Maybe she should consider staying on after all, Julie thought. She folded up the newspaper and put it in the bin just as her boss came out of her office.
Lainey took a deep breath to calm her nerves as she walked into the meeting. She’d given dozens of these presentations but her stomach still turned somersaults each time at the thought of standing up in front of her colleagues. Just pretend you’re feeling confident and you’ll fool yourself as well as everyone else, she’d read years ago in a public speaking handbook. It had become her life’s mantra. She just wished she’d had the opportunity to meet her boss this morning – she wanted to break the news about her departure as soon as possible. ‘No time, Lainey. It will have to be after your presentation,’ Gelda had said when Lainey phoned her.
‘But it’s important.’
‘I’m sure it is, Lainey. But it will have to wait until afterwards.’
Lainey greeted her colleagues and started the presentation, outlining the details of the different events as they flashed up on the screen beside her. This year would have been one of her busiest ever, with seven product launches, the opening of a new hotel complex in St Kilda, a gala birthday bash for the daughter of a local millionaire businessman, and a food and wine fair at a winery in the Yarra Valley. She detailed budgets, client information and special requirements, all the while knowing she wouldn’t be there for any of the events. In some cases she didn’t mind – the launch of the new outboard motor, for example. Boating journalists were notoriously hard to impress. But she had really been looking forward to organising the food and wine fair. Which of her colleagues would get these jobs, she wondered, glancing around the table. Or would her boss take on someone new?
‘So, Lainey, let me guess what this meeting is about,’ Gelda said two hours later, as she gestured towards the seat on the other side of her pale wood desk. The view of Melbourne behind her was partly hidden by a thin timber blind. The light in the room was filtered, the air peaceful, helped by the bubbling water feature in the corner. ‘You’re after a pay rise, is that right? Then I’ll save you the effort of asking, because as it happens, I’ve just completed a staff review and I am pleased to be able to offer you not just a pay rise, but in fact a promotion. I want you to consider becoming my second-in-charge.’ She leant back in her chair, groomed head against the leather headrest, and waited for Lainey’s reaction.
Lainey had been anticipating this conversation for months. She knew it had been on the cards. Gelda had been dropping hints. But what a time to hear it. ‘Gelda, I’m thrilled. Really thrilled, actually. But I’m afraid I’ve got bad news in return.’
‘You’re not resigning?’ Gelda laughed as if that was the most hilarious idea she’d had in a long time.
‘Not exactly…’
As Lainey explained, Gelda’s wide smile narrowed and weakened and then finally disappeared. Lainey tried to lighten the mood, thrown by her boss’s expression. ‘My friend in Dublin thinks it’s funny, really. Me having to make beds for a year. I’m a famously bad housekeeper.’
Gelda slowly shook her head. ‘I can’t believe it. This is extraordinarily inconvenient, Lainey, you realise that.’ Her faint German accent seemed more obvious. Lainey knew from experience that it was a sign Gelda was upset.
‘Of course I do. But I’m afraid I really don’t have a choice.’
‘No one else in your family can do it?’
Lainey wished she’d made a short film about her brothers. ‘Here, look at this,’ she’d say. ‘What do you reckon?’ ‘No, Gelda, they can’t. I can resign, if you’d prefer. I’m sure I could find a job with another firm when I got back…’
Her bluff worked. ‘No, no, I don’t want you to do that. We’ll just have to juggle the workload around until you return.’ Gelda spoke into the intercom to her secretary. ‘Kath, could you please call Celia King up here. Urgently.’
Lainey felt ill. Anyone but Celia. Celia who had been creeping and crawling around the company since she was headhunted eighteen months ago. Celia who had set her sights on Lainey’s job within days of stepping through the smart foyer downstairs. Celia who had two business degrees, was studying for her masters and probably spent her weekends preparing food baskets for the poor. Celia, who was now getting Lainey’s clients handed to her on a plate, garnish and all.
Celia knocked on the door what seemed like just seconds later. She must have travelled to Gelda’s office on a skateboard, Lainey thought. In she came, Betty Boop herself. High-pitched voice. Tiny nose. A row of perfectly white, neat teeth, gleaming like a lighthouse around the room.
‘Yes, Gelda?’ A 200-watt smile. ‘Oh, hello, Lainey.’ A 60-watt smile.
Gelda gestured towards the spare chair. ‘Sit down, Celia, and let me explain the situation here.’ She quickly summarised it. ‘It’s extremely short notice, I know, but do you think you would be able to take on Lainey’s clients while she’s in Ireland?’
Lainey watched as Celia seemed to swell with self-importance. ‘Of course I can, Gelda. If I have to work seven days a week to make sure they’re happy.’
‘Well, I don’t think you’ll have to go that far. But you could manage?’
‘Oh, yes, definitely.’
Lainey’s heart sank. She knew right then she’d never get those clients back.
It wasn’t until three o’clock that afternoon that she had a chance to ring Adam at work. As they spoke she could hear a radio playing in the background. ‘Four days since we’ve seen each other, Miss Byrne,’ Adam was saying. ‘This is a scandalous situation. I may have to write a letter to the editor, get a petition started. What’s your boss’s number again? I’m demanding you get the day off right now and we go straight into the pantry here and make up for some lost time.’
She laughed. ‘Oh, she’d agree immediately, let me tell you. So how are things tonight? Can you spare me an hour, for a quick drink?’
‘I’m really sorry, but I don’t think I can. We’ve got a table of twenty due in early, a birthday, I think it is. Are you okay, Lainey? Something’s wrong?’
It threw her when he guessed how she was feeling before she was ready to reveal it. ‘I’m fine.’
‘But it’s something important?’
‘A bit.’ Was she being mistress of the understatement? Did leaving for a year in Ireland in less than a month’s time count as (a) a bit important, (b) very important, or (c) incredibly important?
‘Is it about your dad?’
‘No. Well, not exactly.’
‘Tell me.’
She was tempted for a moment. ‘No, it’s probably better face to face. I’ll try and nip down after I finish work.’ The other line on her phone was flashing. ‘Ad, I better run. See you tonight.’
It was closer to nine by the time she got to the restaurant. Her client meeting had run over and then she’d taken the woman for a quick meal on Brunswick Street to seal the deal. As they enjoyed spicy Indonesian noodles and a glass of full-bodied shiraz each, Lainey had explained how Complete Event Management’s expert team would organise a launch of the new bin refreshers that no one would ever forget. All the while, her mind had been far away.
Adam’s restaurant manager looked up from behind the cash register as she came in past the full tables. ‘Lainey, hi, how are you?’
‘Great, Dave. You too, by the looks of things. Has it been this busy all night?’
‘Since six o’clock. We were flat out with the late film showing last night too. That French film is playing, the one with all the banquets in it, and people are starving when they come in here afterwards. Your timing was spot-on.’
Lainey had organised a dinner–film ticket deal between Adam’s restaurant and the cinema down the road. She was glad to see it had been such a success. ‘That’s good to hear. Is he available for visitors?’
‘Well, I will have to see your pass. Only joking, in you go.’
The small kitchen was bustling, six plates spread on one of the stainless steel counters, the large industria
l stove covered in pans at various stages of boil or bubble, the pop song on the radio adding another layer of sound. There was an enticing mix of cooking smells – sizzling garlic, fresh herbs, something rich and spicy. Adam was behind the main counter, dressed casually in black jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, the sleeves pushed up over his brown forearms. The closest he came to formal chef’s clothing was the black apron tied around his waist, a dishcloth tucked into it. He was talking to the young waitress. ‘Zoe, I can’t read your handwriting at all on this order. Are you thinking about becoming a doctor rather than a waitress?’
The young woman grinned, glancing at the order form he was holding. ‘Sorry, Adam, I was in a rush out there. It should say one paella and one fish… oh hi, Lainey.’
Adam looked over, his lean face creasing into a smile. ‘Lainey, hi, take a seat. I’ll be right with you.’
She sat down in the corner, watching while Adam started plating an order, narrowly missing bumping his head on the overhead shelves as he moved around. He’d told her the first thing he would do when he made some money was turn his kitchen into the right size for his height. Six foot two, lanky chefs were obviously unusual in the restaurant world. She looked down at tonight’s menu. The dishes were very familiar – Adam had tried most of them out on her first. If she was eating here tonight, what would she have chosen? She loved his seafood paella, made with yabbies and prawns. The middle-eastern-style dish, lamb shank tajine with prunes and almonds over saffron couscous, was fantastic too. She read further down the menu. Capelli d’angelo – angel hair pasta – with diced vine-ripened tomatoes, goat’s cheese ricotta and torn fresh basil leaves. Grilled plump West Australian sardines with a Sicilian salsa of ripe tomatoes, pine nuts and currants…
‘So how are you, gorgeous?’ Adam called over his shoulder as he expertly turned something in a pan on the stove behind him.
She put down the menu. ‘I’m fine, gorgeous, how are you? I love the new hat.’
‘It is something special, isn’t it?’ Adam said with a grin, turning slowly to show his Richmond football hat to its full advantage. As a self-taught chef, he’d told Lainey he felt he couldn’t wear the proper chef’s hat. He improvised instead with an ever-changing range of headwear, from scarves tied pirate-style to baseball caps to tonight’s black and yellow woollen handknit.
‘It’s certainly something, anyway. That’s a great crowd. Well done.’
‘That crowd’s all thanks to your marketing brain, Miss Byrne, not my cooking yet,’ he said, as he glanced at the order again. ‘Where have you been, looking so smart? Not over at your parents’?’
‘Not tonight. I was there last night though. A crisis meeting.’
She had his full attention. ‘Is your dad bad again?’
‘No, it wasn’t his health. It was about my aunt’s will. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’
‘He can’t work out what to spend all that B&B money on?’ Adam deftly added garnishes, wiped the edge of each plate clean with a tissue dipped in ice-cold water, then rang the silver bell on the shelf in front of him, talking all the while. ‘Tell him I have a few ideas if he needs them – a new fridge, a new extractor fan… actually, Lainey, let’s invite him to step in as my silent partner. He and your mother could eat here free for the rest of their lives, guests of honour.’
Lainey waited until Zoe had collected the plates and she and Adam were alone in the kitchen before she responded. There was no point dillydallying with news like this, she knew. She’d have to come right out with it. ‘There’s actually been a catch with the will. I have to go and live in Ireland for a year and run the B&B before we can sell it.’
Adam stopped, pan in hand. ‘You have to do what?’
She repeated it.
‘When?’
‘I have to be there within the month.’
‘Oh, I see. Great. Well, have a lovely time, won’t you?’ He looked at her closely. ‘You’re not joking, are you?’
‘No.’
As she explained the whole story, Adam listened and worked, asking questions, moving pans and cooking all the while. ‘And there’s really no alternative? Your family can’t challenge the will?’
She shook her head.
He was watching her carefully. ‘So how do you feel about it? Are you pleased at the chance to be back in Ireland for a while?’
‘I am. It’s just what I have to do when I get there that worries me. All that cleaning.’
‘All that cooking, you mean.’ His eyes were warm with amusement. ‘You’re not going to try and get away with stir-fries for breakfast, are you?’
She knew he found it very funny that her cooking skills extended to just a small selection of simple Asian dishes. ‘Well, Ireland is multicultural these days. It might be just what people want. Stir-fried bacon and eggs. I might start a trend.’ She quaked a little inside at the thought of the cooking. She’d been so focused on the leaving-Melbourne side of things that she hadn’t thought much about the what-happened-when-she-got-to-Ireland part. Bed and breakfast would involve the full Irish breakfast, which she only ate when she had a hangover or there was someone else around to cook it for her. Maybe her aunt had left instructions.
‘Well, you can always just give them plain toast and tell them it’s a health retreat. Don’t poke your tongue out like that, Elaine, it’s not ladylike.’ He finished plating several meals, then rang the bell again. ‘And what about your work? This is really going to mess up your plans to take over the event management world, isn’t it?’
‘A little. But I’ve no choice, really. It has to be done.’
Zoe came back in to collect the next order. After she’d gone, Adam left the stove and came over to where Lainey was sitting, his face very serious now. He gently tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. ‘And us, Lainey? Ireland’s a lot further than two floors away.’
She tried to ignore the effect his touch was having on her body. The same question had been going round and round her head for the past two days. ‘You’ll be so busy here, making a huge success of this, setting up franchises and counting your mountains of money that you won’t even notice I’m gone.’
‘Oh, I think I will.’
‘Seriously, Adam. I know how important this place is to you. Now you’ll be able to work every hour of every week, not worry about me at all. Put all your energies into this place.’
‘What if I like worrying about you?’
Zoe came back in again. ‘Order for the table of ten, Adam.’
‘Thanks, Zoe.’ He turned back to Lainey. ‘We need to talk about this a lot more. Can you wait here, have a drink and tell me all about it when this rush is over?’
‘No, I’m sorry. I’ve had to bring some work home. We’ve got a big client presentation tomorrow. What about later on? Will you be home early, do you think?’
‘I can’t tonight. The stockroom has to be emptied before the rewiring is done in the morning. What about tomorrow afternoon?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve got meetings all day. Oh and the little matter of handing over all my clients to my arch enemy.’
‘Celia got your clients?’
‘Celia got my clients.’
Zoe came in again with yet another page of orders. Lainey stood up, feeling very in the way. ‘I’d better leave you to it.’
‘Come here, Lain,’ he said softly. He leaned down and kissed her quickly, his lips warm against hers. ‘Your parents are lucky to have you. So am I. We’ll talk about it all soon, okay?’
She nodded. ‘Thanks, Ad.’
At the door she turned to wave goodbye but he was already distracted by the new order and the sudden boiling of a saucepan on the stove behind him.
CHAPTER FIVE
EVA’S VOICE WENT up a pitch. ‘You’re going to break up with Adam? For God’s sake, why?’
Sitting at her desk, Lainey moved the phone to her other ear and rubbed at her temples. Behind her the Melbourne city lights were flickering on, the late-
summer sky fading away to night. It was past eight o’clock. ‘Because it makes sense, Evie. I’ve given it a lot of thought and I’ve realised it’s the fairest thing to do. The most practical thing to do. I can’t ask him to put his own life on hold while I go away for a year. He’s up to his eyes as it is. This is the last thing he needs.’
She had been thinking it over, rationally, methodically, every day since she’d known she was leaving. Their workloads hadn’t eased at all over the past few weeks. She’d unexpectedly had to go to Sydney for four days to oversee a big product launch and then to Brisbane for a weekend trade fair. He was flat-out as usual, working seven days a week. They’d had just two nights together in that time. On the plane one evening, tired, immersed in work matters, she’d found herself thinking about their relationship in work terms. If Adam had been one of her clients and this year in Ireland the project under discussion, what options would she have suggested? Surviving on email and phone contact for a whole year? A difficult situation, she would have advised. Long-distance relationships were hard work for little immediate reward, that was well known. He certainly couldn’t come over to see her, financially or time-management-wise. She had made a long list in her mind of the pros and cons of staying together. The more dispassionately she viewed the situation, the more the right solution had presented itself.
They would have to break up. That way he would be free to concentrate on the restaurant without worrying about emails and phone calls and feeling guilty if he hadn’t had time to be in touch with her. She could concentrate on running the B&B, getting everything organised to sell it in a year’s time. And then, when she got back, they could reassess the situation. But in the meantime, there it was – the easiest, simplest, most practical solution.
Spin the Bottle Page 4
