Amy's Rest

by S R Silcox

  “That’s the spirit,” Ren replied with a grin.

  “Like you said, I’m looking at the positives,” Georgia said, eating another mouthful of noodles. “Speaking of positives, I never even asked how long you’re here for.” If she was here long enough, Ren could see for herself how painful Zoe Jennings was and maybe she could help persuade Rick and Celia to find someone else to finish the build. And if nothing else, having Ren there with her, even if it was just for a few days, would make it much easier to deal with Zoe.

  “Aw, I love you too,” Ren grinned.

  Georgia pulled a face.

  “I’m heading home on Tuesday,” Ren replied.

  “That long?” Georgia asked. She was surprised Rick and the kids would be happy to let her go at all, let alone for almost four days.

  “That’s okay, isn’t it? I mean, you haven’t got plans for the weekend or anything?” Ren asked.

  “No, I haven’t,” Georgia replied. “I can take you for a drive around the hinterland and show you the places I discovered last weekend.”

  “Sounds great,” Ren replied. “There’s a liqueur distillery up there somewhere too. Did you find that yet?”

  “No, I haven’t,” Georgia replied. “But that sounds amazing.”

  “Good, because I’ve booked us on a tour,” Ren said. She finished the wine in her mug and poured herself another drink. “I figured the best and easiest way to see the place properly is with people in the know.”

  “And you want to drink,” Georgia joked.

  “If I’m going to take some me time, I’m going to make the most of it,” Ren replied. “As long as I bring Rick back a bottle of alcohol of some description and something cheesy for the kids, they won’t even care that I’ve been away.”

  “So how are Rick and the kids going to cope without you for that long?” Georgia asked.

  “They’ll be perfectly fine. And as long as no-one dies, I don’t care what they get up to,” Ren said.

  Georgia narrowed her eyes. “Rick’s mother is staying, isn’t she?”

  Ren grinned. “Yes she is. See why I’m not worrying about them?”

  Georgia finished the last of her noodles and sat back in her chair. “I’m really glad you’re here. I can’t wait to show you the cottage and talk about what we’re doing with the decorating. Actually, speaking of that, Celia hasn’t sent any plans through for the inside of the cottage. Has she finished them yet?”

  “She’s discussed some ideas with Rick, but I think she wants to come see what the cottage looks like once the extension is done before she makes any decisions. Just ask Rick next time you’re talking to him.”

  “I will,” Georgia replied. “I’ve been getting some design questions already. It’d make me feel better if I knew what Celia’s intentions were.”

  Ren patted Georgia’s knee. “Don’t stress. It’ll all get sorted, don’t worry about it.”

  Georgia shook her head. “I know.” She grinned at her friend. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

  Ren grinned back. “Me too.”

  NINETEEN

  Zoe pulled open the door to the old workshop and closed it behind her. She turned on the lights, let her eyes adjust to the gloom, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She looked around at the work benches, the piles of timber stacked in neat rows and the tools hanging on the walls. They’d been collected over decades, first by her grandfather, then her father, and Zoe herself had added a few power tools to the old carpentry tools her father had preferred to use.

  When she was younger, Zoe hadn’t understood her father’s preference for the old tools that made repairing or building things take much longer than she thought they had to. Over time, though, she grew to understand that working with wood wasn’t meant to be fast. It’s why, while building houses and doing renovations was what she did for money, it was here, in this old workshop, that her heart lay. It’s where she felt most at home.

  She made her way up the steps to the mezzanine floor her father had built before she was born. From here, she could overlook the whole of the workshop. She sat down, letting her legs dangle over the edge, leaning her chin on her hands on the railing, just as she’d done when she was a kid, and closed her eyes. She recalled the image of her father working below, the sloughing sound of the planer on wood filling the silence. The way his leather apron swished as he moved. Him closing one eye as he checked a join, and smiling to himself when he was satisfied with it.

  She remembered his huge calloused hands on hers when she was four or five, guiding the planer along a piece of wood, showing her how to be slow and deliberate so she didn’t catch it on knots. The ruffle of her hair when he was pleased with her and the click of his tongue when he wasn’t.

  She wiped away a tear and opened her eyes. In a little over a month, all of this would be gone, leaving an empty shell behind. She still had no idea where she was going to keep all of her equipment, or how she was going to keep the carpentry lessons going. Although the phone call from Frank had been an annoyance, she had to admit that he was right. She needed to work out where she was going to go so she could get the workshop moved out. For now, though, that could wait a little longer. She had doors to find, and window frames to restore for the cottage.

  She stood up, shook herself out of her mood and walked over to the old window frames hanging on hooks on the back wall. She pulled them out, one by one, measuring them and discarding the ones that she didn’t want on one pile, adding the ones she did want on another.

  When she had a pile of six, enough for the cottage extension, she carried them back downstairs and placed them on the bench and got to work.

  Zoe was hand sanding the last window frame when the workshop door squeaked open. She stood up and stretched her back, turning to see who it was. Molly walked over and held out a cotton bag. “I figured you’d gotten busy.”

  “What time is it?” Zoe asked.

  “After eight,” Molly replied.

  “Shit, Mol. Sorry.” Zoe had been so completely wrapped up in her work that she’d totally lost track of the time.

  Molly shook her head. “It’s okay. I thought you might be hungry so I brought you some leftovers.”

  Zoe smiled. “Thanks.”

  “It’s lasagne,” Molly said. “Still warm, and there’s a fork in there too, in case you needed to finish whatever it is you’re doing.”

  Zoe pulled the container out of the bag, lifted the lid and breathed in the smell of meat sauce and cheese and herbs. She dug in with the fork and ate a mouthful. “This is so good, Mol,” she said, chewing. “I’m so sorry I missed dinner.”

  Molly waved her away. “What’s got you so enthralled you forgot the time?”

  Zoe had another mouthful of food and pointed to the window frames with her fork. “I’m prepping some window frames for the cottage.”

  “How’s that job going?” Molly asked.

  “Fine,” Zoe replied, deadpan.

  “Is that why Jack’s been annoyed with you?” The corner of Molly’s mouth twitched up.

  Zoe rolled her eyes. “Georgia’s being a pain in the butt is all. I just needed to find something to keep her busy.”

  “And away from you?” Molly asked.

  “I’m just trying to do my job.”

  “Sorry. I wasn’t having a go at you,” Molly said. “I just figured…”

  “Just figured what?”

  Molly looked around the workshop. “No-one blames you for being short-tempered at the moment. Losing this place after so long, it must be tough.”

  “It’s not going anywhere, Molly. Someone’s turning it into a bloody brewery.” Zoe finished her mouthful of lasagne, clipped the lid back onto the container and put it and the fork back into the bag. She leaned back onto the bench and crossed her arms.

  Molly was giving her one of those sympathetic looks, meaning a hug was probably incoming any second. Molly cocked her head and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Zoe and squeezing. There it
was. Zoe didn’t hug her back at first, but finally she pulled her arms from between her and Molly and hugged Molly back. “I’ll be fine.”

  Molly nodded against Zoe’s shoulder. “I know you will, Zo. You’re always fine.” She pulled away. “I better get back.”

  “Thanks for the lasagne,” Zoe said.

  Molly waved her away and disappeared around the door.

  Zoe turned back to the work bench, not wanting to think about anything other than her work. She still had a window frame to finish and then she had to prep for tomorrow’s woodwork class.

  TWENTY

  “Do we even know who Leroy is?” Ren asked as she picked through a rack of long-sleeved work shirts.

  “I don’t think he’s a person,” Georgia replied. Why Ren was fascinated about the owner of Leroy’s Outfitters was a mystery.

  “It’s always a person,” Ren said. “Probably the guy who started the shop.”

  “Why does it matter?” Georgia asked. She looked through a pile of women’s jeans, trying to find something appropriate for the work site. There wasn’t much choice.

  “Small towns,” Ren shrugged. “That stuff is always important. This guy, Leroy, could’ve been a very important man around town. You should know this stuff, George.”

  Georgia looked over to Ren and shook her head. If Ren ever lived in a small town like Elizabeth Creek, she’d be one of those old biddies gossiping over the back fence. “I’m going to try these on,” she said.

  Ren handed her some long-sleeved shirts. “Try these on too.”

  Georgia looked at the flannelette shirts piled on top of the very blue blue jeans she’d picked. At least she’d finally blend in with the locals. As she carried the pile of clothes to the changing rooms, a boy, about ten, pushed past her and raced over to the wall of Akubra hats. That was where she was putting her foot down. She was happy enough to buy jeans and flannelette shirts, but there was no way she was getting an Akubra. That was a step too far.

  She closed the dressing room door behind her and hung up her clothes and began trying them on. The first pair of jeans just didn’t feel right at all, so she ditched them and put on the second. She considered herself in the mirror, turning to check out her bum. Not bad. She took off her top and pulled on a red and blue checked flannelette shirt, rolling the sleeves so they sat just above her wrists.

  Well, if Zoe wasn’t happy with her wearing this at the cottage while she worked, she didn’t know what she was supposed to wear. She opened the door to the changing room and backed out, still regarding herself in the mirror.

  “Hey, how’s this look?” she asked, smoothing her hands over her bum and turning her head from one side to the other.

  “They look pretty good to me,” replied a voice that definitely wasn’t Ren’s.

  Georgia spun around to see Zoe standing there, still apparently looking down at her butt. She had the audacity to smirk at her as she raised her gaze to meet Georgia’s eyes. Georgia’s first instinct was to cross her hands over the front of her as if she were naked. “I thought you were someone else,” she stammered.

  “Clearly,” Zoe replied. “Nice jeans.”

  Georgia felt the prickle of embarrassment creeping up her neck. She backed away into the change room.

  “Don’t you want my opinion?” Zoe asked.

  “No, thank you,” Georgia replied. She closed the door and lay her head against it. She could feel the flush of red still in her cheeks.

  “Those shirts are good for work,” Zoe said outside the door.

  Georgia didn’t reply.

  “And get a bigger pair in those jeans.”

  Georgia flung the door back open. “Why? Are you saying these are too small?”

  “Because they’ll give you more room to move. Work pants aren’t supposed to be tight like that. Bend over.”

  “What? No!”

  Zoe rolled her eyes. “I’m not trying to be rude, Georgia. If you bend over, you’ll see they’re too tight. You won’t be able to work in them comfortably.”

  Georgia narrowed her eyes. “I don’t care.” She slammed the door shut again. Inside the change room, she bent over, just slightly, and realised that Zoe was right. She huffed out a breath.

  She hurriedly put on her own clothes and stood back and looked under the door. She couldn’t see any boots so she figured she might be safe. She cracked open the door and, not seeing Zoe, opened it fully and stepped out. Ren spun around, an Akubra on her head, a grin on her face. “Check this out. Cool, right? I think I might get one each for me, Rick and the kids,” she said. Then she spotted the look on Georgia’s face. “Everything okay?”

  “Fine,” Georgia said. “We should get these and get going up to the cottage so I can show you around.”

  “You don’t want to try on the hats?” Ren asked.

  “Nope,” Georgia replied, striding over to the racks to put her jeans back. She begrudgingly bought two pairs of jeans in the larger size and three flannelette shirts in different colours. As she was about to pay, the boy who’d pushed past her earlier appeared beside her, his face pressed against the glass counter.

  “Ryan! Will you stand still?” The sound of Zoe’s voice from behind her made the blood drain from Georgia’s face. Zoe had a son?

  “I’m just looking at the pocket knives,” Ryan replied.

  Georgia tried not to turn around but Ren said brightly, “I’ve got a son around the same age. Ten?”

  “Eleven,” Zoe replied. “He’s my nephew.”

  Georgia wasn’t sure why she felt relieved that this kid wasn’t Zoe’s. Maybe she felt sorry for the poor kid if he’d had Zoe as his mother. She kept her attention on the counter as she waited for her purchases to be rung up.

  “Oh, Miss Ballantyne. Your boots have come in,” the man at the counter said. “I’ll just go and get them for you.” He walked off, leaving Georgia stranded for a while longer.

  “They’re little energiser bunnies, aren’t they?” Ren said.

  Zoe laughed, something Georgia hadn’t heard until then. It sounded surprisingly warm and genuine. “You’re not wrong. This one goes all day and then just drops like a sack of spuds when he finally stops.”

  Ren chuckled. “God, I wish my two were like that.”

  “Anyway, we should be going. Come on, Ryan. You can help me in the workshop. See you on Monday, Georgia.”

  Georgia closed her eyes and cringed at the mention of her name. There was a whack on her arm.

  “Who was that?” Ren asked, leaning on the counter and looking up at Georgia. “And how do you know her?”

  “That was Zoe Jennings,” Georgia replied.

  Ren’s mouth dropped open. “That… that was your devil builder?”

  “Shh,” Georgia said. “I’ll tell you about it later.” She smiled at the cashier when he came back and placed a shoe box on the counter. He opened the box and pulled one of the boots out, checking it against the screen and then gave her the total price. Georgia couldn’t get out of Leroy’s fast enough.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Zoe set Ryan up on one of the work benches with the building blocks he’d been making for the show’s woodwork competition. Together, they chose different coloured paint from Zoe’s collection of sample pots, and some brushes for Ryan to get started. She knew Molly would be cranky if Ryan turned up at home with paint all over him, but for Zoe, that was what being a kid was all about. At least it used to be for her. That and working in this workshop with her dad. To appease his mother, Zoe had made sure Ryan was wearing an over-sized t-shirt as a painting smock so he didn’t get too dirty.

  She cast a quick eye over Dallas’ dining setting, and noticed she had a piece of timber with four different stains on it sitting nearby. Zoe smiled. She hadn’t actually seen Dallas for a week, but the progress she’d made on her project told Zoe she’d been in a couple of times since last Saturday when Zoe had given her the job. She wondered whether Dallas would want to keep this one or sell it, like she did everything else
she’d worked on. Maybe she’d enter it into the Elizabeth Creek show this year. Stranger things had happened.

  She walked over to the other bench and pulled out the boxes her class had started last weekend. Some of them still had some sanding to do before they chose paint or stain colours, and she figured today she might show them how to use the wood burner to draw designs into their lids. They needed to get them finished today if they were going to enter them into the junior carpentry competition at the show.

  As she pulled out the tools and set up for her class, she thought about running into Georgia at Leroy’s. It was totally unexpected but not entirely unpleasant. She was pleased Georgia had listened to her advice about getting more appropriate clothes for the work site, though she did hope Georgia went for a better choice of jeans. Tight jeans had no place on a work site.

  Georgia had seemed embarrassed to see her but that was possibly because she’d been busted checking out her butt. In Zoe’s defence, she hadn’t realised it was Georgia’s butt she’d been checking out and, she had to admit, it was quite a nice one. She knew it was completely inappropriate to be thinking about her client’s backside, especially when that client had been such a pain in Zoe’s own arse for the entire last week.

  Then there was that other woman with Georgia. Zoe had seen them wandering around in Leroy’s, and the way they were interacting, she wondered if they were together. They were definitely close, that was for sure. And then when the woman said she had two kids, that totally threw Zoe. She didn’t know what it was about Georgia, but she didn’t seem the type to have kids. At least, she hadn’t mentioned them, though that was probably not unusual. Georgia Ballantyne seemed to hold her cards close to her chest.

  Zoe checked her watch. She had a half hour before her class were due to arrive, so she wandered over to check on Ryan’s progress. Painting wooden building blocks might help to keep her mind off of her client’s backside.

  TWENTY-TWO