Food for Love

by C. Fonseca

  Movement on the upper level caught her attention, and a small child appeared on the sun deck.

  “That’s not Grandpa riding Dora. Who is it, Gran?” The piercing high-pitched tones of the child’s voice drifted down. “Look, Grandpa has a bicycle.”

  “Hello, my little pumpkin.” Scott placed Jess’s bicycle against a low stone wall, then secured Dora to a post. He turned to Jess. “Come on, then. I’d better introduce you to the family. Then you can get cleaned up.”

  He strode ahead, mounting the stairs two at a time, and Jess followed him up to the landing.

  The little girl, clothed only in bright-pink pyjama bottoms, scampered towards Scott.

  A woman appeared with a matching pyjama top in her hand. “Ru, come back here. Your mum will be home soon. Let’s get you dressed. What are you looking at?” she exclaimed, breathlessly. “Well, I’ll be…”

  “Hello, love,” Scott greeted.

  “Grandpa, Grandpa,” Ru repeated, holding out her hands to Scott. She bounced up and down, and the soles of her red slippers tapped on the floorboards.

  He scooped his granddaughter into his arms and held her against his chest.

  “And why is my husband grinning like an old fool?” the woman asked, placing one hand on her hip.

  Jess stepped around Scott. There was no way she could hide her mud-streaked clothes and boots, so she didn’t try.

  “Jessica, this is my wife, Helen. And this little devil is our granddaughter, Ru.” He ruffled the girl’s hair. “Helen, may I introduce Jessica Harris.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Jessica, but what on earth happened to you?”

  “Unfortunately, I took a wrong turn, and my car is stuck on the stock road,” Jess said. “I am fortunate that Scott and Dora arrived to save me.”

  Helen turned to her husband. “Take Jack with you when you pull it out. I saw him down in the orchard.”

  “I’m on to it, Helen.”

  Jess studied the couple as he leaned forward to kiss Helen’s cheek. She was her husband’s complete opposite. While he was broad shouldered and rugged, her features were petite and fine boned. Her shoulder length, ash-blonde hair, flecked with grey, framed her face. She smiled and held out her hand to Jess.

  “Welcome.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs McAllister.” Jess took Helen’s hand in a firm handshake and let it go.

  “It’s Helen, please.”

  “Thank you, Helen.” Jess met her direct gaze.

  “Oh my, you look so much like your brother.” Helen pulled Jessica into a firm embrace. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Jess froze, uncomfortable with the sudden physical contact. After a few seconds, she slowly extricated herself from Helen’s arms and stepped back.

  “Who are you?” asked Ru in a tiny voice as she leaned out of her grandfather’s arms and tugged at Jess’s sleeve.

  Jess gazed into a pair of sparkling caramel-brown eyes. “Hello. I’m Jess.”

  “And I am Ru McAllister. How old are you?”

  “Ru, mind your manners.” Helen shook her head.

  Scott lowered his granddaughter to the ground. “Listen to your gran, pumpkin.”

  Helen coaxed the bright pyjama top over Ru’s unruly head of curls. “Jessica is our guest. You know better.”

  Ru pointed to Jess’s clothes. “But Gran, look, she’s covered in mud. When I get dirty, you make me have a bath. Let’s help her take a bath,” she said in a very matter-of-fact tone.

  Scott snorted. “On that note, Helen, I’ll leave you to sort this. I’ll take Dora to the stables. We have a car to rescue.” He cleared his throat. “Jessica, I leave you in good hands. The girls can show you around. We’ll be about an hour. I’ll lock your bike safely in the garage.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’ve caused a lot of trouble.” Jess sighed. What a way to arrive—not exactly a good first impression.

  “It’s no trouble at all,” he said.

  “I’ll find you some clothes to change into.” Helen smiled at Jess. “You’re taller than Lili, but I’m sure there’s something in her wardrobe that will fit you.”

  “Come on, Jess.” Ru tugged on her hand. “I’ll show you to your room. I helped Gran make the bed, and we put clean towels in your bathroom and everything. Mama said you were staying in the guest room. Her room and mine are way over on the other side of the house.” She waved her arms above her head. “Will she mind if Jess wears her clothes?” Ru asked her grandmother.

  “Darling, this is Jessica,” Helen corrected.

  “Jess is fine. In fact, I prefer Jess.” She looked down at Ru, who held her hand tightly as they stood at the entrance of the house. She bent to remove her soiled boots with one hand.

  “Jess,” Ru said with a mischievous grin that accentuated her cute dimples. “You can borrow Mama’s clothes.”

  “Thank you, Ru.”

  Just inside the entranceway, Helen stopped and said, “The house is shaped like a boomerang. It’s easy to make your way around.” They moved forward into what Jess guessed was the sitting room, with a corner freestanding wood stove and dark-polished floors covered with a geometric rug in shades of grey. “It’s divided into three spaces. The living areas, home office and kitchen are in the centre, with the master suite and Ru’s bedroom at one end. The guest rooms are at the other end.”

  Floor-to-ceiling windows showed a rear sundeck that overlooked rows of distant grapevines and glimpses of the ocean beyond. Jess lingered a moment to take in the view. “This is lovely,” she murmured.

  “Your room is right through here.”

  She followed Helen and Ru into a generously sized bedroom which enjoyed the same outlook and shared balcony.

  Ru released Jess’s hand and threw herself onto the large bed, bouncing dangerously close to the edge.

  “Miss McAllister, off immediately,” said Helen, firmly. She scooped Ru into her arms and placed her onto the wooden floor. “The bathroom is through here.” Helen rolled open the barn-like door, revealing a modern bathroom and a soaking tub.

  “Thank you.” Jess stifled a yawn, but Helen caught it.

  “We’ll leave you in peace and let you clean up.”

  Jess glanced at her watch. Five thirty-five. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Guess I’m still on London time. It will be great to have a quick bath, if you don’t mind?” This time she didn’t try to hide her yawn.

  “You must be exhausted. Please make yourself at home. There’s a dressing gown in the wardrobe. I’ll find you something to wear and leave it on the bed.” As if sensing Jess’s discomfort, Helen added, “There’s no one else here. Relax and enjoy your bath. When you finish, make your way to the kitchen. I’ll have a snack ready.”

  The announcement was a relief; she’d have space to herself at last. Ru’s presence—and everyone making a fuss over her—was overwhelming.

  Ru also yawned, and Helen took her hand. “Come on, sweetie, let’s get dinner and then it’s your bedtime.”

  “Bye, Jess.” Ru smiled tiredly and waved, allowing herself to be towed through the doorway.

  Jess sighed as the door clicked behind Helen and Ru. She welcomed the thought of a hot bath and twisted her hair into a loose knot.

  She reached into the wardrobe for the white towelling robe and held it to her face. Helen had thought of everything. It was thick and soft, and promised comfort after a couple of wearying days.

  Fifteen minutes later, she rested back against the curved porcelain tub and surveyed the room. Someone had good taste. It was eclectically modern—uncluttered, stylish. Jess hadn’t known what to expect when she’d first heard the word farm, but she found herself pleasantly surprised. She bent her knees up and submerged herself into the gloriously hot water. Her aches and pains eased as a pleasant tiredness enveloped her.

/>   The information she’d foraged on Lillian McAllister before leaving London had given her a surfeit of facts about the chef’s professional life but very little about her personal life. Given that Lillian—Lili, apparently—had ended up back home, Jess wondered why she had served her apprenticeship in Sydney, not Melbourne. Perhaps it made sense because she’d finished at the top of her class from a Sydney culinary institute.

  The online photo she’d seen of a beaming Ben and Lillian from years ago, posing together for an article about a programme pairing experienced chefs with female apprentices, had clutched at Jess’s heart. Ben had looked so happy. Lillian had too. And no wonder: she was primed to be head chef in a prestigious Sydney waterfront restaurant—so why leave it all? When Jess had been doing her research on Lillian, the fact that a year or so later Ailie had opened its doors on the Bellarine Peninsula had seemed an odd little mystery.

  But it seemed obvious to Jess now what had brought Lillian home. She’d fallen pregnant. Ru’s mellow-brown skin and dark, curly hair set her apart from her fair-skinned mother and grandparents. Jess’s mind flashed back to the online photograph of Lili and Ben. Was it possible that they had been a couple once, and Ru was Ben’s child? She shook her head. No way.

  He would have told her, three years ago when he’d made that surprise appearance after her race in Spain. She recalled how she’d lost the race, was in a grumpy mood, and made little time for him. But despite her behaviour, surely he would have told her if he’d become a father.

  The hot bath made her drowsy, and she could no longer focus on any particular thought. She flicked the tap, adding more hot water to the tub. The sun was setting, the sky turning pink. She gazed dreamily out the window. The clouds, broad on the bottom and fluffy on top, were outlined with silver.

  When the water started to cool again, Jess pulled the bath plug and reached for her towel. She was incredibly tempted to slip between the sheets of the large, comfortable-looking bed, but that would be impolite. Maybe she could rest for ten or fifteen minutes—just a short nap on top of the bedclothes. Jess fell backwards on the quilt and closed her eyes. “Hmm, that feels so good,” she said aloud.

  A while later, Jess woke on the bed, dressed in a bath robe with no memory of how that had happened. She glanced around, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings.

  Oh, I’m at the farm. She yawned and stretched, thankful the sleep had alleviated the stiffness in her shoulders and lower back. Helen had invited her to the kitchen for a snack. Damn, how long had she been asleep? She snatched the loose drawstring pants and black T-shirt that Helen had left on the bed and dressed quickly. Jess shook out her tangled bed hair and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red and edged by shadows despite the long soak and nap. She steadied the slight tremor in her hand. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired,” she murmured to herself.

  The borrowed top, emblazoned on the front with bold white text—Guess my super power—fit tight across her shoulders and everywhere else. She looked in the mirror to read the back of the T-shirt. Yes, CHEF. Jess raised her eyebrows. The sooner she got into her own clothes the better.

  If she had a choice, she wouldn’t leave the room until tomorrow. After a full night in that heavenly bed, she would be much more prepared to face—whatever. But she did want her luggage; she’d have to go and find it.

  Jess left the safety of her room and stopped at the end of the hallway to gaze through the large window. The sun dipped behind the horizon, and a hint of sea mist had settled over the treeline, amongst the neat rows of vines that surrounded the McAllister property. There might be time to sample the local wine during her stay. Jess had been amazed by at least half a dozen signs for wineries along the highway between Geelong and the farm.

  The sky was painted a dusky blue and streaked with pink and violet. Quite different from a week ago when she’d watched the dipping orange sun mirrored in London’s shimmering city buildings from her flat’s terrace. Jess sighed and reluctantly made her way towards the kitchen where an increasingly loud and discordant metallic rapping echoed down the hallway. What on earth?

  A woman stood at the stove, facing away from Jess. Large over-ear headphones perched atop her cropped blondish hair. This must be Lillian. Dressed in checked cotton trousers, charcoal singlet, and bare feet, she moved to music only she could hear.

  Blame it on her drowsiness, or just the gentle sway of the body in front of her—Jess stood mesmerised. Lillian held a long-handled spoon in one hand and a metal whisk in the other, and used the utensils like a pair of drumsticks, beating out a rhythm on a group of pots and the stainless-steel benchtop. She stopped her drumming abruptly and turned a half circle to face Jess.

  “Oops—” The utensils clattered to the floor.

  “Sorry.” Lili tugged the headphones off her head and placed them on the kitchen bench. She stared at the stranger who was yet familiar, thanks to her previous Googling. “Jessica?”

  “Lillian?”

  “Lili. I prefer Lili.”

  “Okay. And I prefer Jess,” she said.

  Jess stared at Lili, her eyes dark and broody. Her arms were crossed tightly in front of her chest. The borrowed T-shirt was stretched across Jess’s shoulders, and the cotton drawstring pants came to just above her muscled calves. The tabloids didn’t do her justice. She was even more beautiful in real life.

  “Sorry I scared you.” Jess lowered her gaze, then picked the fallen utensils up off the floor and extended them helplessly toward Lili. “Where do I—”

  “Here, let me.” Lili grabbed the utensils—perhaps more aggressively than she’d intended—and threw them in the sink, where they clattered loudly.

  “I did call out,” Jess said, after the silence between them had obviously become too much. “I wasn’t sure if Helen was still here.” She tilted her head to one side, then gestured to her clothes. “Not exactly my size. I hope you don’t mind? Your mother was kind enough to lend me something to wear.”

  Jess seemed to be struggling either with tiredness or perhaps embarrassment. “I’m Ben’s sister,” she said unnecessarily, then turned red. “Of course, you already know that.”

  God, she did look like Ben. Lili stared, unable to think of what to say. Jess had the same lustrous dark-brown hair, large, expressive eyes, and high cheekbones. She pinched the bridge of her nose in that familiar nervous habit, just like her brother. But dressed in Lili’s clothes, with a bewildered look on her face, Jess appeared to have none of Ben’s cheerful, carefree disposition.

  Lili took a slow breath. “You have my deepest sympathy, Jess. I am so sorry,” she said. “If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.” She ran some water over the utensils in the sink. “I should apologise. I didn’t hear you come into the kitchen. I use headphones so I don’t disturb Ru.”

  “No problem. Do you know where my luggage would be?”

  “Yes. Dad left your things by the front door.” Lili pointed to the leather suitcase, matching carry-on, and two duty-free bags. “Would you like a hand?”

  “No, thank you. What about my bicycle and car? I didn’t get a chance to ask where they’d been parked.”

  “Dad’s locked them both in the garage, safe and sound.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you sure I can’t help you with your bags?”

  Jess shook her head. “I’ll manage.”

  “Okay then.” Lili hesitated. The woman looked ready to drop, but if she didn’t want her help, she wouldn’t push. “You must be hungry. Can I get you something? I’ve made some vegetarian laksa, I was about to serve—” Lili lifted another bowl from the shelf.

  “I’m not hungry. After a decent night’s sleep, I may feel more human.”

  “How about something to drink?” Lili offered. “A local apple cider or glass of wine?”

  Jess stifled a yawn and muttered, “Goodnight, Lillia
n…Lili. I’m beat. Can we talk in the morning?” She moved towards her pile of luggage. “It’s been a long day. If you don’t mind, I’ll head back to bed.”

  Lili nodded. “You’ll be able to hear the ocean if you leave the window open. It may help you sleep.”

  “I do hope so. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, see you in the morning,” she said, watching Jess skilfully juggle the numerous bags under both arms and walk towards her room.

  Lili sipped her drink. Its fresh apple sweetness didn’t taste right after her brief encounter with taciturn Jess. Guess I could have handled that a little bit better. She does hold control over your financial future, Lili. She set aside the bottle and reached for her bowl of soup. Maybe she should have coaxed her more into sharing a meal. She decided to leave a note on the kitchen table telling Jess to help herself to fresh fruit, biscuits, or anything in the fridge.

  It wasn’t much, but it was all Lili could think to do right now to reach out to her stand-offish and reticent houseguest. If Jessica Harris was like this when they’d only just met, what was she going to be like when it came time to sort out their awkward financial situation?

  Chapter 4

  The faint roar of the ocean and rustling wind in the trees had lulled Jess to sleep last night. She’d managed a few good hours of undisturbed rest. Stretching lazily, she watched sunbeams dance along the white bedroom walls—like musical notes across a staff. Jess rolled across the sun-warmed mattress and reached for her phone on the bedside table. Six forty-five. She threw aside the duvet, swung her legs off the bed, and pulled the white T-shirt down over her well-worn grey pyjama shorts.

  Eager to get her bearings, she pushed open the door and stepped outside onto the deck. The sky was a painter’s canvas. Wispy silver clouds with ribbons of fading oranges and reds hung over the property that stretched out below her with clusters of trees forming a surprisingly verdant foreground to the distant bay view. She breathed in the sweet, damp scent of eucalyptus gums and savoured the fragrance of slightly sulphuric, briny sea air. Although Jess had lived in the countryside as a child, it had been miles from the ocean.