Out Of Place (Face the Music Book 2) (2 page)

When the kids arrived she pushed the door to so she wouldn’t have to listen to them and their pretentious mothers with their perfect lives. Her mother’s group had given up on café meetings years ago and no one bothered with the veneer of perfection anymore.

Frankie knocked on the door and then came in without waiting for a response. The older woman smiled and then sat. “How’s it going?”

“Fine.” Olivia looked up, wary. Frankie didn’t chitchat with her.

“And Ethan? Your mum is always gushing about him.”

He was a handful, as all three year olds were. “Good, he’ll be starting kindy the year after next.” And she wouldn’t know what to do with herself. He was growing up so fast. While he was growing up she was turning in circles, her life going nowhere in a hurry, which had been fine at first. Now she wanted more even if she wasn’t quite sure what that was, or how to get it.

Frankie smiled. “I’ve found a buyer for the Swan. Now that everything has been signed I can finally talk about it. Didn’t want to jinx it.”

“That’s great!” Olivia relaxed a little. Ever since her husband had had a heart attack three months ago Frankie had been trying to sell the café. Time to retire, she’d declared.

Frankie nodded and her smile tightened. “I wasn’t able to guarantee the staff jobs in the sale.”

That wasn’t so good. The tension returned, grabbing hold of her gut. “I’m sure they won’t make any sudden changes, after all, we know the locals and how the place runs.” The excuses sounded hollow in her ears.

“I hope so.” But there was something in her voice. “I just wanted to let you know that nothing is certain.” She gave Olivia a pointed look. “The sale will be finalised the week before Christmas.”

That gave her three weeks with a guaranteed job. After that…she was already mentally crossing her fingers. She needed one more year out of the place before she was ready to move on. Once Ethan was at school it would be easier for her to work more hours and finish her accounting degree. That Frankie was warning her didn’t bode well. She wasn’t ready to start looking for a job.

She couldn’t afford to be jobless.

For Frankie’s benefit she kept her smile fixed. “I bet you’ve been busting to tell Mum that news.” And Mum would’ve told her straight away. Secrets didn’t last long.

“You have no idea.” Frankie stood; the burden of owning and running the café had been lifted from her and her movements seemed lighter. “I’d best get out there again. Grab a piece of cake on the house. To celebrate.”

Olivia nodded but Frankie was already bustling out the door. Celebrate or commiserate? The moment Frankie had said she was going to sell the place Olivia had developed a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’d learned the hard way to listen to them. That feeling grew like sticky dough. If she started to look for new jobs, was she overreacting and asking to be let go, or being practical?

Who was going to be employing over the Christmas holidays? Plus there would be more qualified uni leavers looking for their first job. She stared blankly at the computer screen. She didn’t need this right now.

And if she did manage to get another job, and it was full-time, what was she going to do with Ethan? Her mother looked after him while she worked, but she couldn’t expect her to look after him all the time. If she was working full-time, she wouldn’t be able to fit in study on top.

Her mind was already racing away with all kinds of worst-case scenarios.

Olivia forced herself to breathe. Nothing was final or decided until the new owner took over. Until then she could have a look online to see what was out there. She didn’t have to apply for the full-time jobs, let the uni leavers go after them.

She pulled out her phone and added job search to her to do list. Booking a car service was at the top and had been for a while. She hadn’t booked it in yet. In part because she wasn’t ready to hand over several hundred dollars, plus any repairs. There would be repairs. There were always repairs.

At least there were some extra hours coming up as she prepared the café’s BAS statement. She closed the list and went back to work. She’d have the cake with her coffee when she finished work.

Ed had lingered in the water for as long as he could, enjoying the perks of not being nailed to schedule. Now his stomach was growling enough to scare off any shark.

The sand burnt the soles of his feet and the day promised to be another hot one, but not January hot. No heatwaves yet. He made his way to the outdoor shower and rinsed off, scrubbing his hand over his hair to get out the salt and sand. It needed cut again if he was going to keep it short. He’d run the clippers over it tonight.

On the other side of the road, the white and green building of the Indiana Swan beckoned. It would be cheaper to head home and scrounge around the fridge for food, but he was starving now and it had been a bloody long time since he’d sat and enjoyed a meal at Cottesloe Beach.

Usually it was beer with the sunset.

He checked his watch. It wasn’t past twelve, and unlike Dan he had standards.

Coffee and breakfast. He might even read the newspaper. Whoa. He was sounding like his father. Perhaps he should’ve stayed out with the old boys on their longboards.

After shoving his board into his station wagon and throwing on a dry t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, he grabbed his bank card from its hiding spot and went across the road. He almost went straight back out as it looked like some kind of mothers’ meeting was in progress.

A few glanced at him then looked away. Yeah, he wasn’t their type. He didn’t have a big enough wallet or the right credit card.

One woman was sitting on her own and reading. Her coffee and cake almost untouched. Near her was a spare table. While it didn’t have a great view of the ocean, at least it was away from the kids—which is obviously what the single woman had been thinking.

He ordered a big breakfast despite home being only half an hour away.
Fuck it.
He was going to enjoy today and stop counting the cents in his bank account. If he really wanted he had enough to buy a new car, a really cheap one that wouldn’t fit his surfboard or any guitars and amps. He wasn’t totally broke.

However, he chose not to because he didn’t know when his next pay cheque was coming or how big it would be. It was the same reason he lived at home. He didn’t want rent to bite him on the ass. Plus he was hardly at home.

With a newspaper and table number in hand he ran the pram gauntlet, dodged a few toys that had been thrown overboard and also what he hoped was cake now splattered on the floor. He pitied the waitresses who had to clean up after this lot was gone, but he doubted these women would spare a moment to consider the mess.

The table in the corner was still free and he slid into it, glad to be out of the way and yet part of the good vibe.

Breakfast at Cottesloe after a morning of surfing. Life was good.

And if he repeated that a few more times he might be able to shut out the rather noisy panic that nothing was happening, or happening fast enough.

The woman at the table next to him glanced over before going back to reading her book. She didn’t have the haughty sneer, nor did she give him the glare for daring to sit near her. He smiled, but didn’t say anything.

He glanced at her again as he opened up the paper. She was pretty. Long blonde hair caught up in a messy bun. And an ability to tune out all the noise around her so she could read. In fact, she seemed completely unbothered by everything going on around her.

Was her life so completely perfect that she had nothing to worry about…or was she hiding in the book because she didn’t want to be found?

Either way, he didn’t want to disturb her to find out.

He was about to look away when she lifted her coffee cup; her ring glinted in the light. Good thing he hadn’t interrupted her.

His coffee and breakfast arrived as she finished off. He couldn’t help but notice as she spoke to the staff and shared a joke. She was obviously a regular and well liked. As he ate, the mothers departed and he got to hear the grumblings of the waitress left to clean up. Then he had the café almost to himself. He flicked to the sports section as he finished off what was left of his potato rostis—fancy hash browns in his book—and bacon. He didn’t care that he was full; he was going to eat everything on the plate because he’d paid for it.

He ordered a second coffee to wash it all down.

Then, after enjoying his extravagant and late breakfast, he leaned back in his chair to give his stomach room to digest. With no one to block his view he watched the surf and the guys using it. If he was lucky, that would be him one day. He tried to imagine himself in forty years’ time at retirement age and drew a complete blank.

Very few bands lasted forty years. Selling the Sun had to get in and get rich while they were young. After that? Well, he had his arts degree, and he was sure that was good for something besides keeping his father off his back.

Just like that, the sparkle had gone out of his day. No matter how blue the water or bright the sun, he couldn’t shake the need to be doing something. Anything.

He glanced at the vacant table next to him. She had been calm and quiet and content. Why couldn’t he find some of that?

Olivia was sure that Julie had picked the most unflattering dresses she could to make sure she wasn’t upstaged. Her sister had been that way her whole life. Maybe if the dress hadn’t been orange or off the shoulder. Olivia gave the neckline a tug but there was no hiding the shiny pink scar that went over her shoulder and down the inside of her right arm.

At least it wasn’t red and angry looking anymore, but it clashed with the dress.

“You can cover that with makeup, right?” Julie narrowed her eyes as she inspected her sister.

“I have no idea. I’ve never tried.” Nor had she ever felt the need to. If she wanted to hide the scar, she chose clothes that covered it.

“I don’t want it in my photos.”

Olivia did her best not to roll her eyes and to keep her voice calm and soft. Starting an argument with Julie would make this harder. And to be fair, orange had always been Julie’s favourite colour. It wasn’t her sister’s fault that it didn’t suit her. “It’s only a scar.”

Two years ago those words would’ve never left her mouth. A year ago they’d have been too hard to say—especially when she’d realised firsthand how off-putting they were to guys. Since then she’d kept her ring on to keep them away. It was safer for everyone.

Julie pulled a face. “At least the other one is barely visible.”

Olivia turned away and pretended to study her reflection with the same concern Julie was showing. The other scar was mostly hidden by her hair and a little makeup. If someone looked closely they’d realise that not all of her right eyebrow was real and was actually clever pencil work.

“You could’ve picked different dresses if you were really worried about the scar.” Something in a softer colour? Perhaps something less…just less. But then she’d never been a lace and frills girl. Julie had been pink this and orange that all through their childhood like she lived in some kind of glorious sunrise.

“I’m not planning my day around you.” Julie stalked off muttering something else.

Olivia knew she shouldn’t have said anything. She didn’t need to hear the words to feel the resentment. By having the visible scar she was drawing attention from the bride to herself—like that was a deliberate plan. Julie didn’t realise how much Olivia would change if she could. She closed her eyes.

She could do this. Play nice and keep the peace so that the day went smoothly. The wedding would be here in a few weeks. Then it would be over in a blink.

The other bridesmaids were Julie’s friends, and while she’d known a few of them during high school, they weren’t her friends. She was a bridesmaid simply because she was related. She was sure that if Julie could’ve managed to get out of having her in the bridal party without drawing the wrath of their parents she would’ve. If Olivia could’ve got out of it she would’ve. Being on display and the centre of attention wasn’t her thing at all, even before the accident.

“Are you done? Shall I help you get out of it? Gorgeous colour, isn’t it?” The shop assistant prattled as she undid the zip.

Olivia let her remove the dress, leaving her standing in what looked like a sausage skin, and was like a medieval torture device minus the whale bones. Everyone had to wear shapewear to make sure there were no unsightly bumps in the photos. She hated the stuff. And it was going to be hot wearing it under the dress for the wedding. If she didn’t wear it, would Julie notice on the day; surely there’d be other things to think about?

The idea of having that argument on the day, of being labelled the one who spoilt the wedding, was enough to make her shiver. She’d wear it. She knew she would because that would create the least amount of tension.

If she’d been the one getting married it would’ve been summer dresses and a barbeque. Done. Julie was spending a small fortune on one day, but she already had the house and had made no secret of the fact her fiancé was well off.

“Oh, let me see your ring?” The shop assistant lifted Olivia’s hand. “Very pretty and practical. Big rings get caught everything. I wanted something smaller, but he wouldn’t hear a word of it.” She showed Olivia her ring, as if she gave a damn.

I’m sure you wanted something smaller.

When could she get out of here?

“So when is the big day?” The sales assistant obviously thought she could get another client.

Olivia heard Julie gasp. Oh no, the conversation was no longer about Julie!

She swallowed. She’d answered the question many times before; it hadn’t got any easier, only weirder. “He’s dead. There will be no wedding.”

The woman blinked several times. “Oh. I see. I’m sorry.” Then she bustled away to make a fuss over the other bridesmaids.

Julie grabbed her arm. “Why did you have to do that?”

“She asked.” Olivia tried to pull away but Julie used her nails, the same as when they were kids. Doing anything would result in a tighter grip.