Chapter Twenty-Five
Shopping was easier this time and Charlotte arrived home with two bags of fresh produce and other necessities. She opened the laptop as dinner cooked and reread the email from Lakeview Care.
If her mother was suffering as much as Maggie implied, why had they not brought in another specialist and got another opinion? New medication wasn’t always the answer. Angelica Dean was a tough lady, despite her many mental health issues. Charlotte had always believed quality counselling, coupled with the right combination of medication, was key to giving her mother the most comfortable life.
As Angelica’s carer for a while, she’d had success with this approach. For one wonderful year, she’d had her mother. And Angelica was amazing. Smart, funny in ways Charlotte never expected, and at times, deep compassion and regret for the life she’d forced on her child.
No childhood. No teenage years. Just seven years old to adult in one moment when Dad left for the last time.
Thanks Mum. Thanks Dad.
Charlotte closed her eyes and regulated her breathing, forcing out the negative until she could stop her hands shaking. Being reactive wasn’t a long-term strategy and she needed to be the grown-up in all of this.
After checking dinner wasn’t burning, she dialled Queensland.
“Lakeview Care, Maggie speaking.”
“Maggie, this is Charlotte Dean. I’m sorry to take a couple of days to call.”
“Dr Dean, thank you. I thought perhaps I had the wrong details for you. Did you receive the parcel we sent?”
“Oh. Yes, the box. I’m not certain what to do with Mum’s things. But if you’re sure she doesn’t want them?” Charlotte glanced in the direction of the bedroom where she’d left the box behind a closed door. “I haven’t gone through it yet.”
“Angelica really hadn’t touched anything in months.” Maggie said. “She’s retreating into herself. Doesn’t want to be involved with any of the activities she used to enjoy. Nor be part of any outings.”
“Is she doing regular counselling sessions?”
“No. Part of the problem began when there were some staff changes. Angelica hasn’t taken to the new psychiatrist and we can’t really force her to see him.”
Charlotte shook her head. “Find a female. There are sufficient funds to cover private consultations.” Irritation swept through her. “You must remember we went through something similar a few years ago with a male therapist. Shall I find someone?”
Maggie’s voice was hesitant. “No. No, I’m happy to do so, but…well, I think it is more this time.”
“Let’s take one step at a time. If you can arrange a consult with a suitably qualified female psychiatrist and see if she has ideas about Mum’s status. And how long since she’s had a full physical?”
“She’s due.” Maggie sounded more positive. “I’ll arrange both and let you know once I have some news.”
A few minutes later, Charlotte hung up. Lakeview Care was a caring, professional place but sometimes they overlooked simple factors. Mum never liked having men around, not since Dad left.
This was a good step. Charlotte was far from ready to visit, but this communication helped more than she’d expected. One step at a time. For her as well as her mother.
Charlotte ate dinner out on the balcony by candlelight. She had plans for the area now she was using it so often. New paint for a start. The balcony was simply an extension of the apartment, with one side a full brick wall, two sides open apart from the railings, and the glass sliding doors and window to back inside. The brick was painted grey, peeling and uninviting.
The floor was just as bad. Unsealed concrete had seen much better days. And even the railings were overdue for new paint and some brightening up. Charlotte finished the last of her pasta bake and pushed the plate aside.
After Christmas, the bookshop was closed until the first week of January. She’d check with Rosie first, but assuming she didn’t mind some improvements, Charlotte might spend some of the time refreshing the balcony. And then she could buy some planters and grow herbs and flowers along the rails where the sun shone most of the day. The windchime would hang in the corner. And her little tree would be fine in its pot until the end of summer.
Behind the shop was a small backyard. Charlotte had only been out there a couple times and not long enough to see what was there apart from a clothesline. She had a little bit of exploring to do once Christmas was past.
Out on the street, a slow-moving heavy vehicle passed the bookshop. A flatbed truck, much bigger than Darcy’s, and with a small crane at the back. Trussed and tied to the truck was a massive pine tree. Charlotte leaned over the railing as the truck pulled up close to the roundabout. A police car had blocked off one exit and Sid was tossing witches hats around the truck.
Darcy’s tree. Probably made sense to put it up at night when the roads were quieter. Charlotte watched for a while as another man helped Darcy untie the tree, then hook it up to the crane. Sid was out of sight although his patrol car lights still flashed. Just as well the rain had cleared again. Getting the huge tree upright was a big enough job without the weather being against them.
Much as she wanted to wander down and observe the construction, Sid’s presence stopped Charlotte.
Charlotte carried her plate inside, locking the door after herself. There was a book that needed finishing and she might as well do it tonight.
Sleep came in the early hours, after the last page was devoured. Charlotte adored mysteries and thrillers and this one was riveting. She slid beneath the sheets with a happy sigh and fallen asleep quickly.
She woke early despite the short night. Dawn was barely appearing, yet Charlotte longed to stretch her legs. All this wonderful country air.
Curious to see the new tree, she power-walked to the roundabout and stopped to gaze up at the lovely pine. Not as tall as its predecessor, its dark green foliage filled the space left behind. It was on a metal stand which was attached to the concrete centre of the roundabout by lots of bolts. Short of a chainsaw, nobody was moving this beauty.
“I like this one better.”
Charlotte jumped. It was Mr Chen, walking a golden retriever. She couldn’t help herself and reached out to stroke the dog’s velvet ears.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He said. “This is Mason.”
“Mason is a stunner. He reminds me of a dog I used to know.”
“Used to?”
“Oh, he lives in the town I lived in before here. Fit and happy, and enjoying the attention of several families.” Randall was Christie and Martin’s dog, but he adored almost everyone and was a particular favourite of Thomas.
“Typical goldie. Who do you think is stealing all the trees?”
“Me? I really don’t know anyone well enough to guess.”
“And I’ve been here for ten years and can’t imagine why this is happening.” Mr Chen nodded. “Mystery for sure. Well, we need to get home.”
“Nice to see you. Merry Christmas.” Charlotte smiled. Really smiled. The words made her ridiculously happy for some reason. Was Christmas behind her new attitude?
“Merry Christmas to you.”
Charlotte watched them head up the street and turn the corner. How lovely to meet another goldie here so far away from the town where Randall lived. She missed him. For that matter, she missed River’s End.
Her tummy rumbled and she wandered home. Elizabeth would be making Palmerston House into a Christmas wonderland and probably Angus was at her side. If she was a betting person—and she wasn’t—she’d expect Martha and Thomas to have Christmas at their cottage and include as many of the townsfolk as would fit. Christie and Martin would spend their first Christmas together as husband and wife.
And Trev. Much as she tried, Charlotte couldn’t get the sudden image of him out of her mind. The cheerful smile. Even when he was serious, he never came over as angry or mean. And he looked after himself. No doubt.
Stop that at once.
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br /> But she missed his eyes. His kind, understanding eyes.
It was only when she paused to glance into the bookshop window to check everything looked nice that she realised she had wrapped her arms around herself.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Charlotte had never seen Rosie so bright and happy. And this was a woman who always exuded a calming kind of joy. She’d arrived in before opening, tinsel decorating her wheelchair and wearing a Santa hat. She insisted Charlotte wear one as well.
“Fine, but I’d be better as an elf.”
“I will consider that next year.” Rosie was halfway to the kitchen and called over her shoulder. “Actually, I won’t. Next year you will be the boss.”
Charlotte sank onto her stool with a soft thud. Rosie really thought she would be the one. From the moment she’d stepped inside the bookshop—in fact, before that, when she’d seen the beautiful window display—Charlotte was lost in admiration.
Charlotte and Rosie kept in touch after the visit and when things got too hard for her in River’s End, Charlotte accepted Rosie’s offer of a job and accommodation. She’d fallen in love with the bookshop and from day one harboured a secret hope she’d somehow be good enough to eventually take over.
“Hat on head, young lady!” Rosie wagged her finger at Charlotte with a big smile. “You were miles away.”
“I was.” Charlotte shoved the hat on and flicked the pom-pom to the back. “I went to the garden centre after work last night.”
“Did you now? And was Veronica around?”
“Screaming at her poor staff member near the greenhouse.”
Rosie frowned. “Not the young lass who is there on weekends? I imagine she’s on holidays from school and can work more.”
“She was just about in tears and I’m glad I showed myself before it got any nastier. Who on earth treat someone that way?” Charlotte shook her head before the frustration built up again. “Is it usually low on stock?”
“I haven’t been there often, not since Veronica took over. Initially I bought a few plants, but they were always in poor shape and when I accidently took home a disease which went through my vegetables, well, I stopped going there.”
“She doesn’t like animals.” As if that explained everything she disliked about Veronica, Charlotte headed for the front door. “Coffee?”
“Oh, my. And I think some pastries, given that information!”
As Charlotte emerged from the café with coffees and a box of goodies, she glanced at the roundabout. Two men worked around it on scaffolding, decorating it with thick streams of tinsel and giant baubles. It was already looking beautiful and other people stopped to watch.
“That new tree is so gorgeous!” she announced as she handed one coffee to Rosie and put her own one behind the counter. “There’s pastries and cupcakes in case we need them later.”
“I like the way you think.” Rosie peeked in the box. “And agree about the tree. From now I think the real ones are the way to go.”
“I disagree!”
Octavia stood stiffly just inside the door, hugging her large handbag to her body.
“Good morning. You mentioned that before, Octavia. Why does it worry you so much?” Rosie wheeled herself around the counter. “Surely artificial trees that are made from non-recyclable material are much less friendly to our planet?”
“If they were all in pots like the one in your window then perhaps, I could agree. But most of them are cut down, and then die. And cutting them down means less oxygen and no place for the kingfishers.”
“The kingfishers don’t nest in pines. And they make plenty of oxygen as they grow. Anyway, Darcy replants for every tree he takes.” Rosie tilted her head at Octavia.
“But so much gets wasted!”
“Darcy is going to build furniture from returned trees.” Charlotte added.
Octavia ignored her.
“Rosie, I came to see if those books are here yet.”
“The book club reads?” Rosie shook her head. “Not until the delivery in the new year. We discussed this the other day.”
Lips pursed, Octavia glared at Rosie.
What was wrong now?
“I see. It was my hope you’d try a bit harder to retain loyal customers, but if the book club is not important, then regrettably, we will purchase our books elsewhere.”
Charlotte got to her feet, ready to go around the counter. Rosie’s eyes didn’t leave Octavia’s face, but she shot out her palm at Charlotte. Stay put.
“Octavia, I’m very sorry you feel this way. As I explained, the wholesalers take a break at this time of year so although I’ve ordered the books, they won’t be delivered here until they come back from their holiday. Glenys mentioned the first meeting of the book club could be slightly delayed allowing for the books to arrive and be in the members hands.”
“Glenys Lane is not in charge of the book club! I am now the president and things will be done the way I say.”
“The order was placed, Octavia.”
“Then unplace it. Rosie.” Octavia leaned toward Rosie, almost hissing. “Marguerite and I knew you and your son had it in for Sid, but now you’ve employed Trev’s girlfriend you might as well kiss this shop goodbye.”
With that, she trounced out.
“He’s not my…” Charlotte began but the woman was gone. She turned her attention to Rosie, who hadn’t moved. “What was that about?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” Rosie stared out the door.
Nothing, my foot.
Charlotte finally came around the counter but now, Rosie was on the move, out of the shop and in the opposite direction Octavia took. Charlotte followed.
“Rosie?”
“Back soon. Need to think.”
There were tears in her words and Charlotte wanted to run after her. But customers were heading in and she stood for a moment, torn in two. Rosie needed time. Hands clenched, Charlotte went inside.
Charlotte somehow served customer after customer with a smile, although perhaps a bit forced. Her stomach churned every time her thoughts strayed to Octavia’s savage words. The woman had never been nice, not in her limited exposure, but the way she’d spoken to Rosie was disgusting.
“There you are, all ready for you to write in the card and put beneath the tree.” She handed over a gift-wrapped boxset of books to the last in a series of patient and polite customers.
Glenys came in and straight past the counter with a slight smile at Charlotte. Why was she being nice? Did she not know what had happened?
“How may I assist, Glenys?” With every ounce of civility she could muster, she went to help. “New book?”
“No, dear. Not for me. But I wanted to buy another for the donation box.”
“How generous to buy more. Do you have anything in mind?” Charlotte asked.
“Children’s books. Well, something for a little boy. Darcy’s little boy because I might ask it be given to him, if that is possible?” There was hesitance in her voice. “Without anyone knowing I gave it.”
“Of course. There are a few donations for him so I will ensure whatever you select will go straight to him. And anonymously if that’s what you really want.”
“Thank you. What would you recommend?”
A few minutes later, Glenys had paid and left. Still a bit puzzled by the need for secrecy and apparent friendliness, Charlotte quickly wrapped the book before the next rush.
Where was Rosie? It was more than an hour since she’d left, and her phone was here behind the counter so Charlotte couldn’t even call. Had she gone to the lookout? A shard of fear stabbed Charlotte’s heart. What if she’d fallen?
The shop had a ‘back soon’ sign and Charlotte reached for it. Customers could come back. Even if, according to Octavia, there would soon be none.
“No need, Charlie.” Rosie was back.
Relief replaced the fear. “Just wanted to see what the door looked like with this on it.”
“I’m sorry.”
; “Where you at the lookout?”
Rosie nodded as she parked the wheelchair behind the counter. “There’s something soothing about the falls. Puts things into perspective.”
“Agree. I’ve been there twice now and came away happier each time than I went.”
“Has it been busy?” Rosie asked.
“Yes. And some more donations for the giving box. I forgot to take the last five dollars out.”
“I’ll do it.” Rosie opened the register and removed a note. “Anyone we know?”
“Mm.”
“Oh, that good. Who?”
“Glenys.”
For the first time since arriving back, Rosie looked at Charlotte. The rims of her eyes were red and a bit swollen. Her skin was pale although she’d been out in the sun on a warm day. There was the slightest tremor in her hand as she transferred the money to the metal box.
“I see.”
Charlotte sank next to her. “Would you like to go home? I’m perfectly fine here and you need a chance to…deal with what happened.”
Rosie took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m better staying. The little break let me park Octavia’s behaviour for the moment and I’d rather be working. Thank you, darling.”
“Do you want to talk?”
“Not yet. And not here.”
“I’ll find us both some water and we can prepare for the next onslaught.”
As Charlotte stood, Rosie kept hold of her. “Charlotte. I fear I’ve involved you in problems not of your making. Just by association you’ve come under fire.”
“I have no time for judgemental people. If the Octavia’s and Marguerite’s of this world don’t like me, I’m not worried.”
“Even so, we can’t go through life with too many enemies.”
“Rosie, you’ve been so kind to me. Whatever is going on with them, whatever their problems are, we’ll deal with them. When you’re ready.”
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