She walked into the kitchen and silently made her mother’s breakfast, wondering why the men didn’t want to go down and explore the beach like normal tourists. Salonika at twilight was gorgeous. Pristine blue waters, golden sand and usually not a soul in sight. Their little piece of paradise was definitely one of Queensland’s best-kept secrets. She instantly got a mental of image of beer cans and bottles making a trail from the surrounding bushland to the water’s edge. She shuddered. Maybe it was better that the Barnes Inc workforce stayed as far away from it as possible.
The last thing she could afford to do was offend the project manager. But she was running out of patience. If Mark Crawford would not answer emails, phone messages or even personal confrontational visits, it really was time to bring out the big guns. And in her case that was vanilla and raspberry cupcakes.
She turned around briefly and glanced into the oven to see if they were ready. Not quite yet, but she had time. The aim of the game was to make sure that when Mr Crawford came to visit her that afternoon he stayed for a long and detailed chat about how things could improve. It was important that they moved forward on this matter in a way that was beneficial to them both.
Or what? I’ll kick them out? Yeah right.
Without them it would be back to running from the bank. And she already knew how much fun that was. On a sigh, she took the bowl of Coco Pops to her mother and set it in front of her.
Her sister’s voice was just as glum as her thoughts. ‘I never get to do anything good around here.’
It was clear they’d moved up the complaint ladder from ‘breakfast-food choices’ to ‘everything in general’.
She was tired. ‘Zara, please.’
‘Well, it’s true. Everybody is going to Rosemary’s fifteenth birthday next weekend except me.’
‘I’m sure not everyone is going.’
‘How would you know?’
‘Call it a hunch. A responsible parent would not let their fifteen-year-old teenager go to an unsupervised beach party at night.’
‘Well, you’re not my parent, are you?’ she pointed out. ‘So take a load off.’
Charlotte sighed. ‘Zara, you know Mum wouldn’t want you to go.’
‘Mum doesn’t know what she wants.’ Zara looked at the woman seated listlessly across from her, apparently staring into space. Virginia made no response. ‘Mum, can you hear me?’ Zara leaned forwards.
Virginia seemed to surface from a very deep pool. Her eyes held nothing of the sparkle that had characterised them only a few minutes earlier. This was sometimes the only indication that she was not having an episode. Her moments of clarity, when she was truly in the present, were getting so rare these days that Charlotte treasured them like polished pink sea shells.
‘Yes, dear?’ Virginia said slowly.
‘Can I go to Rosemary’s beach party?’
Virginia licked dry lips. ‘I think . . . I think you should ask your sister.’ Her voice was breathless, as if she’d been running a marathon or something.
Zara groaned in frustration. ‘The Party Police? Great.’
Charlotte clenched her fists behind the counter, wondering how she could explain to a teenager in five words or fewer the potential risks of such a party. In the end, she settled on, ‘In this case, I think I know best.’
Oh that’s original.
But the cheeky teen wasn’t going to let her off easy. ‘Give me one good reason why I can’t go.’
She wasn’t buying into a full-blown argument now. ‘You need to get ready for school; you’re going to be late. We don’t have time to argue about this at the moment.’
‘You’re not even going to give me a say, are you?’ Zara demanded.
‘Zara,’ Charlotte began, ‘it’s just –’
‘I hate you!’ Zara threw at her, pushed her bowl away and walked out of the room.
That went well.
‘Don’t worry, Lottie.’ She felt her mother pat her hand. ‘She’ll come round.’
‘Why do you always make me be the bad guy?’ she asked.
Her mother smiled. ‘Because you’re so good at it.’
She watched as her mother slowly spooned a mouthful of Coco Pops between her lips and felt tears prick her eyes. She knew Virginia was in the present because she was quiet and withdrawn – a stark contrast to her younger self. There were days when her mother thought Charlotte was Zara, others when she thought she was their old receptionist, and days when she didn’t recognise her at all. Although Silver Seas was no longer very profitable, it was the safest, most familiar place for her mother to be right now. Virginia and her late husband, Charlotte’s father, had bought it just after they had got married. When he had passed, about twenty years ago, it had kept her mother’s spirit alive. Now it was Charlotte’s duty to keep this place going.
Lowering herself into the chair Zara had just vacated she said, ‘I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle here.’
‘You were exactly like her at that age, Lottie, and look how great you turned out.’
The corners of her mouth lifted slightly. ‘And what about Luke? What was he like?’
‘Oh,’ her mother’s voice seemed wistful, ‘you know your brother – he was just like your father and still is. The strong, silent type.’
Charlotte smiled. As far as she was concerned, her younger brother was the one person in the world she could count on completely. Luke lived in Mackay with his wife and kids and came to visit usually once a week for a catch-up. She always looked forward to seeing him. But socialising was the last thing on her mind right then.
She had a zillion things to do. Even with all their units occupied, the business was still struggling. She was using every cent she earned to pay off the debt her mother had amassed. Just yesterday she’d had to let another one of the staff go. Apart from cleaning up the pool area, she had to go pick up some supplies for the restaurant, there was an electrician coming in to fix the air-conditioner at number eight and the website was down again. She was going to have to call the service provider. And this all before ten o’clock. But first and foremost, she had to take those cupcakes out of the oven. They had to be perfect for this afternoon, if they were going to do her any favours.
Mark Crawford darkened her doorway at about twenty past six that evening, though she had been ready since five. Behind the counter she had arranged two chairs facing each other. On the desk, she had set out teacups and a plate of iced vanilla and raspberry cupcakes. In a prominent position in front of the plate were her list and a red pen. She intended to tick off items as they went.
She should have realised that any such intentions were futile when he walked into reception looking like he was about to clear the area for demolition.
‘If you’ll just hand me the list, Ms Templeton, I’ll be on my way.’
He’d obviously come straight from work, as he was still dressed in the Barnes site uniform. One glance at his tall and intimidating frame made Charlotte straighten her own to get some more height. It didn’t quite work but it did give her a little more confidence. Especially against those turbulent eyes, a strange wintry grey that sliced through her like cyclone rain.
‘Good evening, Mr Crawford. Glad you could come. I hope you had a nice day.’
He frowned. ‘It was terrible and it doesn’t appear to be getting any better.’
‘Right, well, I’m sure you’d like to sit down.’
‘No, I came to get the list.’
She straightened her shoulders. ‘Right, the list. Actually I was hoping we could talk through it. Can I get you a cup of tea?’ She rose out of her seat and half turned towards the kettle plugged in against the back wall.
‘No.’
She frowned as she moved the teacups next to the kettle.
Someone needs to teach this guy some manners.
‘Well I’m having one.’
She pressed the red button on the kettle to boil. As it bubbled away she pulled out the visitor’s chair next to her own behin
d the counter and politely indicated for him to sit.
His mouth twisted in annoyance. For a moment she thought he was going to refuse again. The man was as prickly as a rose bush. Even if she did find him mildly attractive, she was in absolutely no danger of being seduced. After another second of hesitation, he walked around the counter and sat down. She was careful to hide her triumph as he folded his lithe frame into the chair. Not so careful, however, in preventing her gaze from drawing briefly to the way his pants pulled tight around his buttocks and thighs.
Now? Really? She ripped her gaze away, mentally slapping herself.
To her relief the kettle boiled at that moment so she filled the teapot. Cheekily, she poured them each a cup as soon as the aroma of the brew rose. ‘Why don’t you have one of my delicious cupcakes?’ she suggested. ‘It’ll make the time go quicker.’
As she looked up, she noticed an expression on his face that she had never seen before. It looked like pain. Her professional curiosity was tickled.
‘Did I say something wrong?’
He wiped his face, as you would clean a doodle board. ‘No.’
The tightness of his response belied the truth. She had learned through experience and study at university that aggressive behaviour was always triggered by something. Abuse in childhood, trauma in adult life, loss, guilt, suffering. But it wasn’t her place to ask. Besides, she had no time right now to take on his problems as well as her own.
She put the kettle down and took her seat. Picking up her pen she started at the top of her list. ‘Now the first point I wanted to make, definitely the most important, is the booze-ups by the pool –’
‘Ms Templeton.’ He seemed to be back in full possession of his faculties. ‘I do not intend to stay long, so there’s no point in –’
She put a cupcake on a plate and pushed it towards him.
He pushed it back towards her.
‘You aren’t even going to try one?’ she asked sweetly, pushing it back towards him.
‘No.’ He slid the plate back towards her.
‘Why not?’ she demanded crossly and pushed the plate a little too forcefully back towards him. The cupcake, now charged with momentum, slid off the plate and straight into his lap, icing face down.
‘Oh no.’ She cringed. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He gingerly removed the cupcake from his thigh but it left all its icing behind.
She grabbed a serviette off the counter and quickly reached down to scoop it all off when his hand closed on her wrist like a vice.
‘Ms Templeton, I am quite capable of cleaning myself up, thank you very much.’
She looked down at their joined hands and her eyes widened in alarm. Idiot! I’ve practically got my hand in his groin.
Just at that precise moment the door chime rang and in walked her plumber, brandishing a bouquet of pink gerberas. When it rains, it pours.
He took in the scene with all the hurt and devastation of a jilted lover. ‘So that’s why you didn’t want to see me tonight.’
Charlotte immediately snatched her hand away, feeling her face colour to match the bunch of flowers. ‘Jared, what are you doing here?’
‘I came to have a look at your hot-water system.’
‘But I wasn’t expecting you today.’
He sighed sheepishly. ‘I was going to do it for free.’
She glanced at the flowers and he sighed once more as he followed her gaze. ‘Guess I shouldn’t have bothered with these either.’
‘Jared, it’s not that I –’
She looked down in annoyance at Mark, who had started drumming his fingers loudly on the counter. ‘Do you mind?’ she indicated his hand. ‘I’m trying to have a conversation here.’
Her words also drew Jared’s attention to Mark’s drumming hand and the light winked off a thick gold band around Caesar’s fourth finger.
Jared’s gaze swung to hers crossly. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were married?’
Charlotte quickly shook her head and waved both palms in a horizontal slicing motion. ‘We’re not married.’
‘You’re having an affair?’
‘No, no, no.’ Charlotte took a step forwards. ‘You don’t understand.’
‘No, it’s all right.’ Jared’s face was flooding with colour. ‘I really don’t need to hear your explanation.’
‘I wasn’t going to give you an explanation.’ Charlotte put her hands on her hips. ‘There isn’t one to make.’
‘I think I’ll be going now.’ Jared jerked his thumb over his shoulder before backing out the door, taking his flowers with him.
As the door swung shut a dry voice beside her said, ‘Well, that’s five minutes of my life I’ll never get back.’
Heat flooded her face, stinging her skin, as she looked down at his derisive expression. In all fairness, she supposed she did owe him an apology. ‘I’m sorry about that. I didn’t realise he was going to stop by. Or that he was going to mistake you for my husband.’
‘What a relief. I should be extremely worried if you did.’ He stood up and walked around the desk with the clear intention of leaving even though they hadn’t discussed anything yet.
Do something. ‘Mr Crawford, please don’t go. We haven’t finished our business meeting.’
He was now looking across the counter at her. ‘Ms Templeton, I was just attacked by a cupcake and accused of being your lover. It’s hardly a business meeting.’
Now I’ve botched it. She scurried around the desk after him. ‘Mr Crawford, please stay. I’m sorry. I’m very, very sorry about what happened just now. It was an unprofessional imposition, which won’t be repeated. Please sit and discuss these changes that –’
‘Ms Templeton.’
‘Yes?’ she faltered.
He held out his hand. ‘The list.’
‘Oh.’ She reached across the counter and snatched it up. ‘Here.’
‘Thank you.’
It was obvious he was in no mood to go through it now but desperation made her foolish. She held her palms up. ‘I know I put you in an awkward position today, but rest assured it won’t happen again. You have my word.’
Mark Crawford opened his mouth to respond when all of a sudden his body lurched forwards.
‘What the –?’ he rasped, grabbing her upper arms so that just for a millisecond they were nose to nose. He was so close she could see the outline of his irises. Her pulse went through the roof as both horror and arousal pierced her brain. Slowly, they both peered behind him. A hot flush ripped through her body when she saw her mother standing there looking as pleased as punch.
Oh no, did she just pinch his arse?
As if to confirm the awful theory, Mrs Virginia Templeton gave a provocative wink. ‘Well, hello there, sweet cheeks. Do you come here often?’
Mark dropped Charlotte’s arms and turned around to survey the odd creature who had attacked him. He stared in disbelief at the older woman clearly giving him the once over, and tried in vain to formulate a suitable response. He was, however, too stunned to think of anything.
A strangled choke sounded behind him. ‘Er, Mr Crawford, this is my mother, Virginia Templeton.’
‘Her mother,’ Virginia snorted. ‘More like her boss. Haven’t you got paperwork to do, Sarah?’
Sarah? Who the hell is Sarah?
Virginia turned back to him, face wreathed in a smile. ‘I’ll attend to the gentleman. He’s obviously in need of less clumsy assistance.’ She grabbed his hand, pumping it with more gusto than he’d expected judging by her small frame. ‘Virginia Templeton, at your service.’ She batted her eyes. ‘Completely at your service. How may I help you?’
He had to forcibly extract his hand and shake out his fingers to resume blood flow. ‘I was just on my way out.’
Virginia was unperturbed, in fact her eyes brightened. ‘Really, where to? A bar, a restaurant, a club?’ She wiggled her hips. ‘You know, I finish in five minutes and I do love a bit of dancing. Do you like to dance, Mr, er . . .?
’
He ignored the request for his name. ‘No, I don’t.’
Virginia pouted. ‘Well that’s a shame. Not to worry, I’m sure we’ll find something to do in town. I assume you’re driving?’ Her eyebrows waggled as she slipped her arm through his. ‘Lead the way, my good man.’
‘Mum!’ Thankfully Charlotte stepped into the fray, trying to pull the grey-haired woman off him. ‘Mr Crawford is going home. Alone.’
‘Not tonight he’s not.’ Virginia stared lovingly up into his eyes, making him feel like he’d just stepped out of his spaceship and onto the planet Mars.
‘You’ll have to excuse my mother,’ Charlotte said in lowered tones as she managed to disengage Virginia’s hand from his arm. ‘She has Alzheimer’s disease and, well, at the moment she thinks she’s about thirty-five years younger.’
Many things at that point began to make sense to Mark:
a. Why Charlotte’s mother thought they’d make a good match.
b. Why he never saw Charlotte socialising with his men . . .
c. Why Charlotte seemed so determined to preserve a business that should have seen its demise many, many years ago.
The unfortunate woman was clearly devoting her life to the care of her mentally challenged mother and all her assets – he could imagine she’d try any means necessary to protect this little group of units. They provided a stable if not glossy future. Perhaps that was why she had scorned the attentions of Jared, the plumber. He’d seemed pretty high maintenance and she probably had little time to spare.
He grimaced.
Why he should be sparing even a second thought for this woman’s love-life, he had no idea. True, she was very attractive in that girl-next-door kind of way. She had wavy auburn hair and a nose that turned pink whenever she got embarrassed – which unfortunately for her seemed to be every two minutes. He could also see why his men ogled her whenever she walked past. She definitely had a certain something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
A great rack and legs to die for. He heard Kathryn’s musical laugh in his head. Let’s not kid ourselves here.
The Girl in the Yellow Vest Page 5