by S R Silcox
FOUR
Zoe pushed the last of the timber onto the back of her Landcruiser ute, pulled the covers over the top and clipped it down. Once she’d secured the load, she wiped the sweat from her forehead with the bottom of her shirt and called to Nick. “I’m ready to go when you are.”
“Righto,” Nick called back from somewhere in the shed.
Zoe figured he’d be cleaning his tools and getting them ready for Monday. He’d always been good like that, and the fact they were starting a big new job had him more excited than she’d ever seen him. Their last apprentice had left his stuff everywhere and it was a constant battle to make sure he was ready to go every morning. But Nick? He’d take just as much care with a ten-dollar hammer as he would with a thousand-dollar drop saw. He was a good kid, that was for sure. It’d be a shame to lose him if they couldn’t keep the business running.
Zoe dropped a coin into the drink machine beside the shed and pulled out a can of lemonade. She may as well have a cold drink while she waited for Nick to finish up. She’d just popped the top and was about to have a drink when a high-end pretend all-wheel-drive pulled up in the car park. “Nick, come have a look at this.”
Nick loved cars and she figured he’d get a kick out of this one. It was sleek and black and, judging by the lack of dings and scratches, Zoe guessed it hadn’t seen a dirt track since it rolled out of the sales yard.
Nick appeared beside her and when he saw the car he whistled. “Nice car. Who is it?”
“No idea,” Zoe replied and they both watched as a woman with salon-perfect brown wavy hair and over-sized dark sunglasses got out of the car and walked towards them. Zoe took another drink from the can and watched the woman approach.
Everything about her screamed city-chick and Zoe wondered whether she might be lost. Most people like this woman just drove on through Elizabeth Creek, maybe stopping for fuel and a quick bite to eat on their way to somewhere else more exciting.
As the woman walked towards them, she shoved her sunglasses onto the top of her head. “Hi,” she said. “I think I’m after your husband, Jack?”
Nick snorted and Zoe dug him in the ribs before he could say anything. “Go and grab Jack,” she ordered. To the woman, she said, “I’m Jack’s sister.”
Nick scuttled off to find Jack, who was probably going through paperwork in the office out the back.
“Oh, right. Sorry,” the woman replied.
It wasn’t the first time someone had confused her for Jack’s wife and it wouldn’t be the last. Being a woman and a builder just didn’t compute in some people’s heads. It used to bother her but it didn’t any more. It gave her an element of surprise she could use to her advantage if she needed to.
“You want a drink while you wait?” Zoe asked.
“Sure. If that’s okay,” the woman replied, wiping her hand across her forehead.
Zoe pointed to the vending machine. “We’ve got water and soft drinks. A dollar each.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
Zoe sipped her drink, taking in the woman’s clothes, obviously designer, probably expensive, sticking out like dog’s balls in a place like Elizabeth Creek. City. You could smell it a mile away.
Jack rolled out from the workshop, past Zoe and right up to the woman, who Zoe was surprised to see, didn’t flinch like people normally did when they first met him.
Jack wasn’t exactly many peoples’ idea of a builder, having been in his chair now for close to ten years. He was the best builder Zoe knew, better than their father, but what he now lacked in physical ability, he more than made up for in business smarts. Zoe reckoned if they didn’t live in Elizabeth Creek, he’d probably be raking it in by now.
The woman stuck out her hand. “Georgia Ballantyne.”
Jack nodded. “The Carramar job.”
Zoe almost choked on her drink. Georgia Ballantyne looked nothing like any project manager she’d ever seen before.
“That’s right,” Georgia replied. “I just wanted to go over some time frames and the plans with you before I headed out to have a look at the place.”
“Right. Well. You better come in to the office,” Jack said, wheeling himself around. “It’s air-conditioned.”
As he rolled back past, he glanced at Zoe and nodded at Nick, whose tongue was practically hanging out of his mouth as he watched Georgia walk by.
Zoe grabbed Nick by the shoulder and turned him around. “Come on. No ogling the clients. We’ve got a class to run.”
“I wasn’t ogling,” Nick replied as he walked to the ute. He stood by the driver’s side door, looking hopeful.
Zoe tossed him the keys. “You take out Mrs Thorburn’s roses again, it’ll be the last time you ever drive. Got it?”
“Got it,” Nick replied, reefing open the door and climbing in.
The smell was always the first thing the kids noticed when they walked into the old workshop. It was a heady one of linseed oil and wax and the sweet smells of fresh-cut timber.
Zoe was used to it, of course, but it always brought a smile to her face when she pulled open the big barn door and the kids all took in deep breaths, breathing in the smells that took her back to her childhood.
“Right,” she said, leading the group over to the corner that held the safety equipment. “Aprons, goggles, earmuffs and gloves,” she instructed, and wandered around helping them with their gear.
Some of them had been before, but there were a few new faces in this group. Nick’s younger sister, Dallas, was back which was a good sign. She’d been getting into trouble at school and Nick had brought her down to hang around with him while he helped out a few months back.
He was hoping spending time around the workshop might keep her out of trouble, just like it had with him. While it hadn’t been overly successful yet, Zoe saw some of herself in the fifteen-year-old and could sympathise with Dallas’s hurry to be done with school.
Dallas also had a good eye for timber and although carpentry didn’t seem to be her thing, she’d taken to furniture restoration. Zoe was happy to encourage it, and as she helped one of the group tie up his apron, she said to Dallas, “There’s a dining set I got last week from a garage sale if you want to have look at it. See what you think.”
Dallas shrugged as only a teenager can. “I’ll see.”
Zoe didn’t push it. It was hard to believe she was related to Nick, who could be like a puppy dog at work sometimes the way he followed her around on the job, waiting for the next thing to learn or do. Dallas did things in her own time, and Zoe had learned quickly that she had to decide for herself if she wanted to do something or she wouldn’t do it at all. Stubborn. Zoe could relate to that.
She did a quick head count and checked that each of her class had their safety equipment and then led them over to the timber workbench that filled the centre of the room.
“Right. Boxes,” Zoe said, sliding a small wooden box into the middle of the table. “Looks easy, right?”
She got a few nods but mostly the kids were non-committal. They were always quiet the first few times they came to Zoe’s classes.
“Well, they are pretty easy to make once you know what you’re doing. Did everyone bring something to put in their box?”
The kids held up various items from marbles to a book and Zoe nodded thoughtfully. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dallas sizing up the table and chairs at the back. She smiled to herself and brought her attention back to her class. “We need to know how big your boxes are going to be. Nick?”
Nicked stepped forward and placed a container of pencils on the bench and started handing out tape measures.
“Let’s get measuring,” Zoe said.
She and Nick wandered around the class, helping them with their measurements and drawing rough sketches of their boxes. Once they were done, Zoe said, “Who wants to cut some timber?”
Ten hands shot up in unison and Zoe grinned. It was always the tools that got them excited.
“We better go choose some then.” As she led them over to the pile of timber she kept for her classes, her phone rang in her pocket. She asked Nick to help the kids choose their pieces while she answered it.
“Hi, Jack. What’s up?’
“Have you got time to take Georgia Ballantyne up to Carramar?”
Zoe pulled a bit of timber off-cut from a pile and handed it to Nick. “I’m in the middle of a class.”
“It doesn’t have to be right now,” Jack said. “Just some time this arvo.”
Zoe glanced at her watch. Classes normally ran for about an hour or so but she liked to let the kids hang around for as long as they wanted afterwards. “I can maybe do something around two, three o’clock?”
“That should be okay. I’ll give her a call and confirm.”
“Text me where I need to meet her,” Zoe said. “I have to go. I’ve got kids wanting to start building their boxes.” She heard Jack chuckle on the other end of the phone. “What?”
“You’re just like the old man,” Jack said.
“One of us has to be,” Zoe teased.
“I’ll check in with you later,” Jack said and hung up.
Zoe shoved her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and turned her attention back to her class.
As she and Nick led them back to the workbench, chattering about what sort of boxes they were going to build and whether they’d be entering them into the show this year, she glanced over at Dallas again.
She was leaning low over the table, running her hand along the top to gauge its level. With any luck, that dining setting would keep Dallas busy for at least a couple of weeks, depending on how much time she spent on it.
Zoe guessed that Dallas had no idea she knew about her sneaking into the workshop after school and after hours. As long as she put things back where they belonged, Zoe couldn’t care less. Sneaking into Zoe’s workshop was far better than the alternative.
FIVE
After going over the renovation plans with Jack Jennings and booking into her motel, Georgia decided to see how good the coffee was at the local café while she waited for the builder, Zoe, to take her out to Carramar.
She was embarrassed to have mistaken Zoe for Jack’s wife, especially when she discovered she was the head builder for Jennings Construction. She knew how frustrating it was when people assumed she was an assistant even though she was a manager.
At the counter of the café, Georgia ordered a skim-milk latte and settled on a seat in the back corner so she could people watch. The old armchair she chose was surprisingly comfortable considering its worn appearance, and Georgia sank into it, casting her eyes around the space.
It was small and rustic, typical of the sorts of cafes she and Amy had found on their travels up into the hinterland. They’d never made it as far north as Elizabeth Creek so it was comforting, in a way, that this café was one that Amy would have enjoyed.
Magazine-covered coffee tables and old leather couches intermingled with the usual faux-timber-topped café tables and white-washed timber chairs.
There were a handful of customers inside when Georgia arrived. Locals, judging by the way they greeted each other. They seemed friendly enough, but didn’t bother her, which was fine by Georgia.
She wondered whether it was usually so quiet and her financier’s brain kicked in, questioning whether she’d made the right decision in gambling so much of Ren and Rick’s money on the renovations. The property market was supposed to be steady up here, but Rick had assured her it was the city market they were trying to entice. She had to trust his instincts. Property development and renovation was his domain, after all.
Her coffee arrived in a small glass and Georgia stirred in two teaspoons of sugar before closing her eyes and taking a sip. Better than she was expecting, though not nearly strong enough. She’d have to remember to order a double-shot next time.
“You’ll have to get that to go,” a voice said nearby.
Georgia looked up to see Zoe Jennings standing by the chair across from her. She was wearing the same jeans and t-shirt from this morning, albeit dirtier, and her dark hair was curled around her ears from under a tatty and stained trucker cap with a stylised ‘JC’ embroidered on it. “I’m sorry?”
“If you want to take your coffee with you,” Zoe said. “You’ll have to get it in a to-go cup.”
“Right,” Georgia nodded, standing and picking up her coffee and taking it to the counter. Blunt, Georgia thought. Nothing like her brother, who was warm and engaging. The two of them seemed to be chalk and cheese. Jack seemed put together with his neatly trimmed beard and short-cropped hair. Zoe, on the other hand, looked like she was a month past needing a hair cut, and Georgia wouldn’t be surprised if she was one of those people who lived in a single pair of jeans.
Georgia handed her glass to the barista who took it, poured it into a take away cup and clipped on a lid. He handed it back to Georgia, and then handed a cup to Zoe.
“Thanks, BJ,” Zoe replied. Without saying anything more, she turned and headed out the door.
Georgia figured she should probably follow her. “I’d be happy to go in my car,” she offered, hastening her pace to catch up.
“Mine’s fine,” Zoe replied.
“Are you sure?” Georgia asked. “Mine’s probably more comfortable.” If the state of Zoe’s clothes were anything to go by, Georgia wasn’t sure she wanted to get into Zoe’s car.
“I’m sure,” Zoe said. “You’ll thank me later.”
When they reached the ute, Georgia resisted the urge to recoil. She recalled the constant mess her father’s work ute was in, and it wasn’t nice.
When she got in, however, she was pleasantly surprised. It seemed Zoe took good care of her car. It was almost as clean inside as her own car, if you overlooked the pile of cassette tapes sitting on the passenger’s seat.
Zoe must have seen Georgia looking at them because she said, “Sorry, let me just get those,” as she grabbed the cassettes and shoved them into the glove box.
“I haven’t seen a cassette in years,” Georgia said as she climbed up into the cab.
Zoe grunted a reply as they drove off.
“I’m sorry I thought you were your brother’s wife earlier,” Georgia said.
“Happens more than you think,” Zoe replied, taking a corner a little too fast for Georgia’s liking. “We don’t really look much alike, so it’s an easy mistake to make I guess.”
They drove through the main street in silence, and turned off onto the highway that ran west.
Out of the blue, Zoe asked, “Why Carramar?”
“Sorry?”
“It’s not something a company like Wheeler Developments would be interested in,” Zoe said. “I was just curious about why they’ve bought it.”
“Oh,” Georgia said, stalling for an answer. She wasn’t sure she wanted to tell a perfect stranger the truth about the cottage, not yet at least, so she settled for a half-truth. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, I guess.”
Zoe gave her a sideways glance. “Have you been up here to see it?”
“No, first time,” Georgia confessed. Amy had bought the cottage after a day trip to the hinterland with her friends, and the one trip they’d had planned to come up and see it together had been derailed by a sharp decline in Amy’s health. She glanced at Zoe who kept her eyes on the road, but had an amused look on her face. “Why?”
Zoe shook her head. “No reason.”
They turned off the main highway onto a single lane bitumen road lined with tall, brown grass and within a few minutes they were turning off onto a dirt road that seemed to have materialised out of nowhere.
She slowed the car as they drove over a cattle grid and past a sign that proclaimed the property to be ‘Carram’, the ‘a’ and ‘r’ apparently having rusted away.
“See why I didn’t want you to bring your car?” Zoe asked as she slowly picked her way over a track rutted by erosion.
Georgia nodded.
“First thing we’ll do,” Zoe said. “Is get the road graded so it’ll be easier for the trucks to get in and out. Might have to widen it a bit too, but you’ll be able to get your car up by the end of the week. If we’d had more notice, we could’ve had it done already but we’ll deal with it.”
Georgia wondered if Zoe was having a go at her, but decided to ignore it. The last thing she wanted to do was to pick a fight with her builder before they’d even started.
They continued on, driving over a concrete causeway on a dry creek bed. “This goes under when we get good rain,” Zoe said. “You might want to think about building out the causeway into a proper bridge so you don’t get stuck in or out.”
“I’ll consider that. Thanks,” Georgia replied. She couldn’t remember what had been budgeted for road works so she made a mental note to check with Rick. Whatever would get her the best return on the sale would be what she decided to do.
The trees thinned out to a wide grass paddock dotted with broken fencing. There were a couple of old caved in sheds not far from the track and a sad-looking windmill missing half its blades in the distance. It looked nothing like the original photos from two years ago.
They ascended a hill and pulled up on a patch of dirt in front of an overgrown bougainvillea bush that hid almost the entire front of the cottage.
“That will have to come out,” Georgia said, jumping down from the ute and shutting the door.
“Not a fan of bougainvillea?” Zoe asked as she crunched across the gravel.
“Not when it’s right there,” Georgia replied. She looked back to where they came from, and had to admit that the view was quite spectacular. It would be even more so if the paddocks were lush and green. Driving up the dirt driveway, the cottage felt a million miles from anywhere, but in the distance, she could see the edge of town.
She turned back to the cottage and shielded her eyes from the afternoon sun. Two big sheds cast their shadows from the back of the cottage. They were the ones Rick had suggested she could turn into an events space and a bunk house in the full plans if she wanted to turn it into a bed and breakfast. She’d decided to use the potential of those sheds as a selling point, and just do the cottage renovations. Although the full development might get her more money at sale, she’d opted for the plans that would take the least amount of time to complete.