“OK. Thanks. Oh, wait, one more thing…can you send me everyone’s date of birth?”
Bluey chuckled. “I see our mother’s hand in this. All right, but I’m not finding out the exact hour and minute of their birth as well, so don’t ask.”
“Would I do that?”
“I’ve seen you reading those cards, bro. You and Ma are tarred with the same brush. See you, gotta run.”
Scott tossed his towel in on top of the surfboard, and got behind the wheel, thinking about what Bluey had found.
Someone who liked to take short cuts, and wasn’t averse to a bit of intimidation? It might indeed be worth looking harder.
Ron Foley pushed open the door of his ex-wife’s clothing store and sauntered in. Linda was busy at the back, looking into one of the change rooms and talking to whoever was in there.
“You know, I think I liked this one on you better,” she told the invisible customer. “Those splashes of cobalt and scarlet really pop. And weren’t you saying you had too much black in your wardrobe?”
A woman’s voice said, “But don’t those bright colors make me look bigger?”
“Rather the opposite, I think,” Linda said. “They draw the eye; the focus is on the pattern, not what’s underneath it.” She gave a light laugh. “Anyway, Chris, you’re not overweight. I don’t know why you’re worrying about it.”
“I do like the colors.”
“And you came in here determined to buy anything but black, right?”
“Right. Okay, I’ll take those two tops and the light weight cream pants.”
“Good decision.”
He saw a hand emerge from behind the curtain passing two more items to Linda, who turned around and immediately scowled when she saw him. She said nothing until she got closer and then said in an undertone, “What are you doing here?”
Ron smiled at her cheerfully. If there was one thing he was good at, it was knowing how to get under Linda’s skin. Remaining upbeat when she was hissing at him would do the trick every time.
“Linda, honey. No need to be like that.” He kept his voice low, inclining his head at the change rooms. “No need to let everyone know our business, either.”
Linda snorted. “As if everyone in Yamba doesn’t already know our business. You didn’t exactly hide it when you were chatting up backpackers or bedding the barmaid at the pub.”
“I believe “bar attendant” is the correct terminology these days.” He held up a hand and pretended to wince as she opened her mouth, ready to fire back at him. “Okay, bad joke, I know.”
“Only you,” she said cuttingly, “would consider that to be a joke.” She cast a glance towards the back of the shop. “If you’re not here to buy something, then go.”
“Only if you agree to meet me for a cup of coffee.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think so.”
“A drink, then. Over at the club. We need to talk.”
Linda stopped folding up the clothes on the counter and stared at him. “The golf club, where you go twice a week with your buddies to plot your latest takeover? The golf club, where you take every other female? You have to be joking.”
Ron reached over and stroked the back of her hand, which got exactly the reaction he had expected. Linda snatched her hand away and took a step back. “Ron, no. I’m busy. Go away.”
“I want to talk about the divorce settlement.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “I’m not budging. For heaven’s sake, Ron, we both know that you’re richer than Croesus. You’ve got way more hidden away than I could ever hope to get at.” A bitter smile creased her face. “I’ve overheard a couple of drunken conversations, and Yvonne has spilled a bit more. But you know what? You can keep it—most of it. I’m sure you’ve broken plenty of laws to get it. But I—” She broke off as a woman emerged from the cubicle and walked towards them.
Chris Baxter’s face changed just a little as she spotted him. Stan Lambert had occasionally used her services to photograph real estate, making properties look bigger, brighter, and better than in real life. Ron had employed her himself, once or twice.
“Hello, Ron,” she said, her voice neutral.
“Chris!” He beamed at her. “Now, this is a happy coincidence. The boys and I were talking about you only yesterday. Were your ears burning?”
“Can’t say they were.” Dismissing him, she reached into her handbag for her wallet and turned to Linda. “Linda, put in that necklace that I tried on, will you? It’ll go with quite a few things in my wardrobe.”
Not fazed by her attitude, Ron leaned back against the counter and folded his arms. “Yep, we’ve got a few brochures to revamp, and a couple of new ones. Stan was going to give you a call.”
Chris didn’t look at him. “I’m actually not doing any real estate work at the moment. I’m focusing on creative stuff, and my classes.”
“Oh? That’s a shame, we like to keep it local when we can. Never mind, we’ll use Kat Morris in Maclean.”
“Good choice. She’s used to working with people like you.” Chris’s voice was polite, but he got the message. So did Linda, judging by the slight twitch at the corners of her lips.
Fine, he thought. Let them play their silly little games, enjoy a moment of petty triumph. He’d walk away from this divorce knowing that Linda was barely getting one tenth of his net worth.
“Kat is focusing only on real estate now,” he said pleasantly. “She’s one of the best out there.”
They ignored him, and the door opened again. He stifled a sigh of frustration while a girl put several packages on the counter and then disappeared into the back room, muttering something about unpacking new stock.
Aha. Linda’s latest casual assistant. Perfect timing.
He waited until Chris picked up her purchases and left, with a meaningful look back at Linda. No doubt one of those secret women’s messages like I’ll go so you can get rid of him.
The moment the door closed behind her, Linda put her hands on her hips, cast a look at the back room and said, still keeping her voice low, “Ron, you have to go. I’m running a business, we no longer married, and I don’t want to see you.”
“That may be the case,” he said easily, turning on the smile that had won her over two years before, “but I need to see you. If you want everything you’re asking for in the divorce settlement, then I advise you to give me fifteen minutes of your precious time.”
“I’m working.”
“Take a lunch break. Your girl can watch the store.”
Linda ran her fingers through her hair, her face a study in frustration. “Why can’t we do this on the phone?”
Because I can wear you down more easily in person, he thought, but he said, “Because I’m here now and I want to get this over and done with. Just like you. Come on, Linda.” He projected sincerity with a touch of helplessness, a ploy which had worked well with some clients in the past. “For old times sake. Let’s see if we can settle this like adults.”
“I can’t take too long.”
He shrugged. “Fine. We’ll just grab a crepe and a coffee next door.”
Linda frowned. “I don’t want to talk in public.”
“I don’t plan to shout it from the rooftops. We can sit outside, in the corner with the pot plants.”
Her lips tightened. “All right. Fifteen minutes.”
18
Linda
Georgie was about to phone Scott and suggest he come by for lunch when she saw Linda from next door sit down at an outside table. She was with a smiling man with a shiny bald head, who picked up a menu, glanced at it, said a few words and then came inside.
He nodded at her, the laughter lines at the corners of his eyes creasing, and said: “Two crêpes, please – one chicken and avocado, one vegetarian – and two lattes.” He gestured toward the window. “We’re outside.”
Georgie rang up the sale and handed him a number. “It won’t be long.”
Watching him go back out, sh
e saw an unsmiling Linda look up. She said a few words, and then sat back in her chair, her posture stiff.
The cafe was half full, and a good number of those present were locals. Georgie didn’t miss the rolled eyes and inclined head from one of the women, and the interest from two others who sat at an inside table near the window.
You didn’t have to be Einstein to know that the two out there had a history, and after being in close company with Scott’s sisters for a week, she was willing to bet that the mystery man was probably Linda’s ex-husband.
And despite the open face and smiling eyes, she knew at a gut level that he was untrustworthy.
She took the order to Viv in the kitchen. “Viv? Can you take a peek at the man with Linda and tell me who it is?”
“Sure.” Viv picked up two plates with steaming hot crêpes on them and took them out to the dining area. Her glance at the window was casual, but the two outside were engrossed in their conversation anyway. The man was relaxed, confident, gesturing as he spoke. Linda’s brows were drawn together in an unreceptive frown.
Viv came over to her, back behind the counter. “Name’s Ron Foley. Linda’s ex-husband, all-round creep. Ladies man, even when he was married.” She wrinkled her nose. “Especially when he was married. Big wheel in the town, owner of the bottle-o, stocks vintage spirits. He made a play for Lissa at one stage, but she slapped him down.” She disappeared back into the kitchen.
Well, that accounted for the stir of interest in the cafe. Georgie got busy making the lattes and took them outside with a smile.
“Hi, Linda.” She nodded at the man with her, not revealing that she knew who he was. ‘The crêpes will be ready shortly.”
Linda flashed a brief smile, but as Georgie went back inside, she heard her say, “Let’s drop the small talk, Ron. We’re way past that. Just say what you have to say.”
Another customer came in, and then another, and Georgie had to focus on coffee again.
But her antenna was up, and the increased awareness zinging in her veins told her that Ron Foley was not someone she should ignore.
Looking at Linda, Ron found himself wondering why he had ever wanted to marry her. He considered that for a moment, while she stared at her coffee, not speaking. When he’d first met her, he had been attracted by Linda’s soft, cultured voice and her classic blonde good looks. On the rebound from a charming but feckless husband, she had easily been won over by Ron’s friendly, forthright approach and canny business sense.
Linda had contributed the proceeds of her apartment in Sydney to the marriage, along with a determination to run her own business in her own way. Hence the little fashion shop he had encouraged her to open.
In a building owned by his good friend Stan Lambert, which Stan now wanted empty.
Which all of their little group wanted empty, because it was part of a mega, mega deal with a developer.
Women. Romance ’em, get what you want, but don’t marry ’em, he thought. That would be his new rule to live by. He planned to keep all his money.
Jim Beggs had been smart, keeping Maureen in the dark all these years.
The American girl came back out with the crêpes, and he waited for her to go before he said to Linda, “I know you’re mad at me. And I’ll be the first to admit I haven’t been a saint.”
Linda let out a sarcastic crack of laughter.
“Yeah, all right, fair enough.” He maintained eye contact and a pleasant expression. “But let’s try to remain civil and get this settled. We both want to move on, right?”
“Why, Ron.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him and then glared. “That’s the first conciliatory statement I’ve heard from you in months.”
He ignored that. “You want the house. OK. You can have the house. You want the BMW, you want the entire investment in the business. I’m on board with that. Those things alone come to more than your initial investment in our marriage in the first place, agreed?”
Linda cut into the crêpe and ate a mouthful, looking at him and saying nothing.
“Come on, work with me here, Lins.”
“It’s Linda.”
“Fine. Linda.” Ron kept forking his crêpe into his mouth as though he didn’t have a concern in the world, but observed her carefully. “I’ll agree to all of that, no contest, plus…” he paused to give what he was about to say great impact. “…the entire balance of our joint account as it stood the day before I moved out.”
He swallowed a mouthful of chicken and avocado and smiled at her placidly.
Linda put down her knife and fork. She did a creditable job of trying to hide the shock in her eyes, but he saw it anyway. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? You’re giving it back?”
“Not right away,” he said quickly. There was no way he could spare that amount right now. “But it’ll be part of the settlement. Almost two hundred grand and change, as I recall.” He conjured up an expression of regret. “I concede that what I did wasn’t entirely fair.”
That earned him another eye-roll from his ex. “What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch. No downside for you in this at all. I’m wearing my business hat, but I make no apologies for that.” Ron put on his I-am-completely-honest-and-transparent face. “Stan’s got some big deals in the wings. To raise capital, he needs to sell off some of his properties.”
The expression in Linda’s eyes changed, and he saw her put two and two together. She glanced through the window of the cafe, where they could see the American girl serving someone who was pointing at the cake display, and then she looked at her shop next door. “Including this building. That’s what’s going on, isn’t it?”
“It’s not the only one. He’s taking a big risk, but—” He shrugged, inviting her to join in understanding of the situation. “You know Stan. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. One of these days he’s going to fall flat on his face, but in the meantime, it’s to my advantage to help make it happen.”
Linda picked up her knife and fork, and placed them neatly together on her plate, even thought she’d eaten only a few bites.
Ron didn’t like the look of that.
“Let me guess,” she said. “This generous offer of yours. It’s a bribe to encourage me to move out, isn’t it?”
“Give me a break. You know that Stan and I have been partners for a long time. If I can do this small thing to help him, then why not? He tells me he’s prepared to cut you a deal on the rental of the property over near the mall.”
“And all of this is purely to do a favor for your…” Linda made air quotes with her fingers “good friend Stan”? There’s nothing in it for you?” She looked at him scornfully. “Pull the other leg, Ron. You’re buying into this deal of his, aren’t you?”
Ron heaved a frustrated sigh and shook his head. Did she honestly expect him to admit to it? “You’re an intelligent woman, Linda, but you never did really get how all of this works. I do Stan a favor now to get something he wants, and somewhere down the track—even if it’s years away—he’ll help me out when I need it.”
“So you’ll agree to everything that I’ve asked for, no argument, and throw in the best part of two hundred grand on top of it? Just to do Stan a favor?”
He shrugged. “All right, so I’m letting my heart rule my head.” He didn’t think Linda was smart enough to know that she could get most of that two hundred grand anyway, if she had the right lawyer. Or a great deal more than that, if anyone really started digging.
He was trying to avoid that at all costs. Offering her two hundred grand and caving in on the rest of the divorce settlement should keep her sweet.
It’d keep Stan Lambert sweet, too, because he was too much of a Scrooge to pay out his tenants’ lease, especially when things were so tight.
Looking at her, he could see that Linda didn’t seem to be entirely convinced. All right, time to get tough.
“I think it’s worth letting you have the two hundred grand if it means we can part on amicable term
s and both get something out of it.” He leaned forward in his seat, searching her eyes. “It’s going to save you a lot of stress, Linda. But if you play hardball, you’ll be in a world of hurt.” As he said it, he let a hint of threat into his gaze.
She might as well be reminded of who she was dealing with.
Linda sat silently for a moment, staring at him, her light blue eyes cool. Then her gaze moved to the logo of the coffee cup on the window behind them, and through the glass to the people sitting inside. “And what about Viv and Lissa? What happens to them?”
“What happens to them is not your concern. Worry about yourself. If it relieves your conscience, Stan has offered them the same rental deal in the new place.”
“It won’t work for them any better than it will work for me, moving away from the township.”
Ron couldn’t have cared less what happened to Coffee, Cakes and Crêpes. He didn’t care what happened to Linda’s little dress shop either.
But he could pretend to. He could feed her any misinformation he felt like.
“All right. I’ll tell you something, but this must go no further.” He glanced around, and then lowered his voice. “Stan has some big plans for the area over there near the mall. If you breathe a word, it could wreck everything, so this has to stay between us. But if you’re smart and move now, you’ll be sitting pretty. And so will those Mowbray girls.” He jerked his head in the direction of the patrons inside the cafe. “They’ll be getting more customers than they can deal with.”
“What kind of plans?”
“I can’t tell you that.” Ron finished off the last of his crêpe. “Told you too much already. You can’t say a word to anyone.”
Linda picked up her handbag and pushed her chair back.
Ron cocked his head and looked at her inquiringly. “Well? Are we having a conversation here?”
She stood up and looked down at him. “We’re having a conversation, but something smells bad to me. The girls here have been having a lot of bad luck recently, Ron. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
A Good Result Page 9
