Short and Sweet (8 page)

When the last evening came, she entertained him to a meal, insisting on repaying his hospitality.

‘I wish you weren’t going back to Perth,’ he said wistfully.

‘So do I.’

‘You could stay another week.’

‘My daughter would have a fit. And there probably isn’t a flat free.’

‘There is, actually. Or you could be my guest?’

She hesitated. ‘Do we know each other well enough for that?’

‘Not yet. But we will. So you’ll stay in the flat?’

Did she dare? Of course she did. This was . . . important. Or it might be. She hoped it would be. ‘Yes. And thank you.’

Jan did have a fit when she phoned, and they insisted on coming down on the Sunday to check that she was all right.

The next day she went round to James’s beautiful house for lunch and wandered on to his jetty as he was getting the meal ready.

There was a thump behind her and another pelican landed. This one had a malformed foot and it stumbled, bumping into her and sending her flying into the water.

She let out a yell of shock and by the time she surfaced, James was there on the jetty. Without hesitation, he dived in and came up spluttering next to her.

She bobbed about in the water, laughing at him. ‘I didn’t actually need rescuing. I used to be a good swimmer.’

He grinned at her, water streaming down his face. ‘Don’t say that. I’ve always wanted to be Sir Galahad and save a fair damsel in distress.’

‘Is that what I am?’

‘Oh, yes. A very fair damsel.’ He pulled her to him in the water.

This time his kiss was very different, full of passion. When they clambered out of the water, he held her hand as they dripped their way into the house.

In the guest bedroom, she changed out of her wet clothes into his silk dressing gown and came out looking like a drowned rat, she thought.

He was waiting for her with a tender smile on his face. ‘Dear Sarah, you seem as if you belong here. Would it be too soon to ask you to stay with me tonight?’

She gave up fighting the attraction. ‘No. Definitely not too soon. In fact, it’s perfect timing.’

‘And would it be too soon to ask you to stay on here with me, with a view to making that permanent?’

Joy flooded through her and she gave up fighting her own feelings for him. ‘No. Not too soon for that, either. If you’re sure, James?’

‘I’m very sure, Sarah darling. I’ve felt happy with you since the first time we had lunch.’

‘I’ve felt the same.’

‘It’s amazing, isn’t it, how two strangers can suddenly feel attracted. I thought I was past all that, but I’m not.’

She gestured around her to the magnificent house. ‘I feel like Cinderella, only I’m staying at the palace, not going home.’

‘In that case, you’d better marry the prince. It’s the obligatory ending to the story, you know.’

She couldn’t help chuckling. ‘Strange kind of fairy godmother, a pelican.’

‘I shall never think badly of them again.’ He drew her into his arms, gentle as ever, and it felt so right she pulled his head down and kissed him rather less than gently.

Take A Chance

Anna’s Notes

I’m not a big gambler, but I do like to buy a Lotto ticket every now and then. I once won $700, and as this came at a time when we were a bit short of money, it was very exciting.

I enjoyed giving my heroine a much bigger win, and this story led to me writing my book
Licence to Dream
.

I love writing about happy ever afters and fantasies that lift people’s lives out of the ordinary.

L
ouise got herself a cup of coffee and sat cradling it in her hands, staring into space. Thirty-eight! No husband, no family, nothing she’d once hoped for. She was just good old Auntie Louise. She sighed and opened the Sunday paper.

As usual, she checked the Lotto results last. She liked to dream about winning for as long as possible. It was the only thing she ever gambled on. She was definitely not the sort of person to take chances. But one dream a week wasn’t much to ask. She picked up a pencil and a minute later it dropped from her trembling hand.

‘It can’t be true!’ she whispered. She checked the numbers again. A whole line of them. She’d won the first division! She was – she might be – rich.

The day passed in a blur after that. She lived alone and didn’t want to ring her elder sister Rosemary, who would come over and start telling her what to do with the money. Of course, it might not be a lot of money. You didn’t find out until the next day whether it was shared among several people.

She didn’t tell anyone at work, but when she phoned the Lotto office and discovered that she’d won just over a million dollars, she pleaded a headache and left work quickly.

Two days later, she walked into her boss’s office. ‘I’d like to hand in my resignation.’

He gaped at her. ‘But Louise, you’ve been with us for ten years! What’s wrong?’

‘There’s nothing wrong. I just need a change.’

Her whole life needed changing because time was running out and her biological clock was ticking. Now she had the money to do something different, get away from her sister and her sensible ways, take a chance or two. Even, perhaps, meet someone who . . . no, that would be wishing for too much.

Although if you could win Lotto, maybe you could win the other things that gave you the chance of a happy life . . . like a husband and a family. And if that made her old-fashioned, so be it.

She was going to have a go.

In the end Louise told her family she was taking a holiday because she felt rundown. She ended up in the south-west, in the wine country. She’d always loved that part of Western Australia: the forests and beaches, the clean tangy air, the vineyards, the winding tree-lined country roads.

She had enough money now to manage without working, if she was careful, but she couldn’t imagine sitting around all day. She needed to do something that would let her meet people.

With the help of a friendly real-estate agent she investigated several businesses, and ended up buying a run-down café just outside the holiday town of Margaret River.

She still hadn’t told her sister about her win and didn’t intend to do so until after she’d signed the contract to buy the café.

She took the coward’s way out and rang Rosemary. ‘I’m back in Perth, but only temporarily.’

‘Oh? Have you found a job somewhere else? I think you were very foolish giving up your job like that.’

‘No. I’ve bought myself a business near Margaret River.’

Silence. Then, ‘What sort of business? You surely haven’t cashed in your superannuation?’

‘It’s a café with the chance of putting a B and B behind it.’

‘How can you afford that?’

Here it came. ‘I won Lotto.’

‘Ha! Ha! Very funny.’

‘I really did.’

Dead silence. ‘When?’

‘A few weeks ago.’ She listened to a tirade from Rosemary, and when her sister ran out of words, said simply, ‘It’s what I want to do, and it’s too late to change, even if I wanted to, and I don’t.’

To her relief, Rosemary and her husband were about to go away on a trip to Europe, and once Louise moved down to Margaret River, she was three hours’ drive away. And, actually, there was nothing Rosemary could do to interfere.

Her sister knew that too. So she sulked.

Louise sometimes wondered what she would have been like without Rosemary. Would she have been quite so sensible? Or would she have let her sense of humour loose occasionally and had a bit more fun?

The day after Louise moved into the run-down café, there was a knock on the door. She opened it to find a man clutching a bloodstained hand.

‘I’m your neighbour. I’m sorry to trouble you, but I’ve cut myself pretty badly.’

She drew him inside and examined it. ‘It needs stitches.’

‘Oh.’ He looked at it doubtfully. ‘I don’t think I can drive. Could you possibly—’

‘Take you to a doctor? Of course.’

‘My name’s Richard, by the way.’

‘Louise.’

She had him in the nearest doctor’s surgery in ten minutes flat. ‘I’ll wait and drive you back.’

‘I’m really grateful.’ He smiled at her.

He had a lovely smile. It lifted his face from ordinary to attractive. She found herself responding to it and for a moment the two of them just stood there, smiling. Then the nurse came to take him into the small operating theatre.

A little later the receptionist came across. ‘The doctor wants to tell you how to look after your husband’s hand.’

‘He’s not my . . .’ But the woman was already leading the way back.

The doctor looked exhausted. ‘Ah, Mrs Crossley!’ He then proceeded to explain rapidly how to look after the hand. He had gone off to see the next patient before either of them could correct the misunderstanding.

Richard grimaced at her. ‘Sorry about that. I tried to explain, but no one would listen. They’ve had a bit of a busy day, I gather.’

Louise shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m happy to help you. That’s what neighbours are for, isn’t it?’

‘I’m your nearest neighbour, actually. I have a two-acre block next to yours.’

As she parked she noticed that the gardens were stunningly beautiful, but the house had an unloved air.

‘It’s a bit messy,’ he said apologetically when she took him inside.

‘Never mind that. Come and sit down. You look as white as a sheet. I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

‘I prefer coffee, actually.’

‘So do I. Where’s your percolator?’

‘I haven’t got one, only instant. Will you join me anyway?’

Good coffee was her biggest weakness. She tried not to pull a face at the thought of instant coffee, but he looked so pale she didn’t like to leave him alone yet. Anyway, he seemed a nice man and it always paid to get on good terms with your neighbours.

As she made the coffee, she lectured herself.
Stop trying to be sensible, Louise. You like him. You want to get to know him. Admit it.
It was the smile that had done it. And the long, lean lines of his body. Attractive. She’d always liked tall men.

He sipped the brown liquid. ‘Aaah! I can never get it to taste like that. But then, you’re a trained cook, aren’t you?’

She shook her head. ‘No. But I do love cooking.’ It had been her secret passion for years. Luckily she was the sort who stayed slim, because she was famous for her chocolate cake.

‘If your prices aren’t too steep, I’ll probably come next door quite often for my meals.’ He gestured towards the window. ‘I’m addicted to gardening, but I don’t often bother to cook for myself.’

Within two weeks, Louise had the café open. Not for fancy meals, just snacks. Her own beefburger recipe; fresh salads; crusty bread; home-made cakes. It wasn’t hard to organize. She’d been working out her business plan ever since she signed the contract for the house.

She soon grew accustomed to seeing Richard every evening and began to look forward to it. He was her last customer, he always joked, there to help eat the leftovers.

It was lovely to have someone to talk over the day with, to laugh with over the absurdities of the customers, many of them from the holiday rentals just down the road, or passing traffic from cars. She and Richard had a similar sense of humour, as well as their mutual addiction to coffee and chocolate cake.

And when his body brushed against hers accidentally, well, he couldn’t tell how her pulse speeded up, could he?

When his hand was better, Richard asked, ‘What about the gardens?’

She was thinking out a new sandwich list. ‘Mmm? What?’

‘The gardens here. What are you going to do about them?’

She stared out of the window. ‘I’ll have to hire someone. I hate gardening, but I can’t leave it like that, I know.’

‘Can I apply for the job?’

‘You?’

He looked at her with that steady expression on his face. ‘Yes. Me.’

‘I can’t pay much.’

He grinned. ‘I’m fairly self-sufficient financially. I was thinking more of payment in kind. Meals. You’re a very good cook, Louise.’

‘Oh.’ And why she should start blushing, she didn’t know. For heaven’s sake, she told herself as she fussed over one of the displays.
What’s got into you, woman? He’s only interested in your cooking.

When the colour in her cheeks had died down, she turned back to him. ‘Sounds like a good idea. We’ll give it a try.’

After that, Richard seemed to be popping in at all times of day. It was nice. It was . . . neighbourly. He put in some fast-growing border plants and the gardens quickly began to look better.

The next time she went into town, she took the opportunity to buy herself some new clothes, younger styles, more attractive. She had a good figure, after all. Why had she not made more of it before? Because she’d been brought up to wear sensible clothes that lasted.

The change was nothing to do with Richard, it was just – well, you had to look smart when you were meeting the public, didn’t you?

Three months after Louise took over the café, her sister got back from Europe and came to visit within a couple of days. Until now, Louise had been free to do what she liked and it had been wonderful not to receive those sharp phone calls, not to hear Rosemary’s strident voice telling her what to do.

Typical of her sister! thought Louise, fuming. No warning. Turned up right in the middle of the busiest time, with her two teenage daughters in tow. And she expected Louise’s instant attention.

‘Lovely to see you,’ she said, showing them to the only empty table. ‘Can’t stop to talk till I’ve finished serving this family.’

She came back a few minutes later. ‘Sorry about that. Do you want a cup of something?’

‘The coffee smells heavenly.’

When she went into her kitchen, Louise leaned her head against a cupboard and thumped the wall with her fist.

‘Is something wrong?’

Two strong arms turned her round and Richard peered at her anxiously. ‘Are you all right?’

She leaned against him for a moment and it felt good. His body was every bit as firm as she had fantasized. Fool! She told herself. He’s just being kind to you. Will you never learn that men don’t think of you like that? You’re an eternal sister as far as they’re concerned. But she didn’t move away, because it felt so good to be held like that.