‘But we’re just friends,’ said Jaime, hoping she didn’t blush.
Amy gave her a look. ‘I know my brother. He wouldn’t bring you here to lunch if he didn’t think there was something in this.’
Jaime felt little sparks of pleasure dance under her skin. So he definitely really liked her then.
Amy sighed. ‘Men. Seriously sometimes they only think with one head, and it’s certainly not the top one. The Vincent-Prowse girls are beautiful and can reel the blokes in, but they have a problem with commitment. Tiff has a cousin, Prudence, who’s a right royal ass too. That lot are from up Burrindal way, thank heavens. More than one Vincent-Prowse mob in the district would make you want to top yourself. You’ve met Irene, haven’t you?’
‘I’ve met an Irene.’
‘Gold-rimmed glasses straight out the eighties? Big, bushy eyebrows? Bossy, sarcastic, condescending old biddy?’
Jaime nodded. ‘That sounds right.’
‘Watch out for her. She’s Tiffany’s aunt and she won’t be happy you’re in residence. She had big designs on my brother.’
Jaime was shocked. ‘Irene did?’
‘For Tiffany, silly. Irene nearly had a heart attack when she found out they’d split up. In fact, I think one of the two “S”s had to take her to the bush hospital. Probably Sharyn –’
‘With a “y” not an “o”,’ Jaime added.
Both women giggled.
‘So you’ve met Sharyn and Susan.’ Amy’s face was a picture of mischief.
Jaime groaned. ‘Have I ever. They made me cook five sponges, otherwise I’d have had to make Christmas decorations. And Sharyn totally gets off on sticking pins into polystyrene balls. I swear she was about to have an …’ Jaime paused. She’d only just met Amy. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the best form to mention the ‘o’ word. ‘She … she loved the idea.’
‘Sharyn’s Irene’s lackey – agrees to anything and everything Irene says and does. Susan’s a little more circumspect, but she’s still under Irene’s thumb.’
‘All I can say is, thank God for your brother’s ability to turn out a sponge. I’d have been completely stuffed without him.’
‘Stirling baked a cake for you?’ Amy sounded surprised.
‘Five of them actually.’ Jaime turned to reach for a spring roll from an appetiser plate behind her, and dunked it in sauce. She didn’t want Amy to see her flush.
But Amy, displaying an arched, perfectly waxed eyebrow, was waiting to pounce when she swung back. ‘He just kicked you out of Valerie’s kitchen?’
‘Um, no, not really. I was … watching.’ From the couch, with her eyes closed and her body in a supine position.
‘Interesting,’ said Amy, staring really hard at Jaime.
Did she have some dipping sauce on her nose? She passed a hand over her face, surreptitiously checked her fingers. No. Not a skerrick.
Amy shrugged and returned to her original topic. ‘Irene obviously thought Tiffany would stay with Stirling regardless of the distance. I don’t think she realises what university’s like – one big party. Stirling leads a quiet life, he’s happy in the bush. As I said, I think Tiff expects him to just wait for her. And I’m guessing Irene had it in her head that she was going to take up residence in Stirling’s cottage when he moved to the big house.’
Jaime was lost. The homestead belonged to Stirling’s aunt, didn’t it, Marion’s sister? ‘But what about Valerie and Simon?’
‘Whenever Stirling decides to tie the knot, they’ll move out. Valerie’s not too happy about it, mind you – she loves the old place – but that was the deal with Mum and Dad. I think she and Simon will build a cottage further up the river. More modern, smaller. That big old house takes a lot to heat and Simon hates chopping wood.’
Jaime shook her head slowly. ‘So let me get this right. Stirling and Tiffany were supposed to marry and live at Polly’s Plains in the house I’m staying in. Valerie and Simon were to move out, and Irene was to move into Stirling’s cottage, yes?’
‘Apparently so. Despite all that glorious blonde hair, you’re quick.’
Jaime shot Amy a look. Was she being sarcastic?
‘Then again, Irene’s dreams could be a figment of my very vivid imagination,’ Amy went on. ‘I’m just a stay-at-home mum with two kids who does a bit of sewing to keep myself entertained. Staring at four walls all day can get you imagining the wildest stories.’
She had a weird expression on her face, like there was some kind of subtext and Jaime was supposed to be getting it. Instead, all she could think of was where on earth was Amy going with this conversation?
Amy’s next sentence answered that question. ‘I love my brother, and Tiffany broke his heart. I don’t want to see him get hurt again.’
‘There’s no fear of that from me, I know what hurt feels like. Anyway, I’m only here for another seven weeks,’ Jaime said, hoping to reassure her.
‘I know. That’s what I’m talking about.’
‘Is my wife being mean to you, Jaime?’ said a man in a soft cotton shirt and board shorts. He threw an arm around Amy’s shoulders, his hand landing somewhere in the vicinity of her right breast.
Amy giggled and dodged sideways. ‘Keep those hands under control, Bert Carter. I’m just telling Jaime about the Vincent-Prowses.’
‘And stirring her too, by the guilty look on your face.’
‘Well, maybe a little,’ said Amy, smiling at Jaime. ‘But she’s a good egg. She can take it. Not like someone else we know.’
‘Ha,’ scoffed her husband. ‘You mean Tiffany the Tosser.’
Jaime choked on her drink and Amy gently slapped her on the back. ‘Look what you’ve done, Bert. Where’s Stirling? He needs to come and save his date.’
‘Gone to find Robin so he can introduce her to him.’
‘Well, you can get on back to that barbecue and finish cooking lunch,’ said Amy. ‘We’re hungry.’
‘That’s what I’m here to tell you.’ He performed an elaborate bow. ‘Dinner is served, my ladies.’ He turned to a still coughing Jaime, and asked, ‘Would you care for another drink?’
She could only nod vigorously.
‘I’ll go find Stirling and Robin and then I’ll get it for you,’ he said, and took off around the corner of the house.
‘C’mon,’ said Amy, taking Jaime’s arm. ‘We may as well follow. Whenever Stirling and Dad get together there’s usually something interesting happening.’
Something interesting, alright, thought a startled Jaime. Stirling stood in a small paddock with a drinking straw in his mouth. A man – Jaime assumed he was Stirling’s father, Robin – was lining him up with a long stock whip. Two little girls sat on an old tank stand watching the action, with Marion standing beside them.
Amy called out, ‘Dad, this is Jaime.’
Robin turned and, with old-fashioned courtesy, touched his battered hat in acknowledgement, but Jaime could see his mind was more on the job at hand.
Stirling’s mother was wringing her hands as she called to her husband, ‘Robin McEvoy, if you so much as harm a hair on that boy’s head, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.’
Jaime couldn’t help but smile. Stirling was six foot three at least. More bear than cub.
But then the smile dropped from her face as she realised Robin McEvoy intended to crack that very long length of leather whip right next to his son’s mouth. The very mouth that, half an hour before, had kissed her until she melted.
‘Surely not,’ she muttered.
‘Oh yes,’ said Amy, standing beside her. ‘It’s their favourite party trick. That and a few other crazy things.’
Jaime didn’t want to know about anything crazier than this. ‘Is your father … well, you know …’
‘All with it?’ suggested Amy.
Jaime felt her cheeks glow with heat. ‘Well, yes.’
‘Most of the time, but Mum reckons he’s showing signs of early dementia. We just think he’s bored witless. I try to
keep him busy and out of Mum’s hair, and the Men’s Shed stuff helps too, but it’s difficult.’ She sighed. ‘Once a farmer, always a farmer. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word retired. Stirling really could do with him back up on the property to help with odd jobs, but while Dad secretly wants to be up there, he respects that Stirling needs to run the place himself. He doesn’t need Dad looking over his shoulder telling him what to do. Although, I don’t think Stirling even realises any of that. It’s a tricky situation.’
‘Are you ready?’ called Robin McEvoy.
Stirling nodded, which caused his father to yell, ‘Well, keep your head still, you big oaf!’
Stirling rolled his eyes, and Jaime erupted into giggles. The two little girls were laughing too, but also paying rapt attention to what was about to occur. Stirling’s mother had covered her eyes with her hands and appeared to be praying.
Bert yelled at Stirling, ‘Head still, arms straight, man up and be brave.’
Man up? Be brave? Jaime could see murder in Stirling’s eyes.
Robin uncoiled the whip and wound his arm up to crack it. The action reminded Jaime of a snake poised to strike. She slapped her own hands over her eyes. She couldn’t look, she just couldn’t … But at the last minute, she peeked through her fingers.
The whip curled through the air and the leather thong went CRACK!
Stirling didn’t even flinch.
For a nanosecond, the whip seemed to hover over the straw protruding from Stirling’s mouth, and then it was gone. Snapped like a thin twig by a sharp saw.
The girls on the tank stand erupted into shouts of joy, while Jaime blinked with shock and relief that Stirling’s handsome face was still in one piece.
The minute Robin’s whip had done its job, Stirling turned and ran towards Jaime. Well, she thought he was running towards her – to hug her, kiss her perhaps – and she instinctively took half a step forward. Until she realised he wasn’t coming for her at all. He was coming for Bert.
‘No, you don’t, you big A-hole!’ Stirling said with a growl, barrelling into his brother-in-law as he turned to flee. ‘I’ll give you “Man up and be brave”! I didn’t see you volunteering to take my place.’
‘But it’s your party trick!’
Jaime was surprised Bert could speak. Stirling had him pinned on the ground, blocking his efforts to get away.
Amy was laughing so hard she was crying. ‘C’mon, big brother, play nice. Better still, play with Jaime instead. I’m sure she’d appreciate being pinned like that.’
But Stirling now had Bert by the waist and was dragging him towards a rather large dam.
‘Oh Lordy, here we go.’ Marion had appeared at Jaime’s side. ‘Every Boxing Day barbecue someone always ends up wet.’
‘Go, Uncle Stirling!’ yelled a little voice. It was the older of the two nieces – Eliza, Jaime thought, remembering the Santa stamps. ‘Dunk him in! He deserves it.’
‘Yeah,’ yelled her sister. ‘He threw me in last time.’
‘That would’ve been the Melbourne Cup barbecue,’ said Marion. ‘It was a little cooler then too.’
Everyone seemed to be taking a rain check on lunch, as Bert, followed by Stirling, then Eliza and Katie, landed in the dam. Robin lolled on the bank, presiding over an esky filled with beer and lemonade. Jaime sat with Marion and Amy on a rug in the shade of a nearby red gum, chatting.
That was until Stirling rose out of the muddy, ochre-coloured water in a sexy rendition of Colin Firth in Pride and Prejudice. He looked downright delicious, Jaime thought, as he peeled off his shirt and jogged over to her. Rivulets of water ran down his tanned, naked chest, and little droplets caught on a smattering of sexy chest hair.
Sinews and muscles clenched and stretched as he scooped her off the rug and ran with her down to the water.
‘You’ll ruin my hair!’ she said, giggling.
He grinned in response. Gave a toss of that russet head, a wicked glance of intent in his flinty eyes. ‘Do you mind so much?’
Mind? When he looked at her like that? She laughed and he ran on.
‘It’s freezing!’ she yelled as they hit the water.
‘I’ll soon warm you up,’ he said, keeping his arms encircled around her body.
‘Ooooo, look, girls! Uncle Stirling’s got a girlfriend,’ called Amy.
‘No kidding, sunshine?’ said Bert as he floated belly up. ‘She’s always been a bit slow on the uptake.’
‘I heard that, Bert Carter!’ yelled Amy.
Jaime sighed and laid her head against Stirling’s broad shoulder. This was one lucky family. So happy, playful and loving. Not like hers. It’d been lonely growing up an only child.
A whisper caught at her ear. ‘You okay, Princess?’
His breath tickled her skin, and his stubble titillated the tiny nerve endings along her neck. His hands felt like they were covering her whole body.
Every part of her was screaming, ‘Yes, yes, YES!’
‘Time for lunch!’ called Marion from the bank.
Bugger, Jaime thought, as Stirling unwrapped his arms from around her.
Chapter 18
‘So, what’s Amy told you about her life?’ Stirling asked Jaime. ‘I’m guessing that she works from home and makes baby blankets?’
Jaime nodded.
‘And Bert’s a part-time accountant who needs to get another job?’
At Jaime’s second nod, Amy started laughing.
They were all sitting back from the table, relaxing after the most delicious lunch. Amy sat next to Bert on Jaime’s left, with Stirling on Jaime’s right. Eliza, Katie and Marion lounged opposite them, with Robin at the head of the table. The last seat was occupied by Robin’s dog, an Australian shepherd, Jaime’d been told. A gorgeous-looking mutt, he never left his master’s side. Except when he decided to chase a rabbit, which he’d been doing earlier when Robin had been unfurling his whip. Jaime didn’t blame him.
Stirling shook his head at his sister. ‘Shame on you, Amy Carter.’ He turned back to Jaime. ‘What she didn’t mention is that she runs a company making baby blankets and all manner of other things using all-Australian wool and cotton, employs half the town’s women and turns over a few million a year.’ The pride in his voice was obvious.
‘Oh,’ said Jaime. And she’d been feeling sorry for Amy being stuck within four walls with two kids in a tiny town with nowhere to go. Interest piqued, she added, ‘How did all that start?’
Amy leant forward in her chair. ‘The older ladies were teaching the younger mums how to knit down at the cafe in town. You know, the one on the corner?’ At Jaime’s blank look, Amy waved her hand. ‘Doesn’t matter. So there they all were, knitting, knitting, knitting, and pretty soon everyone in town had more than enough beanies, socks and jumpers. Small towns aren’t exactly abuzz with employment opportunities, especially for young mums and older women on a pension. Anyway, I was bored at home with two kids and had started knitting too. Plus Eliza was allergic to synthetics and I had trouble finding clothes and blankets made from pure materials. So I started by sourcing locally spun wool and then branched out into cotton.’ Her hands drew pictures in the air and Jaime could feel her enthusiasm. The business was obviously a great passion.
‘And built a company that produces Australian-made products using homegrown materials,’ finished Stirling. ‘Some of the designs are classic, others are really funky. And did she also tell you that Bert runs the company, and works part-time at his accountancy firm in Narree just so he can escape her devious clutches?’
‘That’s so not true,’ said Bert, sliding his arm across his wife’s shoulders. ‘Is it, babe?’
‘I’ll give you babe,’ said Amy, smacking his arm away. She softened it with a pat to his knee. ‘I’m sure the girls need a hand to bring in the sweets.’
‘Sweets?’ Eliza and Katie cried in unison. They were cute kids. Both had Bert’s honey-blond hair but Eliza had her father’s brown eyes, and Katie, her mother’s blue.
‘Sweets!’ said Bert, and the three of them were gone from the table before Jaime could blink.
Amy gave a self-satisfied smirk. ‘I knew that’d get him.’
Jaime took a really good look at her. She was like a feminine, petite version of her brother. The same intelligent eyes, the same russet hair – although longer – and the same sassy sense of humour. She wondered if Amy turned into Marble Woman when she was annoyed. Somehow, looking at the laughter lines around her eyes, she doubted it. So where did Stirling’s stoic, taciturn demeanour come from?
She found the answer to that question when she peered up to the head of the table, where Robin McEvoy was surreptitiously feeding scraps of steak to his faithful mutt. Robin had barely said a word over lunch, beyond ‘Would you mind passing the salt, lass?’, preferring to sit quietly and mind his own business. Although, Jaime’d seen that he was taking in every single thing that was being said and done. Quiet waters ran deep. Very deep in this case, Jaime suspected. There had to be something special to attract a well-educated, sociable woman like Marion, who Jaime had worked out was both a pharmacist and grief counsellor.
The man in question pushed his chair back from the table, stood and raised his glass. The dog jumped up to stand beside his master.
‘Here we go,’ muttered Amy, getting to her feet too.
Stirling grabbed Jaime under her elbow and hoisted her to a standing position. Marion followed. The sweets-carriers were just entering the dining room, and halted in their tracks.
Robin cleared his throat. ‘I’d like to propose a Christmas toast to us McEvoys. That’s you too, Tuff.’ He nodded to his dog and it seemed to nod back. ‘Here’s to another successful year for the McEvoy & Carter Corporation …’
McEvoy & Carter? Holy crap! They were huge. Jaime’s PR firm had put in a tender for their publicity account not long before she got retrenched.
‘… another couple of overseas competitors thwarted, thanks to Bert. More local and international contracts in hand, thanks to Amy. And the girls here brought home excellent school reports. I particularly liked their results in the Pet Parade Day with young Tuff here.’ Robin leant down and patted his dog, then stood straight again. ‘I’d also like to welcome our visitor, Jaime. I hope you enjoy your time with us.’
Rose River Page 13
