The Grass is Greener (10 page)

‘Okay,' she agreed.

If it was just till they cleared the guest room out, there was no point in being coy.

At the top of the stairs they took a left turn and arrived at Jack's room. It was large and airy. A queen bed with a pair of
bedside tables dominated one wall. The doona was a pale olive green with matching pillows. A couple of beige cushions had also been thrown on the bed to break up the colour. The room had both its own bathroom and an empty walk-in robe. A desk near the entrance held a few of Jack's personal belongings. Some text books, a photo of him at the MCG with a couple of mates, a few stationery items and a rather worn-looking football. On the wall beside the desk, in a silver frame, hung his degree in Viticulture from Curtin University.

‘I'll let you rest and see you downstairs in a bit,' Lydia suggested, exiting the room.

Bronwyn wheeled her suitcase into the walk-in robe. Just as she started unpacking, however, her mobile phone buzzed from her handbag on the bed. She answered it before looking at the number.

‘Hello?'

‘Hello, this is Casuarina Prison, will you accept a phone call from Peter Goldman?'

‘Oh, er …' Clearly Bantam, Harvey and Grey had not informed her client that she'd left the firm. ‘Okay fine, put him through.' She'd have to tell him herself.

‘Bronwyn, thank you for taking my call. I –'

‘Peter, I'm going to have to stop you there. I'm sorry that the firm has not told you but I am no longer your lawyer. I've left my job; you're going to have to speak to someone else. If you like I'll shoot Simon an email and ask him to get in touch with you.'

‘No, I don't want him to get in touch with me. I want to talk to you.'

‘Peter, as I said –'

‘It's not about my case, it's about my dog. Has she had her pups yet?'

‘No, and thanks for telling me she was pregnant.'

He ignored her reprimand. ‘Well, I need her back now.'

Bronwyn frowned. ‘That seems like an odd request given you're still in jail.'

‘I meant …' he corrected himself hastily, ‘someone else is adopting her.'

‘Why? What's wrong with me?'

‘Nothing's wrong with you. You were only ever meant to be a temporary caretaker until Elsa had her pups. However, now the man I've sold her pups to might want their mother as well.'

Alarm bells starting ringing in Bronwyn's head. ‘But I thought you loved Elsa. Who is this guy?'

‘Names don't matter. I can give you the address of a pub in Northbridge, The Quiet Gentleman. You should take Elsa there as soon as possible. If not tonight, then first thing tomorrow morning.'

Rock up late at night to a pub in Northbridge, to hand over a dog to a person he couldn't name.
Yeah right.
Even she wasn't that dumb. ‘I'm sorry, Peter, but I'm out of town right now. I'm not going to be able to do that anytime soon.'

‘You're out of town!' He seemed unnecessarily angered by this statement. ‘Why the hell would you go out of town?'

‘I don't see how it's any of your business.'

‘You need to get back to Perth immediately and you need to bring my dog with you, or things are going to get ugly.'

‘Ugly how?' Bronwyn demanded.

There was a lengthy pause, probably because Peter had just remembered that all calls put through the prison telephone system were recorded. With a groan of frustration he hung up. Bronwyn pulled the phone from her ear as the dial tone sounded loudly. A feeling of unease slithered down her back.

Elsa, what other trouble have you got me into?

Her phone buzzed again. With relief she looked down and saw that it was Claudia. Lifting the phone to her ear, she walked out onto the balcony, the smell of earth and vine calming her somewhat as she gazed out over the property just as the sun was setting. ‘Hi.'

‘Bron, I think I'm trouble.'

‘Ha!' she snorted. ‘You and me both. Okay, you go first.'

‘I got the job.'

Bronwyn squealed. ‘Yay! That doesn't sound like trouble. That's excellent.'

‘I don't think I should take it.'

‘Why not? This is all you've ever wanted. Our plan is working out perfectly. You can't give up now.'

‘It's not about confidence.' Claudia took a deep breath. ‘You see, for some reason, don't ask me how this happened, your Uncle Cyril thinks we're family. He reckons I'm an Eddings!'

‘But that's insane. Your name's Claudia Franklin. You had that clearly stated on your résumé, didn't you?'

‘Of course, but apparently that's just my mother's married name. I'm a long-lost second cousin come back to the fold,' Claudia's words tumbled out like dominoes set up to fall. ‘I wanted to tell him he'd made a mistake but he gave me a kiss and told me to shut up.'

‘He kissed you?'

‘In a business meeting, like I was his niece.'

‘Well, that's odd.'

‘Tell me about it!'

Bronwyn's brow wrinkled thoughtfully. ‘Does anyone else know about this?'

Claudia groaned. ‘Just another lawyer, my new boss, Sebastian Rowlands, who said he won't say anything but I don't know. Do you know him?'

‘Oh yeah, incredibly handsome, disgustingly smart and never lost a case to date.'

‘And you didn't think to tell me about him before?!'

Bronwyn started at the scolding. ‘I, er … didn't think he would be a problem for you.'

‘He's a right pain in the arse, is what he is. And this whole mess is entirely his fault.'

‘How so?'

‘He made me so mad that when Cyril made the relationship mistake I kind of backed him up just to put Sebastian in his place.'

Bronwyn's hand went to her hip. ‘So what you're really saying is that this is all about your inability to control your temper.'

‘You should have seen him, Bron. Grilling me about my qualifications like I had none. You would have done exactly the same thing.'

‘Actually,' Bronwyn raised a finger, ‘I don't think I would have.'

‘Okay. Maybe not
you
, but anyone else on the planet. Trust me.'

‘Well, I think I'm going to have to, because I really need you to take that job.'

‘What do you mean? Has something happened?'

Bronwyn winced. ‘I think I just received a threatening phone call from Elsa's owner.'

‘The guy in prison?' Claudia was quick on the money.

‘Peter Goldman. He wants his dog back, or else.'

‘Or else what?' Claudia snorted. ‘He'll break out of jail and stalk you?'

‘It's not him I'm worried about, it's his dodgy connections in Northbridge. Who knows who this new person is he wants me to drop his dog off to. You haven't told anyone where I am, have you?'

‘No,' Claudia said quickly. ‘Geez, Bronwyn. You're not in trouble, are you?'

‘I hope not.' Bronwyn's gaze stretched to the horizon with a silent prayer. ‘But it would be great if you could have a chat with Peter for me. It'll be easy if you're a lawyer working at a reputable firm. No one will bat an eyelid at you wanting to talk to a prisoner.'

‘So now you're saying I
have
to take this job.'

‘Just till we get Peter squared away at the very least. Besides,' Bronwyn added cheerfully, ‘that little mix-up with you being the niece is nothing to worry about. You did say no one except Sebastian knew and he's not going to tell anyone.'

‘Yeah, but what about your mum? When she finds out you used her recommendation to get me a job she's not going to be happy.'

Bronwyn smiled wryly. ‘My mum being happy has never been one of Uncle Cyril's top priorities. I think you're pretty safe.'

‘I'd feel safer if you called her and tried to smooth things over.'

‘I don't know, Claud. My mum is not like yours. I can try, but she's never taken any direction from me. I don't know if I'll just flag a situation she might want to ruin.'

There was a groan. ‘But you've got to tell her you've left town sometime. Why not now before things really blow up?'

Bronwyn had hoped to be firmly entrenched in her new role before she brought Bianca Hanks into her confidence.

After all, you know what she's capable of when you do something she doesn't like.

She didn't, however, want to cause Claudia any extra stress when she was already taking this job for her. ‘All right,' she agreed. ‘I'll give it a go.'

Claudia's breath whooshed out. ‘Thanks. So apart from the threat from prison, how are you going in Yallingup?'

‘Not as great as I hoped.' Bronwyn sighed. ‘You never said how tense things were here. No one was overjoyed with our plan and your dad and Chris had a bit of a stand-off this afternoon.'

‘Don't worry, it'll blow over. You know how Chris is, Bron, as easygoing as the wind.'

‘I don't know, Claud. He's changed a lot since I last saw him. He's definitely got a bitter streak now and your mum's talking about getting Jack home.'

‘Ha. Jack has absolutely no incentive to come home. Don't forget, he has his pride. Dad fired him and kicked him out. He's not going to come home without some dire reason or an apology. So I don't see it happening anytime soon.'

‘I guess you're right.'

Men and their pride. It had broken up more families than Bronwyn cared to think about. As a lawyer, she'd seen so many divorces for similar reasons. She'd even got in trouble one time for leaving a couple together in the conference room for too long, secretly hoping they'd just work it out. Yes, it was one more dumb thing she'd done in the legal profession.

‘Okay.' She took a deep breath. ‘But what about your dad? He hates that I'm taking over your role. In fact,' she added in a small voice, ‘he said it was ridiculous.'

‘Bron, he's all bark and no bite. He'll expect you to prove yourself no doubt, which I'm sure you will.'

‘How?' Bronwyn asked. ‘I have no idea where to start. I feel like you've sent me unarmed into the Colosseum.'

Claudia laughed. ‘Honestly, Bron. This is your forte. You've got this.'

‘I don't see how.'

‘People skills,' Claudia said firmly. ‘You've got them in droves. Everybody loves you. Or haven't you noticed? Just be yourself.'

‘Thanks, but I'm going to need a little more direction than that to bring this winery out of the morgue.'

‘Okay.' Claudia cleared her throat. ‘In my humble opinion, there are three things holding this winery back: my dad, my mum and Chris.'

‘Well, that's very complimentary.'

‘Yeah, well, they don't get it but they're killing their own business, and no amount of talking on my part has got them to realise it.'

‘Your mum and Chris have already explained to me your dad's issues with retirement. But how are your mum and Chris sabotaging Oak Hills?'

‘Just get into my office and go over the bills. You'll see what I mean.'

‘Okay.

‘But don't forget to call your mum first.'

‘On it.'

‘And I'll see if I can find out more about Peter Goldman.'

‘Thanks.'

Bronwyn put down the phone. The truth was, the very last person she wanted to call was her mother. Bianca Hanks was not going to take this well. Nevertheless, with a sigh she rang the number and was ridiculously relieved when it went straight to voicemail. She hung up.

Maybe I'll write her an email instead.

She could be much less confrontational and much more vague. Lying down on her bed, she tried several times to write the message.

Delete, delete, delete.

Delete, delete, delete.

With a wince, she clicked her phone off. It wasn't going to work. For Claudia's sake she had to gauge her mother's reaction, and sending an email would not allow her to do that. Perhaps she should try calling her mother again before she went to bed.

She could smell dinner downstairs and it was making her stomach roil in hunger. As a uni student she'd always looked forward to the family meal. It had been the best part of the day. There was a closeness the Franklins had then that she
had always envied. They argued like cats and dogs, made fun of each other's choices and didn't have the least respect for privacy. But there was such warmth between them … then.

On the other hand, dinner with her mum had usually been pre-prepared gourmet meals home-delivered by Lite n' Easy, eaten on stools at the kitchen counter while her mum lectured her on all facets of her personality from her looks to her grades. Dinner with Dad was always from the local Chinese takeaway and generally eaten in front of the news – no talking allowed.

She really didn't know which was worse: the parent who didn't engage or the one who engaged too much.

Her father tended to call her twice a year, once on her birthday and once at Christmas, their conversations no more than five minutes and mainly about work. On Father's Day she usually went to visit him and each time she hoped they would bond over something else – the gift she'd given him, the latest political news or the last book he'd read. But the truth was the only connection they had was the law, and maybe that was in part why she'd held on to it for so long.

Bronwyn put aside the sad memories and went downstairs, allowing her nose to lead her straight to the kitchen. For Lydia, cooking was as much hobby as it was necessity. She was a messy cook who loved to taste as she prepared. She usually put as many of the ingredients in her mouth and on the floor as she did in the dish. She had more cookbooks than Bronwyn cared to count but mostly didn't follow them. They were mainly for ideas. She threw together her own combinations with a flair that always resulted in delicious dishes that went well with wine.