Hard To Regret: Scarlet Bay Book 1

by Kris Pearson

  “Essie - it’s not long until Christmas,” Anna objected.

  “I’ll fix your steps at least.” Jason stretched his arms out, estimating the length. “I’ll see if we have any suitable timber on site. Just give us a few minutes, eh?”

  “Cat definitely out of the bag,” Anna said as they walked back to the cottage together. “I didn’t know she’d seen us arriving back last evening. You don’t have to do that nuisance job for them. You’ve plenty else on.”

  “I might send Hoolie down if we’ve any timber. If not, the old boy can go and buy himself a couple of pieces and I’ll bang them in for him later.”

  “Aren’t you kind,” she said, linking her arm through his and then letting him go when she remembered they were back in Scarlet Bay.

  She carried her bag through to the bedroom while Jason strode up to his new house to check on timber offcuts and plumbing progress. Then she returned to the kitchen and set water boiling for coffee in case she could persuade him to stay a little longer.

  He returned a few minutes later, huge against the bright morning sun. “There’s some that will do fine, so I’ve asked Hoolie to take care of it.” He stepped into the kitchen, walked her backward away from the window, and folded her into his arms.

  “What?” she asked, amazed he’d take the risk of being seen.

  In reply he kissed her, long and tenderly, pulling her close and refusing to let her go until he chose to. “Might be the last one I get,” he said, and then she noticed his unnatural paleness and the strain lines etched around his mouth.

  “What…?”

  He pulled out his phone and flicked through before handing it across. The contract had gone to Trev.

  “Let me read that properly,” she said as he took the phone back and pocketed it.

  “Sorry Frosty, not in the mood right now. No amount of reading all their kind words will change the underlying message.” He turned to leave.

  “E-mail it to me,” Anna demanded, making a grab for his hand, and missing. “And come back at lunchtime. You said if this happened we wouldn’t need to worry about people seeing us together.”

  He shot out through the doorway as though rocket propelled. “Later,” he yelled over his shoulder. “If I can make it.”

  Anna seethed. She planted her hands on her hips, and breathed as hard as if she’d just run a hundred yards. Hot tears of fury threatened, and she tried to blink them away. Jason had put his heart and soul into that job and it was clear how hurt he was. How hurt her man was. How dare they?

  If she didn’t attempt to put things straight then she’d be doing her family a disservice. Her father and uncle hadn’t made the right choice. They needed someone trustworthy and hard working. Someone who didn’t stink of beer by lunchtime. Easily convinced by that theory in her current state of mind, she began to plan.

  Leaving the box of old plates on the counter, she set her laptop on the table and opened a new document.

  Dear Dad and Uncle James.

  She needed to stay factual but neutral. Photos would help, pictures apparently being worth a thousand words. Where was Hoolie when she needed him?

  Worried he’d escape next door to fix Essie’s steps and then go to join Jason, she scribbled her email address on the top sheet of the kitchen notepad, ripped it off, and sprinted up the steps behind the hedge. She found him tossing small pieces of wood into a wheelbarrow. He jerked his gaze up to hers. “Firewood for my Gran,” he said. “Jace said I could.”

  “Good idea,” Anna confirmed. “Only go to waste, otherwise.”

  Hoolie visibly relaxed.

  “Where’s your site office?” she asked, suddenly perplexed by the apparent lack of one. For sure they hadn’t been working out of the old back porch of the cottage.

  “Garage.”

  “Of this house?”

  “Yep. Jace had a caravan ‘til we got the garage waterproof; then we built the rest of the house around it. Tricky, eh?”

  “Hmmm. I didn’t see into the garage when I came up on Thursday.”

  “He keeps it locked so things are out of sight of their thieving eyes.” Hoolie wagged his head in the direction of Trev’s house to make his meaning clear.

  She blew out a slow breath. “Sad - definitely no love lost between them, is there?”

  The boy shrugged.

  “Anyway, I was wondering if I could see some of the photos you’ve taken around the house?”

  “Sure!” A broad smile lit his face and he dug his ever-present phone out of a pocket.

  “I’d love a few as souvenirs for when the rest of the family turns up.”

  He nodded as he searched. “That’s what it was like when we started,” he said, showing her the bare land.

  “I meant the recent stuff really,” she murmured, peering at the screen. “The rocks that hit the porch, the shed coming loose off the truck and so on.”

  “The things since you’ve been here?” He flicked through more. “Here’s those rocks. Do you want the rat?”

  “Not much! Really just the things that happened to the house.”

  “Here’s your legs. Geez… bloody eh!”

  “Yes, exactly that sort of thing.” She handed him the little page of notepaper. “Can you e-mail some to me?”

  “Yeah… yeah…” He peered down, absorbed in the photos, and Anna returned to the kitchen table.

  She stared at her blank screen. Her message needed to be entirely factual and give enough evidence to put the contract on hold. That would be plenty for now because nothing would be built until after the cottage was demolished at summer’s end.

  To: Michael Wynn, James Wynn

  Dear Dad and Uncle James.

  As you know, I’ve been at the cottage doing some clearing out before everyone else arrives. It has given me time to see the two teams of builders in action and I thought you might appreciate my comments before you settle the contract for the third house.

  She tucked her tongue in her cheek. They needn’t know she already had that information.

  Of course I’m not au fait with the costings they’ve each provided, and it might come down to economics. Both houses look great. However, Trevor Jones should certainly have built the retaining wall earlier. It was clearly specified on the plans that I saw.

  By the time I arrived here there’d been a rock-fall from the top land down onto the cottage. This demolished part of the back porch which the other team used as their toilet facility. It was left to them to fix the porch, even though Trevor had caused the problem. It’s now good enough to see us through the summer.

  She nodded slowly. That sounded fair.

  Of much greater concern, the lack of land retention led to disaster when the transporter came to retrieve the portable hut that Trevor’s team had been using as a site office. The land gave way beneath the truck and the hut swung down and hit the side of the cottage. I presume Trevor would have let you know about this?

  She’d bet almost anything that he hadn’t.

  It caused a lot of damage, destroyed the water supply, and made the main bathroom unusable.

  I was in the kitchen when it happened. The impact sent china flying in all directions and I was showered with a lot of it. Although there was plenty of blood, my injuries are very minor so please don’t worry.

  And what parent wouldn’t worry after seeing that mess, she thought gleefully?

  He refused to acknowledge responsibility and there was a bitter argument. His son Jason then offered to find a replacement window and make the wall secure so I could continue living here safely. He also re-installed the bath and shower box, and arranged a plumber to fix the pipes. Hopefully his father has insurance that will cover the cost of this.

  I had dinner with Jossy on Saturday evening, which was fun. It was a friend’s birthday, and I collected some old plates from the apartment to replace the broken ones. Please ask Mum and Auntie Ginny to bring any spares they have. Practically everything here was smashed.

  She smi
led to herself. Getting in first with a close-enough version was a good strategy.

  When I got back to Scarlet Bay I found part of a retaining wall finally in place. They must have felt guilty enough to work all Sunday. The evidence of the first slip is entirely gone – presumably hidden as back-fill behind the blocks – so at least that’s tidy now.

  Anna rested her chin in her hand. Pretty good. Or should she take out that reference to guilt? She decided to think about it until Hoolie sent the photos. Seconds later they arrived.

  She spaced the most graphic ones through the document, positioning them close to the appropriate wording. Far better, in her opinion, than sending a selection of photos that her father and Uncle James would then have to match up to the message. Happy with her work, she saved it and began a short email.

  To: Ruth Wynn, Virginia Wynn

  Hello to you both. Just keeping you up to date with developments here. Two nice houses and quite a lot of damage to the cottage. Photos tell the story, so have a look.

  Have you decided yet which house you want the furniture delivered into? Both are finished, although the driveway to one is not yet sealed.

  Looking forward to seeing you soon.

  Love, Anna.

  *

  Jason pulled the phone from his pocket for at least the sixth time and thumbed through the long polite message, knowing it wouldn’t have magically changed.

  No contract. He’d lost.

  Sure, he could still keep all the guys working - there were plenty of jobs to go around. But he’d seen the next house as a way to raise his game, to establish JJ Residential as a viable and visible next step in his career. He’d pictured a professional-looking billboard on the front boundary, letting every passer-by know who was building the top-of-the-line house on the prime plot of land.

  Anna would see him as a loser. That hurt almost more than not getting the contract.

  Once again his phone sounded with a text from her. Already she’d asked if he’d be calling in for lunch. She’d bought fresh bread and bacon from the campground store in case. This time Essie had asked her to thank him for sending Hoolie down to patch the steps.

  He shook his head, barely resisting the urge to kick a pile of timber they’d just unloaded to build foundation boxing with. He wasn’t ready to face up to her yet.

  *

  Anna devoted the rest of the morning to the kitchen, stacking the remaining crockery on the big table, sorting it into sensible piles, and making notes. Bread and butter plates were in over-supply. Dinner plates were very thin - only the half dozen she’d bought from the apartment plus two survivors of the hut attack. They needed more mugs and glasses for sure.

  No word from Jason. She’d texted him twice, then called and left a message because he wasn’t responding.

  No word from her father or uncle either. Well, they were all busy men, but surely she’d get a reaction from one of them soon?

  She visited the new house, knowing Devon was still working there. At least that made someone to chat with for a few minutes, even if his gleeful demonstration of the self-closing lids on the fancy toilets wasn’t quite what she’d gone for.

  Then she started clearing out the long line of cupboards and drawers under the kitchen counters. Why hadn’t anyone noticed what a dumping ground they’d become? Three cheese graters - one so old it had rusty spots all over it. More mismatched pots and pans than a charity shop. Utensils for unimaginable tasks - many of which she could never recall seeing. She peeled yet another big black garbage bag off the pile in the pantry and began filling it up, placing things on top of the counter that might be useful for the new house.

  At one-thirty she called her mother, finding her lunching with friends. Anna easily imagined the smart cafe, the clatter of plates and animated background conversation, but instead of brushing her off, Ruth Wynn seemed happy to talk. Maybe she’d had a little more wine than usual?

  “What’s Dad up to today?” Anna asked. “I sent him a message and I haven’t heard back.”

  “I doubt you will, darling. He’s gone to Singapore for a conference. Something about historical child abuse and what governments should do by way of reparation.”

  “They’d be better off tackling the current problems,” Anna said, fiddling with a pair of food tongs which had lost their spring.

  “My view too,” her mother agreed. “He’s back late tomorrow.”

  Anna dropped the tongs into the garbage bag. “How about Uncle J, then?”

  “In hospital, poor man. Getting that bad shoulder fixed today. Was it anything urgent?”

  “No - just house progress.” She tried to hide the annoyance in her tone, knowing it would only spike her mother’s interest. “Although now I’ve got you, I sent you an email saying we need more crockery and glasses. Can you and Auntie Ginny bring anything old from home when you come?”

  “I thought the cottage cupboards were stuffed with it. We intended borrowing some for the new house.”

  Anna gave a mirthless laugh. “Yes, they were, but we’ve had a bit of a disaster, Mum.”

  “Disaster? What sort of disaster?” Ruth Wynn’s carefully modulated voice reverted to its Kiwi origins.

  “Everything’s fine,” Anna lied. “There’s been some damage to the cottage, but nothing that’ll stop the holiday. I sent the same email to you and Aunt Ginny that I sent Dad. There are photos that’ll save a lot of explanation. I do need to know which of the new houses you want the furniture delivered to though, so decide between you and text me? And best wishes to Uncle J.” She disconnected before any further questions were fired in her direction.

  Damn, damn, damn! So it was unlikely there’d be any response today from either of the men.

  She heaved a sigh, and knelt to rummage into the back of the current shelf. An old mincer. And something heavy that attached with a big screw and sliced… beans? She hauled them forward. They could go. The electric food processor had made them redundant.

  “Ms Wynn?”

  She jumped. The hairs rose on the back of her neck. The voice was right behind her, and it belonged to Trevor Jones.

  CHAPTER 17 – ESSIE’S DECK

  Anna pulled her head out of the cupboard and reared backward, heart leaping behind her ribs. The mincer fell to the floor with a thud, narrowly missing her knees.

  “Yes?” she snapped.

  Why was he here? Why had he thought it permissible to step through the open doorway instead of knocking and waiting?

  “Is the boy around?”

  Had he come to gloat? She cast a quick look across to her laptop to ensure no incriminating message or photos were visible. “Jason? No. He’s fixed all the bathroom damage and is working somewhere else now.”

  Did Trev’s expression dim a little or was it her imagination?

  “But you’d know where he is?”

  “No idea. Sorry Mr Jones. He might be at the campground?”

  She was pleased to see Trev grimace. Had he tendered for that job and missed out?

  He gave a brief nod, turned aside, and disappeared as fast as he’d arrived.

  Anna sat back on her heels and waited until her pulse slowed. From her position on the floor he’d been a towering presence, menacing against the light. Maybe he’d thought she wouldn’t hear him if he knocked? She’d had her head in the cupboard and been rattling the contents around, after all.

  She glanced at her watch again. Plainly Jason wouldn’t be coming by for lunch. She hoped dinner was an option though. Dinner and a long walk on his deserted beach with the sun sinking into the sea. Followed by bed, and him sinking into her.

  She got to her feet, and to her surprise found a bunch of carnations in cellophane lying next to the sink. So that was what Trev Jones had visited for? To apologise, even if he hadn’t founds the words to say so.

  Anna made coffee, willing Jason to arrive but far from surprised when he didn’t. Then she continued her sifting and sorting, bagging up the useless items and tying the tops clos
ed before heaving them outside for disposal.

  By four o’clock there was still no sign of him, but there’d been a text from her mother, saying Anna should choose which house and then contact the furnishing store to confirm delivery. That was easy - she chose Jason’s. She had the excuse of the completed driveway, but really it was because she wanted her family to see what a superb job he’d done.

  He arrived half an hour later, making no mention of the contract. Anna managed to hold her tongue, although she was itching to know why her dad and uncle had made the decision they had.

  “Did you haul all this out, Frosty?” he demanded, surveying the line of bulging bags.

  “It’s what I’m here to do. I volunteered. Coffee?”

  He drew a long, slow breath and let it out again. “Yeah, thanks. But why does it have to be you?”

  “It had to be me to sort out the old items for the display cases. My design experience made sense for that.” She pulled a face at the clutter on the counter top. “And all this had to go sooner or later. I was here, so I thought I might as well keep going. I like being busy.”

  “I could keep you busy.” His lips twitched.

  The burn trickled through her in a seductive wash. “I wouldn’t mind being kept busy. This evening?”

  At last the corners of his mouth curled up, and the sexy grin she loved so much bloomed full force. “Deal.”

  She walked into his arms, running her hands around his waist and leaning in against his hard chest. Her cheek lay level with the patch of bare skin above the neckline of his sleeveless T, and she turned her face and kissed him there.

  Jason tried to move away. “I must stink after today.”

  She sniffed. “You smell like… toast… baked in the sun.”

  He pushed her until she let go. “I can’t imagine that. I’ve been taking out my fury on a stack of timber.”

  “Did Trev find you? He came looking. To gloat, I suppose. I told him you had a big job at the campground.”