He appeared to be deep in thought.
In the ensuing weeks, Todd looked forward to visiting Chloe even if he wasn't working in the area. Occasionally he would turn up on her doorstep in the evening, clutching a bag of takeaway food or a bottle of wine. They had formed an easy friendship.
She had relaxed so much in his company that she popped into his office and suggested they attend an art gallery opening together.
“I saw this gallery opening advertised in the local paper. I’d really like to go tonight. I haven’t taken the opportunity to enjoy the art scene since I’ve been back. Will you come with me, please, Todd? It won’t be too boring, and I’ll bribe you with the promise of food afterwards. Dinner will be my treat, of course.” She sat down opposite him, rummaging in her bag for the flyer.
“How could I refuse a free dinner? Of course I’ll come.” He smiled at her benevolently as he took the flyer to study later.
“I’d better get going. Places to go, people to meet. Just kidding, going home to try and get this paint off my hands and glam up a bit for tonight. See you around seven?”
“Sure. I’ll see you then.”
She missed the delighted twinkle in his eye as she delved into her bag to search for her keys.
Chloe leant her walking stick against the wall and plucked a glass of champagne from the tray as the waiter weaved in and out of the crowd. “Look, Todd, there are a few celebrities here already. We’ll be rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous.”
“From where I stand, there is only one reason all of these celebrities are attending this gallery tonight. It’s the champagne. It’s bloody good.” Todd took another sip and held the glass up to admire the colour.
She raised the glass to her scarlet painted lips and took a sip. “It’s French!” She sampled a second sip, savouring the taste and the sizzle of bubbles on her tongue. She had attended gallery openings in the past, and these affairs were notorious for supplying a less expensive brand.
She snagged miniature blini with smoked salmon, creamy mascarpone and dill. “And the canapés are actually delicious. Prawns. My favourite.”
She popped another delicious morsel into her mouth and licked the seafood sauce from her lips.
“I wonder who is footing the bill for this extravaganza. French champagne and prawns on the menu. Obviously someone with money to spare.” He looked around the room, searching for the likely host or hostess.
“I don’t care who is paying for it, I’d like another glass. Let’s look around. I want to see what’s selling tonight.”
Folding up her walking stick, she slid it into her large handbag, and hooked her arm companionably through his. Her leg hadn’t given her much trouble today, which was a blessing. They joined a small group of spectators gathered in front of a large canvas. An amazing abstract image, painted in shades of soft green and ice blue, took up prime position.
“Oh, Todd. This is by local artist John Harding. The colours are so restful. Like the ocean. I love it. It would look beautiful on my wall. Let’s see how much it is.” She beamed up at him, clutching his arm, excited at the prospect of purchasing an original artwork.
“It has a red dot. It’s been sold, Chloe.”
Her disappointment was hard to hide, but she brushed it off quickly. “Not to worry. Maybe next time I’ll get lucky.”
They moved to the next exhibit, blending into the crowd, enjoying the food and the ambience. Waiters constantly topped up their glasses. Voices rose and laughter filled the air as the champagne flowed. A small jazz band played in the courtyard, entertaining the overflow from the crowded rooms. Music drifted into the gallery, lifting the mood, causing more than one toe to tap in rhythm. She took Todd’s arm and smiled at him, grateful he had indulged her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a fun evening in a crowd of strangers. Todd had been attentive and witty and had gone out of his way to make the night enjoyable. Missing out on a painting seemed irrelevant now.
CHAPTER FOUR
The dinner hour was a distant memory, but he hadn’t eaten. The growl emanating from his stomach was testimony to the lack of both dinner and lunch. Try as he might, he couldn't concentrate on the wording of the Simmons’ contract on the laptop screen before him. He had typed and retyped the last paragraph several times, and still it did not make sense to him. Chloe’s face floated across his mind’s eye, and she was definitely a distraction. Determined to clear his head, he closed down the laptop and pushed away the paperwork. Still wearing his dark grey suit, he tugged at the pale green silk tie and flicked open the top button of his shirt. Pushing back from the desk, he removed his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair.
He forced his mind to conjure up a picture of something other than the image of Chloe sitting on the front step when he had dropped in for coffee that morning. He had been in a bad mood after missing out on the sale of a property. She had jollied him out of his mood and made him laugh, which was not always an easy task. She encouraged him to think outside the box. To consider other possibilities, other ways of tackling the problem. Why can’t I get this confounded woman out of my head? It’s not as if she’s given me any encouragement. She’s made it clear she just wants friendship. He tried to eradicate the image of her soft supple lips, the curve of her neck, her flashing sea-green eyes. He massaged his temples with his fingertips, and crossed the living area to the unadorned window and watched the hustle and bustle of the city below.
The 180-degree view through the apartment’s floor-to-ceiling windows was magnificent at night. Melbourne CBD became alive and vibrant, coloured lights twinkled, traffic pulsed through the streets. Multistorey buildings were illuminated on nearly every floor. In front of the casino, on the hour, giant flumes of fire belched several metres into the air from a row of fire pits adjacent to the banks of the Yarra River. Small boats and watercraft meandered up and down the river, with necklaces of coloured lanterns strung around the cabins. The spotlit billboards and advertising signs flashed on and off against the ink-black sky.
He never tired of this view. At night the city spread out before him like jewels in Aladdin’s cave, and he could visualise a future where he owned some of that treasure. In the daylight, if he looked out towards the bay and the ocean beyond, the view soothed him, and had him dreaming of owning a yacht one day and sailing off into the sunset, leaving his troubles behind. But you know that can’t happen, buddy. There are bills to pay and people to feed.
The impulse to call Chloe began to weaken his resolve. He had hoped she would be the one to call him. Sharing this view and this evening could be the start of something more than friendship with the woman who was slowly but surely creeping into his daily thoughts, often at the most inappropriate times. More so since she gave him her mobile phone number that morning and told him to call if he wanted to drop by later in the week for lunch. He understood the reason. She needed to reorganise her workload and reschedule the tradesmen who had begun to drop by to quote on renovations. He would call her tomorrow and ask her if she wanted to go with him down the Peninsula to the quaint seaside village of Portsea.
A house had caught his attention in the area and had recently been listed for sale. One suitable for buying and renovating as a “weekender”. He wanted a female opinion. Specifically Chloe’s opinion. More to the point, he wanted an opportunity to spend time alone with her and away from familiar surroundings.
His apartment intercom beeped, snapping him out of this reverie. He sauntered to the door, intent on screening and then probably ignoring any visitors. An image of his brother Patrick appeared on the intercom screen, courtesy of the camera in the foyer. This was a visitor he couldn’t turn away. Besides, they had business to discuss. He buzzed him in.
While he waited for Patrick to arrive, he selected a bottle of single malt Scotch from behind the bar. He poured two small glasses, neat, no ice, and set them down on the coffee table just as the front door opened.
Patrick was dressed casually in fa
ded jeans and a peach open-necked cotton business shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, the tail untucked. It appeared as though he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. His dark blond hair looked well overdue for a trim, but did nothing to detract from his admirable features. Whether intentional or not, he had a casual edgy look that women loved.
“Hey big brother, I see you’re way ahead of me. Cheers.” Patrick picked up his glass and tapped it against Todd’s. He took a healthy swig of his drink. “Good Scotch.”
“I thought you could do with it. How did the job go today? Did you get the all the cement floors polished and the windows installed in the loft apartments?” Todd sat down on his black leather couch and watched his brother head towards the open plan kitchen.
Patrick stood with the fridge door wide open, perusing the shelves for leftover food. He pushed a hand through his unruly mop of hair as he considered his choices. “Yeah, all good on the lofts. We start on the kitchens tomorrow. We changed the configuration a little. I’ve got the new plans in the car. I’m bloody starving. Have you had dinner yet? Want to share a pizza?” He picked up a couple of containers, inspecting and sampling the contents before returning them to the shelf. A casserole dish at the bottom caught his attention and he lifted the lid. “Ah … leftover chicken. Don’t mind if I eat this, do you?” He shot his brother a cheeky grin. Without waiting for permission, he helped himself to a drumstick.
Todd could not deny a hungry man.
“No, I haven’t eaten yet. Pizza? Sure, why not, but I want to go out to eat. I need the distraction. We’ll go in your car if it’s out front.” Todd picked up his glass and finished off the contents in one swallow as he walked towards the kitchen. He rinsed the crystal tumbler beneath the tap, popped it into the dishwasher and strolled to the front door.
He turned to see Patrick following him with a chicken leg in one hand and the glass of Scotch in the other.
“Hey pal, put the glass in the dishwasher, don’t leave it on the hall table.” Todd glared at him, watching his every move.
“Sure bro, I know how OCD you are!” Patrick flashed a smile and headed back to the kitchen. With the offending glass tucked away in the dishwasher, he grabbed a napkin from the rack, wiped his greasy hands, and tossed the napkin and chicken bone in the garbage with a flourish.
“Yet you still like to push my buttons every chance you get. It figures.” Todd held open the door and gave him a playful punch in the shoulder as he walked through.
As Chloe eased into the passenger’s seat of Todd’s car at 10 am on a quiet Sunday morning, he found it difficult to contain his enthusiasm. A day to ourselves! He held the car door open and she made herself comfortable in the plush leather interior. She tucked the walking stick into the car door. He glanced skywards at the few wispy cotton candy clouds, drifting over the azure blue sky, the air temperature warm but not humid. Perfect. He couldn’t have asked for better weather to drive down the coast.
He admired the way the buttercup yellow summer dress was hugging her in all the right places. The sun shone through the skylight, illuminating the golden highlights in her hair. He found it hard to resist the temptation to reach out and run his fingers through the lush silken strands. She flicked her hair off her shoulder to secure the seat belt. The air around him was infused with the fragrance of exotic flowers. As he closed the door she glanced up at him and smiled, anticipation evident in her eyes. He slid behind the wheel grinning like a seven-year-old boy on his way to the circus.
He chose the scenic route, around the coast, unperturbed by the leisurely Sunday drivers, who slowed their progress even more. No need to rush. The scenery captured their attention and gave them fuel for discussion.
When they pulled off the main road for an early lunch, he introduced her to a picturesque family owned restaurant he had frequented over the years. Hidden away on a side street, the foot traffic was minimal. A family owned business where Papa held the reins in the kitchen, and Mama and the children waited tables. He promised her delicious food, lovingly prepared and unique dishes to make her mouth water. At her request he ordered for both of them, hopefully impressing her by ordering all the foods she loved.
Chloe closed her eyes as she savoured the first bite of her seafood.
“Are you a spy, Todd? A secret agent, perhaps?”
“I don’t follow you.” He rested his knife and fork on the plate as he considered her question.
“Okay then, how did you find out I loved seafood, and that lobster mornay is one of my favourite things in the world?”
“I always do my research. I’m glad it paid off.” Todd smiled and resumed his meal.
She folded her arms and sat back with a mischievous smile, as if waiting for him to spill the beans.
“Okay. Your eyes lit up when they moved over the seafood part of the menu. They paused long enough on the special of the day, which happened to be lobster mornay. You returned to that page twice, and you licked your lips. In my line of work you have to be good at reading people, and reading body language.”
“Very clever, Sherlock Holmes.” She clapped her hands softly.
He inclined his head in a slight bow. “Elementary, my dear Watson.”
Aware he had taken a few tiny steps forward in her estimation, he mentally patted himself on the back.
He selected an Italian white wine, an excellent crisp chablis, delicate on the palate and just the right accompaniment to the delicious seafood he ordered for both of them. As he was driving, he restricted himself to two small glasses, but she finished off the remainder of bottle during their long and leisurely lunch.
On resuming their journey, Todd opened the sunroof once again and turned up the volume of the car’s excellent sound system. They sang along to the music. He could see in his peripheral vision that Chloe had noticeably relaxed in the passenger’s seat. However, when they pulled into the long driveway and the two-storey house loomed ahead, she sat bolt upright. Open-mouthed, she stared out the window, with a look of utter amazement on her face. He hadn’t divulged any details about the house, other than he wanted to fix it up. He had wanted to surprise her. Mission accomplished.
The sandstone beach house sat on a rise of land set back approximately one hundred metres from the cliff. Facing them, several large picture windows had an uninterrupted view of the sea and the sky. It had been a family holiday home for several years but was sadly in need of a facelift. If he purchased the property, his plans included extending the living and entertaining areas, upgrading the pool behind the house, and developing the native gardens to showcase the coastal aspect.
Chloe had divulged weeks ago that when her mother became too ill to travel back and forth to their weekend retreat, her father had sold their Portsea property. Surmising her parents would be on her mind, he allowed her to take her time walking around the grounds. He took several photographs of the exterior to share with Samantha and to ascertain Patrick’s opinion on the remodelling. He took note of Chloe’s suggestions on his iPad as she voiced her opinions. He hadn’t requested the local agent attend, so they couldn’t venture inside. Looking at the interior was irrelevant. It could easily be changed. The striking facade and elevated block of land drew him like a moth to the flame. He hoped it had the same effect on Chloe.
“It is so beautiful and peaceful up here. My head is spinning thinking of what you could do to this place if money was no object!” She spread her arms wide and took in the view and the endless expanse of pale blue sky. The wine and the sea air had brought a pink flush to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes.
He stood back and recorded her image on his iPad. He wanted to capture the wondrous expression on her face. He would treasure this picture. He had stolen a moment in time.
Todd parked outside Chloe’s house a little after nine o’clock. It had been a full day for both of them, but neither appeared in any hurry to say goodnight.
“I want to thank you for a lovely day, Todd. Everything was perfect. The beautiful lunch,
the drive, the weather, the excellent company, fish and chips on the pier for dinner, and not forgetting the karaoke in the car. I would never have guessed you had such an interesting singing voice.” She giggled. “Not that I’ve won any competitions for singing. But today sure was fun, wasn’t it?” Unclasping her seat belt, she leant over the seat and kissed his cheek.
Todd inhaled her floral scent and enjoyed the brush of her soft lips against his cheek. He pushed down the urge to pull her into his arms and … Over too soon, he sighed as she retreated back into her seat.
“Oh, by the way. Earlier this week, when we discussed my renovations, you suggested asking your brother Patrick to give me a quote. I think it would be a good idea. So if he could come and see the house and give me an idea of the cost of relocating my kitchen, I would be very grateful. It’s hard to find a reliable and reputable builder who won’t overestimate and under deliver.”
“Sure, I’ll call him tomorrow. Not a problem.”
He scooped her handbag off the back seat and hopped out of the car.
Before she had retrieved her walking stick from the floor, he had opened the passenger door to help her up. She placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and as they made their way up the path, leaned into him companionably. He had noticed she’d hardly relied on her stick throughout the day. She opened her front door, turned and blew him a kiss, before she closed it, effectively ending the best day he’d had for a very long time.
As he slid behind the wheel, he had thoughts of the kind of kiss he would have preferred. If he’d had his way, he would be carrying her upstairs now to demonstrate exactly how far that kiss could take them. Instead he headed towards an empty apartment, looking forward to drowning his sorrows in a glass of Scotch, and inevitably a cold shower before bed. There’s another option. It would be so easy to call one of his many female friends for a late night rendezvous, to blow away the cobwebs.
From Paris to Forever Page 4