A Place to Remember

by Jenn J. McLeod

  Blair’s eyes narrowed. ‘A woman I met a few weeks back by the name of Ava Marchette.’

  ‘You met Mum?’ Nina would’ve remembered if Ava had mentioned John Tate had a son. Wouldn’t she?

  ‘Yes, she stayed here last month while Dad was painting her portrait. Why didn’t you tell me your mother was Ava Marchette?’

  Flabbergasted, Nina bristled. ‘Because I had no idea it was a requirement. Should I have presented a résumé before offering to get you out of a tight spot? And, for your information, I didn’t know my mother had come out to Ivy-May until a couple of days ago. As far as I knew she stayed in the motel, the one in town with the ridiculous name.’

  The sharpest meat cleaver in the world would not have cut the atmosphere between the pair.

  Blair spoke: ‘She was at the Moo-tel only for one night. The rest of the time she had a room in the lodge and she told me she ran a bakery. “Just a bakery,” she said, all very casual.’ Blair’s lips thinned into a smirk. ‘Seems omitting details is a Marchette family trait and that makes my mum right. We only learn what someone actually wants us to know about them.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’ Nina might have prickled at the slight, but she had to restrain herself. How could she go on the defensive when she’d misrepresented herself the day she’d arrived? ‘I most definitely was not deliberately hiding anything from you, Blair. Let me explain.’

  He leaned back against the stainless-steel workbench and crossed his ankles. ‘Go on, I’m listening.’

  ‘Mum and I did talk. She told me about the time she spent at Candlebark Creek thirty years ago, and about sitting for your dad at Ivy-May last month. By her account they got on quite well.’

  Blair remained rigid. ‘So you’re here to check out my father after all?’

  How did she answer that truthfully? She couldn’t, of course.

  ‘I admit, after talking to Mum, I was curious about him.’ Not a lie, she told herself. ‘I didn’t know you’d met her. She never mentioned your name.’ Also not a lie. ‘She came to visit the place and had your dad paint her portrait.’ No lie there either. Still, Nina was treading on dangerous ground. Keeping a secret was hard enough. Keeping someone else’s added a degree or two of difficulty. She could hardly tell Blair who Ava had been to his father. She’d also have to watch what she said to him in future, and the prospect of lying didn’t sit well with her. ‘Obviously my coming here was a bad idea, Blair. The first hour in the yards should’ve told me that much. I’ll leave.’ She gathered her handbag from the hook by the door, stopping briefly to look back. ‘I’m sorry. I never meant to cause any harm to anyone.’

  *

  Blair let her go, maybe because he was still raw from Veronica’s betrayal, which his mother had reminded him about only a few hours ago. Most likely he had too many other important things to think about, like his business, the one under Katie’s constant scrutiny. Hadn’t he also told his mother that not all women were the same? Then again, Nina had sounded genuinely sorry just now. But so had Veronica, who’d lied about the until-death-us-do-part bit, who’d used their son as a pawn, who’d insisted on a bloody kitchen renovation they couldn’t afford. But, wow, hadn’t Nina looked amazing in it earlier, shimmying at the sink, her hands up to her elbows in suds while humming and singing, throwing in a la-la-la to replace forgotten words. Veronica had only ever worried about her skin getting too much sun, or the dishwater ruining her nail polish. Nina’s unpretentious and joyful approach to cooking and plating food had outshone the shiniest appliance and nothing, not even the several soggy tea-towels he’d tossed at her as they’d tidied, had stopped her singing and smiling.

  She’d returned fire, ambushing Blair with a tea-towel when he came back to the kitchen carrying a handful of plates, and soon they were engaged in a duel, their giggles drowned by Country Women’s Association chatter in the next room.

  Blair was panting and laughing. ‘Okay, okay, you win. You’re way too quick for me.’

  ‘Yesssss!’ She’d done a mock victory lap in slow motion around the kitchen, stopping only when Blair tugged her to him, his hands cupping her elbows. He’d wanted to kiss her, but Nina had muttered something about the dishes and pushed herself away from him.

  Then you had to go and ruin it all, didn’t you, dickhead?

  *

  In her haste to get packed and into town before dark, Nina had knocked her make-up bag onto the bathroom tiles. Compacts, tubes and bottles spread themselves into every corner of the floor. After collecting what she could, mopping up the spilled moisturiser, and jettisoning anything broken into a plastic shopping bag, she double-checked the small zippered compartment for Conrad’s ring. The sooner she could offload the expensive bit of bling the better.

  After a final check, she hauled her overnight bag’s strap over her shoulder and yanked open the door to the cottage.

  ‘Blair!’

  ‘Hi there, Nina.’

  Seconds ticked by with Nina struggling for words. Maybe another apology was in order.

  Blair beat her to it. ‘I’m sorry, Nina. I’m hoping you might give me both thyme and some sage advice. It mint a lot to have your help. You were so grate and I didn’t mean to grill you. Can I come in? I have a peace offering.’ He brought his hand from behind his back. He was holding a bottle of red wine. ‘Please?’ With his other hand he reached out and slowly slipped the bag strap from her shoulder.

  Nina didn’t resist, stepping back to allow him inside. ‘What’s the advice you need, Blair?’

  ‘How not to be such a jerk,’ he replied. ‘It never clicked with me, even though I can see you in her.’ He was in the small kitchen, taking glasses from the cupboard and pouring wine. ‘That shortbread was the clincher. Never had ground lavender and sugar in food before Ava came. She made some and they were yum.’ Blair was trying to recover. He wanted her to stay. ‘The surprise connection kind of threw me and Mum had upset me on the telephone earlier. I really liked Ava and so did Dad. In fact…’

  ‘In fact what?’

  Blair’s Adam’s apple danced and a creeping red flush made its way to his cheeks. ‘Shame she had to cut her stay short,’ he said. ‘How’s your sister-in-law’s baby?’

  ‘My…?’ It was Nina’s turn to be surprised. Such familiarity not only added a new level of weird, it set off warning bells. ‘Ris and the baby are fine. Thanks for asking.’

  ‘Good-oh.’ Blair clinked her glass. ‘So, Ava is the Bark Hut Bakery?’

  ‘It’s a family business,’ Nina said. ‘I should fit in, but I don’t. To Tony I’m still his annoying sister and we have a franchise system so regimented that tweaking the shape, the size or the ingredients of a Bark Hut biscuit requires several memos, a directors’ meeting and a Morgan Gallup poll.’

  Blair’s brow creased. ‘Do you like anything about the work?’

  ‘When I can get out from behind the desk and visit a shop. Driving is therapeutic. Getting here, I had the windows down, the music loud. Maybe fewer boardroom meetings and more field trips are in order. After today, I know I need to laugh more. I really did enjoy myself.’ Today’s clamorous afternoon, with a bunch of ladies from the largest women’s organisation in the country, had been a wake-up call for her.

  ‘Have you ever thought about setting up a Bark Hut franchise in Candlebark Creek?’ he asked. ‘You could insist on those field trips.’

  ‘You’d like that, Blair?’

  ‘Well, I am a meat-pie man from way back,’ he said, straight-faced. ‘Another bakery in town would be great. If that’s what you meant.’

  ‘Ha!’ The wine was the perfect icebreaker.

  ‘Nina,’ Blair sounded serious again, ‘you’ve been terrific and I had to go and ruin everything by being a jerk. I was over-the-top before, but you have to understand that I’ve grown up protecting Dad from nosy people.’

  ‘I understand and it’s fine. You don’t need to apologise. I also over-reacted.’

  ‘Let’s drink to starting over.�
� He topped up her wine and raised his glass to hers.

  ‘If I drink this I won’t be able to drive home.’

  ‘Bummer.’ He winked. ‘Then you’ll have to leave tomorrow, after I’ve shouted you dinner. Charlie’s back on duty tonight and he does a mean steak.’

  ‘Okay then. To Charlie and his steak.’ Nina clinked her glass with his.

  ‘And to getting to know Nina Marchette.’

  ‘There’s not much to know,’ she said. ‘My full name is Angelina Marchette, daughter to Ava. As a baby, my twin brother couldn’t get his mouth around Angelina, so I became Nina. I share a flat in Noosa with my best friend and work colleague, Miriam. Without her I’d go crazy. I’m also seriously happy to have been useful here, like genuinely useful, and as going back to my routine in a stuffy office environment is not appealing, I want to thank you for stopping me. You’re the one with the interesting life. You’re lucky to have this place as your office. Every day must be so different.’

  ‘If we’re being honest, the grass isn’t always greener,’ Blair said. ‘Working a property of this type has its routine and boring bits, as well as the unexpected. The nice kind of unexpected, like random farmhands, as well as the not so nice. We’ve had our share of natural and man-made disasters.’

  ‘Like drought?’

  ‘Or the cyclones, the fires, the dingoes attacking the calves. Worst of all, every time we host a wedding I run the risk of coming face to face with the most fearsome threat of all. Ten times worse than wild dogs and bad weather is… the bridezilla!’

  ‘Ha!’

  ‘Speaking of jobs that have to be done,’ Blair glanced at his watch, ‘it’s late in the day, but I can’t put this off. I have to get going. See you on the deck for dinner at seven?’

  ‘Can’t I help with whatever the job is?’ Nina’s offer slipped out when it might have been more prudent first to check the nature of the task. It couldn’t be any worse than castrating bulls. Could it? Blair’s grin made her wonder.

  ‘An extra pair of hands comes in handy with just about every facet of this place, but you didn’t come here to work, remember? You’re here to see where your mother stayed.’

  ‘But you just said everyone pulls their weight on a property like this and I’m guessing that rule would have applied in Mum’s day. Wouldn’t she have done more than cook?’

  ‘If you insist, I won’t say no, Nina, but I’ll be paying you. And although not a lot of dough, I can manage a floury rate. It’s the yeast I can do.’

  ‘Okay, funny guy, what’s the job?’

  ‘I need to bring in a mob of heifers and their calves before dark.’

  While the idea of spending more time in Blair’s company, along with a mob of heifers, appealed, she had to remind herself of why she’d driven for six hours to get there. She wouldn’t bump into John Tate and get to know him if she was busy getting to know his son. Then again, maybe she’d pushed the boundaries too far already, and maybe Blair was turning out to be more interesting than his father.

  ‘On second thoughts, I might stretch my legs with a walk around the property,’ she told him.

  ‘Probably safer. See you on the deck for dinner tonight. But if you do change your mind and want the full farmstay experience, I’ll be in the stables where you parked your car that first day.’

  As Blair strode away, an echo of something Miriam had once said about Nina always choosing the safe option sounded in her head. Of course she’d denied the accusation vehemently at the time, telling her friend her choices were more to do with not wanting to over-complicate her life. But Miriam had been right about some things: Nina hadn’t formed any serious attachments and she did work for her brother rather than striking out herself. Now she was interested in solving her mother’s love life rather than her own.

  Chapter 45

  Hot Heifers

  Nina found Blair leaning over a red quad bike in the stables. ‘Have you finished that job already?’

  ‘Afraid not,’ he responded without so much as a glance in her direction, as if he’d expected she’d show up. ‘Tyre trouble. All fixed now.’

  ‘Well, good, because you know they say it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind?’

  ‘So I’ve heard.’

  ‘I’ve come all this way so I might as well have the full service stay. I mean, the Iron Pot Hill Retreat experience, as in the tour and the cattle. This is a farmstay and I can ride.’ She’d ridden a horse once, one of those trail ride birthday parties for a friend’s sixteenth where the horses barely walk until their noses are turned towards home. The half-dozen old nags she’d spotted roaming freely around the property seemed docile enough. A couple must have been so ancient Nina thought she’d be able to run faster than they could. ‘So, where are the horses?’ She scanned the dilapidated quarters. ‘This looks like stables.’

  ‘How are you with a throbbing thirty-five horse-power engine under the saddle?’ Blair yelled, over the sound of the air compressor. ‘We rarely use the horses for working cattle, these days.’ He replaced the tyre’s air valve cap. ‘I have a nice-looking blue bike ready to go and a helmet to match your eyes.’

  ‘And colour coordination is important to cows?’ She smiled, remembering two weeks on two wheels in Italy – a Vespa in bumper-to-bumper traffic in Florence. A quad bike? In an open paddock? Hat hair? ‘I won’t need a helmet, Blair.’

  ‘You will at Iron Pot Hill Farmstay Retreat. It’s safe and it’s meeting my public liability responsibilities. And you’ll need those sunglasses – the paddocks are pretty dry. Come on, I’ll get you ready.’

  Blair took her through each feature on the cobalt-blue quad bike, pointing out the ignition, thumb throttle and reverse.

  ‘Reverse?’ She looked around in exaggerated amusement. ‘You do a lot of reverse parking out this way?’

  ‘You’ll want to know reverse if you get stuck. Things like branches hidden in the long grass.’ He swung one leg over his quad bike, as if mounting a horse. ‘Follow me, stay close, and you’ll be fine,’ he yelled.

  Nina’s mounting was less showy. ‘Oh, I’ll follow you, all right,’ she muttered, while appreciating the toned thighs and butt squeezed into tight-fitting jeans.

  As Blair’s bike took off towards the private road she’d driven down yesterday, the dust quick to consume him, Nina’s fingers gripped the handlebars. She squinted, clamped her mouth shut, and the bike jerked forward until she got the feel of the throttle. Unfortunately, the late-afternoon glare and dust played havoc on her sunglasses and made following Blair difficult. Almost missing the left turn after the cattle grid, she jerked on the handlebars to change course and…

  No response. Nothing.

  The next thing she knew Blair was crouched beside her, his face gripped with concern. ‘Jeez, Nina, are you okay?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ And she was, except for a stinging graze on her forearm, which she ignored. ‘Not sure about the bike.’

  ‘The bike’s tough.’

  ‘No, I mean the steering on that bike is definitely broken. It wouldn’t respond. That’s how I ended up in the ditch. The sudden stop unbalanced me.’

  ‘Not broken,’ he said, extending a hand to lift Nina off the ground. ‘These machines don’t manoeuvre the same way as two wheels.’

  ‘You don’t say!’

  ‘I usually mention it to guests. Sorry, Nina, something or someone must have distracted me… in a good way.’

  Nina had started dusting herself off when she felt Blair’s hand doing the same on her bottom. ‘Hey, are you all right there?’

  ‘You’ve got some dirt on your, ah…’

  ‘Well, thanks, but this distraction can take care of her own derrière.’ She grinned. ‘Shall we get back in the saddle?’

  ‘Only if you’re sure.’

  ‘Bruised pride is all, and the urge to prove I can do it.’

  ‘Of course.’ He laughed and helped Nina settle back on the bike.

  They rode through two pad
docks, with Blair stopping to open and close gates to allow Nina to catch up. As her bike bounced over the bumpy pastures, she could not have been more grateful for a supportive bra and the small boobs genetics had provided. When they reached the mob that Blair had said numbered around eighty, he indicated she should stay to the rear.

  ‘Keep an eye on the herd from behind and keep pushing,’ he yelled over the roar of the engine.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘If I stay up front the girls mostly follow me.’

  ‘I bet they do.’

  He rode in a circle towards her, throttling down until the engine was idling. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

  ‘Um, I said I can’t hear you.’ Nina bit back her grin. ‘How come the bikes don’t scare the cattle?’

  ‘We gentle the herd when they’re young. Handling them and teaching them to accept bikes and dogs is important. Dad taught me how and his granddad taught him. Time-consuming, but it pays in the long run and makes rotating the mobs through the different paddocks easier and less stressful for everyone.’ He went on to tell her she’d need to keep an eye out for stragglers or for calves that might be lying down amid the long grasses. Then he revved the bike. ‘Let’s go, girls. Follow me, moooove on up, moooove up.’

  As Blair scooted ahead, Nina had to wonder how the ferociously bumpy ride over unbending tufts of grass, and at such speed, didn’t throw him off. When he raised himself on two legs, like a jockey riding a horse, she followed suit, finding the semi-standing position not only more comfortable but that the added height allowed her to spot one wayward heifer intent on straying. The small calf tucked under the side of its mother’s belly looked as if it might have been tiring, and while Nina felt for them both, the last thing she needed was for the calf to collapse. With Blair now a hundred metres ahead, her seventy kilos would never be enough to shift a calf that didn’t want to budge, especially with the mother’s stare warning her off.

  ‘Whoa there, Mama Cow, I come in peace. I also swear it’s been weeks since I enjoyed a good…’ She couldn’t bring herself to say the word steak. ‘Come on, girl, moooove up, moooove up,’ she called, imitating Blair as best she could. When the two rebellious animals stood their ground, four beautiful brown eyes staring back, Nina tried again, this time with a little more gusto in her command, a wild wave of both arms, and a few bursts of throttle. ‘Let’s go! Get up! Move on up! Moosh! Moosh!’ Mother and calf started to move and moo. ‘Oh, my gosh!’ She was actually doing it.