by Ally Blake
And Finn curled his fingers back into his palm, incredulous that he’d come to a point in his life when not being allowed to shake his father’s hand was a disappointment.
The guard waited for Cillian to meet him at the door, then held a hand to Cillian’s back ushering him back into the prison proper.
Cillian turned at the doorway. “Thank you, son.”
Finn nodded.
Then his father was gone.
Finn didn’t remember the walk out of the prison but somehow he made it through security and back out into mid-morning Melbourne sunshine. His mind was tripping over itself, trying to file away the things learned, both historical and emotional. All of which were unexpected. All of which had brought their own brand of catharsis.
But, by the time he slid back into the waiting town car prepared to take him back to the airport, his mind was already a few thousand miles away, mapping out what he needed to do to ensure this new beginning he’d been gifted went without a hitch.
His phone beeped.
His first thought was April.
Hell, ever since he’d met her, his first thought was always April. He no longer woke up in a cold sweat; taking several moments to be sure he was in a safe place. He woke with a stretch and yawn and the lingering sensation that he’d dreamt of her.
Which was one of the many things he planned to tell her when he tracked her down, sat her down, and, if necessary, pinned her down, and made her listen to everything he had to say. Over and over again. Until she believed him.
Sure, his plan needed a little refining, but he had a whole one hour flight to figure it out.
He opened the message.
It wasn’t April. But it was about her. A panicked message full of exclamation marks and indecipherable emojis from her friend Smith. The crux of which said that—
April had been arrested.
“What the hell...”
It would have been laughable—considering where he’d just been—if not for the deep vein of dread tugging at Finn’s insides at the thought of April being in any kind of trouble. Make that serious trouble. The woman lived on a knife’s edge, a constantly variegated series of disruptions and disorder where plans and normalcy shrank into the corner and shook.
His father’s words came back to him...
She the kind of woman won’t leave your head? Can you smell her perfume even when she’s not there? Does her laugh made your heart turn inside out?
Finn urged his foot into the floor of the car as if it might help make the thing go faster.
The driver’s glance caught his in the rear-view mirror. “Destination still the airport, sir?”
“More than ever,” he rumbled, bringing the phone to his ear.
Chapter Seventeen
April’s mother had warned her enough about the danger of her “little rebellions” that she’d often imagined what it might be like to end up behind bars. She’d even figured out numerous versions of “Kiss? Marry? Kill?” in order to make nice with her cellmates.
It was slightly disappointing when she’d woken up to find herself alone in a tidy cell with a healthy sandwich at her elbow before being escorted by a perfectly nice police officer who sat her down next to an empty desk, then made her a cup of quite good coffee.
The fact that her shoes squelched as she walked was a mystery all to itself.
“Ms. Swanson’s lawyer’s here,” another officer said as he passed.
Her lawyer?
April tried to squeeze out a memory of calling a lawyer. Trouble was, she couldn’t remember anything after leaving The Burrow. She pictured JJ ordering more cocktails. Erica making her drink them. Lots of talk about Finn, and the Cinderella Project, and sisterly solidarity, and Wonder Woman, and Finn. But after that it was a big fuzzy blank.
Besides, she’d didn’t know any lawyers. Meaning she must have called... Oh, no.
April scanned the squad room looking for her mother’s pinched-faced attorney. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d come to April’s rescue on her mother’s say so. Starting back with ‘little rebellion’ number one – a week after her dad left she’d released the high school lab mice in the principal’s office citing their civil liberties.
Instead, a glamorous blonde in a stunning, cream suit and sky-high heels caught her eye when another officer pointed her out.
“April Swanson,” the blonde said as she approached.
April stood, running her hands over her crumpled party dress and messy hair. Was it damp too?
“Margot Hayes,” the blonde said, her handshake had the same spare efficiency as the rest of her. “You’re free to go. I’ll have the charges dismissed by this afternoon.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it. Can I ask what those charges might be?”
A smile flittered past the woman’s cool eyes. “You don’t remember?”
“Not a thing.”
“Hotel Rouen? Middle of the night? A fountain?”
It all came back to her in a rush.
In what had felt like a fit of divine inspiration, April had convinced the girls that finishing their night with a stay at the hotel in which she’d first met Finn would cure all her ills. Going full circle, tying off her link to the Cinderella Project in a nice, big bow.
Then, as JJ signed them in, April had seen the fountain sparkling in the discreet late night. The hero of the piece, all stony and silent, had called to her. April... April... You know you want to...
The wet shoes and damp hair now made perfect, mortifying sense.
“I swam in the fountain in the lobby of the Hotel Rouen. I took off my dress and splashed about in my undies and bra like a two-year-old in a mud puddle.” But that wasn’t all. “Oh, god, I broke his you know what, didn’t I?”
“At which point you allegedly sobered up rather quickly, saw the error of your ways, and begged to be allowed to glue it back on yourself. An offer they declined. It was so late at night only staff witnessed the incident. You have a steady job, strong family connections. This is a first offence. As an adult at least. You’ve been given a free pass, Ms. Swanson.” Ms. Hayes raised her eyebrows. “It won’t happen again, will it? You simply had a bad day. Am I right?”
April nodded. “The worst. But I actually didn’t ask for a lawyer. And, by the looks of those shoes, I’m not sure I can afford you.”
A world of thinking occurred behind Margot’s eyes in that split second. “Not a concern. My grandmother has taken care of it.”
“Your—”
“Hazel.”
Margot motioned to a nearby officer. Made some squiggly movement with her hand which April figured was a “signing paperwork” type sign.
“JJ called Hazel after the incident,” Margot said, answering April’s unspoken question. “Quite vociferous was she in making sure my grandmother was aware of her alleged culpability.” Margot breathed out through her nose. “On your behalf, Hazel has no doubt whispered in the right ears, greased the right palms, used up many favours. Take them. She deserves it. She has no idea what she is doing, messing in people’s lives the way she does. I only hope this is a lesson to her. Even while I know that it’s a hopeless hope.”
“Hope is never hopeless.”
“No?” Margot glanced at her watch. It was big, robust and ancient. Huge on her delicate wrist, yet somehow it suited her to a ‘T’.
“Hope is everything.”
Margot looked at her then, her icy-blue gaze taking in the rumpled dress, the kinky waves, the no doubt smushed makeup, the soggy shoes, dangling from April’s hand.
Then shot her a smile, lips pressed tightly together. “I’m sure you’re right. Let’s get you out of here.”
Paperwork signed, April was released and the women walked out into the early afternoon sunshine of a bright, sunny Sydney day, the city all washed clean after the rain of the day before, to find Hazel herself pacing up and down the footpath.
“Darling,” Hazel said, hurrying over – clack-clack-clack – and kissing he
r granddaughter on the cheek. Then, “April. That whole thing with Finn at the party... I was so worried when I heard you’d left. Then JJ called me early this morning, ranting about good intentions not meaning a thing unless they came with action to back them up. And here you are. My poor bedraggled kitten.”
April waited for Hazel to finish. By then she’d managed to find her voice. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad you’re glad.”
“Because while I appreciate whatever efforts you took to spring me from the big house, I’m taking this opportunity to hereby sever all ties with the Cinderella Project.”
Margot stopped looking at her watch and her eyes flickered between April and Hazel.
“Pardon?” said Hazel.
“What did I say to you, right back at the beginning? I didn’t want to be set up with some guy!”
“Finn Ward is hardly ‘some guy’—”
“Grandmother,” Margot said, “you offered this girl up to Finn? Frank’s Finn?”
April shot Margot a quelling glance. Margot didn’t even flinch.
Turning back to Hazel, April said, “Again, not the point! And did it ever occur to you that because he’s not just some guy that I might actually fall for him? For a man who has made it his life’s mission not to let anyone get too close as he’s terrified he’ll hurt them the way his father hurt him? Did it ever occur to you that when I found out you’d put him in that bar as a tasting sample that the fact that I had fallen for him didn’t matter because the entire thing was built on a lie?”
Hazel stilled. Sunlight sparking off the diamonds in her ears.
“You’ve fallen for him? I am so good at my job, I can barely stand it!”
April threw her hands in the air in resignation.
Then Hazel moved in, grabbed April’s eye contact and held it. “Think back, darling. Right to the beginning. What was your one, great wish?”
“To get the promotion, of course.”
“Yes. Did our efforts – unusual as they may have been – work?”
A muscle twitched under April’s eye as she wondered if she and Erica had broken poor Jase down so much he’d give in, meaning if she got the job it would be by default. “I’m actually not sure.”
“Are you closer to getting the promotion than you were before meeting me?”
“Fine. I’m closer.”
Hazel took April by the cheeks. “Then what are you so worked up about?”
April wavered on the sunny sidewalk – tired, starving, hungover, and confused. It was a good question. What was she so worked up about? “I think I made the wrong wish.”
“And there it is. Oh, sweet girl.”
Hazel’s eyes softened. Then she wrapped her arms around April and drew her into a hug. Tight, warm, and comforting. April sank into the hug, not able to remember the last time her own mother had held her like this.
“Then lucky for you, your fairy godmother is here to save the day.”
Her voice muffled, April said, “It doesn’t matter. He’s leaving.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Hazel said, voice light as air. “Later tonight, in fact.”
“What?”
“Our Finn is heading to California tonight. Wonderful job offer. No that it could hold a candle to working for my Frank. But, perhaps, it’s for the best.”
April had no idea she was shaking her head, and hard, until a lock of hair slapped her in the eyeball.
She dragged it away and said, “It’s not for the best. He’s only taking that job because he thinks that’s what is best for you. And Frank. And me. He thinks he needs to protect us all. Like some bloody knight in shining bloody armour. The man is so bloody stubborn, so impossible, so wonderful he would give up everything he’s worked so hard for to save us all.”
“Well, darling,” Hazel said, a twinkle in her eye, “it seems only right that one of us return the favour. Don’t you think?”
Hazel’s phone rang. She dug it out of her purse and smirked at the screen.
“Television darling. Must answer. We’ll talk soon?”
Then Hazel was off, climbing into her stunning, old white convertible, her hot, young driver snapping the door shut before whisking her away.
April nodded. Then shook her head. No matter what came next, her time with the Cinderella Project really was over.
And not because of Hazel’s calamitous, meddling ways. But because Hazel had done her job.
Because for all her big talk April hadn’t gone looking for just a promotion – she’d gone looking for why her life didn’t feel like her own. And she’d found out. Through Hazel’s crazy machinations, April had found herself.
It hadn’t taken a makeover – not shinier hair, prettier clothes, or a new attitude. It had taken facing her greatest fear – the fear of loving someone deeply enough to trust them with her heart. She’d done it. She’d fallen for Finn. Every damn, frustrating, stubborn, stoic, gorgeous bit of him. Not perfectly, not without mistakes and mess and misunderstandings. But she loved him all the same. And she’d survived to tell the tale.
Margot, who was now leaning against a sleek, cream, vintage Mustang at the curb, said, “Can I drop you somewhere?”
While the idea of taking a spin in such a fabulous car was tempting, the impulse didn’t grab her. Either the big house had given her little rebellions a bit of a scare, or she had a bigger urge to follow. “I think I need to walk.”
Margot threw her briefcase into the back of her car. Then turned and pinned her with a cool blue stare. “You could sue her, you know. False advertising. Emotional distress. You’d have a case.”
“I’m not going to sue your grandmother, Margot.”
“Probably a smart move. You’d need a really good lawyer. Because I’m exceptional. Good luck to you, Ms. Swanson.”
“Same to you, Ms. Hayes.”
Margot smiled, as if luck had never come into it, and drove away with her car rumbling broodily for blocks.
April looked down the street. The day was bright and clear. Life zooming around her as people went about their normal, comfortable, ho-hum days.
While April had spent her life wishing for normal, for comfortable, for ho-hum, she felt a frisson of freeing possibility in knowing that for her ho-hum was simply not meant to be.
She slipped her phone out of her bag, hoping it hadn’t taken the trip to the fountain with her, and saw, with deep, foreboding regret, the number she had last called.
Stan.
Hours earlier. Middle of the night. And the call had gone for a whole five minutes.
Which was when she also realised it was a Monday and instead of being at work, proving she was the right person for the job she’d been so gung ho for, she was standing outside a police station in damp party clothes.
Wincing, she pressed the call button.
“April,” Stan’s voice answered.
Hand over her eyes, April cleared her throat. “Stan. Please allow me to apologise. Profusely. I can’t exactly remember what we talked about last night so my apologies can’t be specific but I hope a blanket apology will suffice. And if you could forget it ever happened then I will make up for it for the rest of my natural life.”
Stan paused.
April held her breath.
“The thing is, April, I’m not sure that I can forget.”
April bit her lip.
“You had a lot to say about the business; my running of it, your position with regards to it. Let me check my notes.”
April held a hand over her mouth and stared at the sky till her eyes crossed.
“You said that HR ought to be given a new name in fitting with my company’s ethos. The...ah, the People Power Division was your favourite. You believe Smith should run the Well-Being Department under their umbrella. You insisted Clara be moved back to marketing, specifically graphics, as she – and I quote – ‘is much happier not having to talk to anybody for days at a time’. And lastly you suggested I move Jase to the warehouse flo
or because ‘the mums with prams traffic’ would double. Does that sound about right?”
April nodded. Then squeaked out a yes.
“In fact, you always make interesting points, Ms. Swanson. Because you are a thoughtful young woman. Dedicated. Kind. Generous. Inclusive. If I could clone you and populate my staff with a hundred of you, I’d be a very happy man. And last night – or this morning to be more specific – you’ve never been more concise. You told me exactly why you want the job, what you plan to do with the job, and why my voting practices with regards to internal promotions should be abolished. You then talked at length about cupcakes. Sugary, chocolaty, sweet cupcakes. You told me that you make a lot of them, but you never eat them anymore for fear of falling down the rabbit hole of temptation. The word tragedy was thrown around a fair bit.”
“Where to start...?” April’s throat felt so tight she wasn’t sure whether she was about to laugh or cry.
Stan had no such compunction. His laughter was voluble. “How about when to start.”
April’s eyes shot open. “I’m sorry?”
“The People Power Division; if you want it, it’s yours.”
The only word she could find was, “Why?”
“Because this was the first time I really believed you wanted it.”
“I do want the job.” The words spilled out of her, easy as pie. “I love the people. The ethos. The mission statement, even if I struggle to apply it all that well in my real life. If I could help other people find that too, I’d feel like I was helping people find their sweet spot in life. There’s no better feeling the world.”
“Excellent.” A beat, then, “You make a difference just by turning up. I hope you know that, love.”
April swallowed. Blinked. Tried not to blub.
“Say thank you, Stan.”
“Thank you, Stan.”
“I’m giving you the rest of the week off. Have a rest. Regather your energy. Start next Monday. Graeme can show you the ropes the next couple of weeks. Make for a smooth handover when he retires.”
“Okay then.”
“And you must bring me some of your cupcakes. They sound just wonderful.”
She laughed and wiped away a happy tear. “I have to warn you, they might be a little sweet for your taste.”