by Lilly Mirren
"He's starting in three days, at least I hope he is. I don't know how long it'll take. He was very vague about the details…"
Meg chuckled. "That's Mick for you. He's pretty easy on the eyes as well."
"I hadn't noticed," Sarah replied quickly.
"Oh, I'm sure you didn't." Meg winked at Sarah in the mirror.
Sarah's cheeks pinked, and Meg smiled with satisfaction.
"How are things going with Brad?" Sarah asked.
Meg's smile faded. She inhaled a long, slow breath. How could she tell the truth? It hurt even to think about the way Brad hardly spoke to her, sat in his chair staring at the television set in the darkened living room.
"Not great…"
"He hasn't improved?"
Meg shook her head. "I don't know what to do. He keeps those blasted curtains pulled over the windows all the time, sits in the dark and watches television or stares at the wall. The only time he does anything is when he goes to his physiotherapy sessions. I can't get him out of the house otherwise."
"I'm sorry, Meg."
Meg set the scissors on her tray and squeezed her eyes shut. "I wouldn't mind that so much if he spoke to me every now and then. He barely looks at me and mostly only grunts in response to questions. He doesn't want my help with anything, but of course I have to help him because he's new to all of this…" She rubbed both hands over her face. "I honestly have no idea what to do. I think our marriage might be over." Tears pricked her eyes, and her throat ached with the pain of sorrow.
Sarah rested a hand on her arm, and Meg slid into the seat beside her.
"There's no instruction manual for what you two are going through. No one can tell you the best way to grieve, to process everything that's happened. It's going to take some time. But I can see why you're concerned… It sounds like he could be depressed."
Meg's eyes widened. "Of course he's depressed, and I don't blame him… But I wonder sometimes if he blames me."
"Surely not, it wasn't your fault." Sarah's brow furrowed, her brown eyes glowing with compassion.
"No, it wasn't, but he's not thinking straight right now. And the other thing that bothers me - I'm a hairdresser, I don't make a lot of money, and I didn't think I'd have to be the breadwinner of the family. But here we are… I'm the only one earning money and who knows for how long. What if he never gets a job, never contributes financially? What if we can't have children? I've always wanted to be a mum…" Her voice broke.
She hadn't shared these hidden, consuming fears with anyone before, and her chest groaned with the pain of releasing them into the world. It was hard for her to be vulnerable. Every time she was, she always regretted it, wished she could snatch back the words and shove them deep down into the darkest recesses of her heart all over again.
Sarah reached over to embrace her, her arms warm and inviting, her shoulder a strong place for Meg's head to land. "That's a lot of burdens to carry," she whispered. "No wonder you're feeling low."
Meg sniffled against Sarah's shirt. "I'm not usually like this… I don't cry very often, definitely not at work in front of people."
Sarah chuckled soft and low. "Well, if there was ever a time for it, this is it. Meggy, I don't know what the future holds, but I do know nothing stays the same. You love Brad, he's a bright, driven, strong man, I can't imagine he'll let this thing win. But right now, he's hurting, he's dealing with an unimaginable loss, and he isn't coping very well with that. I think he might need to talk to someone."
Meg pulled away, reached for a tissue on the second level of her hairdressing tray and blew her nose into it. She got another and dabbed her eyes dry. "Talk to someone…heck, if he would talk to anyone at all, that'd be a win. And now he says he's not going back to university. They gave him a semester off, said he could take his time going back… He was studying business there part-time while he surfed. But he doesn't want to go back, says he's going to withdraw."
Sarah shook her head. "I don't have any answers for you, but I'm here for you whenever you need this shoulder." She patted the one still damp with Meg's tears.
Meg laughed through a blur of moisture. "Thanks. You're a good friend. I'm sorry for all the drama."
"Never apologise for drama." Sarah winked. "My social life now revolves around the degustation schedule of a mangy dog. I can listen to any drama you need to get off your chest." She hesitated, patted Meg's arm. "Remember, he loves you. You know that. The rest of it…well, it doesn't seem like the boy I remember. He always had a big smile plastered across his face, would fly down the street on his bike, standing high on the pedals, feet flashing as they went around. Nothing seemed impossible for him. Do you remember that time he climbed the tree that hangs over the river? That big old fig tree?"
Meg blew her nose again, nodded.
"No one would do it, because the tree branch looked like it was rotting, but he decided he wasn't going to let that stop him. The river was so full that day, rushing by, and he climbed out on the branch and did a little dance for all of us. We laughed so hard, then when it broke and he fell into the river, we all held our breaths until his head pushed through the surface and he grinned. He was always doing stuff like that. He's a fighter, he's brave, and we have to believe that part of him will win through in the end. Right?"
Meg smiled. "I'd forgotten about that story. I had the biggest crush on him, even then."
Sarah smiled. "That's adorable."
"So, let's get your hair shampooed," Meg replied, jumping to her feet and shoving the tissues she'd used into the nearest rubbish bin. "Otherwise we'll take all day and my other customers will start to complain." She pushed a smile onto her face. It helped to get things off her chest, to talk about them. But in the end, she still had to go home at the close of business to face her husband in their darkened unit. She still had to smile, be cheerful and chatter, expecting nothing more than the occasional grunt or sarcastic comment in response. And she still had to face the possibility that her marriage may well be ended before it'd truly had a chance to begin.
Chapter 21
Sarah
Sarah switched off her hair dryer and fluffed her hair around her shoulders with one hand, twisting this way and that in the mirror to survey her handiwork. The knock at the door startled her, though it shouldn't have. She was expecting it.
Her heart leapt into her throat, then she reminded herself it was only Mick. He said he'd be coming early to begin renovations, which suited her fine because she was heading to the airport.
She set her hairbrush on the bathroom sink and hurried to open the door.
"Good morning, Mick," she said with a wide smile.
His hair had been pushed back away from his face, in a perfectly mussed yet stylish kind of way. She wasn't sure how he managed to pull off a look that screamed I just rolled out of bed, but he did somehow. It suited him.
His green eyes looked paler than usual in the cool morning light. He grinned.
"You ready for this?"
Her heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes. She frowned. "Huh?"
"Your house is going to be a construction zone for weeks. I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."
She sighed with relief. Oh, that. "Yeah, I know. I'm not really looking forward to it, though I'm excited to see the finished product."
"And you're on board for the new master suite?"
She nodded, her imagination running over the plan he'd laid out for her weeks earlier when she'd signed the contract to have him renovate the cottage. He'd suggested adding a large master bedroom with an en suite bathroom and walk-in wardrobe, and she'd jumped at the idea. It was exactly what she needed. And it'd have bifold glass doors that would lead onto an extended porch, to look directly out over the ocean from her bed. She couldn't wait.
She handed Mick a key she'd had made for him so he could let himself and his workers in and out of the cottage when she wasn't there.
"Here's your key. I'm on my mobile if you need anything, call me anyt
ime." It sounded like she was asking for a date, and her cheeks burned at the thought. He must get this kind of attention from women all the time.
He didn't seem to notice her discomfort. "Sure, have a great trip. How long are you gone for again?"
"Only two days, I'll be back on Thursday."
He nodded. "Great. So, we'll be knocking down walls today. By the time you get back, we should have all of the demo done."
She bit down on her lip, glanced around the cottage one last time. She'd put everything into a back room, her life packed away in boxes yet again. Anything that remained was draped in drop cloths.
"Okay, please be careful. I really love having a roof over my head. I'd hate to see this place disintegrate, but I have a feeling that's a distinct possibility."
He chuckled, raised a hand to his head in a mock salute. "Don't worry about a thing, Sassy, I'll take care of it."
The sound of her childhood nickname on Mick's lips almost made her legs buckle. She hadn't been called Sassy in so long she'd almost forgotten about it. Coming from him, it made her forget herself for a moment and consider throwing herself into his arms.
She cleared her throat. "Uh…great. Well, I trust you. I'll see you on Thursday. Oh, and please feed the dog. You may not see him, he's pretty shy, but if you could leave food in his bowl on the back deck, or somewhere close by, that'd be great."
He nodded. "No worries, I'll take care of it."
She tugged her suitcase through the doorway, brushing past Mick so that for a moment she was pressed up against his muscular chest. Her breath caught in her throat until she'd moved past him and turned to wave awkwardly.
"Uh…okay. Bye."
He raised a hand. "See ya."
She made it to the car before the embarrassment hit. What was wrong with her? She wasn't a teenager anymore. She was a professional woman, an adult. So why had her confidence drained the moment she opened the door and saw his wrinkled work shirt and torn shorts, his tanned legs and heavy work boots?
She issued a heavy sigh and started the engine. As she pulled out of the driveway, she passed a truck filled with labourers, its bed laden with toolboxes, ladders and more, coming the other direction. She issued a quick wave, then slowed to study her rear-view mirror. The paint-chipped, weary cottage almost winked at her under the rising sun. Its stained walls, leaky roof and weed-strangled garden brought a lump to her throat. It would never look the same again, and as much as that brought her relief, it also raised up feelings of nostalgia. She'd only lived there a few weeks, but already it felt like home. Still, homes shouldn't leak or emit foul odours.
She stepped on the accelerator and turned onto the main road in the direction of the Gold Coast Airport. It was time to switch her thoughts to work. She'd been so distracted lately with everything that was going on in the Cove, with Oscar and the cottage, not to mention her mother's cafe. She'd allowed the quality of her work to slip, which wasn't something she was accustomed to doing.
It was harder maintaining her focus from a distance than she'd ever thought it would be.
And besides, a trip to the office in Sydney would very likely mean seeing Jeremy.
Her heart lurched at the thought. Perhaps she could avoid him. She had meetings lined up for most of the time she'd be there; maybe no one would tell him about her visit, and she could sneak away without him knowing.
She grimaced.
It was comforting to imagine, but she knew there wasn't a chance of that happening.
Chapter 22
Cindy
Her feet ached, and the evening was only just beginning. Cindy wasn't sure she'd manage the evening shifts at the cafe for much longer. They were too hard on her. And she was definitely cancelling the annual New Year's Eve party. She'd done it forever, the same way her parents had - though she'd taken it to the next level with live music and flyers handed out to the tourists in the area. But after the latest celebration, she'd taken three days in bed to recover.
She was almost sixty-one and felt far too old to host a party for two hundred, especially when she had to bring in a team of inexperienced waitstaff to help her do it. She'd ended up doing most of the work herself. She was grateful Sarah had spent the evening helping out. And even though they'd been busy all night long, the takings from the night didn't match up to the outgoing food from the kitchen, something she hadn't been able to figure out in the weeks since.
She lowered herself into a chair in the cafe's spacious kitchen and kicked off her shoes to rub each foot for a moment. Happy hour was about to begin, another tradition at the Emerald Cafe, although a much more recent addition to the calendar.
She and her long-time friend, Diana Jones, had sat down twenty years earlier and agreed that if Diana would promote the cafe to her guests, Cindy would throw a happy hour every weekday evening that would allow vacationers staying at the Seaside Manor Bed and Breakfast to buy half-priced drinks and appetisers. It'd always been a big hit with the guests, but after checking over her receipts the past few months, Cindy wasn't sure it was viable for her any longer.
Guests had to provide a room key to get access to the discount, but for some reason, it seemed the promotion wasn't generating the same kind of revenue as it had in past years. Maybe it would have to go the way of the recently departed New Year's Eve party.
She slipped her feet back into her shoes as Thad wandered into the kitchen.
"Good afternoon, Thad."
He nodded, smiled. "How're you, Cindy?"
"Fine, thanks. Ready for happy hour?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I guess." His thick Norwegian accent smoothed out the words, giving them an enticing lilt.
She knew the customers liked Thad, at least the young women did, but sometimes it was difficult to get him motivated to do the work he should - and whatever he left undone, she ended up having to do herself. That was part of being the boss, she supposed.
"Well, let's get out there and take orders, then."
He wandered back through the doors, tying a black apron around his waist as he did.
Cindy followed and watched for a while as guests flooded through the doors. During happy hour, Crystal manned the bar until her set, then played her guitar and sang while Cindy took over mixing drinks. Thad was their only waiter, so between the three of them, they did their best to cope.
With a quick inhale, Cindy hurried to join Thad in taking orders. The cook had his hands full keeping up with the food orders, and Crystal was run off her feet behind the bar. Every time Cindy looked up from what she was doing, someone was flashing a room key at Crystal.
Cindy decided to have a word with Diana next time they met for tea - was the bed and breakfast booked solid? She couldn't remember a time when it'd housed as many guests as it had lately. Were they doing something different? Maybe some advertising in the city? Whatever it was, she was grateful for the business. Perhaps things would turn around after all.
While Crystal set up her guitar and microphone, Cindy slipped behind the bar to take drink orders. The room keys kept coming, and before the night was over, her feet ached, a strange pain was shooting through her right hip and into her lower back, and she could barely walk.
Thad and Crystal cleaned up, though if she was being completely honest, she noticed Crystal did most of the work while Thad lounged around, whispering into his mobile phone. Cindy simply couldn't stay on her feet any longer to help them. And besides, she had to count the cash and balance the till.
"I'm heading home, Cindy," Crystal called with a wave.
Cindy waved goodbye. "You okay to get home by yourself?"
Crystal nodded. "Of course, Emerald Cove is the safest place in the world. You should try Bangkok sometime."
Cindy chuckled. Crystal had lived there during her childhood, though Cindy had never visited the place herself. "Fair point. I'll see you Monday."
When she checked, she found Thad had already left, so Cindy settled back in her office chair to count the money that was piled in the ti
ll, along with credit card and EFTPOS receipts from the night's service.
By the time she was done, she was even more confused than she had been before she started. It didn't make sense. Given the number of guests who'd filed in through the cafe's doors, and the hundreds of drinks she and Crystal had served from the bar, there should've been thousands of dollars more than was accounted for in the till. She cocked her head to one side, tapping a fingernail against the top of the desk.
With a sigh, she straightened and stretched out her back. She grimaced, leaned over to touch her toes and found that she could barely reach halfway anymore. Gone were the days of her girlhood when she could lie down on her legs in her ballet tights, and then leap in the air to kick her legs out and lay her head back like a gazelle. She shook her head and reached for her purse, then carried the till to the safe to lock up for the night.
It didn't make any sense, but perhaps she'd calculated wrong. She'd count it again in the morning before carrying the cash to the bank. And if she still couldn't figure it out, she'd have to ask Sarah for help…again. Because something wasn't right at the cafe, and she had no idea what it was. But if she didn't figure it out soon, the mortgage Andrew had raised against the business would mean she'd have to sell everything and close up shop. And the thought of that brought an ache to her chest.
Chapter 23
Rebecca
"Don't touch my radio." Franklin's voice was abrupt and cold. Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest and peered out the passenger window of the police cruiser.
"Yes, sir." There was a hint of sass in her voice, though she tried to hide it as best she could. She knew going into police work she'd have to submit to authority, whether pleasant or painful, but it was beginning to make her skin crawl. She bit down on a further retort and pressed her lips tight together instead.
She'd worked at the Emerald Cove Police Station for almost three weeks now, and her boss had given her nothing but the cold shoulder the entire time. It was troubling to her that she'd yet to figure out if he was simply a jerk or if his bad attitude was particularly aimed in her direction. Given the fact that everyone else in the office seemed to worship at his feet, she had to go with the latter, though she couldn't imagine what she'd done in the brief time she'd lived in the Cove to tick him off so badly.