He’d been making deals behind her back.
Her jaws tightened as her fists clenched and unclenched over and over. Any wonder he’d been avoiding her the past week. He’d claimed he was busy. Now she knew what he was so busy doing.
But then, as she allowed her anger to blossom into full-blown hatred, his voice popped into her head. Words carried on a weary sigh. Words whispered as they’d stood alone on his back porch; telling her he’d wondered if it was worth the effort, trying to keep the town alive. Had he been trying to hint at what he was doing? Had he been trying to tell her that he’d already given up on the town? To warn her of the changes afoot without breaking any confidentiality clause he might have signed?
She shook her head as she cursed herself.
No.
Stop. Making. Excuses. For. Him.
She could let him off the hook for not being in love with her because she’d projected her feelings onto his actions when it came to them having sex, but she couldn’t make excuses for his behaviour in business. He shouldn’t have signed anything without talking to her first. He should have had respect for the history between their families if nothing else. He should have trusted her.
She slammed her hand on the top of the desk. ‘Argh!!!!’
Nausea washed over her as her blood drained from her face. Maybe they were all in on it; Travis, Phil Marshall, and this Paul Kelly. Maybe Paul Kelly coming forward the day after she’d told Travis she was going was no coincidence. Then again, Phil Marshall knew too.
She didn’t know who she could trust anymore. Maybe she could trust no-one in the town. Maybe that’s why her uncle had used lawyers, accountants, and estate agents from other towns.
She picked up the phone and rang her accountant, Gary Matthews.
‘Gary, I met with a developer this morning, and it looks like he’ll be making an offer for my properties in town.’
‘A developer? Really? And he wants to buy the Masons Flat properties?’
‘That’s what he said. I won’t be sure until I’ve received the offer.’
‘Why? What does a developer want with Masons Flat? Did he say?’
‘He said his client wants to turn it into a tourist attraction—he mentioned Tombstone, Arizona. Anyway, the reason for the call, when I get the offer, if I’m even remotely inclined to accept it, would you be able to cast your eye over it to make sure it seems reasonable?’
‘Certainly, Alex. That’s not a problem at all—just email it.’
‘Thank you. Actually, I might get Damien West to glance at it too.’
‘Not a bad idea—it’s always a good idea to get a lawyer’s perspective. But as for any offer being reasonable, I’ve commission a firm to do sworn valuations but they won’t be ready for another month at least.’
‘Funnily enough, I’d already asked Phil Marshall to do market appraisals of all our holdings here in town. I wanted them so I could discuss our options with my sisters. I’ll shoot you a copy of his report as well. Speaking of Phil, I remember you saying you’ve known him a long time, and until this morning I had full faith in his abilities, partly due to your relationship with him, but am I being naïve to assume he’s trustworthy? Do you think this developer could be paying him to produce lowball values?’
Gary let out a soft whistle. ‘Trustworthy.’ When he sighed, Alex’s stomach dropped. ‘Look, he’s as trustworthy as any real estate agent I’ve ever dealt with, but the sort of property appraisals he’ll be doing tend to be rather subjective, especially if they haven’t got recent sales to compare to. He’ll probably provide a range of values, and sure, if it was in his interest to keep your expectations low, I’d say he’d do that. I’d say most real estate agents will read a situation and do what’s best for them if at all possible.’
‘I figured you’d say something like that, but I had to ask.’
‘Look, your uncle loved Masons Flat, as did your grandfather, although probably not quite as much. The history of your family is not only in the bricks and mortar; it’s in the soil, and the trees and the winds that blow on a cold winter’s day. I know that’s not the answer you’d expect from an accountant, but it’s true. That history is something only you can put a dollar figure on. If you don’t feel it, and you want out, getting a reasonable offer from one party makes that process a whole lot easier. But, if you do feel it, no offer, no matter how generous, will be enough.’
She swallowed down her emotions—emotions that caught her off guard. Of course he was right. The original Thomas Mason would no doubt roll over in his grave at the thought of a property developer getting his hands on the town. Or would he? Mightn’t he be just as likely to laugh at how much the town had grown in value and be pleased for his descendants? She was now more confused than ever.
‘Thanks, Gary. You’ve given me a lot to think about.’
He laughed. ‘By the tone of your voice I’m not certain you really want to be thanking me, but it’s better that you take all this into account up front rather than think about it after you’ve signed on the dotted line.’
‘True.’ She sighed, exhaustion threatening to take hold.
‘By the way, Alex, I don’t suppose you ever stumbled upon those old valuations I mentioned?’
She sat up, frowning. ‘Old valuations?’
‘Yes, that day you came in to see me I said I thought your uncle had some done a few years back. If you had those it would give you a good basis for comparison to what Phil Marshall comes up with, but if you haven’t come across them, maybe I’m wrong and he never had them done.’
‘No, I haven’t come across them, but to be honest I’d forgotten you’d said that, so I haven’t been specifically looking for them. Do you remember when that was?’
‘Sorry, no, I don’t recall when—a couple of years ago, maybe longer. And he never said why he wanted them.’
Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe none of it mattered. Maybe she just had to take Phil’s appraisals at face value, and compare them to the offer she’d get from Paul Kelly, and be done with it. She could simply go back to Melbourne, start up a private coaching business there, and forget there ever was a town called Masons Flat, or a man named Travis Gold.
‘Well, I’ll see what I think of the offer and if I need you to look at it I’ll email it across. I’m taking everything with me to sit down with my sisters, and I appreciate the work you’ve done so far. Talk soon.’
Setting her phone down, she decided to make herself a cup of coffee. She hadn’t slept much, and after everything this morning she simply wanted to curl up and never make another decision for the rest of her life. But of course she couldn’t do that. She needed to find the old valuations, if they existed, to use as comparisons to Phil Marshall’s figures. And she hadn’t even begun to pack yet.
Armed with coffee she returned to have another look through her uncle’s files.
She looked at the tall filing cabinet where he’d kept all the rental statements and accounts, and shook her head. She’d only just finished going through all those files and hadn’t spotted anything looking like property valuations. Even though it seemed the logical place for them, maybe he’d put them somewhere else.
She turned her attention back to the desk. It had three pull-out drawers on the right, a thin drawer under the writing surface, and a cupboard door that opened on the left. She already knew the cupboard had a single shelf and held several bottles of whisky and some crystal glasses on the shelf.
She pulled open the top of the three right-hand drawers. This held a folder containing all the correspondence to do with the fire at the saloon: the insurance company correspondence, a copy of the police report, a copy of the letter he’d sent to all the employees explaining the situation and assuring them he would continue to pay them while the works were being done. She’d been through all that carefully—there were no valuations hiding there.
Then she pulled out the middle drawer. It held a musty old dictionary, a selection of rulers—which must have been something her uncle collected as she’d never seen so many in one place before—scissors, a calculator and a letter opener. Shutting it, she pulled out the bottom drawer. This one held hanging files, mostly to do with the house. At the front were the most recent accounts, both those to be paid and those having recently been paid. Behind that, copies of the house insurance policy and the rates. Behind that, other miscellaneous expenses to do with the house, and behind that, a copy of the building contract and sale of the land next door.
She drank the last of her coffee, and then pulled out the thin drawer in the middle of the desk—the one under the writing surface. Surprisingly shallow, it simply held a collection of pens and pencils from various companies and hotels, a small metal box of paperclips, another full of rubber bands, and a stapler and staple-remover.
Frustration would cripple her if she let it. She gave herself a mental slap on the face. The valuations, if they were done, would be several years old in any case, and mightn’t be relevant even if she did find them. She had to stop looking and get on with her packing.
She carried her empty cup back into the kitchen, and as she stood running hot water into the cup, the reality of her dilemma became obvious. Even if she’d found the valuations, it wouldn’t have cured her frustration, for one simple reason. Her frustration had nothing to do with valuations.
Her frustration came from the fact that she’d allowed herself to fall in love with someone who’d chosen to betray her without a second thought.
Chapter 30
‘So, no tennis lesson today?’ Denver asked on Thursday evening as they sat having dinner out on the back porch.
Travis recognised that smile. Denver knew the answer before he’d asked. He waited, curious how Annie would answer him.
‘Alex has gone to Australia. She’ll be gone for two weeks so you and Daddy will have to play with me until she gets back.’
Now Denver turned to his older brother, and winked. ‘Oh that’s right; she’s gone to a wedding I believe. I knew she was going, I just didn’t know when. Think you’ll survive two weeks without her and having to play tennis with Annie?’
Travis stared at him in disbelief—his brother didn’t have a subtle bone in his body. His comment didn’t even deserve a response.
Annie giggled. ‘Don’t be silly. I won’t be as hard on him as I will be on you. You haven’t seen me play for a while—Alex has been helping me to serve better, and now you’re really going to be in trouble. And when she gets back we’re gonna start working on my backhand.’
Annie giggled again, and asked if she could be excused. Her favourite show was coming on shortly and she didn’t want to miss any of it.
When the door had closed behind her, Denver raised an eyebrow. ‘You two getting serious, or what?’
Travis let out a long slow breath. He might as well tell him. ‘I think it’s the “or what” to be honest.’
‘Why’s that? I know you’ve slept with her. Her car was parked out front when I came in the other night.’
Travis huffed out a breath. ‘Gees, a guy can’t get any privacy around here, that’s for sure.’
‘I take it you two didn’t click in bed then?’ Denver cocked his head, waiting for Travis to contradict him. Travis knew the tone.
‘That, little brother, is none of your business.’
Denver smirked. ‘You know, she told me she was going to this wedding a couple of weeks ago. Swore me to secrecy as she didn’t want Annie to know until right before she went.’
Travis glared at him. He knew Denver got along well with everyone, and that Alex was no exception, but he hadn’t thought his own brother would keep something that important from him. He shook his head, trying to convince himself it was no big deal.
They both continued eating—Travis grateful for the silence.
‘What makes you say it’s the “or what”?’ Denver wasn’t dropping it.
Travis looked up, at first toying with the idea of not answering. ‘I tried to ring her today, to say goodbye, but she never picked up. I even left a message—a couple of them actually—asking her to call me back before she got on the plane, but she never did.’
Denver reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. ‘Here, ring from mine. See if she answers.’
‘She’d be in the air by now—her flight was leaving around five.’
Denver shrugged. ‘Too bad. Yeah, well, she was probably just busy, you know? Might have even had her phone switched off.’
‘Maybe.’ Travis had thought of that as well, but intuition told him there was more to it.
‘You didn’t have an argument or anything, did you? You can be pretty scary when you’re angry about something.’
‘No, nothing. She snuck out sometime during the night. Didn’t leave a note or anything.’
‘And you didn’t ring her yesterday to find out why? Gees, bro, she’s probably pissed off that you never rang her yesterday.’
Travis clenched his fists, mad at himself, knowing his brother could be right. ‘I thought about it, but at first I didn’t want to come across overly anxious, then I got busy with the horses, and you know how that goes. Anyway, in the end I decided to leave it until today. And then she wouldn’t answer.’
Denver shrugged. ‘Don’t look so worried about it. You were probably snoring. The poor thing probably couldn’t sleep.’
Travis knew there was more to it than that. ‘If that’s all it was, why wouldn’t she have answered her phone?’
‘Who knows—she’s a woman, it’s hard to say. You look like you could use a night out. I’m meeting a couple of friends at the saloon tomorrow night. We’ll have a few drinks, play some pool. Come with me—it’ll be good for you.’
It was tempting. Travis could use a night out, but he had Annie to think of. ‘I can’t exactly bring Annie with me to the saloon, now can I?’
‘Ring Stacy. Maybe Annie can spend the night over there with Tammy.’
He didn’t like imposing on Stacy, but maybe a night out would help take his mind off Alex. Or better yet, he could call her from the saloon—she’d be home by then, wouldn’t she? He could give her an update on it. Could be a good excuse for calling.
‘Yeah, alright then—sounds like a good idea.’
~~*~~
Exhaustion weighed heavily upon Alex’s shoulders as she stood at the baggage carousel. She wanted nothing more than to grab her belongings and go home, but after watching the same bags going around probably a dozen times, her heart sank. She was about to go over to lodge a claim when the conveyor cranked up again and she spotted her bag bouncing down the belt with a few other stragglers. She had to fight back tears of relief. Or were her tears for something else?
She tugged her bag off the carousel, pulled it over toward the exit, and then grabbed her phone. She didn’t want or need to be picked up, but both Casey and Taylor had insisted she ring them when she got in. It took a moment for the network to connect, and then she saw the little red light indicating she had voicemail. She pressed the button which showed she had four missed calls, all from the same number; Travis.
She’d seen his first call come through but had chosen not to answer it. After that, she’d put her phone on silent before later switching it off.
What was the point of speaking to him? It was blatantly obvious what they’d shared meant something entirely different to him than it did to her. Her passion had been coupled with love, and hope, and possibility. His had clearly only been about the sex. He wouldn’t have been doing deals behind her back if she meant something to him. And a call to him might just give him the opportunity to try to justify his unjustifiable actions.
Once again, she chose to ignore the voicemails and rang Casey instead.
‘I’m here.’
‘Great! How was the flight?’
‘Long. I think I’ll just take a taxi home—I won’t be good company in any case. Can the three of us have an early dinner tonight?’
‘If you’re sure—I don’t mind coming to get you.’
‘No, it’s not worth it. But thanks. See you tonight?’
‘We’ll pick you up—see you at six.’
As she headed outside to the taxi stand, the freezing wind that hit her face was an acute reminder that she’d left California’s summer to arrive home in the dead of winter. She’d only been away for a few weeks, but it felt longer. And that’s when it hit her, while standing there waiting for a taxi; she didn’t feel like she was home at all.
~~*~~
Travis stood at the bar drinking a beer, trying to convince himself he was having a good time. Denver was around the corner playing pool and every now and then Travis could hear Denver above the din, praising a good shot, or laughing at a bad one.
He was happy there at the bar, alone with his thoughts. He kept waiting for the cool amber fluid to take the edge off his voice so he could ring Alex and not sound like a stalker. It hadn’t started working yet, but there was plenty of time. She mightn’t even be home yet although he was fairly certain her plane would have landed by now.
Closing his eyes, he remembered exactly how she’d looked the other night. Passion had made the gold flecks in her eyes dance mischievously, and the drops of perspiration on her body had glistened in the light of the bedside lamp.
He opened his eyes, took another sip of beer, then glanced around, surprised at how completely he’d been lost in his thoughts. He’d almost forgotten where he was. Then he pulled out his phone and checked the time. She definitely would have landed by now, but it was possible she hadn’t turned her phone on yet. What would she think when she played all the messages he’d left, asking her to call him? If only she’d answered his first call—he could have told her how much he would miss her while she was away.
He laughed at himself. He’d definitely sound like a stalker if he rang her and said that now. He’d already left several messages—he couldn’t ring her again, could he?
Discovering Gold Page 22