Cathie smiled. ‘Go into the dining room and set the table. The placemats are on the sideboard and cutlery is in the top drawer.’
‘There will be five of us,’ Amy said happily.
Cathie almost told her there would be only four, but decided against it. Besides, one never knew—Baird might change his mind and come to meet Mother and Gran. He’d be sure to guess that his absence would disappoint Amy, therefore she continued to busy herself with putting the coleslaw vegetables through the food processor, and chopping the herbs that would go in with the potato and green-pea salad.
The tasty quiche was quickly and easily prepared because instead of requiring a base it consisted of a special mixture poured over a filling of whole kernel corn, bacon and onion, and lastly topped with grated cheese.
‘What shall we have with our coffee?’ Amy asked anxiously.
‘Brandy snaps filled with whipped cream,’ Cathie answered.
‘Baird will love them,’ Amy said with relish.
‘That’s if he’s here to enjoy them,’ Cathie muttered to herself.
But Baird was there to enjoy them. To Cathie’s surprise he arrived shortly before one o’clock with a bottle of wine which he put in the fridge. ‘There are wine glasses in the dining room cabinet,’ he said, his tone indicating that he was still displeased with her.
She followed him, mainly to find coasters to put beneath the glasses, and was in the room before she noticed the colourful paperweight sitting in the centre of the table. Amy must have put it there, she thought dismally.
Baird snapped crisply, ‘So—you’re taking Lola’s gift as well as her reputation?’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ Cathie hissed.
At that moment Amy came into the room. She realised the paperweight had caught their attention, and said, ‘Isn’t it pretty? I intended picking a few flowers but the rain came. I’m sure Lola won’t mind if we use it as a table-centre.’
‘I don’t think Baird wants us to use it,’ Cathie began, making a move towards the table.
‘Leave it,’ Baird commanded. ‘It looks very unusual. It can stay there.’
CHAPTER SIX
CATHIE looked at Baird doubtfully. ‘Are you sure you have no objection to your friend’s gift being used as a table-centre?’
Amy put in quickly, ‘It was so roughly wrapped—it looked too untidy to leave on the mantelpiece in that crumpled paper.’
Baird looked from one to the other, his face expressionless. ‘I have the strangest feeling that it will never leave this house, therefore it may take its place as a piece of decoration.’
Cathie’s eyes became shadowed while trying to fathom his meaning. Could it be that Lola would come to the paperweight, rather than take it away? Cathie was well aware that her own suggestion of shoplifting had caused him to spring to Lola’s defence—but, along with loyalty, had it also awakened in him a deeper feeling for the blonde woman next door? Had her own accusation caused him to open his arms to Lola? Cathie wondered with a sinking heart.
But before depression could really settle upon her the front door chimes sent a musical echo through the house. She moved quickly towards the hall, with Amy following at a more leisurely pace, and moments later there were fond kisses and embraces mingled with happy laughter and tears while Baird stood waiting to be introduced.
The two elderly sisters looked surprisingly alike with their similar figures, their short wavy grey hair and their bright blue eyes. And while Mavis Campbell’s hair still retained flames of red, she was a younger version of her mother and aunt, yet an older version of Cathie—apart from the latter’s hazel eyes, which she had inherited from her father.
Baird became a charming and efficient host. He guided them into the lounge, then settled the two older women into comfortable chairs near the wide gas fire. He asked their preference before going to the cocktail cabinet to pour cream sherries.
Cathie placed small tables beside each chair, and as she approached the one in which Mavis sat she noticed her parent regarding Baird with unconcealed interest. It was easy to guess at the thoughts in her mother’s mind, therefore she hissed in a low tone, ‘You can forget it—his interest lies next door with a friend of long standing.’ Even to utter the words caused an ache.
‘Oh.’ Mavis sounded disappointed, then she queried softly, ‘Dare I ask about your own interest in that direction?’
Cathie shook her head. ‘I really don’t know,’ she admitted. Basically this was the truth because there were times when she was assailed by a deep longing to feel Baird’s arms holding her close to him, while at other times she felt infuriated with him.
She drank her sherry quickly, then left Baird talking to her mother while she went to the kitchen. The dishes of coleslaw and potato salad were taken to be placed on the dining room table. The quiche was removed from the oven, and she then stirred the soup, the making of it having been squeezed in between other tasks.
Within a short time Baird followed her to the kitchen. He took the bottle from the fridge and placed it in a bucket of ice.
The action surprised her, causing her to take a closer look at the bottle. ‘Champagne!’ she exclaimed.
‘Well, it’s a special reunion,’ he pointed out nonchalantly.
She could find nothing to say, feeling slightly overwhelmed by his kindness in producing this expensive wine for the occasion. Instead, she turned away, adding more milk to the soup until it was the right consistency.
‘Green soup?’ he queried while staring at it, his brows raised.
‘Yes—it’s potato, onion and silverbeet, the green that Amy calls Swiss chard. They’re cooked and put through the food processor, and then I add bacon and chicken stock powder. It’ll be served with a swirl of cream on top. You’ll find it’s delicious.’
He stared at the various items of food, making no secret of his surprise. ‘You’ve prepared all this since coming home from the minimarket? But I suppose Amy helped.’
‘No—I prefer to work alone in the kitchen. It was all quite easy—I’m sure Lola would have made it much more lavish—’ She bit off the words, wondering why she’d brought up that name. Now she could expect a sharp reprimand.
But none came. Instead he spoke gravely. ‘I’m afraid Lola finds difficulty in boiling an egg.’
Unable to hide her surprise, she laughed. ‘Really? In that case you’ll have to teach her to cook.’
He scowled. ‘I’ve told you before, there’s nothing of that nature between us—at least, not on my part.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ she retorted bluntly.
‘Why not?’
‘Because this morning you proved otherwise when you refused to listen to a simple truth that was against her. Now, then—would you please ask the others to go to the dining room? I’m about to serve the soup.’
Baird left the room without further comment.
During the next hour of happy chatter Cathie watched covertly while trying to ascertain Baird’s reaction to the food she had prepared. Apart from the bacon in the quiche and the soup it was a meatless meal, yet despite this second helpings were called for, and she was observing his empty plate when her mother’s voice caught her attention.
‘Cathie—I almost forgot to tell you: Mrs Morgan phoned. She was most anxious to speak to you.’
Cathie was puzzled. ‘Mrs Morgan?’ she queried.
‘Yes—Mrs Morgan who used to be Mrs Brown, and for whom you worked,’ Mavis reminded her.
‘Oh—yes, of course.’ Cathie turned to Baird. ‘Do you recall that I told you my boss had married again and had closed her shop before moving to Auckland? Her new husband’s daughter was to take my place as assistant.’
Mavis said, ‘Apparently the daughter intends to get married and move to Sydney. Mrs Morgan wondered how you were placed and if you’d like your old job back. Of course it would mean going to live in Auckland. She said you have a little time to think about it because the wedding isn’t until next month.’
Cathie knew she s
hould be delighted, but for some strange reason she was not. ‘It’s so far away from my own people,’ she said at last, but with her mind really resting upon Baird.
‘It’s only a short plane-flight away,’ he pointed out.
Questions filled her eyes as she looked at him. ‘You think I’d be wise to take it?’
His face was unsmiling as he said, ‘You’d be wise from the point of view that it’s work you enjoy. Jobs in antique shops don’t grow on trees, therefore this is a rare opportunity for you.’
‘So you think I should accept the job?’ she asked, now avoiding his eyes by staring at her plate. Why was she longing for him to tell her not to take it?
He was thoughtful for several moments before he said, ‘You must take it only if you’ll be happy living so far away from the people you love. Naturally, your family will miss you.’
Cathie continued to stare at her plate. Her family were the only people who would miss her, he seemed to be saying. As for Baird himself, it was obvious that he couldn’t care less whether she was in Auckland, or at the bottom of New Zealand’s South Island. Nor did he have any intention of trying to persuade her to remain here, in Palmerston North.
At last she sighed as she said, ‘Perhaps I’d better take the job. I’ll phone and let her know I’m interested in it.’
Mavis said, ‘She left her number for you to do so, but I’m afraid I’ve left it at home. I’ll ring and let you have it.’
‘Thank you.’ She tried to sound less despondent than she felt, but it was an effort. She was being ridiculous, she chided herself. This was a happy day of reunion—of Baird meeting Mother and Gran, and of herself landing back into her job of working among antiques. If only the latter had been a little nearer—and if only Baird could show the slightest regret over the fact that she’d be walking out of his life.
But this didn’t appear to concern him in the least, and within moments he was chatting to Gran on the subject of his parents, although actually it was Gran who had brought up the question of when his parents would be coming to meet Amy.
Their conversation made Cathie realise that the arrival of his mother and father would herald the end of her stay in his house, because with their departure she and Amy would also be expected to leave. The knowledge brought a black cloud of depression bearing down upon her, especially when she heard him say they’d be here by the end of the week, but they’d stay for only a few days.
A short time later Baird left for the office, and despite the presence of other people the house seemed to be empty without him. Cathie told herself her mind was becoming uncontrolled about this devastating man, and, strictly speaking, the sooner she left the house, the better it would be for her peace of mind. There were even times when she wished he had never held her close to him, yet she knew that not for anything would she have missed those delicious moments.
* * *
Next morning the spring showers of the previous day had disappeared sufficiently for Cathie to consider putting clothes through the washing machine. She placed articles belonging to herself and Amy in the bowl, then asked Baird for shirts and underclothes to complete the load.
Travelling had caused at least half a dozen shirts to be in need of laundering, then the machine made light work of them, and by late morning a westerly breeze had dried them sufficiently to be ironed. A short search soon located the iron and ironing board, and she was busily pressing when Amy came into the room.
‘I’ll be in my room if you need me,’ the older woman said. ‘I thought I’d write a letter to Elspeth.’ She stood watching Cathie’s activities for a few moments before adding with a significant smile, ‘I see you’re ironing the laddie’s shirts. I well remember doing the same for his grandfather.’
‘It was different in your case,’ Cathie responded, her head bent over the shirt.
‘Was it? Well, we’ll see about that,’ Amy chuckled.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Cathie demanded.
But Amy had left the room.
Cathie continued with the job and was putting the last shirt on a hanger ready to be hung in the airing cupboard when the back door opened and Lola walked into the kitchen.
There was a tense silence while the blonde woman stared at the airing cupboard, its open door revealing the array of ironed shirts, and then the storm broke. ‘You’ve got a nerve! How dare you steal my job?’ she ranted. ‘How dare you take it upon yourself to attend to his shirts? I suppose you’ve been drooling over them—’
‘He gave them to me to put in the wash—’ Cathie began.
‘I don’t believe you. He knows it’s something I always do for him—and I think you knew it too.’
‘Oh, yes, I knew it. I heard you mention it when you spoke to him during the Singapore phone call,’ Cathie remarked calmly while shutting the airing cupboard door. ‘You didn’t sound keen on the job.’
She hoped Lola would leave before Amy returned to the kitchen because this unpleasantness would only upset her. Also, a quick glance at the kitchen clock indicated that it was nearly lunchtime, and she had no wish for Baird to arrive home in time to discover Lola and herself engaged in verbal warfare.
In an effort to placate the other woman she said quietly, ‘You have little need for worry, Lola. You can have your job back when I leave this house.’
Lola’s expression changed to one of interest. ‘That happy day is to be soon, I hope?’
‘Possibly in about a week. Now, then, I’d be glad if you take yourself out of this kitchen.’
‘Would you, indeed?’ Lola sneered. ‘I’ll leave when it suits me, and I’ll say again that you had no right to steal my job—’
Cathie cut in, ‘Speaking of stealing, if you don’t go now I’ll phone Noel Robson and report the incident I happened to witness.’
Lola lost some of her colour, then she merely stared wordlessly at Cathie before flouncing from the room. The door was shut with a bang, and from the window Cathie watched her run across the lawn to disappear through a gap in the boundary fence.
By the time Baird arrived home the ironing board had been put away, and the gently simmering steak and vegetable casserole had been lifted from the oven to cool. Yet despite the appetising aroma in the kitchen his face remained unsmiling while he greeted her in a frigid manner. Cathie knew instinctively that an irritation lurked in his mind—nor was it long in coming to light.
A few strides took him across the room to stand before her, his hands thrust deeply in his pockets as though to prevent himself from shaking her. ‘What made you change your mind?’ he demanded crisply.
Puzzled, she tried to fathom his meaning. ‘Change my—what are you talking about?’
‘My shirts. You appear to have changed your mind about putting them through the wash. Surely it would have been easy enough to have thrown them into the machine with the rest of your washing?’
She gaped at him. ‘What makes you so sure I didn’t—?’
‘The fact that they’re not on the line with the rest of the clothes. I presume they’re still in a heap on the laundry floor.’
‘Huh—an expert at presuming and jumping to conclusions. Let me tell you—’
He silenced her with a gesture. ‘Don’t bother to make excuses. I can guess that you’re still mad with me because I refused to believe that Lola was shoplifting. Well, don’t allow the thought of the shirts to concern you. Lola will do them as usual. I’ll take them to her at once.’
‘OK, you do that,’ she snapped furiously.
He strode into the laundry in search of the shirts, then returned to the kitchen with an abrupt question. ‘Where the hell are they?’
‘You could try looking in the airing cupboard,’ she snapped.
Startled, he snatched the door open then stood looking at the six carefully ironed shirts hanging from a rod. For several moments he seemed unable to find words, then he began in an aggrieved manner, ‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d already washed and ironed them?’
&
nbsp; ‘Because you were so sure I’d deliberately ignored them.’
‘Forgive me—I don’t seem to be thinking clearly. It’s possible I’m not yet over my jet-lag. Sometimes it takes days to disappear.’
She was still feeling hurt, but instinct pointed to the cause of his trouble. ‘I don’t believe you’re still suffering from jet-lag,’ she said with conviction. ‘Your trouble is an inner rage directed at me for daring to suggest that Lola could be dishonest. It’s sitting at the back of your mind, making you so mad you’d like to hit me. It has made you ready to jump on me at the slightest provocation.’
‘I must say I’m finding difficulty in wiping your accusation from my mind,’ he admitted gloomily.
‘That’s because your feelings for Lola are deeper than you have previously realised,’ she said while controlling tears.
‘At least you’re wrong about that,’ he said wearily, his hands reaching towards her shoulders to draw her against him.
As his head bent to kiss her she sprang away from him. ‘Don’t you dare touch me,’ she spat angrily. ‘I’m not forgetting that you think I lied about Lola—and I do believe you’re in love with her but haven’t yet realised it. Now, then, if you’ll sit at the table I’ll serve your lunch before it’s stone-cold and then you can go back to the factory or the mill or whatever—’ She was almost breathless as she went to the door to call Amy.
During lunch Amy chatted happily about how much she had enjoyed the previous day. ‘It was so lovely to be with family after all these years,’ she said. ‘I thought that tartan poncho looked most elegant on your mother, dear. Thank goodness we were able to visit the Trossachs Wool Shop.’
Baird said, ‘Speaking of wool, I thought of taking you both to see the factory this afternoon—that’s if you’re interested, of course.’ He shot a sidelong glance at Cathie.
Amy spoke quickly. ‘Thank you, but I’m a little tired today—and I would prefer to finish my letter to Elspeth. However, you could take Cathie. She’ll have very little opportunity when your parents arrive, and later she’ll be leaving for Auckland to take up her new job.’ Her voice held regret.
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