About Three Authors

by Patti Roberts

  “Of course it is,” Elise had replied. “Especially if that someone was as charming, and as good-looking as Gary.”

  But what was the point in having feelings for Gary, she’d asked herself for the umpteenth time on the journey back up to the retreat. Her feelings could be nothing more than a fleeting obsession at best. She would be gone in less than two days, separated by thousands of miles. Any kind of romance would be over before it had even begun.

  Becky sat down on her bed next to Little Miss, and stroked the cat’s head. “Oh, to be a cat and not have a care in the world, except licking your butt,” she said. “And fur balls,” she added. “Hacking up fur balls would be pretty disgusting.” Little Miss rolled over and stretched, then promptly put her head back down and went straight back to sleep.

  Downstairs, Becky could hear the caterers still busy in the kitchen. Along with the party planners transforming the gardens down by the lake, the caterers had been rushing to and fro for most of the day, making sure everything was perfect for the grand opening. The house was filled with native flowers and strategically placed foliage decorated with white tiny fairy lights. Recorded birdsong drifted from room to room, transforming the retreat into a tropical, rainforest wonderland.

  Becky stood up and wandered out onto the little balcony. The sky was ablaze with fire engine red, orange and yellow, its reflection dancing on the water’s surface. A breeze drifted in off the lake, billowing the soft layers of fabric around her legs.

  Down by the pergola, a white marquee had been erected, and was ablaze with twinkling white fairy lights. Ten white tables were surrounded by ten chairs. Each table was draped in a white tablecloth and was set with white dinnerware, glistening crystal glassware, and silver cutlery. Nothing had been spared, guaranteeing that the grand opening and the New Year’s Eve party would not be forgotten. In the centre of each table sat a lit lantern, and more native flowers. Disposable cameras were also placed in the centre of each table.

  Under the vine covered pergola, which had been waterproofed with a small marquee of its own, musicians in a string quartet played their instruments. Whimsical classical music floated in the air, across the lawns, and out across the lake.

  Another marquee had been setup over a timber dance floor. At the far end of the dance floor, musical instruments had been set up on a raised platform for the band that would entertain the guests after dinner for the remainder of the night. In the centre of the marquee, a disco ball turned silently, throwing a rainbow of colour in all directions.

  To one side of the retreat, a white limousine had pulled up in the lighted car park, and a driver got out. He walked briskly to the side of the long, sleek vehicle to open the door for his passengers. A distinguished looking gentleman in a suit exited first, followed by an equally well-dressed woman, in a coral pink gown with a plunging lace neckline, which was encrusted with silver sequins. His wife, Becky assumed. On closer inspection, she recognised them as the guests who would be staying at the retreat for the next few days. The short, pretty blond woman, who wore her hair piled up on the top of her head, was Patricia Puddle, an author from Sydney. The gentleman standing beside Patricia, who held her hand gently in the crook of his arm, was her husband, Ian.

  Elise, dressed in a silk, emerald-green gown with a sleeveless lace bodice, welcomed Patricia and Ian and ushered them towards the patio. The limousine driver, laden down with their luggage, followed a few paces behind them. Perspiration was already glistening on his creased forehead.

  Elise pointed to the sliding glass doors leading off the patio and into the main house. “The stairs are just down the hall, to the right. Upstairs, the room for the bags is the second door on the right. Would you like me to show you?”

  The driver shook his head. “Not a worry. You stay with your guests. I’ll find it easy enough,” he said, making his way into the house.

  Becky waved down from the balcony.

  “Come on down, dear. I want to introduce you to some very special guests of mine.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Becky replied. Inside the bedroom, Becky took one last look at herself. “Let the countdown to the New Year begin,” she said to her reflection. She picked up Little Miss. “Come on you. It’s time to go.” She pulled the door open, took a long breath through her nose, and then closed the door behind her. She thought for a moment, then, thinking about Little Miss, she opened the door a crack.

  At the top of the stairs, she greeted the limousine driver with a warm smile. “Let me help you with some of that,” she said, taking a laptop bag from his hand.

  “Thank you. I don’t suppose you can tell me which room the Puddles are in?” he asked.

  “Just down here. Follow me,” Becky replied, leading him to the room next to hers. She pushed open the door, “This is it.”

  The limousine driver set the bags down beside the canopied, king-sized bed. “Thanks.” He stuck his hand out. “Jake. And you are?”

  “Becky,” she replied, shaking the offered hand, which was already damp with sweat.

  Jake apologised for his sweaty palm. “Well, Becky. Let me just tell you, you look like a million bucks in that dress. I bet you’re gunna turn a few heads tonight,” he said, drying his hands on the sides of his pants.

  Becky smiled. “Thank you.” Just one head, she mused. “I’ll see you back out. Would you like a glass of cold water?”

  “You betcha,” Jake replied, following her from the room, while he admired her bottom. “You’re from England?” he asked, mopping his brow with a handkerchief.

  Becky nodded. “Yep. I’m here to cover the opening of the retreat. I go home the day after New Year’s Eve.”

  Jake nodded. “Back to the freezing cold. I’ve been watching the news. Couldn’t live in all that snow. Give me the tropics any day.” He shoved the handkerchief back in his back pocket.

  In the kitchen, Becky weaved through the throng of caterers, and poured Jake a cold glass of water.

  “Becky,” Elise called from the patio. “There you are. Come meet some of our guests.”

  “Will you be okay seeing yourself out, Jake?” Becky asked.

  “Sure thing,” he said, waving his hand, already eyeing up a blond chef as she arranged smoked salmon appetizers on a long, white platter.

  On the patio, Elise was standing with two couples. “Champagne?” she asked, handing each of them a crystal champagne flute, effervescing with pink champagne. Elise wrapped her arm around Becky’s waist, then handed her a glass of champagne. “This is Patricia, and her husband, Ian.”

  Becky shook their hands. “Lovely to meet you both.”

  “Likewise,” Patricia said. “Where in England are you from?” she asked, immediately drawn to Becky’s English accent.

  “London,” Becky replied.

  “I’m originally from Scunthorpe, and Ian is from Kent,” Patricia said. “But it was here, in Australia, that we met.” Patricia pecked her husband on the cheek. “I actually met Ian at Bondi Beach, when I was just fifteen. It was love at first sight, and I just had to have him. We’ve been together ever since.” Patricia gave her husband’s arm a squeeze, then looked back up at Becky. “Be careful you don’t get swept off your feet by a charming man, while you are here.”

  Ian gave his wife a knowing smile that said “you’re doing it again”.

  “I’m sorry,” Patricia said. “I’ve only just met you, and I’ve practically told you my entire life story. I do tend to get carried away. My husband constantly tells me I could talk under water.”

  Becky smiled politely, then scanned the gathering crowd as more people arrived, eager to see if Gary was among them. “It sounds like a very romantic story,” she said finally, disappointed that he was not.

  Patricia nodded agreeably. “It is, isn’t it? It actually inspired my Ominous book series, but don’t get me started on that,” she chuckled, “or you’ll never shut me up.”

  Elise glanced at Becky, then tightened her grip around her waist, before turning
to look at a dark-haired woman wearing an exquisite jade-green gown. Beside her stood a tall man with a pleasing smile, who dipped his head in greeting. “This is Tima, and her guest, Dan.”

  “Nice to meet you both,” Becky said. “Polly has just recently given me a copy of your book to read. I really love the cover.”

  “Thank you,” Tima said. “I don’t think I will ever tire of meeting someone who has read one of my books.”

  “Patricia and Tima are both visiting from Sydney,” Elise said. “We all met on facebook, promoting our books. The rest, as they say, is history.”

  “Where would we be without our facebook family?” Polly added, joining the group. She hugged Patricia, and then Tima. “We are so glad you could join us. Did you all arrive together?”

  Tima shook her head. “Dan and I have just arrived. We’ve been slumming it at Port Douglas for a few days, in a beautiful five star resort.” She turned and looked up into Dan’s face. “A Christmas present,” she added.

  Elise nodded. “There are a few of you staying at Eden House Retreat, though, is that right?”

  Patricia nodded. “We arrived there last night. Now we get to share your lovely retreat with you for the next few days, before heading home to Sydney.”

  “We’re booked into Eden House for the next two days,” Tima added. “Seeing as you are fully booked here.” She smiled. “That will teach me for not making a reservation sooner. But I plan on returning for a week or so when I start writing my new series next year. I believe Maree and her friend are booked in at Eden, too. And speak of the devil…”

  “Look who I’ve just found loitering in the car park,” Mallory said, her arm around a blond woman in a chocolate, lace and satin gown.

  Polly walked over and put her arms around the woman. “Maree, you look absolutely stunning, but you are going to die of heat exhaustion in that gorgeous gown.”

  “And you must be Andrew,” Elise said, holding her hand out to shake the hand of the man standing next to Maree. He had messy brown hair, but it was his sparkling blue eyes that drew you in.

  “Yes. Lovely to meet you all,” Andrew replied, meeting each of the guests in the group, before returning to Maree’s side. “Let me,” he said, helping Maree out of her jacket.

  “I’ll take that inside for you,” Becky said. “Are you an author, too?”

  “A poet,” Andrew replied, handing Becky the jacket.

  “A very good poet,” Maree replied proudly.

  “Who needs a drink?” Ian asked, finishing the last of his champagne. Patricia handed him her empty glass.

  “The bar is just over here,” Mallory said, indicating the bar set up on one side of the patio, just as a waiter arrived with a tray of drinks.

  “Don’t suppose I can have a beer?” Ian asked, handing Patricia a glass of the bubbling champagne.

  “You can have whatever you like,” Elise replied.

  “I’ll just take the jacket inside,” Becky said, putting her empty glass down on the tray, then excusing herself.

  “I’ve set up a cloak room in the library,” Mallory said to Becky, handing Maree and Tima glasses of champagne.

  “Let’s go find a seat under the marquee,” Elise suggested, leading the way. “These shoes are killing me already.”

  “I hear there’s a party going on around here tonight,” an American voice boomed. The man looked around, his eyes settling on Polly. Polly was wearing a simple red sheath with a black sequin band circling her throat. He held his arms out.

  “What an impressive job you ladies have done to this place. Everything looks awesome. I may book in and never want to move out. And look at you, Polly. So glamorous in red.” He picked her up around the waist and twirled her around. “Are you sure you won’t marry me?” he said, putting her down. He kept hold of her hands, staring into her eyes. “Why waste the moment? Everyone is already dressed for it, after all.”

  “Ken Hoss,” Polly laughed, her cheeks burning with all the attention. “Tempting, but no. I’m a workaholic. You’d want to divorce me inside a week.” She smiled, stroking the side of his face. “But thank you so much for asking. There is nothing like a proposal to make a woman feel pretty.”

  “It’s true. Polly is a workaholic. And if she’s not working on a new book, she’s running,” Elise said, giving Ken a hug.

  Polly held up her hands. “Guilty as charged.”

  Mallory was the next in line for a hug. “Mal,” Ken said, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek, then embracing her. “Looking beautiful, gorgeous.”

  Mallory slapped his arm. “Settle down, Casanova, and let me introduce you to everyone. You will recognise most of the faces from facebook,” she said, making the introductions.

  “Now that you have been formally introduced to everyone, would you like beer or champagne? Or do you want something stronger?”

  “Captain Morgan and Coke, if you have it?” Ken replied, shaking hands with the men and kissing the last of the women’s hands.

  “Of course we have it,” Polly said. “We made sure we had it stocked just for you.”

  “Well, I am honoured,” he said, his friendly eyes scanning the patio, before they settled on a pretty blond waitress setting up glasses behind the makeshift bar. “I think I’ll go grab that Captain for myself. If you won’t marry me, Poll, then I have no option than to find someone that will,” he said with a cheeky grin and a wink. He looked back towards the bar. “Do you think she’ll agree to marry me if I promise her a signed copy of my latest book?” he asked, making eye contact with the young woman standing behind the bar.

  “What have you got to lose?” Elise replied.

  “My car and a brand new laptop,” Ken said, rubbing his hands together. “Okay. Here goes nothing, I’m going in. Don’t wait up for me.”

  Smiling, Polly said, “You’d think he’d have learned his lesson after wife number three. Let’s head down to the marquee, shall we,” she added, linking her hand through Mallory’s arm.

  Elise, Mallory and Polly continued to greet guests as they arrived, introducing them to the other guests, then escorting them to their allotted tables under the marquee. By seven-thirty, all but a few guests had yet to arrive. Wait staff moved swiftly between tables, refilling glasses, and removing empty bottles, as other staff served a variety of tasty appetizers.

  A little while later, the sound of a boat’s motor pierced through the haunting sounds of birdsong and string instruments. A moment later, a sleek speedboat skimmed across the water’s surface, then slowed, pulling up alongside the jetty. A man jumped out, secured the boat on one of the jetty’s posts with a rope, and then fixed his hair by raking his fingers through it. He was wearing tailored black trousers and a white shirt under a black suit jacket.

  Polly smiled. “My son has arrived,” she said proudly, waving at Gary to come join them at her table.

  Gary looked at the place card beside his. Becky Jensen. He hugged his mother, shook the hands of the other guests as they were introduced to him, then tugged awkwardly at the cuffs of his shirt. “If you’ll all excuse me for a moment, there’s something I must do.”

  Elise and Polly exchanged glances, as Mallory chattered amicably with the guests at the table.

  Up at the house, Gary walked from the patio to the lounge room. Then from the lounge room into the kitchen, all the time scanning the familiar and unfamiliar faces, nodding politely at those he recognised. It was when he turned, about to give up looking, when he saw her. He smiled, then leaned against the wall to watch her. She was a vision in swirling aqua. Her shoulders were bare, glimmering with a fine layer of shimmering gold powder. She was helping an older woman out of her jacket, and asking her if should like a glass of water, then added that it was much cooler outside down by the lake.

  “Would you like me to escort you to your seat?” Becky asked, folding the woman’s jacket over her arm.

  “I’ll be fine, dear. My husband should be along at any moment now.” She patted Becky’s hand. “
You are such a lovely girl. Do you have someone waiting for you back home in London?” she asked.

  Gary frowned, then straightened up, waiting to hear Becky’s answer to the woman’s question.

  “Yes. No. It’s too complicated,” Becky replied hastily.

  Gary felt a weight drop in his stomach. Why wouldn’t she have someone else waiting for her back home? She’s lovely.

  The old woman smiled. “If you follow your heart, dear, nothing is ever too complicated. Trust me. I’ve been married four times, and I’ve always followed my heart, and it’s never been complicated. Relationships never ever stop changing, nor do people, but if you choose well, you can change together.”

  Becky raised her eyebrows, not sure if being married four times was a good example of choosing well. Her parents had certainly chosen well. She was not convinced, however, that her father had chosen as well with his second wife.

  She patted the jacket hanging over her arm. “I’ll just go put your jacket in the library for you.”

  “Don’t pay any attention to a thing that old woman tells you,” a man growled from behind Becky. She turned to see an elderly man and recognized him as one of the old men from the bar the day she’d met Gary. In his tailored suit, the old man resembled an overstuffed penguin, as he waddled down the hall towards them. Over his head, Becky discovered Gary looking directly at her, his face unreadable. She had been right. He did look gorgeous in a suit. She could feel her chest inflate with desire, and fear. How much had he heard? she wondered.

  The old man tucked his wife’s arm through his. “Come, my love. Come dance with me down by the lake, before someone steals you away from me, my darling.” He kissed her tenderly on the lips. “I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it.”

  “No one is stealing me away from you, my love,” the old woman purred. She looked up and studied the look passing between Gary and Becky. “Follow your heart, dear,” she whispered as her husband led her away.

  Becky chewed on her bottom lip. Hearing the old couple speaking to each other with such devotion had her thinking that perhaps the old woman knew a thing or two about love, after all.