Lake Hill

by Margareta Osborn

  Rick wasn’t listening. He was grappling for his phone, which was sitting in the fruit bowl where he’d dropped it earlier this morning after towing Julia’s buggered car to his machinery shed at the Grange.

  He punched in Montana’s contact and stood drumming his fingers on the bench. ‘Answer it, damn you,’ he muttered.

  His sister didn’t pick up.

  ‘What’s the real estate’s landline?’ he asked Charlie.

  ‘1300 FARMER.’

  Rick grimaced. ‘I will never understand my sister. Why FARMER, for God’s sake?’

  ‘Because that’s what she wants to be.’

  ‘She’ll do it for five minutes and then flit onto something else, like she’s always done.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean she can’t dream,’ said Charlie. He picked up an apple and bit into it with gusto. ‘Didn’t get any breakfast, thanks to your girlfriend.’

  Rick narrowed his eyes. ‘Number one, she’s not my girlfriend. Number two, how did Julia know the tearooms were up for sale? She’s only been here five minutes.’

  Charlie stared at his feet, then out the window at the tranquil waters of Lake Grace. ‘I showed her,’ he muttered.

  Heat flushed through Rick’s body. ‘You showed her?’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ said the older man, seeming to throw caution to the wind now he was in so deep. ‘I went for a walk with her and we went past the tearooms. I didn’t know it was her greatest dream in the whole wide world to have a cafe overlookin’ the water, did I? I was just bein’ neighbourly, showin’ her around. Bein’ nice, which is more than you’ve been since she hit town.’

  ‘She’s a fucking journo, Charlie!’

  ‘She isn’t.’

  ‘She is!’

  ‘Isn’t.’ Charlie took another bite of his apple.

  Rick ignored him, his attention caught by the sketch he’d left on the table. Julia’s diary had said it all. She had a series of appointments with the local press, obviously to sell whatever story she was dreaming up.

  She’d wanted to be a journalist so much. They’d laughed about it back then, how her ambition was so naked and forceful.

  The phone in his hand started ringing.

  ‘Might want to answer that,’ said Charlie. He peered over Rick’s shoulder at the flashing screen. ‘It’s ya sister.’

  Rick snapped back to the present and answered the phone.

  His sister’s smoky voice sounded in his ear. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure of a missed call from my big brother?’

  ‘I want to buy the tearooms.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really.’

  ‘You don’t know how to cook.’

  ‘I’ll employ someone.’

  ‘You didn’t say please.’

  ‘Montana, I swear –’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re going to turn me over your knee and smack me. That threat used to work when I was three.’

  ‘The tearooms –’

  ‘You’re too late. Why do you suddenly want the tearooms, anyway? You should’ve got in yesterday.’

  ‘I didn’t want them yesterday. So who’s bought the place?’

  ‘Can’t say.’

  ‘Montana!’

  ‘You don’t need to remind me of my name twice in the one call. Besides, you know I can’t tell you. Protocol.’

  Rick slumped onto the nearest seat. ‘At least tell me you didn’t sell to the woman you brought into town last night.’

  ‘No can do.’

  How could his sister sound so cheery when she knew what the press had done to their lives? It had been like living in a giant fishbowl with cats the size of lions circling outside.

  ‘I’m going to buy a couple of new pups with some of the commission.’ She sounded excited. ‘From Pilbara Working Dogs or Killili. Both studs have superb dogs. There’s this bitch called Jinx, and another called Meg …’

  Those bloody kelpies were all Montana thought about these days. It was down to Rick to protect his sister. To make sure she kept her head on straight.

  He should never have sold off that block of land in the first place, but Frank had pleaded. And the money had been handy to do the pasture renovations down on the river paddocks.

  Nevertheless, the deal wasn’t completely done yet. Things could go wrong. There was no way he was going to let a journalist get so close. Even if she was Julia Gunn.

  Chapter 8

  Clarence, Rupert’s solicitor, would be furious that Julia had signed the contract the minute she’d finished reading the fine print. But she’d seen so many Section 32s in her time as a law clerk that she had it all covered. The sale was conditional on a building inspection, pest inspection and finance being approved. The only thing not covered was a change of mind on her part, and she hoped that wasn’t going to happen. Was about ninety-seven per cent sure it wouldn’t.

  The tearooms had blown her plans for a cafe in Lakes Entrance right off the map. But the cottage looked exactly like the images on her dream board; and thanks to Rupert and his rigorous money management she didn’t have any immediate pressure to earn an income. Never before had she felt so certain about anything. Lake Hill was ‘the one’. It didn’t matter that it was in Lake Grace. It didn’t matter that Rick Halloran lived nearby. This was where she was meant to be.

  ‘It’s just perfect,’ she’d breathed as she’d gazed at the building.

  ‘Perfect for what?’ Charlie had asked.

  ‘My new life.’

  They’d finally tracked Montana down at the local corner store where she was buying a bacon and egg toasted sandwich.

  She’d waved it at Julia. ‘You really should try these while you’re in town. Not real healthy, and greasy as all hell, but just the thing if you’re suffering a hangover. Which I’m not in case you’re wondering. I zonked right out last night after that trip to South Gippsland and back. You reckon we’ve got hills up here, you should see some of the sharp corners in the Strzeleckis! They’re a real bitch.’

  Charlie got in first. ‘Julia here wants to take a look at the tearooms.’

  ‘Really? Now, why would a classy city girl like you want to look at a quaint little old cottage in the middle of the bush?’ She leaned against a window ledge and surveyed Julia through narrowed eyes.

  Julia was taken aback. As the agent Montana was supposed to say ‘yes, ma’am’ and show her the property, not question her motives! She could do that for herself later on. She stiffened her spine and channelled Rupert.

  ‘You have a property called Lake Hill on your books,’ she said formally. ‘I’d like to view it.’

  ‘Right,’ said Montana, taking a bite of her sandwich and crossing her legs.

  Time for a change of tack. Julia infused sweetness into her voice instead.

  ‘Montana, I’d really like to take a look at the tearooms. As you know, when you found me I was heading to Lakes Entrance, but as well as a mini-break I’d planned to look at a cafe to buy. But this one is better. In fact this one,’ Julia smiled as she pictured Lake Hill, ‘is perfect. It’s exactly what I’ve been dreaming of.’

  ‘Why here?’

  ‘I just told you. The tearooms are so cute. The Lakes Entrance cafe is on the main street and looks like a shopfront. It’s not a gorgeous cottage in a beautiful garden on a magnificent hill with views to die for!’

  ‘Hmmm …’ Montana took another bite of her sandwich.

  ‘Look, I really want to buy the place. I have the money. Cash, actually.’

  Rupert had taken out life insurance, and she’d sold their house and rental properties to make this new life possible.

  ‘Okay, I reckon you’re serious,’ said Montana finally, after studying Julia’s face for an excruciatingly long time.

  ‘Of course she’s bloody serious,’ said Charlie. ‘I wouldn’t have brought her to you if she wasn’t. She bloody near drooled all over me new trainers when she saw the place.’ He glanced down at his startlingly white sneakers. ‘Just got them from Vi
nnie’s too.’

  ‘I only listed the tearooms yesterday,’ said Montana. ‘The property’s not even in the office window yet or on the website. Guess you’ll save me some work. I’m not sure what Ri–’ She stopped, flushed as red as her hair, then rushed on. ‘Anyway, what’s it matter? If you want the place bad enough to pay what Frank’s asking, I guess it’s yours.’

  ‘So Frank’s definitely not comin’ back?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘No. He’s got to look after his parents. His dad’s got Alzheimer’s and his mum’s not coping too well.’

  ‘So who’s gunna make me a decent coffee now?’ Charlie whinged.

  ‘Well, by the sounds of it, her.’

  The two of them appraised Julia. She’d really had enough of this.

  ‘I’d very much like to take a look at the property this morning, if you have time, Montana.’

  ‘Sure thing,’ said the girl, now all business. ‘I just have to head back to the office and grab a key. I’ll meet you out there.’

  Charlie cleared his throat. ‘Her car’s at the Grange, remember? And I’m not sure she enjoyed ridin’ into town in my classic old motor vehicle.’

  Julia choked. ‘Old’ was right, but ‘classic’ was pushing it. There were rotting bull horns embedded in the dash. The stink was appalling! And every rusted panel on the ancient Land-Cruiser appeared to have come from another vehicle. It was a wonder the thing was allowed on the road.

  ‘I’ve only got my ute this morning and it’s a two-seater,’ said Montana.

  ‘There’s really no need for you to come, Charlie,’ Julia said. ‘I can take it from here.’

  But the old fellow was like a leech; he wouldn’t be shaken off. ‘Nah, I’d better ride along in case there’s … um … a snake in the grass or somethin’. Your Owen’ll have his four-wheel drive, won’t he?’

  ‘Probably. Let’s go see.’ Montana strode off at a fast clip.

  Owen, Montana’s husband, turned out to be a good-looking, blond young man with shoulders like an American quarterback.

  ‘You interested in Frank’s place?’ he said. ‘Better snap it up quick then. I reckon there’ll be a lot of interest in it.’

  He obviously had no problem selling the place to her.

  ‘Frank hasn’t had a chance to do up the gateway yet, but he brought in those rocks over there with the intention of getting a local stonemason to build some pillars,’ said Montana as they finally entered the driveway of what Julia hoped would be her new home. ‘It’ll look amazing when it’s done. Very solid and welcoming, like the tearooms have been here for years.’

  Finally, the girl was sounding like a real estate agent.

  ‘The house was moved here some years ago by a local farmer, who intended to use it as a worker’s cottage. Frank bought it for an art gallery but turned it into tearooms instead. We get lots of tourists up here all year round thanks to the lake, and then in the winter the snowfields are so close.’

  ‘D’ya know how to make a good coffee?’ asked Charlie. ‘Those snow bunnies love their coffee.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Julia, thanks to a barista course she’d recently completed. Another item ticked off her list.

  ‘And cakes? I love me some cake.’

  ‘Yes, I’m good at cakes, and pastries,’ she added.

  Her skills were, in part, due to Rupert. Her staid solicitor husband had turned out profiteroles like a pro. Julia’s eyes pricked with tears. Oh, Rupert. He’d been so kind to her, but also very controlling and … well, dull. He would have been horrified to know she was contemplating changing her life so completely.

  No more scared Julia. No more safe Julia. The words resounded in her head. She’d made a vow to herself and she intended to keep it.

  Forcing saliva into her dry mouth and down her scratchy throat, she took a deep breath and stared at an enormous, centuries-old gum tree. The grey, tan and red colours of its bark twisted together like a swizzle stick. The tree’s solidity steadied her, helped her get her tumultuous emotions under lock and key again.

  ‘How could you not fall in love with this view?’ said Montana, opening the cute white garden gate that led into the grounds.

  Julia’s eyes were immediately drawn to the lake in front of her. It was like a glorious offering to some unknown deity. The weather was sunny, the sky a brilliant blue with the odd fluffy white cloud lazily making its way across the horizon. The water itself was a mirror, disturbed only by the ripples caused by the odd pelican skidding to a halt on its surface. Miles and miles of reservoir, as far as her eye could see. And beyond the water, a series of mountains in all shapes and sizes, coloured a deep marine-blue by the eucalypts that covered them like rigid blue-grey cut-outs.

  When Julia’s gaze finally returned to the cottage, she was surprised to see there was a second storey. Casement windows, visible only from this angle, sat snugly in the roofline.

  ‘C’mon,’ said Montana. ‘Even though we could look at this view all day, I’d better show you through the building.’

  Julia found herself holding her breath as Montana grappled with the old-fashioned key to the front door. Was the place going to be all she hoped for, or a shattering disappointment? The lock clicked and she closed her eyes, feeling her way into the hallway.

  ‘You can look now,’ said Montana, amused.

  Blushing, Julia opened her eyes onto the most beautiful little house she’d ever seen.

  ‘Struth,’ said Charlie. ‘I think she’s gunna faint again. You alright, love?’

  Julia felt his hand on her elbow but she brushed it off and moved forward. She did feel giddy, but not from anything bad. The house was everything she wanted and more.

  Baltic pine floorboards gleamed honey-like underfoot, while the chest-height wall panelling, dado rail and plaster all shone a soft creamy white. A door to the left led to a room with a large antique table and ten chairs. An alcove to the right held a magnificent hallstand waiting to receive hats, coats and umbrellas. Three more steps and they entered the main room. Even Montana and Charlie fell silent in reverence.

  Before them, through a floor-to-ceiling array of red-cedar-framed windows, were Lake Grace, the rolling hills and soaring mountains, the eucalyptus forests edging it all like lace on a fine doily.

  ‘Struth,’ said Charlie again. ‘Frank must’ve had the windows put in just before he left. I can even see me own shack.’

  Julia felt the energy of the place wash through her, right down to the tips of her toes. It was as if all the positive and creative threads of the world met right here under her feet. This place was her future. She’d never been so sure of anything in her life.

  ‘What’s that?’ she asked, pointing to the small island in the middle of the lake. The many eucalypts dotting it helped it blend into the surrounding landscape. ‘I can see a little boat on its shore.’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Montana and Charlie as one.

  More secrets. Now she was going to be a local, how long would it take for them to stop being so suspicious of her? Because she was going to be a local.

  ‘I’ll buy it,’ she declared.

  ‘But you haven’t even seen the living quarters,’ said Montana. ‘They’re upstairs and super-cute. Or the kitchen, which is state of the art. Or the garden, and the twenty acres of crappy, rock-laden pasture, which, despite having a very light carrying capacity, has top-notch fencing.’

  ‘I’ll buy it,’ said Julia again, firmly.

  The decision felt so good, so right. It was almost like Rupert was beside her, squeezing her hand. Not that he would have reacted so well in real life. This was out of character for her. But still, in some crazy way she felt he’d be happy for her. And he would have loved the rambling cottage with its antiques and old-fashioned charm. Perhaps that was why the place felt so familiar. It had the same calming atmosphere as their heritage house in Armadale, although the light was very different. The cottage was bright and happy, not dark and sombre.

  ‘What do you need me to do nex
t?’ she asked Montana.

  ‘Sign the papers, I guess.’

  Julia was sure the real estate agent had never seen anyone make such a snap decision. But she knew exactly what she wanted and what her next step would be. The Lake Hill cottage was going to be hers.

  What a change from a few hours ago, when the only thing she’d wanted was to see the back of the place!

  Chapter 9

  ‘I’ll give you whatever you bought it for, pay your costs and add another ten thousand,’ Rick said.

  It was Saturday lunchtime and Julia was sitting in the small beer garden at the back of the pub, trying to concentrate on a book she’d borrowed from Jean. She’d needed something to while away all the time she now had on her hands. Maybe if she pretended she hadn’t heard him …

  ‘Did you hear me?’ said the deep voice.

  Slowly she put down the book and turned in her chair to see him leaning against the verandah door. He still looked good enough to eat. If she wanted to live in this town, she was going to have to push past her physical and chemical reaction to the man.

  ‘You could at least invite a lady to have a drink before you proposition her,’ she said before turning back to her book. She was quite pleased with that line.

  She heard footsteps. Metal chair legs dragging along the ground. A pair of workboots appeared in front of her, a set of fingers drumming against a well-formed, denim-clad thigh.

  ‘Alright, twenty thousand. Take it or leave it.’

  Julia sighed. ‘I’ll leave it, thanks.’

  ‘Thirty thousand.’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Fuck it. Forty thousand.’

  ‘I said no.’ Julia kept her head in the book although she wasn’t reading.

  ‘What will it take?’ His fingers were moving like a crazed percussionist’s.

  She glanced up at him. Boy, was that a mistake. She was struck anew by his rugged handsomeness and blushed as she recalled the dreams he’d featured in, all worthy of the hottest romance novel.

  ‘Gosh, you must really want the place,’ she said, surprised she could string any words together.