Drew was my third investor. No pressure.
I shook his hand, then checked out the fourth man at the table. Very good-looking, slim, and dark-haired, with a face full of merriment. Luke said, his face and voice both equally wooden, “This is my husband, Hayden. Brought him along. We’re just married.”
“And before you even have a chance to digest that stunning concept,” Hayden said, with the kind of sparkle in his eye that told me how much he enjoyed helping Luke shock the rugby world, “I’ll tell you that I’m also an attorney. The horror. Oh, and my sister’s married to Rhys Fletcher.”
The coach of the Blues. I knew about Zora Fletcher. She’d been Zora Fletcher both before and after her recent marriage to Rhys, because she’d been married to his brother until his death. That was all right, though. I’d played with Rhys, because he’d been an All Black before he’d been a coach, and I’d known his brother.
Dylan Fletcher had been mourned by his family, I was sure, and by too many women, and that was probably about all. He hadn’t been much chop as a man. Zora had done better second time round, as far as I was concerned, and it wasn’t my business anyway. But Hayden … whatever his surname was, was her brother? And Luke Armstrong’s husband? Huh.
Also, what did Grant Armstrong think about his son being gay? I was certain it was nothing good. I knew Grant too well to think otherwise. He’d been a pretty good coach. Not my favorite person. Grant Armstrong was, in fact, one of the reasons I’d retired years before I’d wanted to. Armstrong and his hard-man ethos, and the rugby world of ten years back, without its strict concussion protocols.
The other reason was me, of course. Me, getting back in there too fast every time, knowing that if I didn’t, I’d lose my starting spot. Shaking it off and playing on despite the headaches, the dizziness.
“So that’s all very incestuous,” Hayden said as I was still forcing my besieged brain to take it all in. “But such good gossip material.”
“Doubt Gray gossips much,” Luke said, and I looked at him and thought—huh. Again. How could a person help it? He smiled at me, the merest lift at one side of his mouth, and said, “I know. I’m ugly. It’s surprising. I’d have thought you’d have heard, though. Not a secret, is it.”
“I’m not really in the rugby world anymore,” I said, sitting down belatedly and offering a quiet “Thanks” to the girl who’d just set down my very necessary long black. “Best not to live in the past, eh.”
“You’re wondering,” Drew said calmly, because Drew was always calm, and always businesslike, too, and he’d be not-so-patiently waiting, now, to get started on the agenda, “why Hayden’s here. Whether it’s the ‘lawyer’ bit or the ‘newlywed’ bit.”
“Well, yeh,” I said. “Oh. Congrats, guys. Cheers.” I lifted my coffee glass to them, took a welcome sip of the strong, inky brew, and willed it to get to work on those blood vessels.
“I asked him to come,” Luke said. “To listen. Hayden thinks of things I don’t, asks the right questions.”
“Right,” I said, gearing myself up for it. “So. Let’s get stuck in.”
“Sure you’re good to do it?” Drew asked. Quietly, the way he asked most things. The Highlanders would be having some culture shock for sure, after Armstrong’s bluster.
“Yeh,” I said. “Migraine, that’s all. I’m all good.”
Drew looked at me measuringly, but didn’t say anything, and I went on. “If you’ve all had the chance to review the files I sent around a couple days ago, you’ll see that both the big projects are well underway.” The new music studio building, with its many soundproofed cells, and the twin dormitories we were building to house six hundred of Otago’s bursting-at-the-seams student population. The biggest contracts we’d had to date. The ticket to the firm’s future.
“But you’re short on labor,” Drew said, putting his finger bang onto the sore spot. “Looked like it to me, anyway.”
“Yeh.” When you lost, you fronted up, took your learnings, and sorted out how to win next time. “I’ve been short a foreman for nearly three weeks, which is all right, just, because I’ve been doing his bit. But I’m seriously short on tradies as well. Construction boom in Dunedin’s good for business. Good for the economy, too. The labor shortage is the downside, and it’s not getting better.”
“Are we going to miss the next deadlines?” That was Luke. I was grateful for the “we.”
I’d lain awake for every bit of those three weeks now, sweating this. I was meant to be ramping up construction, and it wasn’t happening.
I’d been all right with the big, expensive parts of the jobs, because I’d firmed them up the moment we’d won the contracts, cashing in on the relationships I’d built amongst Dunedin’s construction equipment suppliers and subcontractors, job by job and beer by beer, over the past seven years since I’d started the firm. The cranes and earth-moving equipment, I had available. The labor, not so much. Even in the months since we’d begun work, electricians and plumbers and ironworkers and carpenters had got busier, and now, the labor shortage was coming bang up against my milestone dates with a relentlessness I couldn’t deny. Which was why I’d asked for this meeting.
I told Luke, and the others, “I’m not planning to miss either deadline, but it’s going to be tight at best. I’ve got some ideas for that. I’ve got feelers out in the North Island, around Auckland and Hamilton especially, the trade schools and the NZBTU.” The New Zealand Building Trades Union, that was. “Once I find a new foreman, I’ll be going up there myself, see what I can do in person to get some new boys on board fast.”
“Reach out especially to the Maori boys, you think?” Drew asked. “The Islanders? Persuade them of the wonders of Dunedin? You’d be the man to do it.”
“Not easy,” Hayden said. “What’s Dunedin’s Maori and Islander population? Not the most congenial environment, they may be thinking. Pretty Pakeha down here after Auckland. I can’t imagine the Chinese New Year parade is much to write home about, for example.”
“Yeh,” I said. There was my kedgeree arriving, and I took a quick bite of spicy rice to fortify myself. “That’s been it, when I make a call up there. That’s what I hear. Still working out how to get around that. Though I don’t only want the brown boys, of course. I’ll take anyone who’s willing and able.”
“Cheaper housing,” Kane said thoughtfully. “They can buy down here, maybe, with a bit of overtime and if the missus is earning as well. Be hard pressed to do that in Auckland. That matters. Good schools, too. Good for the family’s future. Put it like that, maybe.”
“And house prices are still rising like mad down here,” Hayden said. “Unlike Auckland, where everybody’s thrown up their hands and given up. Good investment, you’d think, especially if you’re a manly man who can get a place that needs work and DIY his way to habitability. Together with his manly mates, of course. Which wouldn’t be me, but then, I’m not a Samoan tradie. They always look so big and capable, stubbies and work boots and all.”
“Careful,” Luke said, and I had to smile despite the migraine. This was helpful. The housing-price idea hadn’t occurred to me, nor the schools. Not a family man, that was why.
“I can do something with that,” I said. “Cheers.”
“Job security as well,” Drew put in. “Construction trends. Though you’ll have thought of that. No earthquakes, either. If Christchurch is luring them, Dunedin should be able to do better.”
“I resent that,” Kane said. “The earthquakes make you tougher, that’s all. How much have the Crusaders been winning? Who won the semifinal, for that matter?”
“We’ll see next time,” Drew said, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Could be we’ll surprise you. And that’s it?” he asked me. “Cash reserves look OK. Anything else? Any other bad news?”
“Cash reserves look too good, actually,” Hayden said. “Meaning, I’m guessing, that you’re not paying out as much as you’d planned in wages.”
I’d have asked him h
ow he knew, if he was an expert on construction-firm balance sheets, but Luke put in, quietly as always, “He’s been swotting, nights, since I came in as an investor.”
“Moonlighting,” Hayden agreed. “Never mind, I’m used to learning boring things. My whole life is learning boring things. Corporate law, eh.”
I said, “I’ve been seriously upping the overtime these past weeks, which won’t help the bottom line any, fair warning, but we need to hit those milestones. Investment in the future.” The two contracts with the University of Otago were my biggest so far by a long chalk, and I needed to nail them. In the building business, reputation is everything. I added, “I need that foreman, though, to oversee the music studios himself. It’s taking all my time just now, and that’s not working.”
“Bring up somebody from within,” Drew said.
“Yeh,” I said. “Working on that. Never mind, I’ll get there. I thought I’d better tell you, though. No surprises, eh. And get your ideas, which are helpful, so cheers for that.”
“You could do a sort of …” Hayden said.
“A sort of what?” I prompted.
Hayden looked around. “I’m the new boy, I realize. And not exactly a rugby god.”
“Never mind,” Drew said. “New viewpoint’s good. Tell us.”
“Well, if I were you,” Hayden said, “which I’m obviously not, I’d be asking—what’s my competitive advantage?”
“And?” Drew prompted.
“Well, rugby, obviously,” Hayden said. “You’re not just recruiting tradies to come to beautiful Dunedin. You’re All Blacks recruiting tradies, and they’d have to be the most receptive audience in the world to that idea, unless you were actually recruiting farmers. So put that up there front and center. That’s what I’d do if I were you, which, again, I am not.”
Luke didn’t exactly make a face, but he looked like he would have, if he hadn’t been the most unexpressive of men. Hayden said, “I know, I know, but hear me out. You do …” He waved a hand. “A website. Ads. A texting campaign, even better, if you can get approval from the union. I’d think you could, recruitment and all. Better yet, work with the union to get that straight onto their phones. And, sorry,” he told Drew, “but having that come from you would be best. Every tradie alive is clicking on a text with that face on it. I’d click on it, for that matter.”
“Oi,” Luke said mildly.
“I’m just saying,” Hayden said.
“Possibly inappropriate,” Drew said. “As I’m still employed by New Zealand Rugby. I’d have to give that some thought. Could come from you, though, Luke.”
“I don’t think the ‘gay footballer’ bit would go down a treat with those boys,” Luke said.
There was silence as everybody mentally conceded that, and then Drew said, “You, obviously, Gray.”
“You’re the brownest,” Hayden put in helpfully. “Man of the people. Also the boss. Then you list the investors. New Zealand Rugby can’t object to that, to Drew and Kane being on the list. They are investors. And a photo of the four of you in hard hats and tool belts, arms around each others’ shoulders like you’re lining up for the anthem, in front of a … crane. Bulldozer. Whatever. A huge yellow piece of heavy equipment, anyway, and some dirt. The caption says, ‘Join the Team.’ Admit it, it works.”
“Why would a potential hire care who the investors were?” I asked. “Also, those cash reserves don’t run to billboards or TV ads.” I wanted my fingers at my temple. I didn’t put them there. I was trying to eat my breakfast, but it wasn’t easy.
“They’d only care, oh, a hundred times over,” Hayden said. “Do you really not know that? Being an examplar of Kiwi humility is one thing. Deluding yourself is another. And if we can’t do TV ads, we do something more cost-effective instead. Sorry, on the ‘we.’ Carried away by my enthusiasm.”
“You can say ‘we,’” Luke said. “What’s mine is yours, and so forth. We’re married.”
“True,” Hayden said. “I suddenly feel so cheerful.”
Drew laughed and said, “Well, as you’re on board, and you’ve clearly got creative powers and research skills the rest of us don’t, how about ginning up a plan for us, Hayden?” Now he was the one overstepping, as I was the director, but today, I’d take all the help I could get.
Drew may have realized it, though, because he looked at me and asked, “OK by you?”
“Yeh,” I said. Maybe it was the relief of having this meeting over with, but I was suddenly so exhausted, it was hard to speak. Also, the headache had found a fifth gear, and my defenses were gone.
Drew waited a beat, and when I didn’t say more, he said, “Right. Follow up when?”
“Two weeks?” I asked Hayden, trying to focus through the starburst that was my left eye.
“I can do that,” Hayden said, “as I suspect you’re in crisis mode. I get that even through all the stoicism. Could be because I’m used to stoicism, though. As I seem to have married it. My plan will be preliminary, but I can do something in two weeks. I’m very good.”
Drew smiled, and Luke looked quietly satisfied, or possibly proud as punch. I told him, “Good work, mate. On the husband,” and he actually smiled. All he said, though, was, “Cheers.”
“Two weeks, then,” I said. “Send it to all of us, Hayden, and I’ll set another meeting. We’ll make a plan. Marketing plan. Labor marketing. And meanwhile, I’ll sort out that foreman.”
Handshakes, then, and the scrape of chairs. I stayed where I was. I needed a minute.
I’d go back to Dunedin first thing tomorrow, where the problems would still be waiting for me. That belonged to tomorrow, and right now, what I had to do was walk out of here.
Somehow.
12
The Devil’s Handiwork
Daisy
At eleven o’clock in the morning, I put the washing into the dryer, feeling a bit guilty about using it when the wind and sun were out there doing their job. The clothesline in the back garden was full of colorful dresses and blouses and trousers, flying in the spring breeze like extremely cheerful and rather large prayer flags. Gray’s mum was clearly a woman who loved her colors. We wouldn’t be here long enough, though, to dry the heavy cotton garments on the line, and the girls had nothing else to wear, so the dryer it was.
Gray wasn’t back from his meeting, but I hadn’t expected him this soon. I’d woken sometime after he’d left, had crept quietly out of the big bed so as not to disturb my sisters, dressed in the light that seeped around the closed blinds, and come downstairs to find the big brown dog lying by the door, either guarding us or waiting for Gray to come back, I wasn’t sure. She stood up at sight of me, though, wagged her tail, and came over for a pat, so maybe she was doing both.
I’d also found out pretty smartly that Gray’s house was more than a cube—or, rather, a rectangle. It was the spectator’s box for a nature show.
The living area faced north, into the morning sun. Into the mountains. Their lower slopes, just above the lake, were clad in spring green, with the rocky heights rising above. All that glass in the cube had been put in to catch the view in the least obstructed way possible. There would be another outlook like this, an even better one, from the master bedroom.
I made myself another cup of tea, sat at the table with the dog at my feet, looked out at all of it, and thought that I needed to call Dorian. There was a landline in the kitchen. I’d use that. I also thought that I shouldn’t like looking at these mountains. They should feel oppressive, but they didn’t. It’s hard to blame mountains for what happens beneath them, or maybe it’s just that the scenery you’ve grown up with can’t help but being the most comfortable view, and that my early childhood had actually been pretty happy. I hadn’t known any better, and I’d loved my brothers and sisters and cousins, and my mother, too. I’d loved being the oldest, responsible and trusted, and I’d loved being outside. Outside had been my favorite time. The Suri alpacas with their gentle eyes and long, fine, silky hair, fawn a
nd brown and cream and gray and black, and the rows of lavender. The heavenly scent of it, the feel of the sun on my back and the sound of the gentle, industrious bees buzzing around the bushes, collecting the dusty pollen on their legs and taking it back to the hives.
If I’d been allowed to work outside, I’d probably never have left. Maybe I was lucky after all on all that bathroom and laundry duty, not to mention the knitting. I’d been such rubbish at knitting, I’d only been allowed to do scarves, and I’d had to rip out as much as I’d knitted. Hence the extra bathroom duty.
Let’s just say I didn’t knit anymore. I still cleaned my bathroom, though. Obsessively.
But, yes, it was beautiful here in front of these windows, and so peaceful in this quiet house with its nearly Zen decorating scheme. And I was too full of memories, the underparts of my brain too consumed with processing the night and morning’s adventures, to cope in my usual fashion of rushing on to do the next thing. That was why, maybe, I didn’t call Dorian, why I drank my tea and thought about this morning instead. About the girls.
It had taken a while for them to settle down, as exhausted as they’d been, and I’d understood why. It was just that, now that the danger was over, I’d wanted to collapse myself. They had so much emotion, and so many emotions. And I hadn’t spent any time with them at all for twelve years. I hadn’t even seen Obedience in twelve years, not since she was four, and I’d only seen Fruitful during one hurried, tense visit.
I didn’t doubt myself, normally. I didn’t have time. Call it fatigue, call it weakness, or call it my upbringing rearing its ugly head, but I was doubting myself now. Could I do this? Could they do it?
When I’d led them upstairs, knowing it was the first time they’d been in a proper house and how overwhelming it would feel, they hadn’t said anything. Fruitful was still limping badly, holding onto the stair rail, and I thought, Ice pack. After the shower. I took them to the room at the end of the hall and saw their eyes go wide at the sight of the bed. It was king sized, possibly because Gray was sized that way himself, and possibly because he could afford a bedroom big enough for it.
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