by Annie Seaton
My God. Taj Brown is holding my hand. And her nerve endings were going crazy.
“Once...a very long time ago when you were still in pigtails. So I guess you stayed with her for a while?” His voice was just as sexy as in his news interviews and surfing documentaries. Truly, she had been a Taj Brown tragic.
“If you’re still around now, that is?” That voice could still send a ripple or two down her spine. Although now that she was grown up it travelled to places that were best not thought of in a meeting like this. Rosie gave herself a little shake and pulled her hand back.
“Yes, I’m still around.” She kept her voice cool. More around than he’d been if he was a relative. Not once had any other person visited Aggie in the aged care facility, or enquired after her well being, and here they were filling three pews at her funeral service.
Not one single visitor. Rosie stiffened her spine a little more and the nervous trembly feeling receded a bit. From everywhere.
She wasn’t giving anything away until she knew just what was going on here but the feeling of impending doom lodged in her chest. It was worse than the flutters that his touch had generated.
Mr. Pepper cleared his throat and shuffled the papers in his hand. “I just wanted to let you both know, informally, that I will require you to meet with me in my office next week to discuss the disbursement of Agatha’s estate. I preferred to let you each know personally without you reading it in a formal letter.” He turned to Rosie and a frown wrinkled his high forehead. “Particularly as the situation may be difficult for you, Rosie.”
“Difficult?” The sexy voice of Mr. Brown was now cold as were the baby blues turned back to Mr. Pepper.
Sheesh. Posters down again.
“Until I read the will, and we discuss the...er...complicated things we have to discuss, I wanted to give you both fair warning, that this may be a difficult process.”
“Difficult in what way?” Rosie’s voice was still steady, and completely at odds with the nerves that were running rampant inside her. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Taj Brown was sitting beside her sending her hormones into a frenzy, things were going to be difficult with the will?
Mr. Pepper held up one had. “I’ll read the letter that is in the post to you and then we can discuss the...er...actual situation...in my office next week.
Cold fingers of disbelief crawled up Rosie’s spine as Mr. Pepper read the document in a sonorous monotone. When he finished reading, he shook his head slowly. “So Rose, my dear, I know that your income is...er...how shall we say, derived from the house on the hill, as is that of your er...partners, and you are going to have to rethink the situation until matters are finalised.”
“You still live in Aggie’s house at the top of the hill?” If it was possible, Mr. Brown’s voice was even colder and there was a strange expression fixed on his face. The words came from tight lips.
How did I ever think he had a sexy mouth? Memories of pretending to kiss a poster when she was about fifteen were banished.
“The house that overlooks Bondi Beach?” he said.
“Yes, that’s the one. Where I live and work.” Rosie nodded at him and stood slowly. “Thank you, Mr. Pepper. I’ll see you next week, and I’ll certainly give the situation some thought before we meet again.”
Some thought? She’d be lucky if the ‘situation’ didn’t take over her mind forever.
She pushed the chair in, and before she crossed to the door, she nodded coolly at the man who had once filled her dreams. He stared back at her and shook his head. Something was bugging him but with the stuck up attitude he had, she wasn’t going to hang around and find out what it was.
“Theodore.” She gave him a tight, cool smile as she reached for the door handle. Mr. Theodore Brown dropped his eyes and his gaze raked her from her toes up, lingering on the expanse of bare thigh revealed by the short skirt. Rosie fought the urge to pull it lower. Damn him. Aunt Aggie had requested they wear colour to her funeral and the colour and length of her skirt were none of his business.
How the hell had she thought he was a nice guy for so many years?
Not only were those posters coming down, they would go straight into the trash.
Chapter 3
Rosie hurried out to the car park at the side of the building, her high heels clicking on the concrete path. She had driven herself to the chapel—over the past six years she’d virtually had a parking space reserved for her at the aged care facility. She’d always kept her appointments clear from two till four in the afternoon, so she could come and sit with Aunt Aggie. In the last few months, Aggie had stared at her vacantly and even though it had been hard, she had still visited every day.
She slammed the door of her old car and sent a quick wish up to the universe that the old girl would start for the second time today; her reliability had been hit and miss over the past weeks, and this was the first time she’d had the car out since Aggie had passed on last week. A new car was the last thing she could afford and if things panned out the way she was beginning to suspect, she wouldn’t be able to afford much at all. Rosie wanted to escape before Theodore caught up to her and started asking questions.
The black sports car with sleek surf logo parked beside her could belong to no one but Taj Brown. Not that it took an Einstein to figure out that the sleek surf logo with the letters T and B flowing through the wave referred to anyone else apart from the famous surfer.She resisted the temptation to take out her key and scratch a shiny panel. That would not achieve anything apart from a childish satisfaction at besting the idol who had now turned out to be not only a pain in the proverbial but someone who was going to impact on her future.
Her heart had finally resumed its normal pace, and all of the excitement of finally being in the presence of her pinup boy had quickly calmed with his cool reaction. Okay, the shock of him being related to Aunt Aggie was something she was going to have to process, but she had a four o’clock appointment at the house and she’d have to hurry to get back in time. The old car’s engine fired on the second turn of the key and Rosie sent up a swift thank you, ignoring the ominous rattles and clanks that came from beneath the bonnet. She’d give some thought to the dilemma ahead—and she had no doubt there was going to be one—when she looked after her client.It was Joey Carmichael this afternoon and he was a non-talker and that would suit her just fine.
As the car groaned up the hill, the wind off the ocean buffeted the car. The first splatters of rain hit the windscreen and she flipped the wipers on, groaning as they stuck on the middle of the glass. Was nothing going to go her way today?
The car came to a halt with a final gurgle when she reached the back gate of Aunt Aggie’s property. Damn, she always thought of it as Aunt Aggie’s and in her usual dreamy state, hadn’t really considered the future. That was all about to change.
She opened the back door of the house and pulled her high heels off and threw them at the shoe rack at the side of the inside porch before hurtling through the kitchen.
“Well?” Sonia pushed her chair back and grabbed Rosie’s hands and she came to a standstill. “What happened? What did Mr. Pepper want?”
“Later. I’ve got Joey now.” She tried to pull her hands away from Sonia’s tight grasp. She wasn’t ready to talk about the solicitor’s news until she gave it some thought. Not even with her two best friends because it would affect them just as much as her.
“Uh uh.” Sally shook her head from across the table. “He cancelled. Football training was brought forward because of the storm.”
“I saw the lights on at the ground when I drove up the hill. Storm’s going to be a beauty.” Rosie jumped as the window panes rattled and the whistling wind confirmed her words.
Sonia—or damn Lily whatever— burst into the room, pulled out a chair and pointed to the vacant chair at the end of the table. “Sit. We’re all done with our appointments for the day and we have some very serious things to discuss.”
Rosie shook her head as she
saw the tea cups lined up in the centre of the table. “I’m not in the mood, Sonia.”
“I’ve changed my name legally this time. Sonia has gone. Out into the ether.” Ocean Lily waved a vague hand toward the ceiling and Rosie couldn’t help the giggle that rose to her lips. Sonia’s crazies were just a normal part of their day
“So you can call me Lily.”
“Okay. But I’m really not in the mood, Lily.” Rosie sat and exchanged a smile with Sally across the table.
“You might as well settle in, it’s not looking good.” Sally’s words conveyed the same level of worry that Lily’s had.
Lily picked up the first cup and peered inside. “This is mine.” Her forehead wrinkled in a frown as she poured tea from the pot into a white cup sitting on a deep saucer. She pushed it across the table to Rosie. “Not good at all. And Sally’s was worse.”
Rosie rolled her eyes at Sally when Lily looked away. She could tell them both what was wrong without going through a damn tea leaf reading, but if it kept Lily happy...
Rosie’s alternative therapies were all in the health field, and although she respected Sonia’s ways and saw the huge clientele she had, some days it was a bit hard to take.
“Clear your mind and sip it slowly.” Sonia stared at her as Rosie took a sip of the Earl Grey tea she loved. She relaxed as she drained the cup and tipped it upside down into the saucer and pushed it back to Sonia...damn it...Lily.
Lily pushed it back. “You have to read your own. That’s how we know it’s right for you. It’s what you see.” She lowered her voice to a sonorous monotone—almost a chant—and Rosie stifled another giggle.
“Now clear your mind, start from the handle and go clockwise. What do you see?”
Rosie rolled her eyes again and stared into the cup. It didn’t matter what she could see, she knew very well what was about to happen without any magic tricks or tea leaf readings. As she opened her mouth to speak a huge clap of thunder shook the house and the lights flickered. Even though it was only late afternoon, it was almost dark outside. The southerly buster had roared up the cost and the spring weather of the morning was now a distant memory.
Okay, maybe Lily’s hocus-pocus had some worth.
“I can see a house with a cross through it. There’s a snake slithering along the bottom and a set of unbalanced scales.” Rosie was hard pressed to keep a straight face, even though the worry of what was ahead slithered through her stomach. She felt mean when Lily drew in a gasp and Sally paled.
“Oh my God, a warning. End of comfort and home, and someone we can’t trust.” Lily’s voice shook and she raised an unsteady hand to her forehead with a dramatic flourish.
“And justice will not prevail.” Sally finished the definition of the symbols.
“I’m getting my tarot cards.” Lily pushed her chair back and it fell to the old linoleum floor with a crash to rival the thunder that now boomed outside.
“I’m sorry.” Rosie put her hand back and pulled the elastic from her hair and shook her hair free. She was getting a headache and maybe letting her hair hang loose would fix it.
And maybe not.
“Forget the cards. I was being smart.” She stared across the table to her two very best friends in the world. “I’m sorry, gals.I think the time for the Divine Soul Sisters is destined to come to an end.”
THE WINDSCREEN WIPERS whipped backward and forward as Taj turned the car into Ramsgate Avenue. He’d taken a few wrong turns as he’d tried to get to the top of the hill but finally he’d seen the sign for Ramsgate Avenue. The motor of his car purred softly as it cruised to the curve of the cul-de-sac at the top of the hill. He had to see it for himself. The thought of his aunt’s graceful old house being turned into a brothel was unbelievable. Barely in her grave, and by all accounts, Rosie and her friends had been using the house for their own purposes for God knew how long.
Up until he’d put two and two together and realised that the house his mate had referred to was Aunt Aggie’s, Taj couldn’t have cared less who it was left to. But no way on God’s earth was he going to see it go to a little upstart madam who had turned it into a brothel. Or an escort service—whatever it was called. But he didn’t care. Aunt Aggie’s graceful old mansion was being used to sell sex, and it was not on.
Aggie had been liberal but she’d turn in her grave to know what the place was being used for. At his meeting with Mr. Pepper and Miss Rosie Pemberton next week, he’d fight tooth and nail to take it from her clutches. He’d intended looking for another property to develop and the house on the hill would do very nicely. And it would keep it in the family. Now that surfing was out of the question, he had to diversify his interests. Developing a familiar property and maybe turning it into a block of units could be very lucrative and satisfying.
Colourful wisps of material mounted on two poles either side of the gate flipped back and forward in the strong wind. Taj pulled the car to the side of the curb and narrowed his eyes waiting for a lull in the wind so he could read what was on them. As he watched, a car drew up in front of the gate and three men in business suits climbed out and ran through the driving rain and stood on the front porch.
The wind dropped and he peered through the windshield that was now streaked with rain.
“Divine Soul Sisters.” The large words confirmed his suspicions. This was the place. He squinted to read the smaller writing on the bottom. “Where your deepest wishes can come true.”
Bloody hell. The hide of them.
As he watched, one of the women from the funeral, the one in the striped colourful dress, opened the door and ushered the men inside from the porch. There was no doubt; this was the place his mate had told him about.
The same front porch, where he’d played as a young child and propped his boogie board against the old cupboard. The same one that was still there.
He frowned as another car pulled up and a second group of men crossed to the porch. Should he rev the engine and drive away now? If it took millions, he’d fight tooth and nail to keep the house. The will hadn’t been read and it still belonged to the Brown family. And Miss Rosie Pemberton would not get a cent.
Chapter 4
Rosie opened her diary and ran a finger down the day’s appointments. Old Mr. Hollis was booked in for a massage on his sore shoulder, Mrs. Pitt had her weekly appointment for her lymphatic massage but after lunch, Rosie had five sports massages in a row. Since the local Rugby League Club footballers had started attending Sally’s yoga classes, Rosie’s appointments for remedial massage had picked up. Corked thighs, strained hamstrings, and twisted knees. She’d got to the stage of watching the Sunday night sports news to see which players had been injured in the weekend game and it was a good indication of how busy her following week would be.
She’d been invited out so many times by the various football players, she’d lost count. Work and pleasure did not mix. And besides she wasn’t interested in a relationship. Not now, and maybe never. Growing up as a foster child without her own family had made her very wary of getting involved with anyone.
Maybe in the future, but there was definitely never going to be any kids in the mix.
The complication with the house and what they would do in the future was taking up all her time and energy now. Maybe it was a good time for this to happen. The conservatory at the back of the house was big enough for Sally’s yoga and Sonia’s—damn—Lily’s exercise classes. The only problem was if they couldn’t use Aggie’s house for their alternative therapies centre any more, there was no way they would be able to afford big enough premises around Bondi for the three of them to have their treatment rooms.
All of their clientele was local and it had taken a couple of years to build it up. Rosie fought the sigh that threatened to escape. Okay, so I was naïve expecting that we could just stay here. No matter how many times she read the letter from the solicitor it still didn’t clarify his words about a difficult situation ahead.
The bottom line was—just like t
he seating at the funeral—she wasn’t family and she shouldn’t have expected to inherit the house. There had been a constant stream of realtors knocking on the door since Aggie’s stroke and she’d got used to sending them away.
It was time to think about the future. She was due at Mr. Pepper’s office at four o’clock. Rosie crossed to the window and looked out over the sea. Last night’s storm had cleared and the ocean glistened in the morning sun. A line of surfers bobbed in the gentle swell out behind the break and she pressed her forehead to the cool glass wondering if one of them was Taj Brown.
THERE WAS NO TIME FOR a shower before she left for the legal appointment. The uncertainty of the outcome of the reading of the will had filled her thoughts all day and it had been hard to focus on her technique. It was only when Joey Carmichael had let out a yelp as she pressed her elbows into the soft tissue above his butt did she realize that she was putting her frustration into her remedial massage.
“Crikey, Rosie. I’m sure my butt bruises are going to read ‘Rosie was here’.”
“Sorry, but if you want to play football next weekend, it has to hurt.” But she’d lightened up the pressure and Joey was happy with the treatment by the time he limped out.
A quick change of clothes, a spray of perfume to cover the smell of the Tiger Balm massage oil that seemed to permeate her hands these days and a quick brush of her hair had to make do. She called out to Sally who was just winding up her yoga class. There was no sign of Lily; she must be in an appointment. Of the three of them, her clairvoyant appointments and tarot card reading kept her busier than Rosie and Sally.