by Karly Lane
Maybe if the farm hadn’t already been on shaky ground before her mother got sick, maybe if there hadn’t been a drought … maybe, just maybe, her dad would have come through the other side of his grief and been able to get them back on their feet again. But by the time her mother died the bank was already sending notices. He knew there wasn’t anything he could do to save Tamban and it was easier to avoid facing reality, to simply stay drunk.
She wished she could have done something, even though common sense told her that there was nothing she could have done back then. She wished she could take back some of the horrible things she’d yelled at her dad the day of the auction when they’d sold off the last of everything they’d owned.
‘I’m doin’ it for you, kid,’ her dad had said almost belligerently when she’d arrived home in time to witness their neighbours, friends and bargain hunters from all over gathering around, looking for a cheap deal. That had been the part that had hurt the most: people they’d known all their lives picking through their belongings like they were at a Boxing Day sale.
She’d only found out by accident about the auction when Shannon told her. She hadn’t even known her father had sold the property. Numb with disbelief, she’d driven home, positive she’d find it was all some big mistake … but it wasn’t. Her father had stared at her like a thief caught in the act. She’d demanded to know what was going on, and after only the briefest flash of regret, he’d taken another swig of his drink and told her he’d sold to Matthew Enterprises. They’d worn him down. There was nothing else he could do.
‘I know I’m a disappointment,’ he’d said, staring down at the dirt beneath his worn work boots. ‘But I can’t let you take all this on. You’re young. You deserve a chance to live without all this shit hangin’ over your head.’
‘This is what I’ve always wanted to do,’ Georgie said, fighting the urge to scream at him. ‘You know it is. I had plans … I know I can make something of this place, Dad. You just have to give me a chance.’
‘I don’t want you to have to suffer the way I have,’ he yelled. ‘I’m doin’ it for your own good. There’s only heartache in farming. Drought and death and worry. Year after year. You really think I want to watch you grow old before your time? Get sick with stress and worn down to nothin’?’
‘That’s not how it would be,’ she’d argued.
‘It’s exactly how it would be. You’re too young to know what you want to do. I’m givin’ you a shot a life no one ever gave me. You’ll have money to invest … a future. One day you’ll thank me,’ he’d said quietly.
‘Thank you?’ she’d repeated shakily. ‘Thank you? I will never forgive you for this. Do you hear me? This was my future and you’ve gone and sold it out from under me. You don’t care about me. All you care about is yourself. You’re selfish. Mum would be so disappointed in you.’ The words had caught in her throat and torn her apart inside, but she wanted to hurt him as terribly as he was hurting her. The years of bottled-up frustration and pain had come tumbling out that day and she hated herself for it, but she couldn’t take it back. Her dad seemed to deflate before her eyes at her words.
Not long after, she’d heard him drive off in his car. And then she’d heard the god-almighty roar and crash as he hit a tree further up the road.
That had been his plan all along. The money from the sale was always intended for her because he hadn’t planned on staying around.
She wished she could have taken back the angry, hurtful words. She wished she’d known what to say to make him try harder … to stay with her.
Hot tears fell from her eyes and trickled down onto the pillow.
Seventeen
If Georgie thought the previous day had been busy, it had nothing on today. There were fittings, hairdresser and nail appointments and a trial run with the makeup artist to get through.
They did manage to squeeze in a coffee though, at a small boutique coffee house, where Georgie almost choked on the remainder of her café latte with a shot of caramel and white chocolate when the bill arrived at their table. Shannon simply waved it off and handed over a credit card without a blink of her perfectly tinted eyelashes.
She was so cut out to be the wife of a millionaire, Georgie thought with an affectionate smile at her old friend.
‘When do your parents get into town?’ she asked.
‘Tonight. We’re having dinner with them, the practice dinner, remember?’
‘Oh, yeah … the dinner.’ Georgie cursed beneath her breath as she remembered she’d finally be coming face to face with Derrick Matthew.
Unlocking the door to the hotel suite later, she heard the shower running and forced her thoughts to stay focused on getting ready for dinner. She didn’t dawdle under her shower—there was something a little too intimate about them both being naked in the same apartment—and so she was dressed in record time and applying her makeup when she looked up and saw Michael standing in the doorway watching her, wearing only a white towel around lean hips.
Do not look at the towel, she told herself sternly, keeping her eyes on his face, which wasn’t much safer. Everything about his expression told her all she had to do was ask and he’d gladly remind her how good they were together.
‘Checking to make sure we’re colour coordinated again?’ she asked, feeling proud of herself for holding his gaze calmly.
‘I’m going with black tonight,’ he informed her. ‘They say it’s slimming.’
‘More like it matches the colour of your heart,’ she muttered beneath her breath, noticing her hands were unable to hold her makeup brush steadily.
‘It’ll be okay tonight,’ he said softly, making her glance up at him.
Georgie gave an offhand shrug and looked back at her reflection, trying to concentrate so as to not make herself look like a clown.
‘Look, I know this must be a big deal for you, meeting Derrick there, but I’ll be there with you.’
Georgie slid him a glance in the mirror and gave a small scoff. ‘And that’s supposed to comfort me?’ she asked dryly, instantly regretting how mean she sounded as she caught his look of concern change to hurt.
‘Okay, you deal with it like you deal with everything else,’ he snarled, pushing away from the doorway. ‘On your own.’
She opened her mouth to say sorry but closed it abruptly as she stared at the empty space where he’d been standing. She didn’t want to be this person any more—it was exhausting putting so much energy into fighting, but at the same time, she didn’t know where things could possibly go from here while he refused to accept she didn’t want to be married to him any more. She just wanted things to go back to the way they were before—before she’d had a taste of a fantasy life that had been too good to be true.
It was great to see the Sinclairs again. Even though she kept in regular contact via phone and email, she hadn’t seen them in a long time. It was too painful going back. So many memories were held prisoner there—the good as well as the bad, but it was the lingering anguish that hurt the most. The pain of being so close to her home and yet no longer part of it.
Michael had hit a nerve yesterday when he’d talked about laying the blame where it was deserved. Yes, a large portion of the blame did belong to her father, but it wasn’t as cut and dried as that. Her father’s depression and drinking had got out of control after her mother died, which then resulted in him neglecting finances and the running of the property. It was followed by the drought, and then a fall in stock prices, which only intensified the growing debt issues. If he’d talked to someone, or taken up help when it’d been offered, the property could have been turned around at a number of points, but he’d given up and just watched as it all spiralled out of control around him. She knew her father wasn’t blameless, but it was the cold-hearted way the corporation had gone about applying pressure to a man who was already broken that incensed her. They’d been ruthless.
And Michael had been right, the state the property had been in, there’d been no b
uyers wanting to invest the time and money needed to get it back up and running again. If there had been, if a farming family had bought it, it’d still have crushed her, but maybe she’d have been able to move on from that. Knowing that some greedy corporation had bought it, turning it into just another piece of their oversized jigsaw, really got to her.
The house stood empty. There were no children to play on the old rusty swing set. No home-cooked meals made in the kitchen. No Christmas decorations hanging up in December … If she were completely honest with herself, she’d have to admit that most of those things had been missing from Tamban for a long time before they lost the property, but the image was so real—she could see it so clearly when she closed her eyes—that she almost believed it herself.
Tonight though, for the first time in a long while, Georgie was part of a family once more and she basked in the warmth of the feeling. She loved everything about the Sinclairs, openness, their warmth, their good humour. The Matthew clan, on the other hand, were a whole different kettle of fish. Cold fish, more aptly.
It was the first time Georgie had set eyes on Michael’s mother and stepfather. Watching them unobtrusively from across the room, it seemed strange that technically these people were her in-laws. The ramifications of that sent a shiver of horror through her. How ironic that she would find herself a member of the very family who had destroyed her own?
She snagged a passing waiter and selected a tall flute of champagne from the tray. She took a hefty swig and winced, having never really acquired a taste for the stuff, but it burnt a warm track down her throat and into her stomach and before long she felt the tension begin to ease.
Harbouring thoughts of retribution, she saw herself marching over to confront the land tycoon, revealing with dramatic flair that he had stolen her future and birthright. Then cringed. Drama was not her thing, nor was making a spectacle of herself.
Her eyes moved to Michael’s mother. Her fragile beauty was a stark contrast to her son’s dark good looks. She wore an indulgent smile on her face as she watched her stepson across the room, gesturing as he talked to his table of friends. Her blonde hair, cut in a flattering bob that framed her delicate face, swung forward as she leaned across the table to speak to the couple opposite.
His stepfather was a sophisticated-looking man with grey hair. He had a restrained air about him, and not once so far had she witnessed him laugh or show any emotion that resembled delight over his son’s upcoming nuptials. He had a shrewd expression, one that seemed to suggest he was weighing up those around him, calculating their worth, before abruptly discarding anyone he deemed unworthy of his time. For so many years this man had been a faceless name behind a ruthless company. Her fingers clenched around the stem of her wineglass. How did he sleep at night? Could a person really be so blind to the harm caused by his business? Did he feel any remorse at all for the people who were sacrificed for the profit he made as he acquired property after property? A queasy feeling lingered in the pit of her stomach and she dragged her gaze away from the table.
You couldn’t have had two more opposite groups of people in the same room if you’d tried. The Sinclairs, with their good-natured teasing and genuine happiness for the bride and groom, and the Matthews with their polite distance and restrained manners.
‘Why don’t you come over and be introduced?’ Michael’s deep voice made her jump guiltily, as though she’d been spying, which of course she had. ‘Something that should have happened a long time ago.’
Startled, Georgie only began backpedalling once they were halfway across the room. ‘What are you doing?’ she hissed.
With his hand under her elbow and his body propelling her before him, she was unable to halt their progress without creating a scene, so she had no option but to keep her mouth shut and hope the panic she felt wasn’t plastered across her face.
As they approached, she saw much to her relief that Michael’s stepfather had left the table.
‘Mum, I’d like you to meet Georgie … Henderson.’ His hesitation made her heart jump in alarm. Surely, he hadn’t been about to introduce her as Georgie Delacourt? ‘Georgie, my mother, Lorraine.’
Michael’s mother looked up and Georgie saw that her eyes were a similar colour to her son’s. Bracing for a cool greeting and prompt brush-off, she was a surprised to see the woman’s face soften and a smile touch her lips. ‘Hello, Georgie. You’re Shannon’s bridesmaid?’
Georgie mustered up a smile in return and nodded slightly. ‘That’s me.’
‘Shannon’s been filling me in on all the shenanigans you two got up to, growing up.’
Georgie’s face must have registered her wariness because immediately Lorraine chuckled and put her hand on her arm. ‘Oh no, there was nothing but good things mentioned.’ Her tinkle of laughter was a pleasant surprise.
Maybe she’d been too quick to judge the woman—up close there seemed little that was cold and pretentious about her.
‘Oh, there you are, darling,’ she said over Georgie’s shoulder. ‘This is Georgie, Shannon’s friend, the one she’s been telling us about.’
She knew just by the tightening of Michael’s features that his mother was addressing his stepfather. She turned her gaze to the man she’d privately wished to the depths of hell over the years. She held his cool stare, lifting her head a little higher at his calculating scrutiny.
‘Shannon speaks very highly of you. I hear you’re quite the little businesswoman.’
Her hackles rose and behind her she felt Michael shift his weight, his hand firm beneath her elbow.
‘I run a working cattle property with a farm-stay operation. It’s doing pretty well.’
‘She’s being modest, her farm stay just won a tourism award,’ Michael said.
‘Maybe I should snap you up to come and work for me. We’re always on the lookout for new talent. Unless you’ve already been approached by the competition?’ Derrick added slyly.
She opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his job offer, but Michael jumped in smoothly. ‘I think Georgie has plans to work her own place.’
‘Well, you won’t make a profit on a small scale. You’ll need to think big if you want to make any real money, and tourism won’t be the way to do it, young lady,’ he informed her in a condescending tone.
‘Not everything is about making a profit.’
He gave a guffaw at her reply. ‘In this world everything is about profit.’
‘And damn the consequences, right?’ Georgie added with a low growl.
A charged silence hung in the air between the small group. The conversation hadn’t been loud enough to attract attention, but one glance at the body language, had anyone been looking, would have immediately indicated a change in the atmosphere.
Georgie held Derrick Matthew’s arrogant stare for a moment before turning her back on him to face Michael’s mother. Softening her tone, she forced a smile to her lips. ‘It was nice to meet you, Mrs Matthew.’
She received a brief, confused smile in return as the woman tried to work out what had just transpired before Georgie pulled her elbow free of Michael’s secure hold and said pointedly, ‘Stay and catch up with your family, I’m sure you have a great deal to talk about.’
Once or twice as the evening progressed she caught Michael’s glance from across the room, as she sat safely among the Sinclair clan. She felt a twinge of pity for him, then reminded herself he was big enough to look after himself. He had certainly proved himself more than capable of getting whatever he wanted from the world—a millionaire in his own right even without the wealth of his family behind him. A simple country family like the Sinclairs was not something a man like Michael would value, of this she was certain.
Taking another glass of champagne from the passing waiter, she downed it with a recklessness she seldom showed. Damn Michael Delacourt to hell. Well, one thing was for sure, he was not going to be a part of her life after this wedding, and he could bet his sexy, Armani-clad arse on that.
Michael took a long drink from his glass and ignored the burn of the whisky as it slid down his throat. He wished he could numb the thoughts in his head as easily. Having Georgie so close over the past two days and not actually having her was killing him.
He watched her sitting beside two older women—relatives of Shannon’s, he assumed—looking relaxed and at ease. He recalled her telling him how close she was to the Sinclairs and he could see it now. She talked and laughed in a way he hadn’t seen her do since their wedding—and sure as hell not since arriving here.
He looked across at his family and wondered how different his life would have been if his dad hadn’t died. Would this side of the room be as loud and happy as the Sinclairs? He didn’t have any contact with any of his father’s family—there weren’t many of them left. His dad had had two brothers, but they were both gone, and his parents had passed before Michael was born. They’d been farmers like the Sinclairs though, and he liked to imagine they’d been just as warm and welcoming as Shannon’s family.
Of course, they probably wouldn’t be gathered in a swanky five-star restaurant in an expensive city high-rise. He probably wouldn’t be the head of a multimillion-dollar company, wearing an expensive suit and owning more land than he could ever have imagined. But he wouldn’t have lost his wife. He wouldn’t have had anything to hide from Georgie. Regret surged through him at the thought. Michael Delacourt, small landowner, farmer and husband would have been a hell of a lot richer in everything that mattered than he was now.
He looked over at his mother as she lifted her gaze and smiled. He knew she hated the rift between son and stepfather. Tonight was the first time Derrick and Michael had been in the same room for close to two years, which was a miracle in itself. They were business rivals, and after Michael walked away from Matthew Enterprises there was no real hope of salvaging any kind of relationship.