Call Waiting

by Dianne Blacklock

  Paul held his glass up to Ally. “To a successful venture.”

  “Perhaps,” she replied, sipping her champagne.

  “Okay, you’re going to make us work for this.”

  Ally just smiled. They were certainly making a fuss about very little.

  “Bryce showed me the magazine spread, and I have to say, I was impressed.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course, there were no ‘before’ photos,” Bryce interjected. “I’ve seen the kind of transformation Ally achieves. I bet the place was a dump before you took over?”

  “It was pretty bad,” she agreed.

  “I realize you’re fairly new to all this,” said Paul. “But I think you’ve got the right stuff, from what Bryce tells me, and he’s never let me down yet.”

  Bryce was positively beaming, and speechless, momentarily.

  “Has he explained the proposal to you?”

  “A little.”

  Paul opened a briefcase and took out a folder, handing it across the table to Ally. She started to flick through. This must have been put together for investors originally. It covered the various properties, projected earnings and so on.

  “A lot of that won’t be of any interest to you, but you can see the style of the buildings. We want to preserve their inherent character, but bring them up to date, to appeal to the kinds of buyers we’re hoping to attract.”

  “The twenty-five to thirty-nine years demographic is the fastest growing in the area,” Bryce added.

  “We like what you did in the restaurant. It’s quite obviously an old building, and you worked with that, not against it.”

  Ally was listening thoughtfully, scanning the photographs of the apartment blocks. They were all Art Deco style, two or three stories high, typically symmetrical, with recessed verandahs. Some had curved walls, round windows, some were rendered, while others featured highly detailed brickwork.

  “What are you planning to do with the exteriors?”

  “If you turn toward the back, you’ll find the architect’s concept,” said Paul. “Nothing has been finalized yet, I’m sure they’ll want to meet with you to tie everything together.”

  Meet with her? Ally looked at the logo above the computer-generated perspective drawings. Coulter + Pollard. Even she had heard of them, they were a very high-profile architectural firm.

  “Of course, they’re working with a color consultant as well. I daresay you’ll all have a lot to do with each other.”

  Two waiters arrived at the table with their meals. Ally’s was enormous compared to everybody else’s. Oh well, tough. She didn’t care if she didn’t finish it all, she wasn’t paying for it.

  She picked up her fork and tasted a chunk of lobster. Sweet and succulent. So they had architects and color consultants. She imagined they would have an interior designer, they couldn’t be suggesting Ally fill that role. She started to wonder what she was doing here.

  “Have you employed an interior designer?” she asked.

  “In the process,” said Lynda crisply, pushing lettuce leaves around on her plate. “We have our eye on a couple, but we’re taking our time. It’s very important that we get the right people.”

  “So why do you need me?”

  “Modesty has no place in business, Ally!” Bryce censured, glancing nervously toward Paul.

  “I’m not being modest. I just don’t understand why you need me.”

  “Lynda, why don’t you explain it to Ally?”

  Lynda put down her fork. She must be stuffed.

  “Ally, we’ll be promoting you as part of the design team. We want our buyers and investors to feel they have got the very best for their money.”

  “But what will I actually do?”

  “Your role will be to consult with the painters, oversee their work, liaise between them and the rest of the design team.”

  “Will there be any painting involved?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Will I be painting at all? That is what I do, after all.”

  “If we could clone you, Ally, that would be the way to go,” Lynda smiled, glancing at the others. “Why, we’d have you painting every single room in every apartment. Imagine, a team of little Allys running around, painting furiously.”

  They all laughed. Ally thought they were stupid. She bit into another chunk of lobster.

  “Of course it’s not possible, so what we want is to have your signature, so to speak.”

  “Isn’t that a relief?” Bryce quipped. “No more paint under your fingernails, Ally!”

  “But I’m very hands-on, I do everything,” Ally explained.

  “We realize you’re very serious about your work, that’s why we chose you.”

  “I just don’t get it.”

  Lynda looked as though she just might be losing her patience with Ally, but she didn’t let the veneer slip.

  “Ally,” she said condescendingly, “in this business, perceptions are everything. When potential buyers are given the sales brochure, they’ll see that we used the top architects, designers and specialists, like yourself. It won’t matter that you didn’t actually paint the walls in their apartment, because they’ll tell their friends that you did.”

  It did matter to Ally that she wouldn’t actually be painting the walls. “Why would their friends care? I’m not anybody.”

  “Not yet. But you could be,” said Paul. “To really grab attention, and consequently sales, you have to use big names. Our architects are big name, established, well known, no risk. But they’re expensive. Our budget won’t allow us to use the top people across the board.”

  “The alternative is to promote the next ‘big thing,’” Lynda took over. “You’ve been featured in a very reputable magazine. That’s put you on the map. It gives us something to build on.”

  “How?”

  “Well, I can get you into every house magazine on the market with that project alone, but are you working on anything else?”

  Ally shrugged. “I have one job at the moment.”

  “Anything interesting, is there an angle we can hook into?”

  “Well, the client is Frances Callen…”

  “What did you say?” Lynda seemed to have lost her composure momentarily.

  “I’m doing Frances Callen’s country house.”

  “Frances Callen from the ABC?”

  Ally nodded.

  “Oh, this is fabulous. Of course, someone from commercial television would be preferable,” she remarked to Paul. “But this is an excellent start.”

  She pulled out a dictaphone and turned slightly away from the table. “Note to self: ASAP, phone Frances Callen’s people, arrange a meeting.”

  Frances had people?

  “Good one, Ally!” Bryce’s grin was almost manic.

  “This is all coming together very nicely,” said Paul, pushing his plate away. “I have a good feeling about this.”

  Ally stared out at the water. Lynda said it was all about perceptions? No it wasn’t, she wanted to tell them. It was about making something beautiful. With her own hands. What did she care if she got paint under her fingernails if she was doing what she loved?

  The waiter came to refill their glasses, but Ally covered hers with her hand. “None for me, thanks.”

  These people knew nothing about her, they were basing everything on a few photos and an inaccurate story in a glossy magazine. This was so typical of Bryce. Ally didn’t want to live her life on the surface, the cardboard cutout she used to be when she was with him. She deserved more than that.

  Matt said she had to find out what would make her whole. And he said he loved her. He said he loved her despite the fact that she drove him crazy. Ally smiled faintly, remembering. Matt had seen under the surface. He’d seen her dressed up, but dressed down more often than not, covered in dust, without make-up, in clothes that were ready for the ragbag. He’d taken care of her when she was sick, drunk, hungover. He’d felt her anger, shared her happiness, and dried he
r tears. And he said he loved her. How could she ask for more than that?

  Matt loved her. Ally could feel it sitting here, a hundred miles away from him.

  So what was she doing sitting here, a hundred miles away from him?

  “Well,” said Ally, laying her napkin down on the table. “This has been very interesting, and thanks for lunch, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to turn you down.”

  Paul’s grin evaporated from his face. “What?”

  “I didn’t realize the scale of this project. I just can’t do it.”

  “Ally.” Bryce grabbed her elbow, a little too firmly for her liking. “Success comes in cans, not can’ts!”

  Somehow Ally stopped herself from laughing in his face. His slogans were just tiresome. She shrugged off his grip and stood up.

  “I have a partner to consider.”

  Bryce stood up. “You said he wasn’t your partner.”

  Ally frowned. “Oh, you mean Rob, in the magazine? No, not him, someone else.” She checked her watch. “Oh, and look at the time. I’ve got to run. It’s quite a drive home from here.”

  “Home?” Bryce narrowed his eyes. “Where’s home?”

  Ally looked at him. He only seemed to understand clichés. “I think it’s where the heart is, isn’t that what they say?”

  She turned on her heel and almost skipped out of the place. She could feel their eyes on her back, watching her leave. But she didn’t care. Ally had somewhere else she had to be.

  * * *

  “You did what?”

  Ally thought she’d better phone Meg so that she wouldn’t be expecting her. She had made it through the city quite easily, at this time of the day, and she was already on the freeway heading south.

  “You should have seen their faces!” Ally laughed. “Sitting there with their mouths gaping open, like stunned mullets.”

  “Well, I didn’t think you had it in you!”

  “Me either,” said Ally. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I’m on my way home.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you soon. We’ll celebrate.”

  “No, I’m going home,” Ally took a breath. “To Matt.”

  “Woohoo!” Meg shrieked.

  “I love him, Meg. I’m so sure of it now.”

  “God, I’m going to cry! What convinced you?”

  Ally thought for a moment. “I realized I don’t mind getting paint under my fingernails.”

  “What?”

  They were interrupted by call waiting beeps coming onto the line.

  “Is that you?” said Ally.

  “I don’t care,” said Meg breezily. “I’m not interested in what’s out there anymore. Besides, I think it might be your call waiting. Can you handle it?”

  Ally grinned. “I’m not quite as insecure as I used to be.”

  “Thank God for that! Call me later. No, better make that tomorrow, I think I’ll invite Chris over for beano night tonight.”

  “Isn’t that usually Friday night?”

  “Not anymore.” She rang off.

  Ally smiled, waiting for the other call to connect.

  “Ally?”

  She groaned inwardly. “Yes, Bryce.”

  “What on earth was all that about?”

  “What do you mean? You were there, I thought I made myself perfectly clear.”

  “Yes, it was perfectly clear that you were throwing away the biggest opportunity of your life.”

  “That depends on your perspective, Bryce.”

  “You made me look like a fool. I promised Paul I’d deliver you.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have done that, I’m not a package.”

  “Don’t be smart, Ally. It’s quite unbecoming. As was your little performance at the restaurant today.”

  She was not in the mood for a lecture.

  “Bryce, have you got a point? Because I wish you’d get to it sometime soon.”

  “Ally, when you think about what you’ve given up here, I’m sure you’ll reconsider. But you only have a narrow window of opportunity. I was able to calm Paul down, and he might consider seeing you again. If you were to contact him…”

  But Ally had lost interest. She glanced at the dashboard clock, calculating the time she would be back. Would Matt still be at the Callens? Was there time to stop in at home and change first? He liked her in overalls.

  “Are you listening to me, Ally?”

  She sighed, “Yes, Bryce.”

  “Okay, let me go through this one more time.”

  I don’t think so. Ally took the phone from her ear and held it in front of her. She glanced out the window. She was on the open freeway now and the atmosphere was quiet, almost surreal. Midafternoon on a weekday and she couldn’t see another car in her field of vision. She looked back at the phone. Her lips curved into a satisfied smile.

  She wound down the window. She was approaching a bridge that spanned a deep ravine, and she slowed the car down to a crawl. Ally considered the phone for another moment. She could still hear Bryce’s voice rabbiting on as she stuck her arm out the window and hurled the phone across the railing, watching as it sailed down and disappeared out of view.

  * * *

  Ally pulled into the driveway of the Callens’ house, behind Matt’s truck. She was counting on him still being here, but now she felt sick in the stomach again. She’d just have to take Meg’s word for it that this was part of being in love. She only hoped it would settle down soon.

  She walked past the truck and around to the back of the house. Matt was standing in the middle of the yard, supporting the frame of the window, sliding the sash up and down. He hadn’t noticed her yet.

  Ally took a deep breath and walked toward him. He looked up, and the surprise registered on his face, faintly, just for a moment.

  “Hi,” she said from the other side of the window.

  “Hi,” Matt returned quietly.

  “Do you want me to hold this for you?” she offered, lifting her arms to support the window.

  “Um, sure,” he said vaguely. “Just lean into it—”

  “—it’s not heavy that way,” she finished. “I remember.”

  He looked at her for a moment, and then crouched down and started adjusting the counterweights.

  “How was your meeting?”

  “It was okay. We had lunch at the Harborside, you know, down near the bridge? I had lobster.”

  “Oh?” he said, not looking up. “So when are you leaving?”

  “Who said anything about leaving?”

  Matt looked up, frowning. She held his gaze.

  “Honestly, they were from another planet. They had some bizarre idea I could be a consultant leading a team of painters. They didn’t want me to pick up a paintbrush, except for the publicity shots.”

  Matt didn’t say anything.

  “So I told them I had a partner to consider,” she added, her heart in her mouth.

  “A business partner?”

  “I didn’t specify.”

  Matt stood up slowly, staring at her through the pane of glass.

  “Here hold this,” Ally said, leaning the window toward him. He held the frame while she slid the top sash down. Before he knew what she was doing, she had looped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, planting a long, hard kiss on his lips. He didn’t resist.

  “Ally, I’m going to drop this!” he said eventually.

  “So, put it down.”

  She noticed the smile in his eyes as he stepped back from her, lowering the window frame until it lay flat on the ground. He straightened up, looking at her, resting his hands on his hips.

  “You know, Ally Tasker, you’re bloody hard work.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be afraid of a bit of hard work, Matt Serrano?”

  He grinned, shaking his head. They stood considering each other, the window on the ground between them. Ally couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Why are you standing all the way over there?”

  He folded his arms.
“Because I reckon if I come after you, you might run away again.”

  Ally smiled sheepishly. “I’m not going to run away anymore.”

  “How do I know that?”

  “Because I love you.”

  He breathed out heavily. “How do you know?”

  “Fair question,” said Ally, taking a step to one side of the window frame. “Well, to begin with, you make me sick in the stomach.”

  “What?”

  “According to Meg, that’s a sign.”

  “Oh,” he nodded. “Anything else?”

  “Well, I love you despite the fact you’re always teasing me. And I think that maybe you’re the one who has to be right all the time.”

  “You think?”

  “And you’re argumentative.”

  “I am not!”

  “Ah! See what I mean?”

  He grinned. Ally took a couple of steps slowly toward him.

  “What else?” she continued. “Oh, you look pretty good without a shirt on.”

  “Ally!”

  She was standing in front of him now. She looked up directly into his eyes.

  “And all my life I’ve been too afraid to let anyone love me. To believe that anyone did. Until now.” She paused. “I used to feel something was missing, but I don’t feel that anymore, not when I’m with you, only when I’m away from you. That’s how I know I love you, Matt Serrano.”

  “Well, it’s about time, Ally Tasker.”

  As his arms closed around her, she realized for the first time that she didn’t feel afraid.

  EPILOGUE

  SERRANO

  (Tasker) To Ally and Matt, on their second anniversary, a beautiful baby boy, James. A brother for Rebecca. Everybody happy.

  GALLERY TO RE-OPEN UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT

  Readers may have noticed the activity going on lately at the old premises of the Highland Gallery. Former Sydneysiders Chris and Meg Lynch have taken over the lease of the heritage building, commissioning local team Ally and Matt Serrano for the refurbishment.

  The grand opening of “Lynchpin” is planned to coincide with Bowral’s famous Tulip Festival. Meg Lynch explained that the new business is the culmination of years of dreaming and planning. Previously in the finance and advertising sectors, the couple were looking for a change of pace.