The Aussie Next Door

by Stefanie London

  She walked down the path alongside his house, letting herself into the backyard via the gate. Her bike was sitting against the fence, where she’d left it—the basket adorned with sunflowers mocking her. It looked so happy, so carefree—designed to have the wind streaming along its colorful body and upright handlebars.

  Something wet nudged Angie’s hand. Tilly.

  “What are you doing outside, girl? It’s hot today.” There was no fear left when it came to the big black dog. She’d spent her share of time checking in on the old girl after her encounter with the jellyfish. “You’re looking good. Got that sparkle back in your eye.”

  Tilly nudged her hand again. Scratch me!

  “Yeah, yeah.” Angie found the spot she liked, the one that always made her tongue flop out of her mouth. “You needy thing.”

  Tilly made a little grunting noise as if to say, Who, me? Never. Angie crouched down, her heart heavy from all that had transpired. She wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck and pressed her face into the fur. Tilly remained still, letting it happen.

  “I’m going to miss you,” she said, her voice scratchy. “And Truffle and Meredith and Jean and Betty. And the ladies who run the coffee shop. And Chloe.”

  And Jace.

  She couldn’t say it aloud, because that one hurt most of all. And Jace. God, she would miss him like nothing else.

  “Things got messed up again,” she whispered. Tilly turned and licked up the side of her face, the gently textured tongue catching all the tears clinging to her cheek. “Like they always do.”

  She sat there for a while until the sun made her shoulders roast. And Tilly didn’t budge. Funny how in the end, the one resident of Patterson’s Bluff who’d scared her the most ended up being the most comforting.

  …

  Jace was still stewing over his fight with Angie the following day. He’d given her time to get home and lock herself away—thinking he was doing the right thing by giving her space. But he’d come home to his worst fears: Angie gone and in her place…a note.

  Another fucking note.

  He’d unfolded and refolded it so many times, the paper had worn thin along the center crease, tearing at the top.

  Dear Jace, I’m sorry things got messed up. I wanted it to work with all my heart. I’ve gone to stay with a friend until I’m finished up at the retirement home.

  You’re a great guy, even if you don’t see it. Here’s the thing—all the stuff you worry about are the things I love about you.

  I love that you need routine, because I never had that growing up and it comforts me, too. I love that you don’t always know what to say, because I tend to mess up my words as well. I’ve always had trouble expressing myself because I was worried that if I wasn’t smiling and happy, then I wouldn’t be welcome. But you made me feel like an equal. And like maybe you could love all my quirks, too.

  Ultimately you deserve someone you can be yourself around. I wish I’d been that person for you.

  Angie

  The note had been waiting for him in an envelope that also contained his great-grandmother’s ring, her key, and her last month’s rent. He’d wanted to scream and throw the lot at the wall.

  Hadn’t he asked her not to run away? They could have talked this through, gotten on the right foot. All he’d needed was some time to compose his thoughts, maybe write himself some notes because things spiraled when he had to improvise and speak from the top of his head.

  It was like the rehearsal dinner was happening all over again…but worse. He wanted to be with Angie. That much was evident from the sleepless night he’d spent sitting on his deck and staring at the moon, pretending he was cuddling the dogs for their benefit and not his.

  Now his eyes felt like forty-grit sandpaper, and his head was more useless than a bowl of custard. He’d gone over to the flat this morning and found evidence of her everywhere—her trinkets, the painting of the ocean she’d been so excited to buy. All the throw pillows that compensated for his poor decorating skills.

  Everywhere he looked around the flat, Angie’s mark was there. The scent of her perfume—that soft and sugary-sweet lemon—lingered as though she’d only just left the room. There was a to-do list on the fridge held with a magnet from The Big Pineapple. Probably written from before she’d started sleeping in the house with him.

  This was his fault. Yesterday, instead of thinking about what she needed, he’d gone in with his blunt honesty. Classic Jace—subtle as a sledgehammer. He’d pushed her too hard and she’d run, like he feared she would. For all her smiles and sparkly laughter, Angie had deep wounds. And instead of being a balm, he was salt. Rough, coarse. Painful.

  He wanted to kick himself.

  In the living room, he found the box of VHS tapes and the old player he’d rescued from under the house. It, too, had a note sitting on top: Sorry I didn’t have time to donate the tapes.

  The memory of watching that movie with Angie washed over him—the sound of her laugh, the way she sighed happily and teared up when the characters kissed for the first time, the look of seriousness on her face when she explained why romantic comedies were important. He hadn’t understood it then. But now…

  Well, the idea of knowing everything would turn out happily ever after was suddenly appealing.

  He pulled the player from the top of the box and plugged it in. Since he had no idea where Angie had gone and she wasn’t picking up his calls—only texting to say she was safe—he had to occupy himself somehow. Jace riffled through the box of movies until he found one called Clueless.

  The title certainly seemed fitting to his situation. He pushed the tape into the player and hit the Play button. An hour and a half later, Jace’s mood was a little buoyed. So he reached into the box and looked for something else to watch. The Wedding Singer. Was Drew Barrymore in, like, 90 percent of these movies?

  Jace found himself grinning stupidly when Adam Sandler walked down the aisle of the plane, singing and strumming his guitar. Maybe Angie was right, and there was something to these movies.

  He put in 10 Things I Hate About You and watched that. More singing. Everybody knew the boom-box trope, so maybe there was something to declaring one’s feelings with song. Too bad Jace had neither a boom box nor a singing voice that would endear him to anyone.

  So he watched She’s All That. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d watched so many movies.

  Or neglected work and exercise for a whole day for no reason at all.

  Truffle and Tilly were waiting by the back door, probably starving. Poor things. He fed them both and then collapsed on the couch, too tired to even walk the extra couple of feet to his bedroom. Knowing Angie was gone zapped all his energy. Without her, what was the point of any of this?

  Before Jace could formulate a plan about what to do next, he found his eyes drooping. In that hazy limbo of sleeping and waking, something sparked in the back of his brain. Like a tiny candle flickering to stay alight, an idea shimmered.

  What if Hermit didn’t have to be against the world anymore? What if he lived happily ever after?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Angie stood outside the Patterson’s Bluff retirement home, her bag resting heavily on her shoulder. She’d put on her most formal dress for this occasion—a silvery-lilac shift with a gauzy overlay patterned with tiny purple flowers. It had delicate cap sleeves, a subtle scooped neck, and hit at the perfect spot at the top of her knee.

  It was a dress that said, Take me seriously.

  Because she was going to knock this meeting out of the park. The board of the retirement home would hear all about her plans to make the place better, and they would give their blessing. It would be the legacy she left behind, a positive mark on this town. And on its people.

  Because even though things hadn’t turned out the way she wanted, she still had a chance to do something good.


  “You got this.” She sucked in a breath and walked up the driveway toward the retirement home’s entrance.

  Part of her wished Jace was here, holding her hand and smiling that beautiful, crooked smile. The other part of her still had its head screwed on properly and shut out all thoughts of her failed before it really began relationship. She couldn’t look at what she’d lost—she could only look forward.

  The front doors slid open with a quiet whoosh, and the blast of cool air-conditioning was a relief to her heated skin. It was a scorcher today—hotter than any day she’d experienced so far. So the plan was to kick butt at her presentation, go back to Chloe’s, and then head to the beach for one last swim in the pristine Aussie waters. Then she would be packing her bags and getting a good night’s sleep before starting her journey to the Melbourne airport first thing in the morning.

  “You look lovely.” Nadesha came out from behind the front desk, her arms outstretched. “We are so excited for what you’re doing.”

  Nobody knew she was leaving yet. Angie had decided to leave that not-so-little piece of information for the end of her time slot, because she wanted the board members to focus on her plans. Chloe had already put up her hand to help find someone to take over the project, and she had someone great in mind. Angie would leave all the documents and everything that person would need to execute the Learning Enrichment Program.

  “Thank you.” Angie smiled. Surprisingly, she did feel confident today. Not a lot, but a little—and that was better than none. Her hard work and dedication would speak for itself, and the “doga” class had been such a raging success that the home’s suggestion box had been flooded with requests for more sessions.

  “Mr. Powell is in there now, and you will head in as soon as he’s done.” Nadesha led Angie to a little waiting area.

  “Glen Powell.” Angie wrinkled her nose. “What’s he talking about?”

  “Funding cuts.” Nadesha rolled her eyes. “Trust me, you’ll be a breath of fresh air after him.”

  Nadesha left Angie waiting in the small, blandly decorated area, and she wiped her sweaty palms down the front of her dress. Twenty minutes, that’s all she had to convince them to approve the special volunteer contracts and changes to the facility’s insurance required to execute her plan. The latter was going to give her the most trouble. Because contracts were one thing, but money was another.

  Just as Angie was going over her opening lines, three friendly faces came around the corner. The poker gang.

  “We had to come and wish you good luck.” Meredith swanned over and enveloped Angie in her Chanel No.5–scented hug. “I know they’re going to think you’re amazing just like we do.”

  “And if any of those old men try to talk over you, don’t accept it,” Betty added, muscling her way in for a hug as well. “Your ideas will be heard.”

  Jean hung back, waiting her turn, and when the other two women were done, she came forward. Without a word, she wrapped her slender arms around Angie’s neck and squeezed. They stood there for a minute, without saying a word, and Angie’s throat was suddenly tight. She would miss her three awesome grandmas so much.

  How on earth was she going to break the news to them?

  Meredith and Betty retreated with a wave, as if wanting to give her and Jean a moment together. The older woman had a coy smile on her face as she sat down next to Angie.

  “I have news,” she said primly. “I’ve taken a lover.”

  Angie clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a squeak. “What?”

  “Marcus and I have decided to court. I like him very much.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “I wanted to tell you because it was your dog yoga class that helped me see I was being very stubborn about not ever caring for another man.”

  “Really?” Angie’s heart melted.

  “Yes.” She nodded. “When we held hands, I felt something that I haven’t felt for a very long time. I felt young again. I felt…alive. It’s wonderful.”

  “I’m so happy for you. You deserve it.”

  “For a long time, I didn’t think that way. I was a widow, and that was my lot in life after Winston died. I shut myself off to so many possibilities.” She shook her head. “I had many chances to move on and find love again. But any time a man got too close, I would purposefully ruin things.”

  Angie sucked in a breath. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I was scared. I didn’t know if I was able to love anyone else, and I thought it easier not to try.” She gave a sweet, faraway smile. “And I was frightened of getting hurt. I’d been so lucky the first time around, I couldn’t possibly experience that again. But Marcus has helped me see that the past doesn’t need to dictate my actions now.”

  “You were self-sabotaging?” Jace’s words rang in her ears.

  “I was. But not any more.”

  Angie wanted to know more; she had a million questions and confessions dancing on the tip of her tongue. But the door to the boardroom swung open, and Glen Powell walked out, his slimy gaze flicking over Angie and Jean. Was it her imagination or did the edge of his lip curl up in a subtle sneer?

  “I hope you have better luck this time,” he said to Angie, sounding as though he didn’t mean a word of it.

  Suddenly invigorated and full of burning passion, Angie jumped to her feet and squared her shoulders. She was here not for herself but for the people like Jean and Meredith and Betty who wanted more out of life.

  And you? Do you want more out of life?

  This wasn’t the time to ponder her own situation. But the word “yes” hissed like a snake in her ear, tempting her. Calling to her.

  “Miss Donovan.” The board’s chair held the door for her. “We’re ready for you.”

  Jean reached over and squeezed Angie’s hand in support. “Thank you, dear. For everything.”

  Angie walked into the room, her heart in her mouth. Blood rushed in her ears. Eight people sat around an oval table, staring at her expectantly.

  “Thank you so much for having me.” Her voice wobbled, just like it had when the judge asked her those awful questions.

  I’m not perfect, but I’ve come a long way. I will keep trying.

  “I’m here to present my plans for the Patterson’s Bluff Retirement Home Learning Enrichment Program.” Angie forced herself to pause so nerves didn’t send her into talking overdrive. “In a National Institute of Health study, people who continue to learn new skills and challenge their brain are less likely to develop Alzheimer’s and dementia.”

  She glanced around the room. No one was nodding along enthusiastically as she’d hoped. One of the people had started to check her phone, and another had opened his laptop. Not a good sign.

  “I’ve collected a lot more research that links learning new skills and the slowing or prevention of degenerative brain disease, but I get the impression that a bunch of stats and figures isn’t the best way to show you why I think the people who live here need more opportunities to stretch themselves. So I’m going to tell you something personal instead.”

  That seemed to get people’s attention.

  “When I came to Patterson’s Bluff I wasn’t necessarily looking for beautiful beaches and rugged cliff-lined coasts and perfect orange sunsets, although I found all of that and more. I was looking for a chance to become the person I’d always wanted to be.” The guy to her left closed his laptop lid and turned his chair to face the front. The woman who’d been on her phone was also now looking at Angie. “Back home, a lot of people knew my name for all the wrong reasons.”

  There were furrowed brows and cocked heads all across the room.

  “I grew up in the foster care system and the last home I lived in sealed my destiny as a person unable to escape public scrutiny. A lawyer who wanted to make a name for himself decided to use me as his vehicle to legal notoriety—regardless of what was best
for me as his client.” The memory made her clench her fists. “So I moved to Australia. I fell in love with this country instantly. The person I wanted to become wasn’t someone who relearned to trust or overcome her fears. No, I’d decided I needed to be a person with a home. Because a person with a home is a person who belongs. Who won’t be rejected.”

  The story was tumbling out of her now, and she was so off script that she placed her speaking cards down onto the table.

  She laced her hands in front of her. “Only in trying to do that, I will still hanging on to my fear that I wasn’t worthy. That I wouldn’t be able to change and grow and get rid of my past. I let it stifle a relationship that was very important to me.”

  She could see it clear as day now—Jace sensed when she wasn’t behaving authentically. Because he knew her, the real her, and that was the person he was attracted to. The Angie who was scared of dogs but wanted to love them, the woman who could easily face fears on behalf of other people but wasn’t so good at doing it for herself. And she had sensed in him the same things.

  “You might be wondering what the heck this all has to do with the people who live here,” Angie continued. “Well, it’s my belief that you’re never too old to want more. To be more. We’re conditioned to think that the past defines us, that if we haven’t been able to do something before that we won’t be able to do it now. Learning is a fundamental human experience. Whether it’s something small like taking a pottery class or trying a new yoga pose, learning opens us up to new experiences. To personal growth and fulfillment. And that isn’t limited by age.”

  What had she learned since she’d come to Patterson’s Bluff? That there were good people in the world. She’d learned that not all dogs were scary and that the beach here was the most calming place on earth. Most importantly, she’d learned that a home wasn’t worth anything if she pushed people away when they tried to help, when they were honest with her.

  It certainly wasn’t worth anything without love.

  The thought was like a wet fish slapping her across the face. Love. The one thing she’d been most afraid of her whole life, because her childhood taught her it could be taken away in an instant. Only nobody had ever loved her before, and she had never tried to love anyone in return.