A Reason To Stay

by Linda Charles

  Mike leaned against the kitchen cupboards, an unreadable expression on his face. ‘I’d pour you the wine, but it’s getting late and I’m sure you’re itching to get stuck into your work.’

  She flinched at the undertow of harshness in his voice. Where had the mischievous Irish boy gone?

  She switched off her phone. This was too good to miss. How often did she share time with someone out of the legal fraternity? Especially with someone like Mike who had a different spin on life.

  What crap! You like the guy.

  ‘No, I’ll take you up on the red,’ she said, walking to the middle of the kitchen. ‘I want a tour of your renovator’s delight. You said we’d sit down and draw up a layout for the bakery and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.’

  Mike frowned. He leaned on his bench, his fingers thrumming the wooden frame, the steady heavy throb echoing in the empty space.

  ‘You sure? I don’t want you racing off cursing, thinking this time could have been better spent. I’m taking you away from your work.’

  Better spent? This was insane and she knew it. He was right, she had plenty of work to do, but she didn’t care.

  ‘I hear you, but I’m not listening.’ Which was true, all true. Something about him intrigued her and her curiosity wouldn’t let up until she’d asked him all her questions and then the mystery of Mike the man would be solved and she could carry on as before.

  After a few minutes he nodded. The light returned to Mike’s eyes as did the heat in his gaze. He hummed a familiar tune as he grabbed two wine glasses from a nearby bench. She caught her breath as he juggled them in the air before handing one to her. He did a little dance, as he pulled out some crackers from the cupboard. When he cut up the cheese he tossed her every third cube. She grabbed the first few in her hand and ate them.

  He wagged his finger at her. ‘You’ve got to do better than that.’ But she couldn’t. No matter how wide or high he tossed the cubes of cheese she caught every one of them. She had no intention of lunging across the kitchen island like a mad hungry fool with her mouth wide open. She wasn’t any good at goofiness or having fun, but he made it look so easy.

  She watched in envy at his ease of being silly, his ability to make fun out of nothing and she so wanted to join in. He gave her endless opportunities to join in and poke fun at him, but the words stuck in her throat. Her childhood years of looking in and not feeling at home enough to participate were now an entrenched habit. She’d studied each new foster family, and her girlfriends’ families, trying to work out their funny little in-house ways, looking for the cues to come in and join.

  It was as if an invisible line had been drawn and she had no idea of how to cross it or what to do when she did.

  At work she suffered none of that. Her cues started or stopped a conversation. When she walked the floor, all the screens returned to work documents and the small chatter ceased as everyone went back to work. She hated it, but that was her world.

  She stood by, analysing his mood. Somewhere, somehow she’d made him happy. He was happy to have her with him. It was so obvious it frightened her.

  Mike gave her a quick wink as he picked up their glasses of wine. ‘How about we sit on the couch?’

  The couch was deep, roomy and cushiony, the type of couch you could have a hard time climbing out of. A snort came from behind. Molly waddled ahead of them and jumped onto the couch and settled into its centre.

  ‘Look at this!’ exclaimed Mike. ‘She’s making no apology for stealing my thunder. Molly, we had a deal—you go outside when I bring a woman home. That’s when the couch is mine.’

  Mike put down their glasses of wine on the coffee table.

  She stepped closer to the couch. ‘You bring many women home?’

  ‘No, and that’s why this oversized fluffy mutt has forgotten the deal.’ He ruffled Molly’s neck. ‘Haven’t you, sweetheart?’

  Molly stared up at Mike, her big brown eyes oozing gentleness.

  I go in two weeks …

  This was tempting fate big time. She might have given him the impression she was a career snob and devalued his worth because he’d walked away from a lucrative career. But he was spending time with her—he wanted to spend time with her—and that was pretty special. Without a second thought she slipped onto the opposite end of the couch while Mike rubbed Molly’s belly.

  She looked into Mike’s eyes. They were deep without a flicker of any contrivance or agenda. God, any minute he’d have her confess all her sins. He was that rare breed of man who was true and honest.

  He gave her a wonky apologetic smile. ‘Looks like it’s going to be the three of us for a bit. Do you mind?’

  She did, but she’d never let on.

  Chapter 7

  The following morning Rachael carefully balanced her Tupperware container under one arm and slammed shut the Hendersons’ front door. She stood in the early morning sun and with deliberate movements shook her head, and waited.

  No headache.

  Usually the slow throb intensified the minute she picked up her house keys. Not today. She closed her eyes and gave a silent prayer of thanks. It must have been the red. Fingers crossed it stayed that way.

  ‘Morning, Rach.’

  She turned and waved back to Bob’s mother who was working in her front garden.

  Rachael’s day had started well and with all her plans in place it could only get better. By six she’d read Gordon’s documents and sent through her report. By seven she’d cooked her first batch of cupcakes. By eight she’d started making calls to bakeries in Bourke.

  ‘Going to the bakery, Rach?’

  She looked up and waved at the two neighbours who stood chatting across the road. It was surprising how many people remembered her.

  Once she had things set up with a few systems in place, Shar could manage things and there wouldn’t be any further need for her presence. Apart from keeping an eye on the financials it should be fine.

  The wind bit into her as she turned the corner onto Burton Park Road. She almost lost her grip on her container as she nodded and waved to a few more familiar faces across the street.

  Was it only this time last week she had given a pitch to Clever & Clever and took their CEO to the latest upmarket Japanese restaurant for lunch to wine and dine him in the endeavour to get their business? She shook her head.

  Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she’d spend a morning baking. She grinned to herself. There was something very satisfying about what she’d done. She knew people would love her cupcakes, and they were only the beginning.

  She paused mid-stride.

  Don’t get carried away with trivia.

  Baking and selling was the fun stuff, and that’s where it stopped. The bakery was the mainstay of the Henderson family, but this latest development went way beyond the family and Mindalby. It was personal. If she put in her own cold hard cash, it changed the dynamics.

  At the bakery she took a deep breath. It was time for some serious discussion. The place was empty and Shar was wiping down the countertop.

  Her sister spied her container. ‘They your cupcakes?’

  Rach slid the container onto the nearest table by the front window. ‘I plan to do some spot tasting with people in the street to see what they like. What do you think? Tomorrow I’ll try with a few slices.’

  ‘What? A different cake or slice each day? I like that idea.’

  She lifted the lid on her container. ‘That’s right. We can only try, see what people like, and work on expanding our range.’

  Shar joined her and took one of the cupcakes. ‘Oh, wow, they look lovely.’

  A smidgeon of relief trickled its way into Rachael’s chest. It had been a long time since she’d baked anything. ‘They should, they were so easy to do.’

  Shar’s eyes widened. ‘Now for the real test,’ and popped the small treat in her mouth. Rach could barely contain her excitement as she waited. After much moaning and eye rolling Shar slapped he
r hands against her sides. ‘Delish! Oh Rach, you haven’t lost your touch. I’d love another, but I won’t.’

  Rach hesitated. They still had to discuss the business, but she decided against doing that right then. Shar had enough on her plate for the moment.

  ‘Good, they’ve passed your taste-test,’ said Rach. ‘I’ll get started.’

  Shar reached out and grabbed her sleeve, a cheeky expression on her face. ‘Not so fast. What else are you up to? You got in pretty late last night.’

  She shook her head. ‘We discussed our reciprocal arrangement.’

  ‘I see,’ murmured Shar. ‘The “you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours” arrangement? I don’t know how long that’s going to last with a guy like Mike.’

  ‘It will. Trust me. We both have plans and they don’t include one another.’

  Shar shook her head. ‘Who thinks like that? Why don’t you just see a great guy and go for it? I know Sydney’s a great town, but we have opportunities here in Mindalby too. I bet you didn’t expect to meet someone like Mike here.’

  That was true.

  ‘Enough of Mike, his ears must be burning. Anyway, he’s picking me up at ten. We’re going to Bourke, he’s got a meeting there and I thought it would give me a chance to talk to restaurants and clubs.’

  Shar pursed her lips. ‘Are you sure? They have bakers there, what can we do that they can’t?’

  She stared in disbelief at her sister. After all their discussions Shar still seemed to have her doubts. A slow burn of anger rolled into Rachael’s body. She threw up her hands.

  ‘I don’t know, that’s why we need to talk. Maybe offer them some sweet treats they don’t want to do. I don’t know, but we won’t know anything until we start asking some questions.’

  ‘I don’t get it.’

  Rachael’s back stiffened. She knew this would be difficult and took a deep breath.

  ‘Shar, all I know is unless we start talking to people and get an idea of what’s going on, we won’t know whether it’s worthwhile keeping this place open, or not. Agreed?’

  ‘Okay,’ Shar whispered.

  Rachael was tempted to say it would be alright, but how much of a lie would she be peddling then?

  ‘Shar, this was never going to be easy. We can’t make any decisions without investigating first.’ She stood up suddenly, wanting to put an end to the first dampener on her day. ‘Right then, I’m off with my samples.’

  ‘Rach?’

  She turned. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘What can we do? Bob’s got time on his hands—’ she swung her hands about, ‘—and so have I.’

  With great reluctance she pulled out of her jeans pocket a small piece of paper she’d taken from Mike’s place. It was his first plan for the bakery and they’d both scribbled a small ‘to do’ list. For some odd reason, she wanted to keep it.

  She handed it unfolded to Shar. ‘Don’t lose it. Take a look and add to it if you think there’s anything in there for you and Bob. Okay?’

  Shar grabbed the piece of paper. Her face brightened.

  ‘Thanks, Rach, I mean it. I know this is a lot for you to take on.’

  She sighed. ‘Stop it. We haven’t started yet.’

  Outside, the brisk air revived her flagging spirits. Burton Park Road was busy with quite a few people about; there were delivery trucks, farmers’ utes, and a few young mums window shopping. She figured by the time she walked to the top of the street and down the other she’d be in time to see Mike.

  God, I never saw myself doing this.

  She could back out. She could walk back inside and tell Shar to do her own market research. The profit and loss statements told the truth. They were going bankrupt, the local paper was screaming about the downturn in the town’s economy, and here she was with a tray of cupcakes.

  She shut her eyes tight as the enormity of what she was trying to do hit her.

  What would Bourke offer? More bakers which meant more competition, and then what? Cupcakes and a few slices were not going to cut it, but it was a start.

  ‘Morning, Rach. What have you got there?’

  She turned. It was Maisy Mitchell from Nancy’s quilting club. Rachael lifted the lid on her container.

  ‘Fancy a cupcake? We’re trialling a few new treats.’

  Maisy’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, would I what? They look yummy. You want to drop by at the CWA any time you want a treat trialled. We’ll be happy to help out.’

  Happiness and relief ricocheted within her body. How could she forget local goodwill? How many times had the marketing gurus at work drummed home that there was one pie and you had to fight hard to keep your piece and maybe, just maybe, with a little change in product line you could increase it.

  The bakery already had a piece of the pie, and she would fight like hell to make sure they kept it and more.

  With her container held firm, she went into Grandma Mary’s, the new quilting shop next door.

  ***

  An hour later she dropped off her container, gave a final nod to Shar and rushed out of the bakery. Fluffing up her hair she strode down the street with her handbag smashing against her thigh.

  She spotted Mike as he walked through the council foyer. When he saw her a wide smile broke out across his face and she ran across the street to join him. As she drew near their eyes locked and her throat went dry.

  ‘From the grin on your face, I’d say the sample tasting went well.’

  She nodded, momentarily speechless. He was dressed in a dark navy suit with a white open-necked shirt, and no tie in sight.

  Her eyes drank him in. Ever since she’d met him he’d been in sporting gear and she’d drooled over his muscles. In a suit he was magnificent: strong and tall.

  ‘I’m parked around the corner.’

  She nodded. It was all she could manage. They walked into the council carpark and in the far corner sat a black two-door sports car. Instinctively she knew it was Mike’s.

  She clapped her hands. ‘Oh boy, are we in for some fun.’

  Mike grinned at her. ‘She’s my baby.’

  She climbed in.

  For a large man she was surprised at how easily he slipped into the seat beside her. He turned the key and the engine revved beneath them. It was loud and powerful and it vibrated into every part of her.

  She relaxed into her seat, deliciously aware of the man who sat beside her.

  ‘I’m curious. Why would an Irishman come and live in a country town a day’s drive from Sydney when you could easily live in the country a two-hour drive away?’

  ‘I came here in my gap year and it blew me away. I couldn’t get over the space, the peace. Still can’t believe I’m here.’

  She thought about that.

  ‘I’ve lived in plenty of places, but I’ve never thought of a place as being peaceful. Mindalby never struck me as peaceful.’

  ‘You stayed,’ he said.

  She let out a bitter laugh. ‘I didn’t have a say. Up until then I’d run away from every foster home, and caused havoc wherever I went.’

  She was conscious of his quick glance in her direction but she kept her focus on the tarmac. ‘I was a horror.’

  ‘But you stayed with the Hendersons.’

  ‘It took a while. When I saw the acres and acres of cotton, and the sheer vastness of it all, I knew there was no escape. You can escape in the city, but not out here. I was stuck.’

  She shivered, remembering the fights, the tears and never-ending arguments. Her head was full of city-slicker angst and the local kids would have none of it.

  Mike’s warm hand slipped over hers. ‘It’s okay. Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  Confused, she stared across at him. ‘What?’

  He grinned at her, his eyes full of warmth and concern.

  ‘You were lost for a while there.’

  She shook her head, but images refused to go. ‘Just remembering; it was a long time ago.’

  ‘Like what? Meeting Shar?’
>
  She nodded.

  ‘It’s the fear I remember the most. Getting through the first meal, the first shower, the first night and learning a new family’s routine. Oh, I hated it. And Mindalby, oh heavens, I thought I’d never see civilisation again.’

  He laughed a deep rich laugh that warmed her to her bones. ‘You did, you’ve done well.’

  Her eyes shot to him.

  ‘Really? Sometimes I think I only changed the geography. The monsters are still out there, only now they’re bosses.’

  They sat in silence for a while.

  ‘I don’t mean that, Gordon’s a decent guy, so is everyone I work with, but …’

  ‘Something’s not working for you there, is it?’ he asked.

  Her stomach churned; she hadn’t talked to anyone about how she truly felt about her work. Who was there? Shar and Bob did not understand her world. Nancy tried, and was always offering kind words, but there was nobody who truly understood.

  Her work friends and even her colleagues, at some level, were her competitors, her rivals in the partnership stakes.

  She glanced across at Mike and studied the firmness of his jaw and the steady pulse that beat in the side of his forehead. He knew her world.

  ‘I’m not sure I fit in,’ she whispered.

  He squeezed her hands. ‘Do you really feel that?’

  ‘Haven’t you ever felt like a fifth cog when you know there should only be four?’

  ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘No, I can’t say I have.’

  She closed her eyes and let out a long deep sigh. ‘Well, I live and breathe it every day. I don’t know if I’m waiting for the right signal to say “hey, you’re here, you’ve arrived”, or something, but I get a sense I don’t belong … anywhere.’

  Her eyes flew open and she sat up, agitated. Oh gosh, where did that come from? Why had she confessed that? In the dead of night it was her little secret.

  Don’t kid yourself, Rach.

  She knew exactly where she was coming from. How many rejections does one person take before you get the message nobody really wants you? How often had she rationalised it in her head? Same answer every time. Rejections hurt big time.