‘But what if it’s the meaning of love?’
‘You’re asking me, Miriam-no-mate, about love? Show me that thing again.’ Miriam flicked between the various shots Nina had snapped. ‘As I suspected, just as creepy this morning.’
‘What about Kevin?’ Nina asked.
Her friend shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t call him creepy. A little weird maybe.’
‘No, I mean you’re not a Miriam-no-mate. You have Kevin.’
‘Hmm, yeah, I see what you’re getting at.’ Miriam yawned. ‘He’s so hot and so good in bed that I’m up before the sun on a Saturday morning sitting on a sofa with you. Meanwhile Kevin is—’
‘Someone mention my name?’ Wearing a skimpy towel around his bony hips, Kevin strode towards the woman he openly referred to as his latest crush.
‘Oh no you don’t, bucko!’ Miriam pulled back as he bent over her and waved a warning finger in his face. ‘Did you brush?’
‘Yes. Now kiss me, woman. Mwah. Oh! Morning, Nina.’
‘Morning to you too, Kev.’ A seemingly invisible Nina looked everywhere else to avoid glimpsing the split in his bath towel as the man burped his way to the kitchen. She wished Miriam would either ditch this one or marry him and get a place of her own. Or maybe Nina should marry Conrad and insist he move into her flat. That at least provided a good reason for evicting her best friend. Yeah, Nina, excellent reason to marry the man!
‘What are you two birds doing over there?’ Kev called out. ‘Talking about me?’
‘We’re discussing a project, a work thing. Hey, Kevvy, honey, haven’t you got Saturday-morning soccer training? You’ve seen the time, right?’
‘Oh, shit, gotta go. Thanks, babe.’
Miriam laughed when his towel caught on the back of a chair and fell away before he made the bedroom. ‘Sorry about Kev, Nina, he wasn’t supposed to stay over.’ She tightened the dressing-gown around her knees. ‘Back to Ava. What makes you think this weird portrait is the meaning of love?’
‘I found out a bit more about Mr John Tate, who still lives on his family’s farm in Candlebark Creek.’
‘And where does that bit of information fit into Project Portrait, Nina?’
‘Obviously I’ll talk to Mum some more, but not yet. She’s about to play roustabout to Tony’s brood while Mariska rests before the birth.’
‘She’s a brave woman, your mother. Kids wear me down after just a couple of hours.’
‘Grandma mode seems to have the opposite effect on Mum. She lives for them and much prefers being busy to sitting still. I’m not going to push her to talk any more about the past. Instead, I’ll head out to the place for myself, so you need to cover for me at work.’
‘Oh, no! You’re not running off to some small town on your own to confront a weirdo artist. I’m coming with you.’
‘Miriam, there’s nothing to indicate John Tate is a weirdo, and after an hour in a small town on a Saturday night you’ll go bonkers. If I leave now, I can be there mid-afternoon. I just want to check the place out and see this guy in the flesh. I can get a room overnight and drive back, but in case I want to stay longer—’
‘Or if some crazed killer locks you up in a shed! Have you factored that into this so-called project? At least I’ll be here to feed the goldfish.’
‘While you’re at it you can clean the tank.’
‘Hey, don’t push the friendship, girlfriend. I’ve played babysitter to your various budgies, a rabbit and multiple fish since school. Come to think of it, why don’t you have a dog or a cat, like a regular person? Oh, yeah, I know, because you might get attached.’
‘I’m not afraid of forming attachments.’
‘Of course you aren’t.’
‘I was devoted to my rabbit. I cried when Pinky died.’
‘Only because that doofus at school told you he’d had rabbit stew for dinner. Isn’t that right?’
Nina conceded with a nod.
‘Thank you, my case rests,’ Miriam said. ‘And about the fish… Have I ever cleaned fish poop out of a bowl? No, but I’ll happily hold the fort here, and at work, as long as I don’t have to deal with that snooty franchisee from the new snooty shopping plaza who always calls the office and asks me for the person in charge. He’s all yours, because you get paid the big bucks. This small town better have mobile coverage.’
‘We’ll have to wait and see, Miriam.’
‘If this is something you’ve gotta do, hon.’
‘Mum’s still not telling me everything. I know it. There are gaps. Her storytelling yesterday was…’ Nina could think of only one word ‘… cautious.’
‘What’s new? Sounds like Boardroom Ava to me.’ Miriam gave a little shrug. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’
‘The thing I can’t stop thinking about is why someone at Mum’s age would do something completely out of character, like looking up an old boyfriend from thirty years ago.’ Nina gasped. ‘Unless… What if she’s sicker than she’s letting on? Her condition seems to be slowing her down a bit of late. She’s even started referring to herself as old.’
‘Ava? Old? No way,’ Miriam said. ‘She was a powerhouse at work. I envied her get-up-and-go. So sad she stepped down to let Tony take over.’
‘Maybe her prognosis has changed and the portrait and John Tate are a kind of closure?’
‘Why would she not come straight out and tell you both?’
‘Who knows? Maybe to avoid upsetting Mariska. Remember, she didn’t tell anyone she was sick for ages, and I’m not sure how many times she said yesterday “A lie is acceptable if the truth is too painful.”’
‘Aw, come ’ere, hon.’ Miriam shifted so she could wrap a comforting arm around Nina, reaching for the box of tissues from the coffee table and dumping it on her lap. She peered at the painting on Nina’s phone. ‘How come all I see in that portrait is you as a fifty-year-old?’
Nina tried to smile. She failed. ‘It makes no sense and, besides, I’ve never thought Mum and I were alike physically, other than maybe our eyes and our hair before Mum went grey. The woman in that portrait is young, yes, but it’s—’
‘Creepy,’ Miriam finished.
Nina shook her head and grinned. Her best friend was kooky and incredibly annoying at times, but she’d be lost without her, especially with everything going on in her life now.
‘The scar is proof it’s Mum, Miriam.’ Nina tapped her phone screen back to life.
The artist had depicted a young Ava when she’d been vivacious and very beautiful, like in the photos aboard a yacht – a thirty-year-old woman fulfilling her father’s wishes that she travel. Except that in the portrait Ava looked genuinely at ease, which she didn’t in the early photographs taken oversees with Dirk.
‘There’s something in the way the painter has captured Mum’s face and the angle of her body, the way she’s leaning forward in anticipation, one elbow on the table to position the teacup at her mouth. She’s grinning over the rim, her eyes all squinty and smiling like she’s—’
‘Flirting,’ Miriam finished.
‘And he’s painted her relaxed and happy and I agree that is weird for Ava, given the situation. It’s definitely a younger version of Mum.’
‘I’m not sure I ever noticed a scar. Ava’s make-up is always immaculate.’
Nina took up the phone again and zoomed in. ‘Above my mother’s left eyebrow. The mark has faded over time – maybe the age lines have made it less noticeable – but it’s there if you look closely. After yesterday, I know an angry, alcohol-fuelled Lenore was responsible.’
‘The artist is detailed. I’ll give him that much,’ Miriam said. ‘There’s a lot going on in that painting.’
‘Maybe obsessive is a better word. Like I said, he’s well known for his artistic style and his story and, for whatever reason, Mum’s sought him out and had herself painted to include the things that are important to her, like the dragonfly brooch and Marco’s favourite dessert. And she’s sitting at a kitchen table, of al
l places. She’s laughing and sipping tea.’
‘That extended pinky finger is so Ava,’ Miriam added. ‘But you haven’t mentioned the most obvious detail, Nina. That ring on her wedding finger is incredible.’
‘And unmissable, which is where this thing gets interesting.’ The ring’s design was like nothing Nina had ever seen before: a solitary pearl surrounded by diamonds, each one individually and irregularly set. ‘Mum’s never been a fan of rings or marriage. I’ve certainly never seen that piece before and Mum said she hasn’t either.’
‘The design on the napkin is familiar, though.’ Miriam pointed. ‘To me, that’s the Peppi’s Trattoria logo: the Chianti bottle, the grape leaves, the cheese wedge. You know Peppi’s? They’ve always claimed to be the first true trattoria in Brisbane.’
Nina’s excitement grew. ‘Didn’t that friend of your dad’s used to work there? The guy at your sixteenth who told the story about—’
‘The Peppi’s pearl and panna cotta myth.’ They blinked at each other. ‘Are you thinking what I think you are, Neens?’
‘I need to get to the bottom of this portrait and three things in that painting will help unravel the mystery. The ring, the napkin, and what looks like Mum’s favourite panna cotta dessert, but the clue has to be in the detail on the napkin. I mean, it’s a portrait, not a still life. Why add all those elements?’ Nina had to draw breath and slow down. ‘Do you reckon the restaurant still has their logo on the napkins?’
‘Printed maybe, not embroidered.’ Miriam paused. ‘And the napkin in the painting isn’t paper. Look at the stitching along the edges and the detail. That’s real embroidery. I can make a call and ask. I do know there’s a collection of memorabilia with a written history of the restaurant on the wall at the back.’
‘Miriam, I don’t know anything except that I have a sense of urgency to find out more about the artist.’ Nina held both hands to her stomach to quell the sick feeling that rose any time she thought about losing her mother. ‘I need to do this sooner rather than later.’
‘Hey, Ava’s a survivor. She’s your mum. She’s Boardroom Ava. She’s not going anywhere without a fight.’
‘What if she’s tired of fighting? She’s raised Tony and me on her own, built a multi-million-dollar business from scratch with no financial help. Every dollar Dirk sent over she put into our trust funds.’
‘Never anything for herself?’ Miriam asked.
Nina shook her head. ‘She used to tell me she’d accepted a handout once and it was the worst decision of her life.’
‘Your mum rocks. I so want to be her when I decide to grow up.’ Miriam chuckled. ‘As a kid I reckoned she was the hippest, while the rest of us had daggy mums. She’s even more fascinating now.’
‘Hmm, Ava Marchette, mystery woman. If I wasn’t about to get behind the wheel of a car and drive six hours north I’d drink to that.’
‘Before you go anywhere, I need to know your plan with the portrait. You won’t be hanging it over the fireplace, will you?’
Nina let herself laugh. ‘The fireplace we don’t have, you mean?’
‘Over any fireplace. I said that just now on behalf of your betrothed. Besides, Conrad is more a Renaissance man, in that I look at him and think Michelangelo’s David.’
Nina roared. ‘Conrad is not my betrothed and I have no idea what his taste is in art.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’ve never asked him.’
‘No, silly, not about art, why is he not your betrothed? A stone that size, set in white gold? Honey, I’d be his slave-girl, wash his soccer socks and crush grapes for his wine.’
Nina twirled the ring on her right hand. ‘Miriam, you’d never be anyone’s slave-girl.’
‘True, but I will make you a Thermos of coffee for the road because I’m the best friend a girl can have. Give me five.’
‘You are.’ Nina chuckled. ‘And thanks.’
*
While Miriam was finding and filling the rarely used Thermos flask in the kitchen, her question about Conrad’s proposal buzzed in Nina’s mind. She inspected the ring. The stone was so big that she was constantly repositioning it on her finger. She recalled kissing Conrad goodbye at the airport forty-eight hours ago, a week after his proposal. He’d reminded her to call into the jeweller to have the ring resized. ‘If done within two weeks of purchase,’ he’d added, ‘there’s no charge.’ There would also be no returning the ring for a refund once it had been altered.
She’d been loitering outside the jeweller’s the next day when her mum had sidled up.
‘Hello, darling.’
‘Mum!’ Nina had mumbled, through a mouthful of muffin.
Ava had looked far too smug, clearly happy to find her daughter staring at the ring display, while all Nina could think about was that the muffin wasn’t from Bark Hut Bakery. Guiltily, she covered her mouth with a hand and witnessed an immediate shift in her mother’s expression.
Ava’s disappointment, which Nina had seen plenty of times, was not about the treasonous muffin. Damn it! Her mother had hold of Nina’s right hand, tilting the fingers back and forth so the diamond solitaire caught the light.
‘Would you like to explain this?’ she asked.
‘It’s a ring, Mum.’
‘You know what I mean, Nina.’ Her mother had been sick from one thing or another for years, but illness had never prevented her delivering that piercing stare. ‘Is it on the right or the wrong hand?’
‘The right hand.’
‘If it’s from Conrad I’d suggest that’s the wrong hand.’
‘The ring is fine where it is for now.’ Nina extricated her fingers from her mother’s grasp.
‘Fine for now? Oh, Nina, why? Conrad clearly loves you. He’s older, he’s level-headed and well established. Tony’s been very impressed with his work since he joined the company. Claims he’s a brilliant chief financial officer and we’re lucky to have him. Didn’t Miriam say he’s a keeper as well?’
‘Yes, Mum, and they’re all great recommendations. I’ll be sure to keep them in mind. Do you want a coffee?’
Within minutes of settling at a table and ordering, Ava was back in interrogation mode. ‘Why have you not shared your news with me, darling?’
‘With Conrad it’s complicated, Mum.’
‘How complicated can it be, Nina? You either want the man in your life or you don’t. That ring suggests he wants you in his, and after dating him for eighteen months you should know.’
Nina wasn’t in the mood to talk about how messed up she felt over Conrad’s proposal, or about her life in general: how she’d lost any sense of pride in her output at the end of each day; how the constraints at the office were suffocating; or that the family business her mother had put her life into building did not satisfy her daughter. She’d initially thought working with her brother doable, but the honeymoon period had lasted less than a year. For the last twelve months Nina had tolerated Tony’s tiresome demands and pretended she was happy enough, settled enough, and in love enough. The truth was, at only twenty-five, Nina wasn’t sure she was ready to settle, or that she’d experienced real love with Conrad. One trait mother and daughter seemed to share was a lukewarm attitude to marriage and commitment.
‘I appreciate you’re still young and in no rush,’ her mother said, ‘but you have a tendency to procrastinate. There’s no rulebook when it comes to age, or who we love. If it’s right, it’s right. Don’t ever let anyone ever tell you otherwise and never let a good one go. Thank you,’ Ava said to the waitress, who had arrived with just one of the coffees.
‘All I told Conrad was I’d keep the ring on my right hand for now. When I’m ready I can shift it to the proper finger.’
‘Shift it?’ Ava soaked up the coffee moat under her cup. ‘How very romantic. I assume you’ll text him to let him know you’ve accepted his proposal. You can change your status on Facebook to engaged. I believe that’s easy to do and quite acceptable.’
‘Why not,
Mum? After all, I got my sense of romance and advocacy for marriage from you.’ Her mother’s smile fell away and Nina reached out to squeeze the hand Ava had rested on the table. ‘Anyway, I won’t have to text Conrad. For the last five days my hands have been the first thing he looks at.’
‘Nina, I want nothing more than to see you happy and settled before—’
‘Please don’t, Mum. Remember Grandpa’s favourite saying about the strong saving themselves? You’ll be around long enough to give me plenty of grief over Conrad, my procrastination, my poor food choices, and a whole lot more.’ Nina looked around the café, willing the waitress to arrive with her latte. ‘I love you, Mum, but why is me getting married so important? You never made any of your relationships official.’
‘Nina, I walked away from relationships that were bad for me.’
‘How were they bad?’ But Nina spoke to the air. Her mother rarely talked about her past, even when asked. Ava never got annoyed, just quiet. She also constantly claimed there was nothing interesting about her youth. Life had started when she’d met Nina and Tony’s father. That story never changed. ‘Maybe the Marchette women aren’t good at conforming,’ Nina suggested.
‘Settling down is not about conforming. I would’ve married if only… ’
‘If only what, Mum?’
‘Conrad loves you, Nina. Why risk losing him?’
‘Because I want to be sure.’
‘You mean you expect the fairytale and to be swept off your feet?’
Nina wanted to know what it was like to fall in love, but this wasn’t the time for a deep and meaningful conversation that would end with her feeling like a failure at only twenty-five. Mum was due back at the specialist heart clinic for a check-up. It might be routine but that didn’t stop Nina worrying.
‘Conrad has no problem with waiting for an answer. He understands that I have to focus one hundred per cent on my job.’
‘And are you sure the business isn’t a convenient excuse for not settling down and starting a family?’
Nina paused to pluck a sugar stick from the terracotta pot on the table. ‘Well, I don’t know, Mum. You didn’t have Tony and me until you were in your thirties. Besides, I need the job.’
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