a fist. ‘You’re welcome.’
She held her breath and prayed he’d sweep her up in his arms and kiss her until her blood sang. Hot, moist killer-kisses. She wasn’t stupid enough to dream of a happy-ever-after. She just wanted a big, smoochy, full-body slam.
Wasn’t going to happen. But her breath hitched at the thought all the same.
She jolted back to reality when he handed her a business card, his gaze not quite meeting hers. She glanced down at the line drawing of a quaint cottage on the front of the card overlaid with the name: The Station Café.
‘“Drive. Revive. Survive.”’ He quoted a popular driver safety campaign and stared at a point above her head. ‘You’ll like this place. They do great cake and coffee. It’s about halfway between here and Buchanan’s Point. A good place to break your journey.’
She nodded and tried for a light, ‘Doctor’s orders, huh?’ but it didn’t quite come off. How glad would he be to see the back of her, huh?
His jaw tightened for a moment. ‘Promise you’ll stop. It’s important not to overdo it.’
She tapped the card against her fingers and ordered herself not to cringe. ‘I will. Thanks.’
So, this was it?
She dropped her handbag on the passenger seat and closed the door, wiped suddenly damp palms down the front of her jeans. There was still time for Kent to sweep her up...
He strode around the car and opened the driver’s door for her and there was nothing for it but to follow him. Disappointment hit her so hard she felt she was wading through fast-drying concrete. Molly started up a long, mournful whine. Josie ducked into the car then got back out. ‘This is horrible,’ she blurted, motioning to Molly.
There was still time for a kiss. She’d settle for a solitary kiss with the car door between them. She’d—
‘I’ll look after her.’
Of course he would. She stared at the rigid set of his jaw and told herself to stop living in Cloud Cuckoo Land. It was just... ‘I’m sorry we had a falling-out.’ She reached up and kissed his cheek, breathed him in one last time. ‘Goodbye, Kent.’
This time when she ducked into the car she didn’t back out. He closed the door. She started the ignition. Without glancing at him, she wound down the window. He leaned in, brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. ‘Have a safe journey, Josie.’ Then he stepped away.
Josie gulped down the lump in her throat but another one replaced it. She nodded dumbly. When she set off down the drive, this time she didn’t look back.
* * *
Kent ignored the kick in his stomach as Josie manoeuvred her car down the gravel drive. His chest gave an even bigger kick but he ignored that too. He did lift a hand, though, when she turned out of his driveway and onto the road, but she didn’t wave back.
Or toot her horn.
Nothing.
Not that he deserved anything after the way he’d treated her since that ridiculous blow-up. Her sweet, fruity scent lingered around him. The touch of her lips still on his cheek. Bloody idiot to get up on his high horse like that and not come down until it was too damn late.
Too late for what?
Friends, he wanted to shout to the disbelieving voice in his head. They could’ve been friends.
What use did he have for friends?
He scowled. She was better off without him. And he was better off without her as a distraction. Tempting him with a life he’d promised never to return to.
He released Molly’s collar and she bolted down to the end of the drive, but Josie’s car had already disappeared. Molly whined then jumped up and down on the spot as if searching for one last glimpse of Josie. When that didn’t work she turned and gazed at him, her head low, and he suddenly understood where the term ‘hangdog’ came from.
He understood exactly how she felt too. ‘C’mon, Molly.’ He patted his thigh but she ignored him and slunk off to Josie’s cabin. He turned and headed back towards the house, then, with a bitten-off curse, swerved to followed her.
He found her laid across the doorway, head on paws and her big, liquid eyes downcast. ‘She misses you too, Moll.’
Molly’s tail didn’t give even the tiniest of thumps. Kent had an unaccountable urge to lie down beside her.
Don’t be such a bloody fool. He had cattle that needed attending to.
He didn’t leave, though. He didn’t lie down either. He pushed open Josie’s door and stared at the room behind it.
The cabin was spotless. Its blankness reproached him. Not a scrap of litter, no accidentally abandoned socks, not even the newspaper. Nothing of Josie remained except the tang of her scent in the air.
Molly barrelled straight into the room and climbed up onto the sofa as if that would somehow connect her to Josie. He didn’t have the heart to drag her off again. He sat down in the hard chair and pulled in great lungfuls of the sweet air.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
M
ARTY
AND
F
RANK
’
S
cars lined the circular drive when Josie finally turned in at the gates to Geraldine’s Gardens. Her heart didn’t lift at the sight of her home. The evening seemed grey, lacking colour, although light spilled from the house. As if expecting her, Marty and Frank burst out of the front door then came to startled halts.
At the same time.
Climbing out of her car, she felt herself moving through that quick-setting concrete again. Behind her a large van turned in at the drive, its headlights temporarily blinding her as it pulled in behind her hatchback.
Marty and Frank skulked on the veranda, shoulders slightly hunched. Neither came forward, so Josie found herself greeting the man who stepped down from the cabin of the truck. ‘May I help you?’ Her throat felt strangely dry.
‘Ted O’Leary from O’Leary’s Removals,’ he said cheerfully, sticking out his hand.
Josie shook it. ‘I think there’s been some mistake.’
He consulted his clipboard. ‘This Geraldine’s Gardens?’
‘It is.’ She couldn’t believe how normal her voice sounded.
‘Then no mistake, miss. We have instructions from a Mr Marty Peterson to have the house cleared by morning.’
‘With instructions to take it where?’
He checked his clipboard again. ‘Into storage.’
Marty finally jogged down the steps to join them. He smiled brightly, but perspiration gleamed on his upper lip. ‘It was going to be a surprise for you, Josie.’
His fake jovial tone had her bile rising. She swallowed it back. ‘It’s certainly that.’ Again the calm, measured tone. ‘I think you’d better tell Mr O’Leary you’ve wasted his time and that his services will not be required today.’
Without another word she turned and walked up the three tessellated-tile steps to the ornate wrap-around veranda and started for the door. Frank stepped in front of her. ‘There’s no need to take on like this,’ he blustered, though she noticed his hands shook. ‘You need to at least hear—’
She stepped around him, ignoring the drone of his voice. ‘Tomorrow,’ she said firmly, cutting across him. ‘I’ll speak to you both tomorrow.’
Then she closed the door in his startled face.
* * *
Molly refused to budge from Josie’s cabin. Unless Kent wanted to physically pick her up, Molly was staying put.
He didn’t want to physically pick her up. He didn’t want to do much of anything.
Molly wouldn’t touch her food either. Kent didn’t have much of an appetite himself. In the end, neither one of them ate. In the end they both slept in Josie’s cabin.
Kent pulled out the sofa bed, grabbed a blanket and he and Molly lay side by side...on Josie’s bed. It wasn’t even dark yet. He stared at the ceiling and wondered if she’d arrived home yet, if she’d got home safe.
Why hadn’t he asked her to ring him?
Molly whined. He scratched her ears. The light behind the curtains had almost completely faded now, but there was still enough light for him to miss the colour Josie had created in here. And taken away with her when she left.
He wanted bright lengths of material draped at the windows. He wanted rag rugs on the floor. He wanted prints on the walls.
Tomorrow. He’d drive into Martin’s Gully tomorrow and buy lengths of bright material at Liz’s store. Maybe Liz would’ve heard from Josie. He’d order rag rugs from Thelma Gower; hopefully she’d have a couple to go. He’d stop by Rachel Stanton’s studio and check out her water colours.
Then he’d lunch with Clancy. Josie would definitely have rung Clancy because Clancy would’ve made her promise to.
Kent scowled at the ceiling. Clancy was a smart man.
* * *
Josie opened the door. ‘Heavens, that was quick. I’m really sorry to call you out like this, Steve.’
Having made it inside her house, Josie had found she was lucky to do so when she saw the shiny new locks in place. If she’d arrived when Marty and Frank weren’t here she’d have been unable to get in.
‘Not a problem, Josie.’ He set his tools by the front door and sent her a shrewd glance. ‘When it’s a question of security and a woman at home alone then we locksmiths don’t care what time of the day or night it is.’
She grinned. ‘You guys take a professional vow in locksmith school or something? Like the doctors’ Hippocratic oath?’ She wished she hadn’t said that, the doctor bit; it reminded her of Kent.
‘You bet.’ He glanced up. ‘I’m glad you’re home, Josie. The town’s been worried.’
‘I know. Jacob rang me.’
Steve wielded his screwdriver. ‘Town took a vote and told him he had to.’ He set about removing the lock.
That news didn’t surprise her. Buchanan’s Point was a close-knit community. Marty and Frank had never been a part of it. They were known as townies.
Steve was the only locksmith in Buchanan’s Point. She’d gone to school with him. Had played spin the bottle in primary school. She could trust him. ‘Did you change the locks at Marty and Frank’s request?’
‘Nope.’
Darn it. She wanted to know what excuse they’d given. She knew Steve would’ve asked for one. Which might be why they hadn’t used him for the job.
‘They hired a mate of mine from Diamond Head.’ He winked. ‘We went to locksmith school together. He told them I was closer and would be cheaper. But they insisted he do the job anyway. That made him suspicious, like, so he rang me.’
It made her suspicious too. She crouched down beside him. ‘Did he find out why they wanted the locks changed?’
‘The elder one, what’s his name?’
‘Marty.’
‘He said he’d lost his spare key and rather than risk someone finding it and using it to break in, he thought he’d get the locks changed.’
She bit her lip again. ‘He could be telling the truth.’
‘Aye, he could be.’
But she could tell Steve didn’t believe Marty’s story. She didn’t either. She jumped to her feet and started to pace. Kent had warned her about this.
She wondered if she rang him and told him he’d been right, if she apologised, if he’d hang up on her.
* * *
Josie glanced at the clock. One o’clock. She picked up the phone and hit redial.
‘Mr Peterson’s office.’
‘Hi, Rita, it’s Josie again.’
‘I’m sorry, Josie.’ Rita clicked her tongue in sympathy. ‘He’s still in a meeting with a client.’
‘This is the fifth time I’ve called.’ She’d rung on the hour, every hour, since nine o’clock this morning.
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
She swallowed back her frustration. It wasn’t Rita’s fault Marty wouldn’t return her calls.
‘He swears he’ll ring you tonight...or, at the very latest, tomorrow.’
Not satisfactory.
Josie didn’t say that, though. She said, ‘Thank you,’ and rang off.
She drummed her fingers against the arm of her chair then picked up the phone and punched in a second number. ‘I’m sorry,’ a recorded voice started, ‘this phone is temporarily out of range or—’
She hung up in disgust. She suspected Frank had turned his cell-phone off deliberately so she couldn’t contact him. She massaged her temples. Perhaps if she’d slept better last night she’d feel more able to cope with this. But every time she’d closed her eyes Kent’s image had risen up in front of her. Sleep had proven impossible.
She pleated the hem of her blouse with her fingers and wished Kent had asked her to ring him, as Clancy and Liz had done. A longing to hear his voice gripped her again. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d picked up the phone to call him and tell him she’d arrived safely, to tell him he’d been right about her brothers. At the last moment she’d chicken out. He’d have only given one of those derisive laughs and said, ‘So what?’
In all fairness, he probably wouldn’t, but she’d bet he’d want to. She didn’t want that.
What she wanted was impossible.
* * *
Kent stepped back to admire his handiwork. Then swore. The material he’d twined around the curtain rods refused to hang in the same soft folds that Josie had created. He’d tossed a tablecloth across the table, he’d shoved flowers haphazardly in a vase and discovered the haphazard-flowers-in-a-vase-look required more skill than his fingers possessed. He’d scattered scatter cushions, he’d hung water colours, he’d thrown rag rugs across bare floorboards and yet it still wasn’t working.
It didn’t look cosy and inviting. It looked wrong.
Then he got mad. He shooed Molly off the sofa bed and folded it up with one hard shove. He shooed her right outside and slammed the door behind them. But Molly wouldn’t budge further than the veranda. ‘What’s the point?’ he shouted at her. ‘She’s gone.’ And she wasn’t coming back.
At least he knew she’d arrived home safely. She’d rung both Liz and Clancy. He scowled. And somewhere between yesterday and today the last trace of her fragrance had vanished. Gone. Just like that. He couldn’t believe how much he missed it. That fact only fuelled his anger. He started to stride away then swung back to face his dog. ‘And if you don’t start eating again by tomorrow I’m taking you to the vet.’
At any mention of the vet, Molly usually bolted straight under the house. This time her ears didn’t so much as twitch. With a snort of disgust, Kent strode off.
That evening, however, he carried Molly up to the house and tried to coax her to eat. She lapped at her water, a half-hearted effort, but she still refused to touch her food. At bedtime he carried her into his bedroom and laid her on her usual blanket. At least, it had been her usual blanket before Josie came to Eagle Reach.
Molly spent the night scratching at his door and howling. He wanted to join her. At midnight he relented and let her out. He wondered if a dog could die of a broken heart? Then he called himself an idiot.
By Saturday lunchtime he finally realised Molly was no longer his dog but Josie’s. Josie and Molly had connected from the very first moment.
Almost the very first moment, he amended, grinning when he remembered Josie perched in his clothes-line.
With a strange sense of relief he packed an overnight case, made a quick call to Smiley McDonald then bundled Molly into his car and drove into Martin’s Gully.
He leapt out at Liz’s store. Clancy and Liz stood side by side at the cash register in close conference. Kent didn’t waste any time. ‘I’m heading for Josie’s. Just wanted to let you two know.’
‘Good.’ Clancy pointed to a case on the floor. ‘You can give me a lift.’
‘Me too.’ Liz hoisted her bag onto her shoulder.
He stared at them and his stomach clenched up so tight he found it hard to breathe. ‘Why?’ he barked. Had something happened? ‘Is she OK?’ He wanted to punch something.
‘She’s fine.’ Liz walked around the counter and took his arm. ‘We’ll explain on the way.’
He didn’t say anything more, just grabbed their cases and shot them in the back of his four-wheel-drive, his face grim as he waited for them to climb into the car.
* * *
Josie removed Mrs Pengilly’s cup and saucer from the arm of her chair as the elderly woman’s head began to nod. The doorbell sounded, twice in quick succession. She darted a glance at her guest then padded down the hallway in her bare feet. ‘Shh.’ She opened the door, finger to lips, then drew back and folded her arms.
Marty pointed a shaking finger at her, his face red. ‘You...you had the locks changed.’
‘Yes, I did. As neither of you,’ she took in Frank with her glance, ‘left me a spare key or would answer my calls yesterday, I had no choice.’
‘No choice? Nonsense,’ Frank snapped, pushing past her.
‘I had errands to run. I can’t leave a place like Geraldine’s Gardens unlocked and unattended.’
‘But...but...’ Marty followed her down the hall.
‘Yes?’ She lifted an eyebrow, careful to keep a pleasant smile on her face.
He eyed her warily then pasted on a smile and pulled her to a stop, fake jovial again. ‘We have great news.’
She couldn’t help feeling he was getting cues over her shoulder from Frank.
She turned. Frank sent her a huge smile too.
‘Good news?’ she asked. They both nodded eagerly. ‘Good.’ She rubbed her hands together. ‘I love good news. You’d best come into the formal lounge.’ It was the room they preferred anyway. ‘Mrs Pengilly is dozing in the family room.’
Marty’s smile fled. ‘What’s she doing here?’
‘She’s my friend. That’s what she’s doing here.’ She closed the door to the formal lounge and prayed Mrs Pengilly was a sound sleeper. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
‘No, no.’ He backed down and made straight for her father’s chair.
‘Damn Nosy Parker, though,’ Frank muttered, throwing himself into the one opposite. The one she normally used.
She perched on the edge of the sofa. ‘It’s what I love about this place. Everyone looks out for everyone else.’
Marty and Frank exchanged glances and Josie’s heart sank. She just knew she wasn’t going to like their good news.
* * *
They wanted her to sell her house.
Oh, that news didn’t surprise her. They’d been telling her for years that the place was too big for her, too much to keep up with. Part of her agreed, but it didn’t mean...
Given time she’d fill it with people. Somehow.
But they had a buyer already lined up, a property developer. And they had a contract ready for her to sign.
Marty pushed his solid silver and gold plated pen, the one he normally guarded with his life, into her hand and pointed. ‘Sign there and there.’
‘But I want to think about it first.’
Both men started talking at her at once, gesturing wildly, pacing up and down in front of her. Panic spiked through her. Her shoulders edged up towards her ears as walls started to close in around her.
‘This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, Josie.’ Marty slapped a hand to the contract. ‘You’ll never be offered such a good price again.’
He was probably right. The amount offered was obscene.
‘And you won’t have to work again either if you don’t want to,’ Frank added. ‘And you’ll be helping the town.’
‘Exactly.’ Marty thumped another hand to the contract. ‘At the moment it’s dying a slow death.’