Discovering Gold

by S. M. Spencer

  Copyright © 2019 S M Spencer

  All rights are reserved. The material contained within this book is protected by copyright law, no part may be copied, reproduced, presented, stored, communicated or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission.

  This publication is a work of fiction. All names, characters, businesses, places and organizations are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by BookPOD

  Cover images by iStockphoto

  eISBN: 978-1-922270-18-4

  Related books in the Copperhead Creek Australian Romance series:

  A Chance to Come True

  A Chance to Get it Right

  A Chance to Let Go

  A Chance to Belong

  A Chance for Snow

  Related books in the Copperhead Creek Mystery series:

  Murder at the Creek

  Prologue

  Melbourne, Australia — December

  Alex Mason pulled into her driveway and turned off the car’s engine, then sat gripping the steering wheel as tears of frustration burnt behind her eyes.

  Six years.

  Six years of long hours, without any extra pay, to build the after-school and summer tennis programs.

  Oh, and six years of promoting the club in her own time by walking the entire neighbourhood doing letter-box drops.

  And what do they do to show her how much her loyalty has meant to them? Why, they shut the doors—two weeks before Christmas—with no warning. No notice for her. No notice for the other employees. And worst of all, no notice for all the families whose children were enrolled for the summer tennis program.

  Her fists clenched and unclenched as she let her anger simmer.

  What were all those kids going to do over the summer now?

  She took two deep, calming breaths, determined to find some sort of silver lining in this.

  Money wouldn’t be a problem. They’d given her six month’s pay and Liam was earning good money these days, so she didn’t have to find a new job immediately. Maybe she could find somewhere else to set up the program? She could check with all the other clubs in the area and if she was lucky maybe one of them could offer her a court or two for a few hours a day. Or maybe the City Council or a local school could help her out. Or if she couldn’t find courts, maybe she could think of something else they could do, something besides tennis. Maybe even something at Liam’s golf course.

  She closed her eyes, determined to stay positive. Okay, so the club was closing and she’d lost her job, but the world hadn’t come to an end. At least she’d thought to save a copy of the list of all the parents’ names and phone numbers. She’d think of something and then contact every one of them.

  Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her handbag and box of belongings and made her way inside.

  As she stepped into the kitchen, uneasiness washed over her but she brushed it off and set her box and handbag on the table. She’d make a cup of tea and start making calls because, with Christmas just two weeks away, there was no time to lose.

  As she pulled a mug from the cupboard she heard something.

  Had a faint sound had come from the other end of the house?

  Standing perfectly still, she focused on the silence, questioning whether she’d actually heard anything more than the sounds of the house settling. Then, just as she convinced herself it was nothing, the sound drifted toward her again.

  She held her breath, waiting for fear to swallow her. Only it didn’t. Whatever she’d heard didn’t incite fear, but rather curiosity.

  She crept down the long hall toward the source of the sound, searching for anything out of place, ears straining for more sounds. A muffled voice wafted toward her, dragging her closer to her bedroom door. Had Liam come home? She hadn’t checked the garage—had he put his car away?

  When she reached the door it stood slightly ajar. She pressed a finger to it, reluctantly, watching as it slowly swung open enough for her to see inside the room.

  Her heart sank as she took in the scene before her; Liam’s muscular back, tangled sheets, feminine hands clinging to his bare shoulders, a shock of long blonde hair trailing across the pillow.

  She shrank back, unable to tear her eyes away. Short sharp gasps of air filled her lungs, but she couldn’t exhale. She clasped her stomach, hard, doubling over, and somehow the movement pushed her breath out. She gulped in air and immediately regretted it—it tasted of massage oil and sweat. She stared at them, expecting them to turn and look at her. Had their groans and heavy breathing drowned out her desperate gasps? A herd of raw emotions thundered through her, yet she still stood paralysed—drawn to watch even though repulsed.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  She blinked, slowly, and then rubbed her eyes but the sight before her remained unchanged. When she cleared her throat, she expected Liam to look up, but he didn’t react.

  She coughed, louder.

  Still nothing.

  She grabbed the handle of the bedroom door and pulled it shut with a bang. Stepping back, she leaned against the wall for support, listening to her thunderous heartbeat as she waited for the inevitable tears to flow. Only no tears came.

  She gritted her teeth and took a few short breaths, gaining strength as anger once again welled up inside her.

  Strained voices finally filtered through the closed door. They were followed by shuffling and the slamming of the ensuite door. A moment later the bedroom door squeaked open. Liam stood there wearing nothing but his boxers and a vague excuse for a smile. He blinked too quickly; uncomfortably.

  ‘You’re home early, honey. I … uh … wasn’t expecting you.’

  Huffing out a breath, she stepped into the centre of the hallway shaking her head back and forth slowly. She couldn’t look at him so she focused on a photo of the two of them; one taken on a sunny Queensland beach. It was their honeymoon, almost ten years earlier. Her brow tightened as she remembered the photo being taken—remembered her thoughts at the time, that she’d married the most wonderful man on the planet.

  She’d been planning to suggest they go back to the same beach for their anniversary.

  Biting her lower lip so hard she tasted blood, she focussed her mind on him. Suddenly a series of images flooded in; the beeping of text messages at odd hours; the hesitation on his face each time he told her about workshops that would take him out of town; and the unexpected surprise of finding freshly washed sheets on the bed last week. How long had this been going on? How long had she failed to recognise the signs that seemed so clear now?

  Her forehead tightened further as she tried to think faster, to put things into perspective. When did they last have sex?

  For the third time today, a wave of anger washed over her. She closed her eyes, shaking her head, wanting everything about this day to be a dream, but knowing it wasn’t.

  When she opened her eyes he’d moved closer. He reached a hand out toward her but she raised her hands, palms facing him, as she took two quick steps back. ‘Don’t.’

  His hand dropped to his side. His eyes pleaded. ‘Babe, it’s … not what you think.’

  ‘It’s not what you think.’ She repeated his words, unsure whether out loud, or in her mind. She swallowed hard, and then, lifting an eyebrow, she turned to gaze down the hall looking for some sort of inspiration. She twisted her wedding band round and round as she tried to find the right words—any words—that would adequately express her disgust and mortification. There were none that could do her feelings justice. ‘Right, so it’s not wh
at I think. Then what is it, Liam?’

  He stared at her, an awkward half-smile twisting his face. It was the first time in all the years she’d known him that he struggled to speak. He was the smoothest talker she’d ever met, and she’d adored his non-stop chatter, his flirtatious grin, his winks and caresses. All those little things that had made her believe she was the centre of his universe.

  When he finally broke the silence his words were anything but smooth. ‘She … I … I mean we …’

  She huffed out another breath and swallowed hard. Then it dawned on her that, surprisingly, she was amused by his discomfort.

  A sense of calm washed over her. Maybe, on some level, she had known.

  About Liam’s cheating.

  About the club owners’ plans to sell out.

  About the rug being pulled out from under her very existence for the second time in her life.

  ‘You know what? I don’t even want to hear your explanation. It doesn’t matter.’

  The man in front of her ran a shaky hand through his hair, blinking rapidly as his mouth opened and shut like a beached fish.

  He was a stranger. A man she didn’t know.

  And importantly, a man she no longer wanted to know.

  Chapter 1

  Sixteen months later

  Alex wiped the sweat from her brow as she leaned up against her car, catching her breath. She’d just finished jogging the five kilometre track that circled Albert Park Lake and as she inhaled the fresh morning air she took in the colours of autumn. The trees had already started dropping their leaves, and those still clinging to the branches were turning various shades of red.

  A wry smile touched her lips as she stared at the leaves on the ground. Their lives were over, their rich colours faded to dull brown. They’d soon be nothing more than dust on the wind. She swallowed hard as her shoulders drooped. She’d turned thirty-one on her last birthday, edging closer to the day when her own colours would begin to fade, and what did she have to show for herself besides a failed marriage and a ruined career?

  She wiped her forearm across her face again, and grunted with frustration. Where were her endorphins today? Running usually gave her a lift, yet today she’d needed to remind herself once again that she was neither the only person in the world to lose a job without warning nor the only woman to have been cheated on by a husband. She wasn’t even the only athlete to have a career come to a grinding halt due to an injury.

  Trying to lift her spirits, she made a mental checklist of the positives. The divorce was finalised. She had a good job now—okay, it was long hours, and somewhat mind-numbing at times, but the pay was good. She was ahead on her mortgage payments and if she continued to work hard for another few years she could consider a less demanding job; one that would allow time for other parts of her life.

  Pulling the band from her hair, she bent over and combed her fingers through her long damp tresses, wondering what had brought on today’s trip down self-pity lane. When she straightened up, she looked toward the lake and a slight smile pulled at her cheeks. A group of small dinghies bobbled across its surface, the tiny little boats carrying small children learning to sail. A fresh gust of wind brought with it the sound of their laughter. That must have been it. The sound of young children enjoying themselves always triggered a twisted jumble of pleasure and pain.

  She sighed, forgiving herself for her less than cheerful thoughts. Then, remembering the card from the post office saying she needed to collect a registered letter, she checked her watch, noting she had plenty of time to get to the post office before mid-day.

  But for the life of her she couldn’t think who’d have sent her a registered letter. Unless she’d won the lottery?

  ~~*~~

  ‘You aren’t going to believe this.’

  Alex sat at her kitchen table, facing her sisters, Casey and Taylor. The twins were younger versions of her; each had flame red hair, green eyes and a smattering of freckles across their cheeks. What set them apart these days was Casey’s short cropped style, whereas Taylor and Alex both still wore theirs long.

  The twins both smiled and rolled their eyes.

  ‘So tell us, already. I can’t stand the suspense.’ Casey picked up one of Taylor’s mini sausage rolls, dunked it into the bowl of tomato sauce, and popped the whole thing into her mouth.

  Alex placed an envelope on the table in front of them. ‘Did either of you get one of these?’

  The twins looked at each other and shook their heads in unison. Casey spoke. ‘I didn’t have any mail yesterday, but I’m not sure my postman comes every day.’

  ‘Me neither,’ said Taylor. ‘What is it? It looks official.’

  Alex removed the letter and began reading aloud. The beginning identified the sender and explained the firm had been engaged to handle the estate of one Steven Mason of Masons Flat, California. Alex read quickly at first, and then slowed when she got to the important bits. Steven Mason, a man whom neither Casey nor Taylor could possibly remember, had named the three of them as the joint beneficiaries of his entire estate.

  Taylor quirked an eyebrow. ‘I don’t get it. Who was Steven Mason?’

  Casey looked over to Alex with a question on her face. ‘I don’t get it either. I have this vague recollection of his name … maybe … but who was he ... and what, exactly, have we inherited?’

  Alex shrugged her shoulders, and then an eyebrow quirked involuntarily as a smile crept onto her face. ‘Steven Mason was our great uncle, and it looks like we’ve inherited a gold-mining town called Masons Flat.’

  Chapter 2

  ‘Welcome to Sacramento. On behalf of the Captain, and all the crew, we thank you for flying with us and hope you have a lovely stay in our beautiful city.’

  The moment the seat belt sign went off, Alex stood and threw her arms back to open up her shoulders. Then her left hand reached up under the collar of her jacket in what was practically a reflex action. She pressed her fingers into the tight deltoid muscle and even through the fabric of her tee-shirt she could feel the scars with her thumb and forefinger. The old injury always bothered her more when she was tired.

  A half hour later she was waiting at the taxi stand and soaking up the warmth of the California sun. She looked up, watching as the clouds changed shape, floating along on air currents that never made their way to earth. It had been a long flight, but well worth it, leaving Melbourne’s increasingly colder weather behind to arrive in California’s spring.

  It never failed to amaze her how the time difference worked—how she could arrive in California on the same day she’d left Australia—and nearly the same time. It was as if the trip had taken only a blink of an eye except that her body knew it had been nearly twenty-four hours since she’d left her house, even if the clocks begged to differ.

  She smiled, imagining her sisters still tucked into their warm beds with their partners, doonas up around their chins. She’d get her head around the time difference eventually, but for now she was simply looking forward to a long walk to stretch her legs, followed by a shower, a proper meal, perhaps an hour or two in front of the telly, followed by a soft bed.

  ~~*~~

  Alex woke to a beautiful blue sky, feeling excited and re-invigorated. The bed had been as good as she’d hoped, and she’d slept better than she had in a long time. Maybe it had something to do with feeling at home in California; after all, she was born right here in Sacramento.

  After a quick jog along the streets of Old Town, she showered and had a leisurely breakfast. A half hour before she was due at her appointment, she headed across to the Capitol Mall which had been blocked off for a street market. Stands displayed an impressive array of fruit and vegetables, such as cherries, tomatoes, zucchinis, squash, melons and apricots, as well as fresh flowers and wine. The whole street buzzed with activity, providing a pleasant contrast to the high-rise buildings on each s
ide of the mall. She peered into one of the stands, amazed by the size of the strawberries on offer. She smiled at the vendor, wondering if everything in California was bigger and better than anywhere else.

  She tore herself away, and it wasn’t long before she found the building and made her way up to the sixth floor.

  A tall man with a full head of grey hair, sporting horn-rimmed glasses and an expensive looking suit, said good morning to her as she stepped through the doors. He flashed a warm smile when she replied, then switched his cup of coffee to his left hand, and extended his right. ‘Ah you must be Alex Mason? We don’t hear a lot of Australian accents in here. I’m Damien West. How was the flight?’

  ‘Long.’ She replied, shaking her head. ‘But it was fine, thanks for asking.’

  ‘I haven’t ventured as far as Australia, but it’s on my bucket list for when I retire. Now, before we get started, can I offer you a cup of coffee?’

  A few minutes later they were seated in a quiet room in front of a rather thick file. Mr West put his hand on the file, but stopped short of opening it. ‘I take it your sisters were unable to make the trip?’

  Alex shook her head. ‘Neither of them could take the time off work.’

  ‘I understand; it was rather short notice. But you had no trouble?’

  She tilted her head, wondering how honest she could be with him, but decided there was no point being anything but honest. ‘My employer wasn’t going to let me take the time off, so I quit. I was getting tired of the job anyway—this gave me a good excuse.’

  Mr West’s smile made her wonder if maybe she and her sisters were going to be so rich that it wouldn’t matter if they all quit their jobs. But when his smile faded as he opened the file her heart dropped.

  ‘I see. Well, perhaps we should get started. I think it’ll be best if we keep it simple for today. We’ll focus on bringing you up to speed with what you’ve inherited, and I’ll give you an overview of the steps we’ll need to take over the next few days. Then you can go away and think about it, and come back to me with further instructions.’