The Grass is Greener (17 page)

‘Er, no,' she smiled. ‘I'm here to work if someone will let me.'

‘For shame!' he exclaimed. ‘One does not beg for work. One avoids it. Look at me, I flirt for a living!'

She laughed.

‘Come and sample ze wine. I'm sure I can teach you a few things you didn't know.'

‘He is rather good,' Maria nodded, and stood back to let him do his thing.

‘I'm better zan good,' Antoine rolled his eyes. ‘I am
French
.'

He turned to grab four wine bottles off the shelf behind him, twining their necks between his fingers so he could carry them all in one go. When his back was turned she could see that his straight brown hair was tied elegantly at the nape of his neck with a black velvet ribbon. Her lips twitched. She didn't know when she'd last seen that hairstyle on a man but it certainly suited him.

Antoine spun back, placing the bottles on the counter. ‘What shall I get you, mademoiselle? A fruity sauvignon blanc, a peppery shiraz, a full-bodied cabernet merlot or a woody chardonnay?'

‘I'm sorry,' she shook her head, ‘I've got to find one of the Franklins. I'm supposed to be taking on Claudia's workload.'

Antoine gasped. ‘But you intrigue me. I was not aware Claudia was away. Lydia did not mention it, or you for zat matter, when she came in this morning.'

‘Didn't she?' Bronwyn asked tentatively. It was very telling that Lydia hadn't said a word to the staff. It looked like her misgivings were not unfounded.

‘No,' Antoine's eyes twinkled. ‘Tell me, do you share Claudia's vision for the business?'

Bronwyn shrugged. ‘I assume Claudia wants this business to be the best it can be and that's exactly what I want too.'

Antoine's mouth twisted. ‘Ze best it can be in new markets – less prestigious ones.'

Bronwyn's heart sank. ‘Oh no. We can't have that.'

Claudia hadn't mentioned this plan to her, and she wasn't surprised. She'd have known Bronwyn would be against it. If Claudia wanted Oak Hills to downgrade its reputation to survive then she was as bad as the rest of her family.

‘Well, mademoiselle,' Antoine spread his hands, ‘I'm afraid neither of us has a say.'

‘I might if only Lydia and Chris would stop avoiding me.'

‘Ah!' His eyes flicked wider. ‘Zis explains why Lydia was
'ere at the crack of dawn. She never arrives before eight, unless she is avoiding something at home. Usually it is Horace but, surprise of all surprises, he came wiz her.'

‘Great,' Bronwyn's shoulders slumped. ‘They're teaming up against me.'

‘I see, I see. Freezing you out, no?' He rested an elbow on the bench, leaning towards her. ‘You are feeling zee pinch of her rejection,
chéri
? No matter.' He flicked away the offence with this hand. ‘You must do what I do in crisis – turn to ze bottle.' He lifted one in front of him. ‘Sauvignon blanc?'

Bronwyn chuckled. ‘Isn't it a little early for wine?'

‘Mademoiselle,' Antoine touched a hand to his heart again as though fatally wounded, ‘it is never too early for sauvignon blanc. In fact, morning is ze best for fruity aromatic flavours, so crisp, so fresh. I dare you to give your day a lift.'

‘I see you've met our resident backpacker.' A voice sounded behind them, startling Bronwyn with its unexpected sternness. She spun around.

‘Chris?' she began uncertainly. He was eyeing them in irritation from the threshold. ‘Hi, Bronwyn.'

She hadn't heard him come in, his wheels silent on the floorboards. ‘Hi, Maria.' He turned his head to greet the woman Bronwyn had all but forgotten at the other side of the bar.

She looked up. ‘Hi.'

At that point, Bronwyn expected Chris to make some outrageous comment, perhaps about taking them both out to dinner. He'd been a non-stop flirt since she'd arrived, and his cheekiness wasn't just limited to her. Instead he said, ‘How are you?' to Maria.

‘I'm good, thanks.' She nodded politely and said nothing more.

Something was off.

Antoine clearly thought so.

‘Mademoiselle,' he protested. ‘I would never put anything as uncouth as a backpack upon my person. I have a proper house. I have stayed there almost a year now.'

‘My mistake.' Chris turned back to him and then said to Bronwyn, ‘There are too many traditionalists in these parts trying to get some new world experience.' Then he smiled, some of his cheekiness returning. ‘You're up early, Numbat. I thought you'd be sleeping in.'

‘Not when there's so much to do.'

‘You worry too much.' He wrinkled his nose. ‘Take your massive hound for a walk. Hell, take me for a walk. Clear your head. You'll feel so much better.'

It sounded like another brush-off to her. ‘So much better about what?'

‘
Everything
,' he said with emphasis.

‘I was actually hoping someone might get me into Claudia's office –'

‘There's no way I'm letting you see how messy I am,' interrupted Chris. ‘But maybe we can go for that walk after lunch.'

‘But –'

‘In the meantime, have a drink. Maria has just brought in some of our older reds, aged to perfection. Ant,' he said to the Frenchman brusquely, ‘weren't you going to do a stocktake this morning?'

‘Later, M'sieur.'

‘Later would be now.'

He manoeuvred his chair into the storeroom after that, leaving Bronwyn startled by the complete change in his demeanour. ‘I don't get it. He wasn't annoyed with me being here yesterday. I don't know what's come over him.'

‘I'm sure it's nothing,' Maria said quickly.

‘Do not let him bother you,
chéri
,' Antoine assured her. ‘It is not you he dislikes but me.'

‘Well, that doesn't make sense. Chris likes everybody. He's the easiest-going guy around.'

‘Not when it comes to his brother.'

‘Jack?' Bronwyn repeated. ‘What do you know about Jack?'

‘But everything, of course.' Antoine spread his hands. ‘He was my friend in Bordeaux before he moved on to Carcassonne. When I came to Australia, Lydia hired me because I knew him. My friendship with his brother has always been a great trial to Chris, though he shuns it himself.' Antoine sighed. ‘He thinks I am the guy Jack replaced him with.'

Jealousy.

She could believe that and even sympathise with it a little.

‘Antoine, is Lydia still in the restaurant?'

‘Oh yes. She is trying to sort out this week's menu.'

‘Thanks.'

The restaurant was on the right hand side of the bar, after you passed through an area featuring a stack of wine giftware and souvenirs. Bronwyn trotted past these and through the double glass doors leading inside. She noticed that it had not changed much over the years. There was still a large flower arrangement by the door and no more than seven white-linen-dressed tables inside. The windows were wide with giant wooden shutters, which were currently open to let in as much light as possible and provide the subtle ambience of the view, which was no less than spectacular. The restaurant was and had always been Lydia's domain. While an excellent cook, she wasn't a chef herself. She mainly coordinated the staff, organised the functions and worked there in the evenings as the house's maître d'. Due to the fact that it had only just gone nine in the morning, the dining room was deserted. Bronwyn paused awkwardly on the threshold just in time, as there seemed to be an argument going on inside.

‘You need to apologise to Chris,' Lydia was saying.

‘Why should I?' It was Horace's voice. ‘I haven't done anything wrong. It's him making all those assumptions.'

‘Come now, Horace. When Jack took more interest in winemaking than Chris, there was an immediate division of your affections. You gave the lion's share to Jack.'

‘It was completely misconstrued. I was passionate about furthering Jack's career. I didn't love him more. If anything, I was devastated by how he turned out.'

‘And that's another thing.'

‘Oh, don't start –'

‘It wasn't just Chris's brother you sent away but his best friend, just when he needed him the most.'

‘I didn't send him away. Jack didn't have to leave town. He did that of his own accord.'

‘What did you think firing him and kicking him out of home was going to do? Jack wasn't going to work for any other winery in this area except Oak Hills. You knew that.'

‘No, I didn't. Cocky as he was, he would have done anything to spite me.'

‘Come on, you stubborn man. You can't be
that
blind.'

At Horace's deep sigh, Bronwyn took the opportunity to clear her throat loudly. After a moment, she moved forward. Lydia's face quickly transformed. ‘Hello, sweetie! Did you enjoy your breakfast?'

‘It was fabulous, thanks.' Bronwyn walked towards the table they were sitting at. Lydia was folding napkins.

Horace nodded coldly at her. ‘Bronwyn.'

‘So what are you up today?' Lydia enquired as though Bronwyn had a list of treats in store. ‘It's a great day for the beach.'

Bronwyn shook her head. ‘I was hoping to pick up where Claudia left off. I was wondering if I might check out her office, maybe get onto her computer and start fielding a few emails.'

‘No,' Lydia shook her head, ‘absolutely not. Chris and I were talking about it this morning and we've decided.'

Bronwyn's eyes widened. ‘Decided what?'

‘That we can't possibly impose our family problems on you.' Lydia clasped her hands at her chest. ‘Don't give it another thought.'

‘But –'

‘I insist.' She turned to her husband. ‘Horace, you really should take a leaf out of Bronwyn's book and just take some time off. Retirement is, after all, supposed to be the best part of your life. Think about it.' She gave him a meaningful look, stood up and then slipped through the swinging doors that led into the kitchen. Bronwyn caught a quick flash of the staff inside, madly engaged in preparation for the lunchtime rush.

‘So,' Horace seemed wholly satisfied, ‘they're shutting you out too. Welcome to my world.'

Bronwyn bit her lip. He was right, of course. She was definitely on the outside looking in. She knew what Claudia would do. Claudia would push and shove until someone gave in. But she wasn't Claudia. Fighting wasn't her thing.

She smiled. But allegiances were.

‘Did you know Lydia's thinking of asking Jack to come home?' she blurted, before she could second-guess her decision to tell him.

‘
What?
' Horace's voice cracked like a whip. ‘She's going behind my back?' His tone was more question than statement.

‘What else can she do?' Bronwyn tried to explain. ‘The business needs a winemaker – someone you'll trust. You haven't done well with everyone else they've hired so far.'

Horace's eyes narrowed. ‘She knows how I feel about this. Are you absolutely sure that this is what she wants to do?'

‘It's not set in stone or anything,' Bronwyn reassured him. ‘Jack hasn't agreed yet. However, Chris and Lydia were talking about it yesterday after …' She trailed off, hoping he would fill in the blanks.

He sighed heavily. ‘After Chris and I had our disagreement.'

‘They were just trying to find a way to fix things,' she said quickly. ‘They think he is the only one who can.'

‘Nonsense,' Horace snapped. ‘
I
can fix this place.'

Bronwyn carefully examined the nail of her pointer finger. ‘Not when you're half blind, Horace. You need someone to be your eyes.'

She looked at him. He was still and silent, the expression on his face completely resentful, so she pushed home her point.

‘Someone to tap into that extensive knowledge locked in your head. Someone you can work with to take control of this faltering business.'

He glared at her. ‘Who are you suggesting?'

‘I'm not suggesting anyone,' she shrugged, immediately turning to the fingernails of her other hand. ‘Though now that you mention it …'

‘Go on,' he said in resignation.

‘I would be a good candidate.'

‘You?' Then his shoulders drooped in defeat. ‘All right, all right. I'll get you into Claudia's office, but we have to be quick before Lydia heads over there.'

Bronwyn dropped all pretence of indifference and threw her arms around him. ‘You won't regret this, Horace. ‘

He seemed pleased by her sudden affection but pulled back a little and shook a knobbly finger at her. ‘I better not. I know it's not much of a threat these days but I'm not letting you out of my sight.'

‘I'll work harder for Oak Hills than I've ever worked in my life,' she promised.

He grunted. ‘I'm doing this in protest. To keep Jack at bay.'

‘Of course, I completely understand.' She smiled sweetly.

‘Come on then,' he turned around crankily, ‘before I change my mind.'

Without further ado, the two of them hit the gravel path again, heading for the winery and office section of Oak Hills. Being the most industrial part of the estate, there was surprisingly nothing romantic about the winery. This was probably why the Franklins had chosen to surround it with tall gums. It definitely looked like a factory, consisting of a lot of steel tanks and structures. But the first thing Bronwyn noticed as they approached were the picking boxes – big purple plastic ones numbering in the hundreds, each standing at least a metre in height with a metre-square footprint. They were stacked on top of each other in columns of four. There was an empty green tractor parked nearby, a couple of huge warehouses in the background, and before her in various sizes were the fermentation tanks, their stainless steel bodies winking at her in the bright sunlight.

As they walked past the plant and equipment towards the brick office-building on the far side, Bronwyn couldn't help but notice how slow Horace moved compared to the last time she'd seen him. His disease really was taking its toll. Maybe she was wrong to enlist his help in preventing Jack from coming
home. It would be a colossal shame if those two never worked out their differences.

Seeming to feel her pity, and clearly not liking it, he looked up with a frown to say crankily, ‘Your dog has been chewing through our water hoses.'

‘Oh, really?' Her nose wrinkled. ‘I'm so sorry about that.'

‘And digging holes in Lydia's vegetable patch.'

‘Oh dear.'

‘She also tore my shirt off the clothesline yesterday evening after you went up for your shower.'

Embarrassment and remorse reddened her cheeks. ‘I'll buy you a new one,' she quickly reassured him.

‘And a new clothesline too,' he grunted. ‘It came down with it.'

‘Seriously?' Bronwyn put a hand to her temple.
Damn!
She really needed to keep a better eye on Elsa. The plan had been to walk her twice a day but in her distraction she hadn't gotten around to it that morning. She had thought leaving her off-leash to roam the property would get rid of all that restless energy. Clearly, she was keeping busy.

Horace's face softened. ‘I like your dog.'

Bronwyn turned to him in surprise. ‘You do?'

He shrugged. ‘She's feisty. I like feisty.'

‘Me too,' she agreed, surprised at herself because it was probably the first time she'd admitted it as well. Elsa was really growing on her.

‘Always wanted a dog like that but never had the time to get one.' Horace sighed. ‘Now I have all the time in the world.'

‘You should walk Elsa.' Bronwyn quickly pounced. ‘She'd like that and so would I.'

‘Maybe I will.'

They were silent for a moment.

‘So … I know why I don't want Jack back, but why don't you?' Horace asked. ‘Something happen between the two of you before he left?'

Great.
She had thought she was in the clear after her chat with Lydia. Out of harm's way, so to speak. Of course, it would have to be the blind man who saw too much.

‘You were the last person to talk to him before he left the country,' Horace continued to probe. ‘What did he say to you?'

‘You've asked me that so many times.' Bronwyn shook her head sadly. ‘I've told you everything I know already, Horace.'

‘Then why do I still feel like I'm missing something?' Horace cleared his throat.

Lydia was right. Horace just didn't get it. As a proud man himself, how could he have expected Jack to stay when he'd given him every indication that he wanted him to leave?

She was the only one who had begged Jack to stay, not condemned him, fired him and kicked him off the family property. She thought disowning one's child because they displeased you had died out in the 1950s. Even her parents hadn't subjected her to that, yet.

What the Franklins didn't know – not even Claudia – was that this wasn't the first time she'd wanted to leave law and run away to Oak Hills. Five years ago, when Chris had tragically lost the use of his legs, she'd wanted to help out then too – forget her career in the city and put down roots in Yallingup. Not just because the Franklins needed her, but because she was in love.

She remembered her last conversation with Jack as clearly as if it were yesterday. It had taken place in a rundown motel in Dunsborough – a one-bedroom apartment that had seen better days. She had knocked for ages because he hadn't answered at first. She, however, had been absolutely determined to reach him. The family she loved so much was splintering apart and she couldn't bear it. Finally he pulled open the door and her heart had gone out to him. He looked terrible, worse than she'd ever seen him … grubby T-shirt, old tracksuit pants.

He stank too.

He groaned at the sight of her, running a hand through his brown hair. ‘What are you doing here, Numbat?'

‘I had to check on you.'

‘Well, you have,' he nodded abruptly. ‘I'm fine. You can go now.'

‘Isn't that usually my line?'

‘I guess it's time for a change.'

He still hadn't invited her in, so she shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. ‘Look, I know you and I haven't exactly been best friends lately.'

He snorted.

‘Or
ever
, for that matter,' she muttered. ‘But I do think I'm about the only person right now who gets what you're going through.'

He folded his arms. ‘Really? You get what I'm going through? I doubt it.'

She said, with simplicity, ‘My family have
never
liked me.'

‘Bronwyn –'

‘There, you've made me say it. After all your teasing and nitpicking I'm finally admitting it to you. Isn't that what you've always wanted to hear?'

‘No.'

She shrugged. ‘It doesn't matter because the truth is, for you it's only temporary. The Franklins I know wouldn't let this beat them. I'm not leaving till I've helped you guys sort this out.'

‘I think this is a bit beyond your clean-up skills, don't you?' he grumbled, but left the door open as he walked away. She stepped in tentatively.

The room was no more neat than Jack was. Takeaway containers that were days old lay strewn on the coffee table. The bed was unmade. The TV was on. The sink was full of dishes.

‘Jack, what are you going to do?'

‘I don't know but I can't stay here indefinitely.'

‘No, you can't. Your mum is talking to your dad.' She walked around him, trying to catch his eyes, but he refused
to look at her. ‘I'm sure they'll both invite you to come back home very soon.'

‘What if I don't want to go home?' he demanded. ‘What if it's me who thinks I should stay away, not the other way around?'

She froze. ‘Jack, don't do anything rash.'

‘Where was that warning a week ago?' His fingers brushed over his unshaven whiskers, causing a rough rasping sound. ‘Chris is going to be in a fuckin' wheelchair for the rest of his life with no hope of walking again.'

‘There's plenty of guilt to go round. It's not all your fault, Jack.'

‘You'd be the only person on the planet to think that.'

‘Your dad is angry, hurt and pissed right now. He's not thinking straight. He's overreacting.' Everyone had heard the row between father and son when Jack had come home from the hospital the previous week without his brother.

‘The thing is, Bronwyn,' his hands fisted, ‘I don't blame Dad. I don't blame him for everything he said to me. He's right. I am reckless and I have ruined Chris's life, and for what? A great night out.'

He started to pace angrily. ‘I wish he could take more from me than just my job and my accommodation. Leaving town is the best thing I can do right now.'

‘Running away is never the best thing to do.'

‘Bronwyn.' For the first time in their conversation he really held her gaze, and the glistening sheen in his eyes told her everything. She sucked in a sharp breath as he said quietly, ‘Nobody wants me here.'

‘I do.'

‘Oh, for goodness sake.' He turned away, pressing his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. ‘A week ago you never would have said that. It's pity talking. Besides, you don't even live here.'

‘I could,' Bronwyn said quickly. ‘I hate law. I don't want to work at the family firm next year. I could come here, help out, work with your family instead. I love you guys. You know that.'

He shook his head, a faint smile twisting his mouth. ‘You always were the peacemaker, Numbat. And you know what?' He turned and nodded at her. ‘You should do that. You should quit law because I know that's what would make you happy.' His mouth hardened. ‘Chris would love having you here too. You should do that for him.'

‘Chris is going to go through a very hard time. He's going to need a lot of support.'

‘Then give it to him. You're the perfect person to do it.'

‘What about you?'

‘He hates me.'

‘Don't be ridiculous.'

‘I went to visit him at the hospital today,' Jack said curtly. ‘The nurse wouldn't let me through. He doesn't want to see me, she said. What does that tell you?'

‘Jack, he's just found out he'll never walk again. He'll be feeling all sorts of emotions. Anger is just the first. You need to give this time. People need a chance to process stuff.'

‘It doesn't take long to process that he fell off the back of the ute because I swerved,' Jack growled. ‘Deliberately. Everybody saw it. Including you.'

She wished she could deny it. He filled in the silence for her.

‘I don't know why you haven't jumped on my case like the rest of them.'

‘We all make dumb mistakes in life, Jack. I've screwed up more times than I can count.'

‘Yeah, well we're not talking about your sense of fashion here, Numbat, we're talking about my brother's legs.'

‘There's no need to get mad at me. I'm trying to help you.'

‘I'm sorry.' Jack gritted his teeth. ‘But you're looking at this through rose-coloured glasses as bloody usual. Dad wants
me to go. It's not like I've got responsibilities at Oak Hills anymore. He's made sure of that. He wants me to prove myself elsewhere.'

‘Then do that.'

He sucked in a breath. ‘Oak Hills means everything to me. It's who I am. Do you think I want to work for a competitor just around the corner? The only option is to leave town.'

‘Listen,' Bronwyn caught him by the shoulders, ‘I've got to go home for a few weeks. My family wants to know why I've been MIA. Just hang on till then, okay? I'll sort out uni, my job and be right back. I can help you.'

‘Always with the helping, Numbat,' he sighed. ‘I never thought I'd be one of your strays.'

‘You're not a stray.' She shook her head. ‘But you do need me. I'll be able to talk Claudia round and once we've got her on side, maybe we can get your dad to give you your job back.'

He eyed her carefully. ‘You're really going to quit law and come live in Yallingup?'

She took a breath. ‘Yep.'

It was the closest she'd ever come to a declaration. How much plainer could she have got than that? Other than saying, point blank, ‘Jack, I have feelings for you. I'd give up everything before I let you leave.'

In the moment that had followed she thought he'd got the message too, because he'd lifted a hand and brushed her cheek. It was the most tender expression of affection that had ever passed between them, with no trace of the teasing so-called ‘brotherly love' he usually employed.

Her breath had hitched in her throat as she looked up into those sad brown eyes.

‘Okay,' he agreed.

Then, dropping his hand, he moved away to the couch.

Having secured his compliance she didn't try to nag him further and left shortly after that to put the plan into motion. In fact, she drove back to Perth that very night.

At the time, she still lived with her mother, who had bought her father out of the family home. The decor in her bedroom had not changed since she was a teenager. When she arrived there and saw it, she couldn't help but reflect on how stagnant her life was. She was controlled by her parents' whims rather than her own. Especially her mother's. Her identity was Bianca Hanks's daughter, nothing more. She was completely two-dimensional. It had confirmed her belief that the leap she was taking was the right thing to do.

Of course, she had been stupid to think that her mother would make absolutely no objection when she told her about her plan the next morning over breakfast. Leaving law, forsaking the family firm to live and work in the Margaret River wine region was not just preposterous, it was
crazy
.

‘Don't be a fool! After everything your father and I have done to get you where you are.'

What had they done, exactly? Apart from pressure her, browbeat her and withhold their love should she put one foot wrong.

‘Where is this coming from?' Bianca demanded. ‘It's that girl, Claudia, isn't it? And that family of hers. I always knew they were a bad influence.'

It didn't matter that Bronwyn had opened the conversation by trying to explain her clear unsuitability for the legal profession. Bianca remained convinced that there something more sinister afoot. After all, how could her absolute power over her daughter's decisions have faded so completely?

Bronwyn should never have given up talking to her mother. Leaving Bianca to her own devices and hoping that she got over it had been her biggest mistake. Bianca Hanks never let sleeping dogs lie. So of course she had gone digging for information she had no business knowing. She reported to her daughter a few days later that the man she was ruining her life for was gone.

Bronwyn had not understood at first. ‘What are you talking about?'