by Cate Kendall
The women laughed, and Jess stepped away from Genevieve to splash her face with water at the sink. ‘Coming, Dad,’ she called. ‘Thanks, Gen.’
‘Merry Christmas, darling. I’m here whenever you need me.’ Genevieve checked her lips in the mirror once more, spritzed on some Chanel No. 5 and then lightly patted Jess’s shoulder as she left the room.
Jess stood enjoying the swirl of warmth she felt inside; it felt good, really good, and it reminded her of something: this was how it felt to be mothered. She’d forgotten how wonderful it was. She’d never seen Gen as the maternal type, but suddenly she saw a whole new possibility for their relationship. The thought made her smile.
19
Jessica was struggling to breathe. As she waited in the assistant’s office at Still Life, she sat on her hands and tried to focus on just moving air in and out of her lungs.
At least she was in a beautiful environment, and that always helped her relax. She tucked her legs under the chair to stop her knees from shaking and surveyed the office. The look was tonally neutral, but they were very beautiful, precise and carefully chosen neutrals. There were beiges that evoked the colour of sand, greys that spoke of gum tree trunks, and blacks with the sheen and lustre of panther fur.
The sumptuous tones soothed Jessica’s nerves and she felt her breath returning to normal. How could she not love working in this environment? She wanted this job more than ever now.
She’d dressed with painstaking care this morning, aware that today her body would be her canvas. She paired her favourite Comme des Garçons tulle skirt with an aqua cotton knit that had striped flowers blossoming down the left arm. It fastened with enormous cloth covered buttons, each a different fabric to the next. Metallic pink ballet flats completed her look.
Finally, after an interminable forty-five-minute wait, she was ushered into Mimsy’s office by an efficient assistant who looked a little like a prison guard for the fashion police; dark hair slicked back, her outfit consisted of a gunmetal short-sleeved turtleneck, matching gunmetal cotton trousers, silver cage high heels, and large silver bangles on each wrist, which alluded to handcuffs. The enormous collection of Thomas Sabo trinkets around her neck reminded Jessica of a warden’s keys.
The door clicked closed behind her and Jessica stood soaking up Mimsy Baxter’s inner domain, a largely monochromatic world punctuated with splashes of spot colour.
Although she was pushing sixty Mimsy had the white face, sleek black hair and scarlet lips of a geisha. She held up one finger to indicate she’d soon be finished with her phone call.
Jessica scanned the room, happy for the chance to soak up her surroundings. A white leather wing-back armchair nestled up to a charcoal couch. A slate flokati rug sat beneath a black enamel coffee table. The albums on the table were slate, the coffee set, steaming and waiting, was silver, and the tray ebony. Oyster cushions, mother-of-pearl picture frames and ivory blinds softened the severity of the room.
In the centre of the room sat a sculpture that was undoubtedly one of Mimsy’s own creations. The stunning deep red piece was in metal lacquered to a high shine. Stylised flames climbed up each other, from a mound of red Australian desert soil, to reach a point where they started to bend away. The metal work defied gravity as it bent away from its upward reach. It was dangerous, intentionally unbalanced and threatening. Jessica was moved by the beauty of the piece but unnerved by it as well. It was missing something crucial.
‘Sit.’
Snapping back to the present, Jessica realised Mimsy had finished her call and was standing and gathering her paperwork. She moved towards the couch. The corner of the diminutive woman’s lips curved upwards a fraction as she met Jessica’s eyes. Oh, she’s smiling, Jess realised, and returned the gesture, putting out her hand.
‘Hello, Mimsy, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’
‘Hello Jessica, likewise. Please sit.’
Jessica did as she was bidden, as Mimsy’s black eyes stared at her intently through silver-rimmed glasses. Her outfit was obviously Akira Isogawa: asymmetric lines in a stiff cotton, again in shades of grey. Mimsy was known for being fiercely proud of her one-quarter Japanese heritage and her design and personal dress sense reflected this.
Mimsy took the white leather armchair, facing Jessica on the sofa.
‘You like it?’ She indicated the red sculpture with her chin.
‘Yes.’ Jessica was being honest. She liked it very much.
‘What do you say about it?’ Mimsy flicked distractedly through her papers as if she couldn’t give a toss about Jessica’s opinion.
‘Well, to me, it seems to represent earth, wind and fire, but it’s unsettling because it doesn’t have the balance of water.’
‘Yes, I call it “Drought”.’
Jessica cheered inwardly. She knew there was really no right or wrong in art appreciation, but it didn’t hurt to have correctly interpreted Mimsy’s intention for the piece.
Mimsy poured two cups of tea, sat back and regarded Jessica.
‘So?’ she said.
‘Ah ... oh, right,’ Jessica said, assuming this was Mimsy’s interview technique. She explained, as concisely as possible, her past experience in art and design, mentioning some of the artists she worked with in her gallery. Taking her folio out of her bag, Jess showed Mimsy some examples of her own work. Her cute kitchen art seemed to interest Mimsy; vintage cutlery bent into sculptures; anodised teapots nestled into one another to make an S-shaped wall hanging; the flags made from old calendar tea towels, flying out the front of her store.
She nearly hadn’t brought those photos because she was worried that the work fell into the crafty category.
‘I see you have a sense of humour,’ Mimsy observed. ‘A sense of the quirky. This is good. I like funny.’ She said this with such seriousness Jessica nearly burst out laughing.
‘Good.’ Mimsy stood up. ‘Jimmy will be in touch. Goodbye.’
Mimsy turned back to her desk and, clearly dismissed, Jess stammered a farewell, collected her folio and found her way back out through the studio. She was a little confused. Had she got the job?
She drove home, her mind racing. She wanted the job, but there was so much to consider, so much she would have to organise if she got it. She hoped Jimmy would let her knew soon so she could start things moving. She felt a small twinge of panic: getting the job would mean an enormous lifestyle change. The General Store was a successful business and she could stay in contact with her manager Linda via email and phone calls. She might have to hire an assistant for her, but Jess was sure Linda could run things efficiently. Nevertheless, the idea of putting the business completely in someone else’s hands did make her a bit nervous. The General Store’s quaint look and cosy atmosphere belied its profitable turnover. Just because it looked like Nana’s kitchen didn’t mean it wasn’t a successful business.
During the busy summer period the General Store was the second-most successful business in town, after the winery. On a good day it served more than three hundred cafe guests, about two hundred shop customers and at least one hundred take-away sandwiches and coffees from the side window to the beach-goers.
It was thanks to a large and talented staff that the business operated so efficiently and profitably. On a busy summer Saturday Jessica had ten staff in the kitchen and another ten at front-of-house with three more sharing the shop and the takeaway window duties.
The profits had really taken off when the business had secured a liquor license three years earlier. Sourcing her drinks menu only from the local breweries and wineries really gave the General Store the edge, as it was the only business on the Peninsula whose wine list showcased every single vineyard and brewery, no matter how tiny and boutique it was.
Jessica had learned early on, from her father, that to run an efficient business you needed to hire people smarter than you. Her executive chef was the best in the business and she trained the chefs who worked with her; the store’s business manager gave Jess a monthly
budget for capital improvement to avoid overspending and her maître d’ was even better at learning names, habits and foibles of import ant customers than she was.
She had to admit that the General Store would roll on very nicely without her. She looked out the Patrol’s window as traffic and concrete gave way to gums and hills. Still, she thought with a sigh, she would miss the local landscape.
20
Jess took a gulp of sea air as Nick parked his ute in the car park. The breeze smelt of summer, seaweed and gourmet sausages cooking on the nearby barbie.
‘Mmm, I’m starving,’ Nick said, catching a whiff of dinner. ‘Come on, Red.’ He gave Jess a playful nudge as she stopped to pull on her thongs.
‘Hang on, I’m coming,’ she protested, swiping him away and laughing.
Down on the beach, the waves barely licked the sand, the slight breeze of the day had dropped and the water was a mirror reflecting the orange dusk as the sun set behind the hills of the old Cole land.
The tide was still out and dozens of children were clambering over the rock pools, investigating the ecosystem each little pond housed.
Des Parker was manning the brick barbecue built on a strip of grass between the car park and the beach, while his wife, Merle, threaded in and out of the crowd to make sure everyone had drinks and nibbles. The Parkers had owned the local supermarket for decades and were stalwarts of the community. Des was the head of the town branch of the Country Fire Authority and Merle was the go-to-person for anyone in town who needed help or support. The Parkers’ home sat on the edge of the beach, just a few doors up from Nick’s place, and their annual New Year’s Eve party for locals sprawled out from the deck to the sandy foreshore. Tonight it seemed the whole community was there.
‘Goodness knows who’s looking after the townies,’ Nick joked as he gratefully accepted a cold beer from Merle and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
The Parkers had raised three boys in the two-bedroom fibro shack that sat perched on the edge of a sand dune. The house had slowly been extended as their family grew and now the home and their little supermarket were worth twenty times what the couple had paid in the seventies, but they weren’t interested in moving. As Des said, ‘As long as the sun comes up every day and the dolphins come to visit once a week, I’m as happy as a joey in a jumper.’
‘Hi, girls,’ Jess called to Rainbow and Songbird, who were supervising their tribe as they fossicked in the shallow water.
Sarah from the organic greengrocer’s had hitched her long flowing crochet dress up so she could wade with them, laughing as she was splashed. Steve from the milk bar and his girlfriend were over at the trestle table, which was groaning under the weight of homemade delicacies, and chatting to other local business owners about how the year had been and how the tourist season was shaping up.
Tradesmen, farmers, shopkeepers, the publican and the karate teacher (who also ran the local radio station) were all there. Alfred Dunville, who owned the local winery, attended every year carrying a case of his latest Pinot Noir. Many of the party helped him pick grapes during harvest and greeted him (and his case of wine) with glee.
Des clanged his ship bell and everyone turned his way.
‘Firstly, Merle and I would like to acknowledge that this get-together is being held on the traditional land of the Bunnerong people,’ he stated. ‘Secondly, we would like to thank you all for coming to our place tonight. It’s great to see you all together. We’re so lucky to live in such a beaut community. Grub’s up!’
Jessica laughed with the women she was standing with. That was probably more than he’d said all week.
‘Dolphins!’ called one of the children.
The group turned back and stared out to sea in delight. Although dolphins were regular visitors, the magic of their arrival never faded. Tonight they had a calf with them and the pale grey infant showed off to the crowd by leaping into the air and flicking itself about. A couple of the children leapt into the water to swim alongside them. The graceful creatures welcomed their playmates and mimicked the kids’ swimming strokes.
Jessica wriggled her toes into the wet sand and happily watched the aquatic show. She had done her best during her interview with Mimsy and now she was determined not to think about the job again until she knew for sure what was going to happen.
‘You look happy,’ Merle commented as the dolphins finally swam off to another beach.
Jess turned to her and laughed guiltily. ‘Actually I was just thinking how nice it will be to have the house to myself again when the family goes home in a couple of days!’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Merle said with a smile. ‘Of course you want your own life back: that’s perfectly normal, dear. I’m sure your sister-in-law is a bit of a trial sometimes.’
Jess agreed wholeheartedly with Merle, but her loyalty kept her from kicking off a bout of Caro-bashing.
‘Oh, she means well,’ she said. ‘She loves Angus and the kids, and that’s all that matters in the end.’
Merle laughed, ‘I’m sure she does love your brother, but sometimes I wonder how he copes really. He was always such a laid-back boy.’
Jess grinned wickedly. ‘Well, let’s just say he travels a lot.’
Merle chortled as Jess walked away to meet up with Rainbow and Songbird who were headed for the well-stocked buffet table.
As the three women loaded their plates, Rainbow seemed more giggly than usual, and even Songbird had an out-of-character beam on her face. Jessica looked around for Nick, sure he’d want to join them for dinner. But Nick was talking to a slim young woman in a white dress, who Jess didn’t immediately recognise. Nick burst into laughter as if the woman had said something hilarious. Jessica frowned. He tilted his head and grinned that irritatingly lovely grin of his which Jessica could just tell the woman was finding most attractive. Then the woman turned so Jessica could see her face. Oh, Jess did know her after all – she was the daughter of the vineyard owner and was newly married. Shouldn’t she be off talking to her husband then? Jess continued to glower. Why was it that every single bloody female in town was attracted to Nick?
She studied him from afar, perfectly aware of why he was so damn attractive. He was very tall, for a start: six four, with that fatal all-Aussie surfer boy look going on. Even in his late thirties he still had young-boy charm, complete with freckles and hair that always needed the salt washed out. It was starting to thin a little, but it was wild, dirty blond and bleached almost pure white on the ends where it was regularly traumatised by the surf and sun.
Jess gazed at Nick’s wiry, muscular build, his long lean torso and legs to match. He had his back to her, giving her a view of his cute little bum. She took in his broad shoulders and his strong forearms, mesmerised for a minute by the idea of being held in them. She shook herself back to reality and realised with a burning embarrassment that he had turned around and was staring straight at her. She choked on a mouthful of bread roll. Nick laughed and pointed straight at her, then he and the girl waved cheerily.
Damn him, she thought. His grey-blue eyes were spark ling with mirth at having caught her checking him out.
She turned back to her food, but within seconds he was beside her, tickling her bare arm with one finger.
‘Did you want something?’ he asked teasingly.
‘No,’ Jess managed, again caught unawares with a mouthful of food. ‘I was admiring Fiona’s dress; it’s gorgeous,’ she said.
‘Right,’ Nick laughed and leaned over her to kiss Rainbow and Songbird hello, his shirt lifting to give Jess an enticing glimpse of his brown tummy with its smattering of golden hair. With a quick wink her way, he was gone again.
‘You all right, love?’ Rainbow giggled. ‘You look a bit shook up.’
‘I’m fine,’ Jess answered as she watched Nick wander over to another gorgeous woman – Joanna from the hairdresser, a stunning Amazonian woman with slicked back hair and a flawless face. Jess knew she was gay, but she was obviously
still enjoying Nick’s attentions.
‘Great tucker,’ Songbird announced out of nowhere, which caused Rainbow to explode into giggles. ‘That wasn’t even funny, you fruitloop,’ Songbird growled at her mate.
‘Have you guys been smoking?’ Jess asked.
‘Just a little joint,’ Songbird said. Her grin widened to encompass most of her face. ‘We’re growing some great shit at the moment with this new soil we’re making. It’s outta control.’
‘Want a little toke?’ Rainbow asked.
‘Or maybe have one of Rainbow’s brownies later, they’ll work a treat,’ suggested Songbird.
‘Oh, you haven’t laced the brownies, have you? You two are reprehensible! No, I have to go to Fi’s party later. I should be on my best behaviour.’
‘Ooh, lah-di-dah!’ Rainbow said. ‘Swanky! Hope you’re changing: they’ll throw you out if you turn up in that.’ Rainbow pointed at Jessica’s homemade denim cut-off hot pants. She’d sewn on floral pockets and added flared ruffles around the legs.
‘I’ve got a hot pink sari with gold embroidery. Should be all right.’
‘Sounds gorgeous. Who’s your date?’
‘No one special,’ Jess said, still stinging from Nick’s social antics.
‘Hang on a minute, I resent that!’ Nick said as he rejoined the group. He was carrying an elaborately decorated pink cocktail that had skewered fruit, paper umbrellas and straws bursting from the rim.
‘Whoops, sprung!’ Rainbow teased Jess.
‘You know what I mean!’ Jessica said, backtracking quickly.
‘Yeah, yeah, suck up to me now. I’m just boring old Nick the handbag, I know.’
A paper plate with a generous square of chocolate was in his other hand. ‘I don’t know why the rations, but the brownies up at the buffet table had a little sign saying “Strictly one per person”.’ He picked up the dessert and started munching.
‘I think they must be very special,’ Jessica said, with a wink at Songbird and Rainbow. As Nick ate, Jess eyed his outfit critically. ‘Is that what you’re wearing to Fi’s party?’ she asked.
