Silver Lining

by Diana Simmonds

  “Fine, that’s good.” Did Clancy sound even a tiny bit relieved, maybe?

  “Okay, well, I better go…” Amanda was reluctant to hang up but could think of nothing else to say.

  “Sure, fine. Well, see you tomorrow then…”

  Amanda punched in another number.

  “Margo Durham.” The voice was sharp and clear.

  “Oh hi, Margo, it’s Amanda—I’m downstairs.”

  “See you tomorrow, kiddo,” Malcolm said. “Have a good time. Margo throws quite a party, I believe.”

  Amanda stood in the Art Deco portico of Margo’s building and made a deliberate effort to drop her shoulders as she took three long, deep, slow breaths. She felt shaky and uncertain—but uncertain of what, she wasn’t quite sure. Nine floors above, Margo Durham was waiting to entertain her. Margo was attractive, rich and a woman whose life and work were familiar and comfortable; she inhabited a world Amanda knew intimately. Two hours south was Clancy Darling, exactly the opposite. She despised everything Amanda represented. She was also the moodiest and most annoying person imaginable and she was easily the sexiest woman Amanda had ever met. Why did either of them make her uneasy? She sighed again. It was getting to be a habit, it reminded her of Renee’s placid dairy cows.

  Amanda straightened her T-shirt and braced her finger to press 9 but hesitated and asked herself why she was here. To her surprise, the answers came quickly. I want to meet up with Margo; I want to enjoy the party; I want to meet her friends. And I want to get away from Clancy and be with people I understand and who understand me—just for a change.

  The cool foyer smelled pleasantly of beeswax and lavender; the low sheen on the parquet flooring suggested its source. A cork-faced noticeboard, a large wall mirror and a double row of mahogany mailboxes were the area’s only furnishings. From the lofty ceiling was suspended a Deco milk glass and chrome light fitting. It was elegant and understated; not ostentatious. Amanda wished she had worn something a little more structured than her T-shirt and cargo pants, but it was too late for that. She stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the ninth floor. As it lurched and began to rise, so did her heartbeat. With Margo waiting for her in the penthouse, she consciously set about clearing all thoughts of Clancy from her mind.

  The elevator bounced once and stopped. The doors hissed open and Margo was standing in the entryway of her apartment, a wide grin lighting her handsome face.

  Amanda shouldered her bag and took in the glinting eyes as they deliberately ranged up and down her body with clear appreciation. She decided right then to take whatever might be on offer.

  Margo reached out and took Amanda’s weekender from her. “Welcome,” she said and leaned forward to lay a soft kiss on Amanda’s lips. The elevator doors began to shuffle and Margo quickly put out her free hand to hold them open. They laughed as the tangle of arms, doors and bags forced Amanda into a longer kiss than was strictly the norm for a friendly greeting.

  “I think you better come in,” Margo said lightly. “I don’t want you disappearing downstairs again.” She stepped back and Amanda followed her, enjoying the warm tingle that remained on her mouth.

  “Thanks,” she said as Margo ushered her through a pair of solid white doors; the only ones in the foyer. “This is really lovely of you to invite me. I appreciate it.”

  “All my pleasure.” Margo’s voice was smoothly low as she guided Amanda into the penthouse. She stood back with obvious satisfaction as Amanda gasped at what lay before her. The natural light of the midday sun filled a vast, glass-walled living area. The brightness was emphasized by a gleaming white marble floor whose expanse was interrupted by a pale gray pattern that suggested a palimpsest of ancient Greek or Mayan geometric patterns. It was subtly beautiful and made the laying of any kind of rug superfluous. It also highlighted pieces of furniture that were placed like prize contemporary sculptures: a long block of white leather and chrome couch stood opposite two black leather Barcelona chairs. Amanda divined they were not reproductions and neither was the Wassily chair that stood apart beside an equally refined chrome-and-ebony floor lamp. An ivory glass dome shade hung over the chair in a graceful curve that was the antithesis of its stark angles. Beside the chair was a pile of magazines and large format coffee table books, the only slightly untidy feature of the room and the only reading matter too, Amanda noticed.

  Beyond the tinted glass that stood in place of walls was an equally spacious patio where the rippling green water of a lap pool gleamed. The perfect geometry was broken by tall, spiky dark green leaves that grew in profusion out of slatted gray timber planter boxes. The planters perfectly matched the slatted timber surface of the deck and the effect was of yet more studied elegance and luxury. Beyond the patio the unmistakable white curves of the Opera House gleamed above the trees and roofs while the raucous blue sky and deeper cobalt harbor waters seemed almost an affront to the carefully modulated and designed living space.

  “What do you think?”

  Amanda turned and saw that Margo was watching her. Her expression was reminiscent of Thomas Cat after a successful mouse catch. Amanda dismissed the silly image and smiled, lifting her arms wide in wordless appreciation. Finally she came up with “It’s gorgeous. Wow.”

  Margo seemed satisfied and moved away toward an open archway. “Let’s get you settled in the guest suite, then we can go out to lunch. I’ve organized a little group I want you to meet. I think you’ll like them.”

  Amanda followed her through a black-and-white architectural photograph-lined vestibule. Leading off it was a spacious bedroom whose picture window almost shared the outlook of the living area, but was fronted by apartment building roofs that tumbled down to the bay. A queen-size bed was fashionably draped in an oversize white abstract embroidered quilt. Six taupe-colored pillows in three sizes stood to attention at its head. A wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrors concealed the room’s storage space. Margo pressed one mirror and the door popped open but not before Amanda caught sight of herself: messily casual and colorful in pink stripes and khaki; a rumpled contrast to the glamorous penthouse. She grinned, abashed at her own reflection, and turned away to save herself from further embarrassment.

  “I’ll leave you to get comfortable, then come out to the patio and we’ll have a drink before lunch.”

  Margo lightly squeezed her shoulder and left the room, but not before another long look that began at Amanda’s toes and didn’t stop until it reached the top of her head and was avid enough to make her shiver. As the door clunked discreetly behind her Amanda looked around and felt twin flutters of excitement and uncertainty. Margo is sexy, good looking, extremely rich and speaks my language. She has a million-dollar view and the luxury is fabulous. And, she also acknowledged to herself, she was flattered and drawn by the attention and Margo’s deliberately unconcealed attraction to her. But she knew she felt ambiguous about it too and couldn’t put her finger on why. Except, of course, she could but did not want to admit it. Even though she did not want Clancy to be there and tried to ignore her, lurking constantly at the back of her mind was Malcolm’s sister with her perplexing gray eyes and beautiful smile and infuriatingly contrary attitude. And, Amanda reminded herself, her rocky finances and down-at-the-heel farm and absolutely pigheaded and superior outlook on everything. It was an impossible combination.

  Amanda unzipped her overnighter and began to unpack. She shook out her cream Armani jacket and pants and hung them in the nearest section of the wall of closet space. She looked at the jacket with squinting, critical eyes and wondered whether she ought to go shopping for something new and special. At that moment Two Moon Bay and the worried, strained faces of its citizens—her new friends—popped unbidden into her mind. And she thought about her idea and the plan she and Renee had talked about earlier in the week as they stood in the milking shed waiting for the girls to be relieved of their daily milk quota.

  “Renee, I think we should look at making Two Moon Bay sort of self-sufficient and cooperati
ve.” Amanda had blurted the ridiculous idea and waited to see what the older woman would say, whether she would just laugh. But Renee simply raised her eyebrows and looked mildly interested and just slightly surprised. Amanda decided to go on before she lost her nerve.

  “Thing is, the fishing boats are rotting on the beach, the village is in the doldrums. The shops are struggling, and Jonny’s café is the only business that’s got any life. Everyone is scared by this global financial meltdown, especially the banks. I think the government has got it right: Australia is going to be okay. We just have to believe we can float and we will.”

  Renee grinned at her with discernible affection. “We? You an Aussie now?”

  Amanda’s cheeks flushed and she shrugged.

  Renee put her hand on Amanda’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t mind me, love, I’m teasing. And that was a mean thing to say. Sorry. You’re one of us, for sure.”

  Amanda touched Renee’s hand in turn and felt the clear liking for her rough-tough friend.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about how we can get all the different parts of the town and the people together and make them work together.” She paused again and checked Renee’s face; she was listening, there wasn’t a hint of a smirk. Amanda went on, “Two Moon Bay ought to be able to attract paying customers like it used to. It’s pretty, it’s got a cute harbor, it’s got all the bones to make it a real visitor magnet. I’ve been talking to folks and they remember when you couldn’t move on weekends for tourists. And I know that’s got its downside—believe me, my mom could murder the visitors sometimes, but we need ’em!”

  Renee snuffled on a snorting laugh. “You’ve got that right, but the highway bypasses us these days—which is a good thing, I wouldn’t want to go back to the way the main street used to be. Still, people drive by and don’t know what’s here. And when they’re hungry they stop at the fast-food joints on the highway.”

  Amanda nodded eagerly. “Exactly. But if we could get the right sort of people coming back—I was making a list of all the talents we got here. Artists coming out our ears, Jenny and Jeff Carlisle do that fantastic weaving, Darren and Margie Scott say they’ve always wanted to run a gift shop and tea room. Stephen and Jonathan could really make a go of the bed-and-breakfast if they had more guests and they wouldn’t have to drive an hour to go to other jobs…” She stopped as Renee’s face broke into a huge grin and laughter tumbled out.

  “What?” she asked defensively. “You’re laughing at me.”

  Renee shook her head. “No, love, not a bit. I’m just loving your enthusiasm and how you’ve been thinking about all this. I suppose it takes a fresh set of eyes to see what’s happening.”

  Amanda relaxed and shrugged. “Yeah, well maybe, but I think if we could find some investors—at a decent interest rate and with a long-term outlook on what they’d get out of it—we could help all the maybe’s and if only’s and perhaps and possibly’s to get off their asses and get going.”

  Renee shook her head and her eyebrows did interesting things on her forehead. “Well, I’ll be…” she murmured, her eyes peering deeply into Amanda’s, apparently in search of something. “You really mean it, don’t you? You’ve really thought this through.”

  Amanda nodded. “Yep. I have. I’ve written it all up as a proposal for a co-op venture and I was wondering whether you’d present it to the next town meeting.”

  This time Renee’s silence was prolonged enough to make Amanda uneasy all over again. Finally she pursed her lips and gave Amanda one of her scorching looks.

  “Why haven’t you talked to Clancy about this?”

  Amanda sighed and shook her head. “She thinks I’m an airhead. She wouldn’t take it seriously.”

  “You are kidding, aren’t you?”

  Amanda shrugged. “Not really. She thinks I’m a ditz—mostly.”

  Renee snorted. “Well, I’m going to agree with you if you really believe she thinks that,” she said firmly. “I’ve never heard such a load of old cobblers.”

  Amanda frowned and grinned simultaneously. “Cobblers?”

  Renee returned the grin. “Rubbish, nonsense, crap…er…hogwash, baloney.”

  Amanda laughed. “But I really don’t think she has a very high opinion of me, Renee.”

  Renee sighed. “It’s not what it looks like from where I’m sitting. You just have to understand her, that’s all. Clancy is a bit of an oyster, really.”

  “An oyster?”

  “Yep, all tough and jagged edges on the outside and bloody impossible to get her to open up, but when she does, she’s sweet and lovely and a delicious human being. You wait and see.”

  Amanda considered this unexpected description and Renee patted her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You think about that, my girl. Meanwhile, these girls want their teats out of the machines. Let’s get to it, eh?”

  And they had gone to it, working quietly and happily to release the cows from the milking equipment and return them to the early morning sunshine.

  * * *

  As Margo had promised, the lunch gathering was small and when she and Margo arrived at the restaurant Amanda had a chance to talk to each of the six women and two men already at the table. Margo seated her in so that Amanda’s outlook was the gleaming white sails of the Opera House and the contrasting glittering blue of Sydney Cove.

  “Wow!” Amanda exclaimed happily. “No wonder this place is called Aria, it makes you want to sing! That building really is as gorgeous as everyone says!” A wave of friendly laughter rippled around the table and each person acknowledged with pride the architectural wonder beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass wall. Then Margo began introducing Amanda to the group. There were two corporate lawyers, three merchant bankers, three venture capitalists and an arbitrageur. Amanda was shocked as they each expressed interest in hearing about what Margo fondly called “Amanda’s weird concept of ethical investment.” Margo had clearly been networking energetically on her behalf since their phone call of a week ago. She looked sidelong at Margo who sensed it immediately. She turned to grin and wink at Amanda before going back to telling the woman on her right what a hot property their visitor was on Wall Street.

  Amanda tipped her champagne flute sharply enough to empty almost half its contents down her throat as she mentally crossed her fingers on Margo’s creativity. And lunch continued in a blur of animated conversation and a series of large plates. On them were exquisite and flavorsome works of art that they all set about eating with varying degrees of interest and appetite. Even though it was difficult to concentrate on each of the guests, Amanda became aware that thanks to Margo she was possibly onto an opportunity that could change her life and those of the inhabitants of Two Moon Bay.

  * * *

  The party to introduce Amanda to her circle of power dykes and gay tycoons was a happening one. When Amanda left her bedroom after a final reassuring glance in the full-length mirrored wall and a last squirt of perfume, she could hear from the music and voices that the gathering was large and lively. The rooftop garden and pool was an exquisite setting for a cocktail party, or any kind of gathering, Amanda thought as she looked about. The vast patio was aglow with the light of dozens of tall white candles whose flames burned straight and steady in even taller, simple glass tubes that were grouped sculpturally here and there. The light and shadows cast over the guests softly played on an elegant gathering—mostly women in sharply tailored evening suits, their partners in designer gowns with cleavages to match. And men in equally sharp and glittering garb.

  Amanda was astonished by the almost absurdly decadent vision that greeted her as she stepped out onto the penthouse patio. A spunky young woman in gleaming Doc Marten boots, glitter-sprayed gym muscles, a black leather bikini and a spiky flat top appeared in front of her carrying a tray laden with champagne flutes. Beside her another, identically dressed, carried a magnum bottle of Bollinger and a third presented a tray of exquisite canapés.

  “A drink, ma’am?” The trio cho
rused the question and clearly did not expect her to refuse or demand something else. Amanda obliged and also took a tiny canapé.

  She sipped the chilled Bollinger and caught sight of Margo as she beckoned to her. She was talking to a group of women who were laughing at whatever she had just said. Amanda took a deep breath and moved across the patio, taking in the throng as fifty pairs of eyes swiveled to eye her up and down.

  Amanda was profoundly grateful for her Armani. Nevertheless, she felt almost underdressed, although the high-heeled, black patent peep-toe Louboutins showed off frosty pink, freshly painted and tended toenails and lifted her to a reassuring elevation just under six feet. She needed that height as she walked across the terrace, with every eye upon her and a lull in the laughter and small talk that not even a glamorous blond pianist at a baby grand beside the pool could fill. The expressions on the faces around her were curious rather than friendly as they appraised the newcomer; some were frankly predatory and others—the women in the sleek gowns—were suspicious and cool.

  To her surprise, Amanda had a sudden vision of sitting in the kitchen at Two Moon Bay, in shorts, T-shirt and bare feet, a bottle of beer on the table; and she wished she were back there this very minute. Instead, she smiled calmly as Margo detached herself from the group of women and came to take her hand.

  “Come and meet the gang,” Margo murmured. “You look spectacular, by the way.” She brushed her lips across Amanda’s cheek and then pressed her mouth to the back of Amanda’s hand in a way that seemed clearly to suggest that this particular woman was branded and claimed.

  It was a successful party in more ways than one. Amanda’s own networking and persuasion skills meant that as the soiree wound up, Margo laid her hand on the forearms of carefully selected guests who were asked to stay for an informal dinner and hear about an exciting new investment opportunity.