by Eva Scott
His company is going to put me out of business. Nearly 160 years of family business will be lost to a big chain store and I’ll be the one who lost it. He is the most arrogant, infuriating man I have ever met and he brings out the absolute worst in me. I hope I never see him again.
GardenerGuy94 WED @ 4:36 PM
Short of driving up there and punching him on the nose, how can I help you?
GoldfieldsGirl WED @ 4:38 PM
You can’t, except by being there for me when I need to rant. Something you are good at BTW.
GardenerGuy94 WED @ 4:40 PM
Why, thank you. Do you think your new ventures will help keep you afloat?
GoldfieldsGirl WED @ 4:42 PM
Too early to tell but I’m hopeful. Can you believe he wanted to offer me money to close up shop and go away? As if!
GardenerGuy94 WED @ 4:45 PM
How dare he! I haven’t known you very long but I know you’re not the type to go down without a fight. Was it a lot of money?
GoldfieldsGirl WED @ 4:47 PM
I don’t know! I said no before he had a chance to tell me. Do you think I made a mistake?
GardenerGuy94 WED @ 4:50 PM
What does your heart tell you?
GoldfieldsGirl WED @ 4:52 PM
My heart tells me to keep fighting no matter what. My family had a dream and it’s been entrusted to me to keep it alive.
GardenerGuy94 WED @ 4:55 PM
If it’s worth anything, Ripley thinks you’ve made the right choice.
GoldfieldsGirl WED @ 4:56 PM
Tell Ripley thank you xxx
GardenerGuy94 WED @ 4:58 PM
And I think it’s time we met too. Are you free next Saturday for lunch?
Extract from The Goldfields Gazette, Friday 16 June 1917:
WONGILLY SACRIFICES ONE OF ITS OWN
Sad news has reached Wongilly of the loss of a brave local. Joseph ‘Joe’ Cappelli, proprietor of Cappelli’s Hardware & Supplies and a proud second-generation Italian Australian, was shot and killed at the Battle of Messines in Belgium on 7 June 1917.
Mr Cappelli enlisted in the Australian Army, keen to demonstrate his loyalty and to do his part in overthrowing the dark forces at work in Europe.
His sacrifice will not be forgotten by the people of Wongilly.
He is survived by his wife, son and two daughters who will continue to operate Cappelli’s Hardware in his honour.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The days had dragged by on the way to Saturday, each hour haunted by Ed. She couldn’t get him off her mind, so she tried to figure out why. Yes, he was good-looking to a ridiculous degree. Yes, there was chemistry between them. Yes, he was a very, very good kisser. All true.
Although what she kept coming back to had nothing to do with any of those things. What she liked best about Ed Carpenter was the way he sparred with her, quick and sharp. He made her use her mind in a way she hadn’t had to since Ben died. He woke her up and got her blood boiling in more ways than one. Even if he made her as mad as hell.
Being awake again was invigorating. Nothing more.
She had GardenerGuy94 to think about. So far, he’d never lied to her. He was always there for her in ways that mattered, and their deepening friendship had come to mean the world to her. That’s who she ought to be kissing.
And today might be the day.
GardenerGuy94 had given her a time and a place for them to meet, a little café in Bendigo not far from the Botanic Gardens called the Wayfarer’s Café. He said he stopped there occasionally on his travels and he thought she’d like it.
He also said he wanted their first meeting to be romantic, to have an element of mystery about it, so he’d keep his name to himself and she was to wear a flower in her hair so he’d know it was her.
It hadn’t occurred to her to be suspicious of the circumstances, although both Nonna and Joe made it clear they were not happy. They made her promise she’d text them the minute she arrived and at fifteen-minute intervals thereafter. Nonna had wanted her reassurances five minutes apart and Joe had talked her out of that. Thank goodness.
Annalisa had spent her days in the back shed cutting templates out of plywood to fulfill the orders for her doll-house kits as well as the orders for fully constructed doll houses. She had more requests than she could comfortably manage and, while that meant long days, it also gave her hope.
Nonna and Joe meanwhile had been taking care of the shop all week, Annalisa only having to reconcile the cash register and restock the items needing replenishment, not many by any account.
Her nights were then spent climbing a steep learning curve, getting to grips with DIY websites and social media platforms she’d never heard of before. There were so many that she wondered who had the spare time to be across them all. By the close of each day she had fallen, exhausted, into bed to sleep dreamlessly and wake before dawn to do it all over again.
Now Saturday had arrived. No head down designing, making and learning today. Today was meant to be about romance and dreams, a notion which had seemed lovely yesterday. What on earth had she been thinking.
She’d timed the trip so she’d arrive at the café fifteen minutes early.
The only flower she could find for her hair turned out to be glued onto a hairclip. Donning the clip had seemed like a fun thing to do the day she’d bought it at the chemist. Faced with wearing the gaudy pink flower in a busy café, Annalisa began to question that decision. The cheap, plastic flower now smacked of childishness.
She wanted GardenerGuy94 to see her as a sexy grown-up woman. She worried that being the kind of person who built doll houses and wore plastic flowers in her hair might count against her in that regard.
As she sat in her car, watching the front door of the café and trying to guess which man entering might be GardenerGuy94, she fiddled with the hairclip in her lap until the plastic yellow stamen fell out. She slid it into the defunct ashtray, grateful the flower looked all the better for the accident.
The dashboard clock told her twelve noon had arrived. Nerves buzzed through her, her veins their super highway. Her fingers shook slightly as she pinned the wretched flower in place, checking the effect in the rear-view mirror. The thing may not look chic but it could at least be straight. Satisfied, she took a long inhale. Now or never.
The chatter hit her with a blast as she opened the door to the café. The place was full. Maybe they should have made a reservation. Annalisa began wondering what she should do if there weren’t any tables free, but then the waitress found her a recently vacated one.
‘Come this way,’ she said, her black apron as spotless as her smile.
Annalisa followed the girl to a table in the corner. At least she had a clear view of the door from here.
‘Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?’ The waitress slid a menu onto the table.
‘I’d like a pot of mint tea please.’ Normally she’d order coffee only she figured she was jumpy enough.
‘Coming up.’ The waitress left her alone to read the menu and look up every time the café doorbell tinkled, like one of Pavlov’s dogs. On the sixth ring, she began to have sympathy for those poor beasts.
Her tea arrived. She poured it slowly, checked her watch, took a sip and tried to herd her mind away from the flock of dark thoughts darting about inside her head.
He was now twenty minutes late. She checked her messages for the third time. Nothing. What if he’d had an accident and was lying half-dead somewhere by the side of the road? She’d never know and there was nothing she could do about it. Twenty minutes late was tardy enough for a check-in.
GoldfieldsGirl SAT @ 12:22 PM
I’m here. Where are you?
Determined to give him the benefit of the doubt, born more from the desire to keep believing in him for as long as possible rather than any sense of fairness, Annalisa pulled out her dog-eared copy of the Australian Miniature Enthusiasts Association magazine, The Tiny Times. She turned the well-worn page
s while keeping one eye on the door.
Ed wondered if his car had a satellite tracker as Oliver called him the minute he pulled into the café’s car park. He could see Annalisa’s car. She’d be waiting for him, nervous as hell. Just like him.
He wiped his damp palms on his chinos and took a deep breath. To answer or not to answer, that was the question. Oliver would simply keep calling until he did. He could always turn off the phone and ignore him.
Sighing with resignation, Ed pressed answer and let his brother’s sharp-edged voice fill the car.
‘Where are you?’ No hello.
‘I’m in Bendigo.’ Ed tried to catch a glimpse of Annalisa through the café windows.
‘What the hell for? You should be out onsite.’
‘I have some business to attend to.’ Keep things formal. Keep your temper in check.
‘Clearly not Carpenter business. Are you involved in some kind of side hustle? I said to Rosie we can’t trust you to put family first.’
‘Jesus, Oliver. I’m getting some brunch and taking care of some personal business on a Saturday. How is that unreasonable?’
‘We need you back in Melbourne.’ Oliver ignored his question, a habit he had when he found himself in the wrong.
‘What for?’ Ed’s exasperation levels began to rise as his calm melted away.
‘Strategy meeting.’
‘When?’ It was the weekend, for chrissakes.
‘Be at Rosie’s for eight tomorrow morning.’
‘Oliver, it’s Sunday tomorrow. Traditionally a day of rest, remember?’ No way was he going to his sister’s house for a Sunday morning strategy meeting. The whole thing smelled of manipulation and control.
‘Rest? Isn’t every day a day of rest for you? You’re such a slacker, always were. About time you pulled your weight like the rest of us.’
‘Here’s the difference between us, Oliver. You live to work and I work to live.’ He would not budge an inch.
‘Yeah, yeah. You like to think you’re somehow superior with all your implied integrity and principles. The truth is, you’re no different from me and Rosie. Same blood in your veins and blood always tells.’
‘I am nothing like you,’ Ed said through gritted teeth.
‘Bullshit. You’re such a fake. All your talk about independence and your own business yet here you are taking our money without much of a problem. For years. You’re all talk and no action, Ed. You like to pretend you’re better than us, but you’re not. You’re worse. And do you know why?’
He didn’t know and he wasn’t interested in knowing. Ed had listened with his eyes screwed shut. It wasn’t the first time Oliver had chewed him out for his perceived lack of Carpenter character. The angle changed from time to time but the theme never did. He waited for the final punch to be delivered.
‘Because you’re not a real Carpenter. You’re a snot-nosed freeloader who …’
‘Okay, Oliver, I’m going to stop you there.’ Before I come down and throttle you. ‘I think we can both agree nothing useful is going to come of this conversation. Tell Rosie I’m unavailable for tomorrow’s little tete-a-tete. You’ll have to carry on without me. But that shouldn’t bother either of you because I’m not a real Carpenter anyway.’
He hung up the phone and switched it off. No matter how old they got, the conversation always reverted to one of childish spite and accusations, as if they were waiting for their dad to come storming in and break up the argument. The wounds, ancient and embedded, would not heal.
Ed’s anger, while chained down, snapped and snarled for release. The injustice, the bullying, the sheer unfairness of it all never failed to trigger him. Oliver’s accusation of fakeness rattled Ed, not because he agreed with him, but because he was well aware he was not his authentic self and that knowledge rubbed his soul raw. Oliver knew exactly which button to press.
Ed’s internal landscape was crowded with noise right when he most needed calm. The ancient jealousies and rivalries, unwelcome and unwanted, made him feel as if he’d had sandpaper for breakfast—the coarse-grained kind.
But no matter what he had to walk into the café and confess his sins to Annalisa, who would not be pleased to hear them. That was what he’d marked on his personal calendar for today. He rested his head back against the car seat and closed his eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat. Again. And again.
Today he was going to set the record straight, own his truth, apologise for the mess he’d made—one he’d made in good faith—and try to keep Annalisa in his life long enough for her to look past his faults and shortcomings. No pressure.
He’d gone for a jog this morning. Felt positive. Rehearsed what he wanted to say. Like an old school vinyl record, he’d had the needle right in the groove. Until Oliver called.
‘Okay,’ he said out loud. ‘What would Dad say? Clear your head and focus on the business at hand—or something along those lines. Oliver’s attitude is his problem. I can’t change it. I can’t make him like me when he’s been hard at hating me for nearly thirty years. I’ve got to walk in there and get the girl of my dreams. Close the deal.’ He hit the steering wheel with the heels of his hands. ‘Let’s do this.’
To be fair, Ed did not ordinarily subscribe to imagined pep talks given by his late parent. Had he sought advice from his dad for his current situation, he would have had his arse kicked for making poor choices, for letting his heart get in the way of his head.
Everything in his chest cavity from lungs to heart tightened as he walked to the café. He did a few more rounds of breathing, something to calm his anxiety. Focus, he needed focus.
Pushing open the café doors, his eyes went straight to Annalisa. She sat in the corner reading a magazine, a ridiculous plastic pink flower in her hair. He instantly regretted the suggestion. It was one he felt sure she’d hold against him later.
He took one last deep breath. ‘Here goes nothing.’
The bell tinkled and in walked a familiar figure.
Annalisa’s stomach dropped and she shrunk down in her seat, using her magazine as a shield. If she sat very still he might not notice her. The seconds ticked by before she risked peeking over the top to see where he’d gone.
‘Why, it’s Annalisa Cappelli of the famous Cappelli hardware dynasty. Of all the cafés in all the world, you’re in this one.’ Ed Carpenter stood before her, larger than life and nearly as handsome fully dressed as he was half-naked. A hot flush rushed along her neck at the memory.
She scrambled to sit up properly, aware she was on the back foot with him again. What was it with this guy? He managed to reduce her to ridiculousness every time. Flicking her hair back over her shoulders, she stuck her nose in the air. He would not intimidate her, not this time.
‘I’m waiting for a friend.’
‘Curious you should be so far from home and in this café.’
‘Why? It’s a free country. I can eat anywhere I like.’
‘Ah, there she is. Prickly Cappelli. I wondered when she’d turn up.’
‘I am not prickly.’ God, this man was infuriating.
Ed shrugged as if her opinion didn’t matter. ‘This is my favourite café for breakfast. They do a great eggs benny if you’re hungry.’
She shrugged as if she didn’t care what he did. ‘Good for you. Don’t you have some small businesses to plunder or something?’
‘That reminds me, I have your gumboots to return.’
‘Please keep them.’
‘Don’t think they’re my size. What are you reading there, The Tiny Times?’ Ed grinned and she knew he had something smart to say.
‘Go on then. Get it out of your system.’ She sighed and folded her arms.
‘What?’ He put on an innocent face.
‘You know what,’ she hissed. ‘Just say whatever burn your juvenile little brain has come up with and put us both out of our misery.’
‘Here you go.’ The cheerful waitress arrived carrying a steaming mug of coffee. She placed it on the table
opposite Annalisa. ‘Enjoy.’
‘What the?’ Annalisa sat bolt upright. ‘You are not drinking that here.’
‘Why not?’ Ed looked around at the other tables. ‘No seats anywhere else and I can’t exactly drink it standing up.’
‘Take it out to your car or something,’ she said, panic growing in her chest. She didn’t want GardenerGuy94 turning up to find Ed warming his seat. He was bound to get the wrong idea. She knew she would.
‘It’s in a mug.’ He looked at her incredulously as he pulled out the chair and sat down.
‘Get them to put it in a takeaway cup.’ She looked about, worried.
‘I will not. I will sit here and drink it while keeping you company.’ He took a sip, calmly, as if they were not in the middle of an argument.
‘What are you doing? You cannot be here. Leave immediately.’
‘The panicked tone in your voice tells me you’re waiting for a man.’ He placed the mug down and surveyed her, the sparkle in his eyes telling her that he was laughing at her. Probably because of the stupid flower she longed to take out of her hair. If she did, GardenerGuy94 wouldn’t be able to recognise her.
‘I take it he’s late.’
Ed’s assumption rankled her. ‘He’ll be here any moment.’
He nodded, as if he’d embraced the truth she refused to acknowledge. She hated him for his pity.
‘He will.’
‘Of course. I never implied he wouldn’t be coming.’ But she knew that was exactly what Ed Carpenter was thinking. ‘What if he is here now?’
‘Hurry up and finish your coffee and leave me alone.’
‘I’ll go when I’m finished here and not a minute before.’ He threw her own defiant words back at her.
Well, if he was waiting for her to kiss him, he’d be waiting until hell froze over.
‘You truly are the devil,’ she said.
‘Not that again,’ he groaned. ‘You Cappellis have to be the most self-righteous people I’ve ever met.’
‘Better than being selfish and inconsiderate.’
‘You didn’t seem to feel that way when I kissed you.’
