The Maxwell Sisters (16 page)

Eve smiled, lifting the bruschetta to her lips. ‘I do what I can.'

They fell into a companionable silence, very much like they had intended to share this meal together. Part of the pleasure of cooking was watching people enjoy what she offered. She loved the way their eyes lit up at first bite and the enthusiasm that followed as they ate the rest. Adonis was a sight for sore eyes with all that gorgeous honey skin on display. There was not a droplet of displeasure in watching a man like that eat.

‘Well,' he said as he drained his mug, ‘that was nice, Eve. In a weird sort of way.'

She peeked at him through her eyelashes, wondering what on earth she was going to do with him. Here was a guy who now knew all her secrets. Not exactly an ideal situation, especially given his unpredictability.

He grinned at her and, to her alarm, grabbed her hand. ‘Stop worrying, Eve. I'm not going to tell anyone. Why don't we put our swords away and just be friends, huh?'

She stared down at their hands.

My life is a broken record.
Another handsome guy on the lookout for a new friend. And who does he pick first?

He squeezed her hand. ‘You can teach me how to be supportive and I'll teach you how to have fun. Seems like you bloody need it.'

Those gorgeous blue eyes were a gateway to destruction. Was she to forget Spider only to play the same game with somebody else? Spider had bled her emotionally for years without even knowing it. She'd been
so there
for him – most of the time at her own expense – and where had that got her?

‘I –' Her gaze happened to stray to the window and her voice cut off as she realised how light it was outside. ‘I need to go.'

She leapt up from her chair.

‘Do you want me to walk you back?'

‘No, that's all right,' she said quickly. ‘I've got my Barina parked out the front.' She turned to go.

‘Wait, Eve, you never answered my question before about being friends.'

She stopped briefly on her way to the door to look at him and, for the first time, the girl who had never said ‘No' found her voice. ‘Thanks, Adam.' She smiled. ‘But I've got enough friends.'

Tash awoke to the slam of a door somewhere down the hall. Her first thought was who on earth was awake so early this morning? But she quickly lost interest in the answer as her body registered the arm draped casually around her waist, the breath wafting softly by her ear and the hard bare thigh resting behind her legs. Cocooned in an embrace so warm and familiar, it made tears sting the back of her eyes. She blinked rapidly as her heart rate jumped to two hundred beats per minute.

Heath!

She didn't dare move for fear she might wake him and be caught in this compromising situation.

‘Good morning.'

Drat.

She cleared her throat but her voice still came out stiff. ‘Good morning.'

She tried to move but the arm around her waist tightened. ‘Don't go.'

‘Heath,' she breathed, ‘I … I don't think this is appropriate.'

‘How are you going to convince everyone that we're happily married if you cringe every time I touch you?' he growled, but abruptly let her go, rolling over to his side of the bed and sitting up. It left her feeling both bereft and relieved. Why was she so conflicted? A year ago everything was so black and white. Now things seemed … murky. She had many questions that she didn't dare ask for fear his answers would hurt too much.

‘Look, let's just get dressed and go have breakfast.' He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Neither of us is going to get any sleep now.'

She nodded in agreement. ‘You take the bathroom first.'

‘No.' He turned briefly to give her a fleeting smile that made her breath catch in her throat. ‘I had it first last night.'

In the end she was grateful to dash out of there, put some safe distance between them. It wasn't like she didn't have enough on her mind without having to worry about her attraction to a man she thought she had decisively cut from her life.

What Heath had told her before they'd both fallen asleep was disturbing. She didn't know what to think and was frankly eager to get to the bottom of it. All this time she had been mad at Eve, who now looked like the victim of a terrible attack. But from
Spider
? It seemed incredible that her sister's best friend could do such a thing. And why?

The person she most wanted to talk to was her father. The man who held all the secrets in this house and guarded them behind a disguise of senility. It had always surprised her how much everyone underestimated him. But now she too had done the exact same thing. When she was dressed she didn't go back to her bedroom but went straight to the kitchen for breakfast.

The smell of coffee and toast filled her nostrils before she spied her mother behind the counter wearing a rather old-fashioned yellow nightgown. ‘Hello, darling. Did you guys sleep well?'

‘Yes, actually.' She was surprised to find she was telling the truth. Strangely enough, she'd had a wonderful sleep once it had claimed her. ‘Is Dad up?' she asked.

‘Yes.' Her mother nodded. ‘He finished breakfast early and is somewhere about.' She pursed her lips. ‘I hope he intends to stay around the house today but it's impossible to predict. Often when we're talking I don't really think he's listening.'

Tash popped some bread in the toaster. ‘You worry too much, Mum. Dad is just being Dad.'

Her mother looked up sadly. ‘Everybody keeps telling me that but I can't shake the feeling something else is up.'

‘Well, I want to talk to him this morning.' Tash smiled as her toast popped. ‘If you like I'll give him the third degree.'

Anita's eyes lit up. ‘That would be wonderful. Where's Heath?'

Tash concentrated on buttering her toast. ‘Still having a shower, I imagine. He should be coming in for breakfast any moment.'

By which time she hoped to be done with hers and off looking for her father.

‘Is
that woman
up yet?' Anita whispered.

Tash grinned. It wasn't hard to work out who ‘that woman' was. ‘No, I don't think so. They'll have a sleep-in, no doubt.'

‘Of course.' Anita's airy voice had a bit of a bite in it. ‘The new beams for the restaurant are arriving in an hour. I hope they intend to be up by then.'

‘I'm sure they're not going to skimp out on the work,' Tash assured her. ‘Graeme and Patricia are here to help.'

‘Hmph.' Her mother was unimpressed by her assurances, leading Tash to believe that this pettiness must be caused by something other than her general distrust of Spider's mother.

‘All right, what's up?' She bit into her toast.

‘Nothing, really.'

‘Nothing?'

‘All right, something. But it's not like I feel I should mention it because I don't want to cause Phoebe any distress.'

‘O-kay.'

‘I mean, it is her wedding. It should be a joyous occasion. And why she should be plagued with Patricia's complete inflexibility, I have absolutely no idea.'

‘Of course not,' Tash agreed amicably.

‘Like those invitations, for instance,' her mother flicked her hand. ‘I was very upset about those. But it's not like I demanded they be retracted. No, I held my peace.'

‘What was wrong with the invitations?'

‘You didn't notice the order the names were mentioned?' Her mother blinked in surprise.

Tash groaned because Phoebe had already told her this story. ‘Mum, no one is going to notice that.'

‘You really think so?'

‘Cross my fingers and hope to die,' Tash promised. ‘No one will care.'

Anita sniffed doubtfully.

‘So what has Patricia done now that you wish to complain about?'

Anita shook her head. ‘Didn't I just say I've made up my mind to say nothing? I'm not going to upset Phoebe with this. I'm going to hold my tongue for her sake.'

Tash took another bite of toast and said wryly, ‘Martyr yourself for the cause?'

‘I will do anything for my children.' Anita put a hand tragically over her heart. ‘Anything.'

‘Yes, Mum,' Tash nodded in resignation. ‘I know you would.'

‘I would suffer gladly for your happiness.'

‘Mum, no one is asking you to suffer.'

‘But I am suffering,' Anita protested.

‘Why?'

Anita ignored the direct question. ‘I know this is not a Greek wedding – I'm not trying to make it one – but I think there should be a priest of some description there to bless the union. Not a Greek Orthodox priest because a garden wedding would be out of the question but at least a Christian one.'

‘What do Spider and Phoebe want?'

‘They don't mind. Spider is not religious. But you know Phoebe believes in God. Why should she go without? It is quite late notice, so they are happy to go with whomever is available. Why shouldn't I ask Father Christos from St Michaels in Dunsborough? He is a very nice man who I see often in town. Not at all preachy. He likes football! Which I think is quite scandalous for a priest.'

Tash sighed. ‘And what does Patricia want?'

‘To ruin everything!' Anita insisted. ‘She's been in their ear about getting a Justice of the Peace, preferably an ex-high-court judge. She is quite determined to find one. Wants them to be as well respected as possible.'

‘Well that's not bad, is it?'

‘Tash,' Anita gasped. ‘You are
breaking
my heart.'

‘All right, all right,' Tash nodded, happy to retreat. ‘I think you should get Phoebe or Spider to sort this out before you and Patricia start bringing out your cannons.'

‘It is not me, I don't want to say a word. But
that woman
,' Anita's nod was brutal, ‘thinks very highly of herself. I swear, she walks through Tawny Brooks garden so the roses can smell her. You mark my words.'

Just then Heath strolled into the room and goosebumps immediately broke out on Tash's flesh. He looked wonderful in that freshly showered kind of way that evoked all sorts of pleasant memories – some of which were highly inappropriate for her mother's kitchen. She turned away to grab the kettle as he approached the bench, though did not escape the subtle smell of his aftershave, which permeated the room slowly like a drop of dye in water.

‘Good morning, Anita,' he said warmly as Tash poured hot water over instant coffee powder.

‘Good morning, Heath,' her mother said cheerfully. ‘Tash says you slept well.'

Her senses on high alert, Tash heard rather than saw him walk behind the counter to stand next to her. ‘We did. Thanks.'

She'd pulled all her hair up into a neat ponytail so her neck was exposed. He put his hand there ever so casually, his thumb caressing the base like he had done so many times in the past. Her legs nearly buckled.

‘What's for breakfast?' he murmured, peering over her shoulder at the condiments and boxes on the bench.

It was a good thing her mother answered because speech evaded her.

‘Nothing but toast or cereal, I'm afraid,' Anita replied. ‘But we'll have a big lunch. I've stocked the restaurant with heaps of goodies.'

Tash finally found her wits and moved out of Heath's reach, taking her mug of hot coffee with her. ‘Speaking of the restaurant, I'll meet you guys there. I need to find Dad.'

‘Okay, sweetheart,' said Heath.

‘Bye, darl,' her mother added.

She waved a hand awkwardly over her shoulder. She wasn't comfortable with being called ‘sweetheart' again and really had no idea how to respond. Heath was clearly taking advantage of their situation. And she was a little nervous about exactly what game he was playing. He'd said he was trapped by circumstance, that he was here for Phoebe and Spider's wedding. But at the back of her mind she knew it had to be more than that. She knew him too well.

He was an intelligent and tenacious man. Combined, these qualities made him lethal. Generally, he got what he wanted, no matter how long it took. If he had been a knight in the Middle Ages, sieges would have been his speciality. There was nothing Heath set his mind to that he didn't get.

But what does he want this time?

Natasha put the question out of her mind as she hurried down the hall, checking first the sitting room and then the study for her father. They were both empty, though she did pause on the threshold of the latter. Her father's study brought back so many memories from childhood, it was impossible not to feel nostalgic. Even the musty smell of the room was familiar. As she gazed upon his old leather chair she could see him sitting there, talking animatedly with some of his distributers about renewing their orders. A blue velvet box on the desk caught her eye just before she moved to close the door, and she went over to look at it. It was a strange thing for him to have in his study because it looked like a jewellery case. She wasn't wrong. Upon opening the lid, she gasped at the sight of a delicate gold bracelet studded with sapphires.

She quickly snapped the box shut, wondering if it was a present for Mum. With a smile, she placed the box back on his desk and left the room to head outside, the only other place her father could be.

She walked out the front door. The sunshine momentarily blinded her as she headed down the gravel driveway. It was a gorgeous, February morning. Warm, but not too hot. Dressed in jeans and a red t-shirt, she had no issue with walking straight into the crop. She knew her father's usual route. He'd been taking this walk up to their grand gazebo since she was a kid.

First, she had to go through a block of sauvignon. The vines were taller than her now, so entering one of the rows was like going into a roofless green tunnel that chirped with insects. The vine was heavy on its crown, the cane leaden with grape bunches, dark and bulky – barely hidden by the foliage. The grapes were ripe enough now to be very attractive to birds – in particular, the notorious silvereye, the biggest culprit for stealing fruit in the South-West. The vine was covered by nets for protection. The nets would be kept on until just before harvest. Adam would decide when this was. From what she had seen of the man, he seemed to be passionate enough. She hoped he wasn't going to let her father down.

It was a pleasant walk along this row and then through another down a block of merlot. The air was heavy with the sweet scent of fruit warmed by the sun and it lightened her mood.

Her mind had been so crammed lately with dark thoughts of the past.

Sophia. The grief she had not been able to share with her husband. The blame he put on her and the belief that he had no fault in doing so.

So many times she had wondered how he could have been so cold, so callous. But seeing him now, after so many months, left her unsettled. Because right now he was not cold. He was not vacant. God help her. He was anything but.

More like a simmering furnace. She couldn't stand far enough away from him without feeling the heat.

It made her wonder. Could it be that in her grief she had not been able to see his pain? Or that perhaps he had deliberately kept it from her. Her loss had coloured everything. For the first time, new possibilities were entering her head.

I complained that he was never there for me, but was I there for him?

The crunch of her feet on the gravel scared two fairy-wrens pecking on the path. They flicked their bright blue tail feathers at her before fluttering away.

Heath had never been big on talking about feelings. He was more physical than chatty – a black and white sort of man with a practical streak through him that had always been very matter of fact. He was sincere, quiet and … determined.

A smile tickled her lips as she remembered the first day they'd met.

It was at a bus stop in the city of all places. She was waiting for her ride home and he was working on the construction site for a new shopping mall right behind the bus shelter. The large lot had a high steel fence around it and warning signs to pedestrians – ‘Danger, Do Not Enter,' and ‘Authorised Personnel Only'. As she stood there in her professional black dress, shiny heels with a briefcase in hand, he was sitting on the kerb eating an apple. Dressed in khaki pants, a short-sleeve shirt and an orange high-visibility vest, he seemed to blend in with his backdrop – a kind of lone cowboy, definitely not the slick shiny type she was used to dating. She had felt his eyes on her but pointedly did not make eye contact.