by Joan Kilby
“I’m trying to help, not hurt him,” Will said. Okay, so she was upset by her phone conversation, but that was no reason to take it out on him.
“You’re offering him this job to make yourself look like the caring employer so I’ll come back and work on your garden!”
“What kind of businessman would pay someone to work overseas just so that man’s daughter will prune a few bushes?” Will scoffed.
“Prune a few bushes!”
“Settle down, you two.” Art held up his broad gnarled hands. “Maeve, stop trying to protect me. Will, I appreciate your offer, but Maeve’s right—I’m too old and set in my ways to be gallivanting off to Indonesia.”
“Your accommodations would be taken care of—air-conditioned, of course,” he added with a pointed glance at Maeve. “You’d be supplied with a car, possibly even a driver.”
Art shook his head, his black eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “No, Will, it just won’t do for me,” he said firmly, but without heat. “Jim Knowles—now, he’d be a good ’un for the job. He even speaks a bit of the lingo.”
“Knowles is a fine worker, but he doesn’t have the experience the job requires.”
Art remained obdurate. “Sorry. No can do.”
Will could see he wouldn’t get any further today—with either of them. “Don’t say no straight away. Give yourself some time to think about it, okay?”
Maeve answered, “Don’t hold your breath.”
“I only do that when I’m in over my head,” Will said, giving her a cool smile. He drained his beer and rose. “Thanks for the drink, Art.”
“How can you get set up for overseas production in just three months?” Art asked, walking him to the door. Maeve followed slowly.
“The factory we’re considering buying used to produce electronic toys for a British toy company. It’s already got most of the equipment we need.” And there’s a plentiful supply of cheap local labor, he could have added, quoting Paul, but he didn’t. “Think it over and we’ll talk again soon.”
He said goodbye, and was strapping himself into the Merc, when Maeve came forward to lean in the open window. Her fingers curled over the lower ledge, grass stained and strong.
“Make sure Peter sees that tree by the bungalow,” she said. “You’ll have problems down the track if it’s not removed.”
“We could both rest easier if you did the job yourself.” No response. He put the key in the ignition. “Take care of Art.”
Frowning, she nodded. “Of course.”
He started the car, then realized this could be the last time he’d see her. He left his foot lightly on the brake; a second passed but he didn’t shift into drive. “You looked pale when you were talking to your ex-husband… Is he a problem?”
“No. Not at all.” She tugged on the end of her long braid.
He sighed heavily. “I know you don’t believe it, but I do care about Art, and, by extension, about his family.”
“Sure you do.” She stepped away from the car.
Abruptly, he took his foot from the brake. As he pulled away from the curb, he glanced in his rearview mirror. She was still standing there, staring after him. And then he turned the corner, and she disappeared from view.
Okay, so Maeve wasn’t for him. He hated that she’d never given him a chance, but he had to accept it.
And get on with life.
AN IDEA TOOK ROOT slowly in his mind over the next few days. In a low mood, he tried at first to banish it as unworkable. When that didn’t succeed, he tried to chase it away with accusations of “ridiculous” and “ill-advised.” By the time he came around to accepting his idea as the solution to his and Ida’s problems, he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it earlier. Here was a woman whose friendship he’d valued for twenty-five years. He wanted children himself, and he’d do anything for her.
Five days after his confrontation with Maeve, Will left work and took the Mornington Road turn-off. He parked along the curb outside a block of upmarket new units near the water. Ida’s shiny black BMW sat in her driveway.
“Hi, Will,” she said after opening the door to his knock. Her smile welcomed, but her eyes held uncertainty, as if she were afraid he’d come to tell her no. She stepped back to allow him inside, then led the way into the kitchen. There, she poured him a beer and handed it to him with a nervous smile.
“What’s up?”
He took a drink, wetting his dry throat.
“I’ve given your request a lot of thought and I’d be happy to father a baby for you.”
Ida broke into a relieved smile. “Thank you, Will. Thank you so much.” Then suddenly, her smile faded and she regarded him with a worried frown. “Hang on. Why would you agree now, after all you said about a child needing to belong to a two-parent family?”
“Because I have a suggestion that will overcome that obstacle and prove beneficial to us both.” His plan had nothing to do with any lingering guilt over being the cause of her problems. He didn’t even know why that thought flashed into his mind. He went on quickly, before the notion could grow. “You and I will get married.”
Ida laughed. “Are you out of your mind? We’re just friends.”
“That’s exactly why it will work. We’ll never fall out of love and hurt each other.” The way he and Maree had when they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, meet each other’s expectations. She’d wanted to move to Sydney to further her career, whereas he’d wanted to start a family.
Will dropped into a chair at the chrome-and-glass breakfast table, placed his beer on the table and leaned forward eagerly. “We’re both practical, down-to-earth people who aren’t waiting for some mythical love-of-our-lives to come along.”
Ida slowly sat, too, and twisted the silver ring on her right hand. “It sounds sad when you put it like that.”
“But it’s not,” he insisted. “It just means we skip the starry-eyed stage, and the subsequent disillusionment.”
Ida raised an eyebrow. “So we can what—go straight to boredom?”
He rolled his eyes. “And I thought I was cynical.”
“You are,” she agreed, laughing. “That’s partly why we get along so well. But you make it sound so passionless and predictable. Where’s the mystique?”
“That’s the beauty of it. We’ve known each other so long, there won’t be any surprises.”
“You’re sweeping me off my feet with logic.” She paused. “I’m past having romantic aspirations, but you could still fall in love. I don’t mean with me. Not for a moment do I imagine we would fall in love after all these years as friends. But are you absolutely sure you want a marriage of convenience?”
Maeve’s magnificent smile flashed into his mind. He got to his feet and paced the tiny granite-and-oak kitchen, pushing away feelings of lost opportunity. Maeve was the first woman he’d been seriously attracted to in a long while, but she wasn’t interested. She’d been definite on the subject.
“It’s not as though I haven’t wanted to fall in love,” he said. “Every woman I’ve dated since Maree, I’ve thought, ‘This could be the one.’ Each time I’ve been disappointed. Maybe I expect too much. Maybe I’m looking in the wrong places. I don’t know.”
“Maybe you’re too rational,” Ida suggested. “Love is something you feel in your heart, not deduce from common interests and goals.”
“The thing is, I want children and I don’t want to be an old man when they’re born. Romantic love aside, I care about you more than almost anyone. I’m sorry it can’t be more. I would do my absolute best to be a good partner to you.”
Tears shone in Ida’s eyes. “I believe you, Will. I’m going to take you up on this crazy offer before you have a chance to think again. Before I have a chance to think about what I’m doing to you—binding you to me.”
Will reached out and pulled her to her feet. “You’ll be doing me the biggest favor of my life.”
He wrapped his arms around her in a warm, brotherly hug. Ida would be good for him.
Maybe their marriage wouldn’t be the flight of passion he’d once hoped for, but it would be solid and lasting.
“We could have an open marriage,” she offered, gazing anxiously at him. “My opportunities are limited, but you’ll find yourself attracted to other women.”
It was likely, he had to admit, though the idea of an open marriage didn’t sit right with him. Marriage to him meant one man, one woman; faithfulness and trust.
“Or,” she added when he didn’t reply, “there’s such a thing as recreational sex between friends.”
“I knew you just wanted me for my body,” Will teased. Turning serious, he added, “Whichever option we choose, both of us should be comfortable with it.” She nodded, and he touched a gentle finger to her damp cheek, wiping away the moisture. Would they have a boy first? Or a girl? It didn’t matter, he decided, exhilarated at the idea of having any child at all. He felt as though he’d just caught the perfect wave and was taking the ride of his life.
“When shall we get married?” Ida said, excitement showing in her bright eyes. “I’ll have to get a dress, send out invitations—” She broke off, adding worriedly, “You do want a real wedding?”
Will didn’t really care, but he could see it mattered to Ida. He owed her. Even though she would deny it. “Whatever you want. I thought we could have the ceremony in my garden.”
“Oh, yes. I’d love that.”
“Good. Then how aboute toward the end of summer—Damn.”
“What is it?”
He slumped against the bench top, shoving a hand through his hair. “Maeve quit on me. She’s angry because I had to sack her father along with all the other employees.”
“Oh, Will. I forgot for a moment you were going through that. Was it awful?”
“Pretty bad. Don’t worry about the garden—I’ve got the name of another landscaper.”
“But from what you said, Maeve had a great design worked out. Starting over would take time we don’t have. Would it help if I talked to her?”
“No, leave it,” he said quickly, hoping to erase the thought before Ida had it fixed in her mind. Getting engaged so soon after asking Maeve out would do nothing to enhance his image in Maeve’s eyes. Not that it mattered now, but still…
“Are you sure?” Ida persisted. “I really feel I could talk her around. After all, she doesn’t have any quarrel with me.”
“Don’t bother. Please. I’ll get another gardener.” He glanced at the wall clock, thinking of the Indonesian documents he still had to read. “I’d better get going.”
At the front door he paused to clear his throat, foolishly embarrassed. “Er, when did you want to get pregnant?”
Ida laughed nervously and turned pink. “Since we’re getting married, why don’t we wait till after the ceremony.”
“Sure.” He hid his relief. Making love to Ida would feel weird, almost incestuous, and apparently she felt the same way. They had plenty to work out between them, but they’d manage.
Because they were friends.
CHAPTER FIVE
WATERING CAN IN HAND, Maeve moved along the narrow aisles of black plastic pots containing mid-size annuals. She gave each plant a drink and pulled the odd weed from pots of purple-and-white petunias, yellow pansies and pink-and-white Sweet William. They would look good in the big urns at the front of Will’s house. Except…she wasn’t going to work on Will’s garden.
Footsteps tapped along the driveway. Around the side of the house appeared the woman with the scarred face Maeve had seen at Will’s. Professional looking and perfectly groomed in a tan linen suit dress. Tan pumps. Neat gold studs in her ears.
“Hi,” the woman said. “I knocked on the front door, and your father said to come around the back. I’m Ida, Will Beaumont’s fiancée.”
Fiancée? Maeve straightened, dusting the dirt off her hands, wondering if she’d somehow slipped sideways into a parallel universe. “I didn’t know Will was engaged.”
“It was pretty sudden,” Ida admitted, spots of color blooming in her cheeks. “But we’ve known each other for years.”
Maeve fought down a surge of jealousy. She debated mentioning that just last week Will had asked her out to dinner. Then immediately discarded the idea. Why cause trouble?
“Congratulations,” she managed to say. “What can I do for you?”
Ida came closer. “Will told me you’d decided not to work on his garden and why. He said he was going to contact another landscaper, but I wanted to talk to you first. Ask you to reconsider.” She paused. “He doesn’t know I’m here. In fact, he told me not to come. But I understand how much he wants you to do his garden.”
Maeve set her watering can aside. She’d been feeling bad about reneging on her contract. Art had made sure of that. And now Ida. Stalling, Maeve asked, “Would you like a cold drink?”
“That would be great. Can you believe this heat?” Ida lifted her wavy hair away from her face.
“It’s a job just keeping my plants watered.” Maeve went to the bar fridge in the garage and handed Ida a bottle of flavored mineral water. “Have a seat,” she added, gesturing to the swing.
Ida sat, then pushed off in a gentle rocking motion. “I’m sorry about your father. If it helps, Will is really cut up about what’s happening to his company and his employees.”
Maeve stared at the ground, silent. Sure, Will felt bad. But he’d still have a job and a paycheck when the dust settled.
“He’s really a great guy,” Ida went on. “Smart, generous, kind. Loyal. For our university graduation ball he turned down an invitation from a girl he liked and took me, instead, because I was so scarred nobody else would ask me for a date.”
Maeve searched inside herself for anger at the man who’d invited her out and then not a week later asked another woman to marry him. A guy as attractive as Will could have opted for beauty in his choice of bride. Instead, he’d chosen character and personality, which presumably meant he possessed those qualities himself.
“So you two have been a couple before?” she asked, puzzled by the chronology of events.
Ida looked startled, then wary. “No,” she said slowly. “As I said, our engagement is very recent. Kind of surprised us both.”
“How long have you known each other?” Maeve asked.
“Since we were children.” Ida smiled at some memory. “We shared a table in grade five, and Will annoyed me because he was always borrowing my colored marking pens and using them up. Then one day some older boys were picking on me. Will stood up to them and got a black eye for his trouble. The next day I brought him his own set of colored pens. We’ve been friends ever since.”
“What a wonderful story,” Maeve said. “So it was a case of ‘best friends who don’t realize they love each other.”’
Ida turned her head slightly so Maeve could see only the scarred side. “Er, something like that.”
Maeve found Ida’s expression hard to read, not just because of the scarring but because she was obviously practiced in hiding her feelings. “What happened to your face? If you don’t mind my asking.”
Ida faced her squarely. “I’d rather people ask than studiously ignore. I was burned by a splash from a deep-fat fryer. It would have been much worse if Will hadn’t been there. He applied first aid, called an ambulance. I owe him a lot.”
Maeve owed him nothing, but she liked Ida. “What do you look for in a garden?”
A lopsided grin chased away the shadows and brought out a charm Maeve suspected Ida didn’t see when she looked in the mirror.
“My ideal garden would be green concrete, plastic trees and a garden gnome. In other words, so low maintenance not even I could kill it.” She raised her shoulders in a self-deprecating shrug. “I’m pretty hopeless when it comes to gardening.”
“Sounds like you and Will make a good pair,” Maeve joked. “What I had in mind for Will’s place is fairly low maintenance. For some clients I come back quarterly to maintain the garden and tackle big jobs like pr
uning and ground preparation.”
“Does that mean you’ve changed your mind and will do the garden?” Ida asked.
Maeve smiled. “We’ll see.”
“I don’t know if Will mentioned it, but we plan on starting a family soon,” Ida said, almost shyly.
“I got the impression he was interested in having children,” Maeve said stiffly. “Large portions of the garden would be child oriented.”
“You must love kids,” Ida said.
How on earth did she come to that conclusion? Maeve needed a moment to find her voice. “Other people’s kids are okay.”
“Oh, but having your own must be much better.” Ida hugged herself, eyes closed, like a child dreaming of Christmas. “I can’t wait to have a baby.”
Once upon a time, Maeve had felt like that. Eyes stinging, she rose and went over to a thick hedge-like stand of tall silver-green stalks. Releasing the catch on her secateurs, she asked, “Would you like some lavender?”
Opening her eyes, Ida leaned over and brushed the heads of several of the dusky-purple flowers, filling the air with the distinctive bittersweet scent. “It’s beautiful, but what would I do with it?”
“Put it in a vase in your entryway,” Maeve said, snipping fragrant stalks. “Lavender’s also nice in the bathroom. And good in sachets, or drunk as a tea if you have a headache.”
“I don’t have a vase big enough to hold all this,” Ida said, accepting the bundle. “But I’ll take it, anyway, and worry about that later. Thanks.”
“It’s nothing.” Maeve moved into the bed of dahlias. “Would you like some of these? They need thinning, too. I’m having to cut back everything at the moment.”
“They’d be wasted on me. I’m hardly ever home and I don’t have the room to do flowers justice.”
“You’re going to have lots of room soon.”
Ida nodded. Yet for someone so blessed, she didn’t seem totally happy. Maybe Maeve was just imagining something was missing when Ida spoke of her coming marriage, but she sensed both Ida and Will were keeping secrets, and she’d have given anything to know what they were.