“More than okay. That’s perfect.”
Leigh opened the final bag. “I’m not sure what you’d like to do with these.”
Nina caught a glimpse of gaily wrapped presents. “Let’s wait until Phoe appears, then why don’t we swap presents before lunch?”
The thump of feet sounded, and Phoe entered the room. She flicked a smile at Leigh from under lowered lashes. “Hi.”
“A proper greeting, please,” Nina said.
“Hi, Leigh. Merry Christmas.” Phoe rounded the kitchen counter. “It’s ages until lunch. Can I have something to eat now?”
“How about smoked salmon?” Leigh asked. “I’m rather peckish myself.”
“Smoked salmon? Really?” Phoebe’s smile was wider this time. “Cool.”
“Maybe with champagne. I can’t wait to open that bottle.” Nina grinned at Leigh.
“Please, Mum, please. Can I try it? I’ve never had champagne before.”
“You can have a sip, as it’s Christmas.”
Leigh retrieved the salmon from the fridge and removed the wrapper. Without asking, she found a chopping board and sliced the brown bread, red onion, tomato, and lemon. She filled small dishes with the contents of the small jars—capers and peppercorns—and opened the tub of cream cheese.
Nina watched her. Leigh looked very much at home in the farmhouse kitchen, something Nina hadn’t expected. She reached into the cupboard and found the champagne flutes. They were dusty from disuse, so she rinsed and dried them before setting them on the counter. Her gaze followed Leigh as she popped the cork on the bottle. Champagne splashed into three glasses—two full ones and one that was a quarter full.
The champagne was fine and dry, and the bubbles tickled her nose. Nina sipped, enjoying the quality. It was very different from the ten-dollar bubbles she occasionally bought.
Next to her, Phoebe took a sip and screwed up her nose, but she took another sip.
“Your first champagne, Phoe,” Nina said. “Do you like it?”
“Not really,” Phoe said with her usual honesty. “It tastes a bit weird, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”
“Not too used to it, I hope.”
Leigh held out her glass to Nina, and they clinked. “Here’s to a good day. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Here’s to Banksia Farm too.” Nina was trapped by Leigh’s eyes. She wasn’t sure how she could ever have thought Leigh cool and stand-offish. Her grey gaze held Nina pinned, and it was anything but cool. To lighten the moment, Nina took a slice of bread, spread it with cream cheese, and topped it with salmon and trimmings.
Phoe watched her carefully, then copied her actions. The salmon disappeared in two bites, and Phoe helped herself to another two slices before setting her empty glass on the table and bouncing across to Nina. “Can we give Leigh her presents now?”
“Sure. Why don’t you get them?” Nina sipped from her glass and savoured the taste. She may never have anything as good as this for a long time, and she meant to enjoy it.
“Please can you bring the bag on the counter too?” Leigh said.
Phoebe returned with an envelope and a wicker basket. She handed both to Leigh and went back to fetch Leigh’s bag.
“Which should I open first?” Leigh asked her.
Phoe shrugged, and instantly, the awkward tweener was back. “Dunno.”
“The basket.” Nina sat on the couch, feet curled beneath her.
The basket contained a mix of jams and produce from the farm shop, including two dozen eggs.
“This is wonderful.” Leigh lifted out a jar of strawberry jam. “Utterly decadent and delicious looking.”
“It’s not much,” Nina said. “Just a small thank you for all that you’ve done for us so far.”
“It’s not small. There’s a lot of work and care gone into these, I’m sure.”
“Made with love.” Nina could have bitten her tongue. What a thing to say. “That’s what my gran used to say every time someone complimented her on her home-cooking. Food made with love tastes better.” She breathed a little easier. Her gran’s expression had fallen from her tongue without a thought as to how it might be misinterpreted.
“I’m sure that’s true.” Leigh’s lips tilted up at one side. “I don’t get to eat much made from scratch. Restaurants, takeaway, freezer meals. It’s too much work cooking for one.”
“Really? I suppose it makes sense. Not today, though. Everything you’ll eat was made from the basic ingredients. A lot of it was even grown here.” Nina sipped her champagne. The bubbles burst on her tongue. She could get used to this.
“Open the envelope.” Phoebe stood next to the couch.
Nina curled an arm around Phoe and pulled her closer.
For once, Phoe didn’t squirm away. Her gaze was locked on the envelope in Leigh’s hands. One glance at Phoebe trying to dig through the bare boards with her toes, and Nina hoped Leigh would understand the importance of what she was about to be given.
Leigh picked up the envelope. “To Leigh, from Phoebe.” She tore open the top and unfolded the single sheet of paper. “The bearer is entitled to a thirty-minute ride on Mr Petey.” Expressions flickered across Leigh’s face: surprise, wariness, pleasure. “Thank you, Phoebe. This will be something to look forward to. I’ve never ridden before.”
“That’s okay. There’ll be someone to show you what to do.” Phoe sat on the couch and pressed into Nina’s side.
“So who gets the thankless task of being my instructor?” Leigh looked from one to the other.
“Who would you like?” Nina made her words as neutral as she could.
“It’s Phoebe’s gift. Would you do me the honour, Phoebe?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Phoebe mumbled the words, but a tiny smile peeped out.
Nina took another sip of champagne, and her gaze connected with Leigh’s over Phoebe’s head. There was understanding in Leigh’s face, a sympathy for Phoebe Nina hadn’t expected, given what a brat Phoe had been.
“Thanks,” she mouthed.
A smile flickered on Leigh’s face, and then she broke the connection. She folded the paper carefully and tucked it into her bag. “Do you want your presents now?”
“Yeah.” Phoebe’s face lit up. The mention of a present and it was as if she were five years old once more. “Please.”
Leigh picked up the bag and pulled out a large parcel, which she handed to Phoebe, and an envelope for Nina.
Phoe ripped off the wrapping. “Oh!” She beamed. “Thank you. This is amazing. Look, Mum. Riding boots. And they look like my size.”
“I saw the size of your gumboots,” Leigh said. “I bought a size larger so that you won’t outgrow them too quickly.”
“I’ve never ever had proper riding boots,” Phoe said. “I can’t wait to ride in them.”
Nina kept her expression neutral. The gift was too much. Way too much. If she was correct, the boots were leather, not the cheaper rubber ones. Phoebe had never had such a lavish gift in her entire life. But she couldn’t upset Phoe’s happiness by making her refuse it.
Instead, she picked up her envelope. It contained a voucher for a restaurant a few kilometres away. One that Nina had never been to, as the price of dinner would feed every four-legged occupant of Banksia Farm for weeks. The amount of the voucher would feed them for a month.
“Thank you.” The words sounded stilted as they fell from her mouth. Awkward. Just as she felt right now. We are not a charity case. “I’ve seen this place, and it looks lovely.”
Leigh watched her carefully. “I thought you might like to take someone for dinner.”
Another jolt lurched through Nina. Did Leigh mean for Nina to take her for dinner? Was it so that Nina could pay her way at a place that was obviously far above her budget? Heat stole into her cheeks. This wasn’t how friends behaved. Most of her friends had m
ore money than she did—and as they were her friends, they were happy to go for a coffee at a corner café or to have takeaway pizza at home.
“I’m going to change and put my boots on.” Phoe’s departure scarcely registered with Nina.
She bit her lip. “Leigh, this is too much. I meant our small gifts as a thank-you for the work you’re doing for us. I have a similar basket for Grizz as well. I feel awkward that you’ve given us such expensive presents.”
Leigh’s forehead wrinkled. Some of the obvious pleasure at seeing Phoe’s excitement fled, leaving Leigh with a confused expression.
“Really, it’s too much.” Nina dragged in a deep breath. “You’ve made me uncomfortable. I’m sure you didn’t mean that, but you’ve put me in a position I cannot repay. I can never give you anything similar.” She stared at the envelope in her hand.
“No.” Leigh’s voice was harsh, and the couch dipped as she sat next to Nina. “Please don’t take this wrong. These are the sort of gifts I give. Yes, I realise they’re unexpected, but believe me when I say I didn’t order generic gifts over the internet for you as I do my other clients. I chose these myself. I sneaked a peek at Phoebe’s boot size. And I thought you would genuinely like to go to Emerald View Brasserie. You’ve invited me into your home today, and that’s something special to you. So I wanted to give you something special in return. I hope you will allow me that pleasure.” She caught both of Nina’s hands in her own.
“Leigh, I…” Nina was trapped. Leigh’s hands were soft and warm against her skin, and the touch sent spirals of feeling down into her belly. She lifted her head and floundered in the intensity of Leigh’s gaze. Up close like this, her porcelain skin was fresh and luminous, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looked young and beautiful and desirable. Nina’s breath hitched in her throat. Butterflies cartwheeled in her stomach and bounced with the champagne bubbles.
She moistened her upper lip with her tongue, and, bemused, she watched as Leigh’s gaze locked on the motion. The room, the house, Banksia Farm seemed far away. There was only this moment—Leigh sitting so close to her that Nina could hear Leigh’s breath, their hands locked together, the envelope resting on her lap.
“Please, Nina. I would like you and Phoebe to enjoy this.” Leigh’s smile was tentative. It was as if her confident lawyer persona had been left in the city. “Or you and a friend. Whomever you want to take with you.”
“I thought…” The heat crept higher in Nina’s cheeks until she was sure her whole face was ablaze. “That is…”
The puzzled expression on Leigh’s face eased. “This voucher is for you, Nina. There’s no ulterior motive in the gift.”
“I didn’t mean…” When had she become so inarticulate? “That is…” She heaved a breath. “Oh hell.” Nina gripped Leigh’s fingers more tightly.
The thump of feet sounded, no doubt wearing brand-new expensive leather boots, headed at a run for the living area.
Nina sat back and sucked air into her suddenly tight chest. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Leigh in case she saw… She didn’t know. But it was safer to concentrate on Phoebe, now wearing her jodhpurs and the shiny leather boots, even though the day was stifling hot.
“They’re so good.” Phoebe was aglow. “Can I go and ride Mr Petey?”
“Not now.” Nina’s words sounded reassuringly normal in her ears. Normal voice, normal tone, normal mother. Normal. “We’ll be having lunch soon, and I need you to help me.”
“After lunch, then.” Phoe scrunched her face. “Are you okay? You sound weird.”
So much for normal.
“I’m fine. Just a sip of champagne went down the wrong way.” Out of the corner of her eye, Nina saw Leigh settle back on the couch, her lips twitching, obviously trying not to smile.
“Can I help with anything?” Leigh asked.
“Phoe and I will be fine. Thank you for offering.”
The table was already laid outside on the shady side of the veranda overlooking the driveway and paddocks. Two large ceiling fans stirred the air. Nina carried dishes out to the table, while Phoebe brought condiments.
When they were all seated, Nina said, “Help yourself. There’s no formality around here. The chicken and most of the salad come from the farm, the seafood from the local market. It’s nothing very special, but it’s fresh and tasty.”
“And there’ll be leftover chicken for tomorrow,” Phoebe said. “Dad comes then, and he makes us his special pasta dish.”
“Why is it special?” Leigh asked.
“Because it’s the only thing he knows how to make.” Phoe giggled.
“Not quite the only thing,” Nina said. “Gino comes for breakfast, makes us lunch, and then he and Phoe go to visit his parents. It’s family—even though we’re not a conventional family anymore.” She served herself with green salad and passed the bowl to Leigh.
The meal was simple, but Leigh appeared to enjoy it. Nina watched her eat salad and cold chicken and work her way through a pile of prawns and two servings of Phoe’s potato salad. Had Leigh expected something fancier, more traditional? If she had, she wasn’t showing it.
“That was delicious, thank you.” Leigh laid down her knife and fork and took another sip of wine. “I hope we left enough chicken for Gino to work his magic tomorrow.”
“There’s a second chook in the fridge. We always eat too much.” Phoebe giggled again.
“What would your family eat?” Nina sipped from her own glass. The wine created a mellow buzz.
“Seafood mainly. We used to do the traditional Danish meal in honour of my mother’s family—roast pork and red cabbage—but it’s normally so hot in Sydney at Christmas that we stopped.”
“Like us.” Phoebe wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “We used to have turkey and stuff, but this is better.”
“We have pavlova for dessert later,” Nina said. “And Leigh’s cake.”
“Pavlova is my absolute favourite.” Leigh leant back in her chair. Her smile was slow and spreading.
Nina was caught in her gaze, in the way Leigh studied her face with such intensity. Phoe chattered away, but the words washed over Nina unheard. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the unhurried nature of the day, when Leigh had morphed from cool lawyer to just a woman.
“Can I go down to the yard?” Phoe asked.
Nina nodded.
Phoe hugged Nina briefly around her shoulders, and then she was gone, the new boots still on her feet.
“Would you like more wine? There’s another bottle.” Leigh cocked her head to one side.
“I think I’d fall asleep. I’m happy to relax here for a bit.”
Leigh picked up her glass and moved over to the old couch against the wall. She sat, shucked her sandals, and curled her feet up underneath her.
Nina tried not to stare at the bare length of thigh that the movement exposed. She went into the kitchen and refilled the water jug, found a couple of glasses, and brought them back. She sat next to Leigh and filled the glasses.
“This is such a precious, peaceful time.” Leigh reached for the water. “I can’t remember when I last had a day like this, with nothing I had to do except eat, drink, and talk.”
“I thought you’d find it dull.”
“No. This is heaven. I can feel my blood pressure falling.”
They sat quietly, the only noises the whop-whop of the ceiling fan as it stirred the turgid air and the occasional traffic noise from the road. A butcherbird perched on the railing, its beady eye fixed on the remains of the meal.
“Go away.” Nina flapped a hand in its direction, but the bird merely chirped, flew to the table, and took off again, a piece of potato in its beak.
“Did you think you’d do this with your life?”
Nina faced Leigh. The question was phrased idly, but there was curiosity in Leigh’s tone.
As if she genuinely wanted to hear the answer.
“Of course not. What teenager thinks they’ll spend their life in a dilapidated house surrounded by housing developments, with a motley crew of animals and children? I was going to be a marketing whiz.” She smiled slightly. “Not very original, of course. But having Phoe rather derailed that.”
“You could study now.”
Nina lifted a shoulder. “Maybe, but I don’t have the time, money, or energy. And as long as I can hold off the developer who keeps pestering me and as long as we can resolve Billy’s claim and keep the farm, then I don’t want to change anything.”
“You mentioned a developer before. Who are they?” Leigh uncurled her legs slightly. The movement brought her toes within a centimetre of Nina’s bare leg.
“Jon Wakefield. Smooth-talking snake oil salesman. He’s offered me a couple of million for the land to develop it. Several times, actually. The amount creeps up every time.”
“You’re not tempted?”
“No. We’re doing good things here. It would break Phoe’s heart to leave. And mine.”
“Phoe will leave one day. In only a few years if she goes to uni.”
Leigh’s toes were closer. Only a sliver of air remained between those polished toenails and Nina’s leg.
“Banksia Farm and I will be here for her when she returns.” Nina leant forward to refill her water glass. “What about you? Were you always going to be a lawyer? Did your family expect it?”
“I had no idea what I wanted to do. Nothing seemed to appeal. When it came to a university course, I had the results to get into law, and it seemed like the lesser evil than other professional courses. Luckily, I enjoy it.”
“What if you’d wanted to be a plumber? What would your family have said then?”
“Honestly? They wouldn’t have been happy. Law is acceptable. Just.”
“Partner at your age. A swanky office. No doubt a salary well into six figures. What’s not to love?”
“A fair bit, actually.” Leigh faced Nina. “You take a lot of shit as a junior lawyer, a lot of sexism and machismo bullshit. You work hellish hours: seventy, eighty a week sometimes. Then, when you’ve clawed your way up the ladder such that you’re the one giving shit to others, your career has defined you for so long that you’ve forgotten how to do anything except work, socialise with colleagues, and attend corporate events and harbour cruises. No family, no kids. No love life.”
A Heart This Big Page 12