“Aunt June only talks about the café because she’s hot on the man who owns it,” Pia says. “Though, she doesn’t want to admit it.”
A spark of exhilaration shoots through Lily-Rose’s chest. She loves gossip more than anything else, as long as she isn’t the centre of it.
She stops in the middle of the gravel path and looks at her daughter. “Aunt June likes the coffee shop owner? How very interesting. I’m keen to see him now.”
“He’s cute. For an older guy.”
“That’s not at all like Aunt June. I’ve never seen her with a man over forty-five.”
Pia giggles. “You’re such a tease, Mum. Truly.”
They stride quicker now, side by side, gravel crunching under their feet. Kookaburras and honeyeaters in the pines laugh and chirp as they make their way down the long front lawn. Bee flies and grasshoppers stir and buzz around their ankles with each step.
At the bottom of the track is a cement path bordering the road that will lead them to the small town centre—one Lily-Rose is well-acquainted with from her childhood. Campbell Town is a historic town, intended since its origins to be a stopping point and service centre for people travelling from Hobart to Launceston. It’s mostly sheep grazing land.
She doesn’t understand how she ever survived this town. Nor can she believe that she’s back. Her life must really be in a shambles to have come home.
“But it is beautiful,” she whispers, not realising she has said it out loud.
“What is?” Pia asks.
Lily-Rose peers out at the green countryside, the hazy blue hills in the distance, the big unending sky. “This town.” Big details, like how lovely one’s hometown is, can be taken for granted by teenagers itching to stretch their wings.
But time and distance can help one regain perspective.
The town has been updated since Lily-Rose lived here—fresh paint, tended nature strips, professional signage. To accommodate tourists, she assumes—a good sign that there is a market for their bed and breakfast. Local café’s, like the one they are visiting today, are essential to keeping visitors content. She will have to make sure the coffee is good enough and if it isn’t, let the owner know.
But firstly, she wants to get a look at this guy. If Aunt June likes him, he must be special.
They arrive at the café and stroll inside. The man behind the counter has thick grey hair and pale brown eyes that crinkle slightly as he offers them both a welcoming smile.
“Good morning, ladies,” he says. “Take a seat, and I’ll come to take your orders.”
Okay, so he is fairly handsome. His smile is genuine. Nice straight teeth. Nothing too spectacular, but Lily-Rose can see the appeal for Aunt June.
Lily-Rose and Pia take a seat out the back in the sun. Trees with thin branches that arch over the seating area filter the light, but she was sure to put sunscreen on so as not to give herself anymore premature wrinkles.
“So how do you know Aunt June is sweet for this man?” Lily-Rose asks once they’re seated at a clean, stylish timber setting.
“I went to her yoga class last week and we came here afterwards for a cup of tea. I could tell. She was … different around him. I’ve not seen her like that.”
Lily-Rose leans forward, hand on her chin. “Different how?”
Pia shrugs. “I don’t know. Like she was on her best behaviour. Aunt June is never ever on her best behaviour. If she can flirt with a man, she does. But she didn’t with this guy.”
“How very strange,” Lily-Rose says with an excited lilt. “What was her yoga class like? I’m thinking of going next week.” She presses a hand to her stomach and hates that it already feels bigger. “I need to keep an exercise regime if I don’t want to blow out.”
“Mum, you’re as thin as a rake. I think a blowout is what you need.”
She waves her hand at her daughter. “Oh, please.” But the compliment feeds the happy chemicals in her brain.
The café owner meets them at their table. He smiles. “Morning, Pia. Good to see you again.”
“You too.” Pia gestures at Lily-Rose. “Damien, I’d love to introduce you to my mother, Lily-Rose. Lily-Rose this is Damien.”
She glances up at his smiling brown eyes. “Pleasure to meet you, Damien.”
“Likewise.”
“We’ve dropped in to test your coffee,” Lily-Rose says. “I’m sure you’ve already heard that we’re renovating Viewtree House into a bed and breakfast. It’ll be great to refer guests to a quality local eatery.”
“I promise you’ll love the coffee. It has an almost fruity taste—like rum and raisin dark chocolate. Organic. Roasted in Victoria, so it’s supporting Australian businesses.”
A shocked expression shapes Lily-Rose’s lips. “I would not have guessed that.”
“It might be a small town, but I can still provide the best.”
“Absolutely you can. Well, in that case, can we have two lattes, please? Skim milk.”
When Damien leaves, Lily-Rose leans closer to Pia, elbows resting on the table top. “I am so happy we’re doing this renovation together. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
It has been nearly fourteen months. She and Hugh had flown to the United States last spring. The last great family memory she had made before everything turned to shit. “So tell me about what happened with this boyfriend of yours?”
Pia rolls her eyes. “He wanted me to give him permission to sleep with other women.”
Lily-Rose wrinkles her nose. “He what?”
“I know. A total selfish arse.” Pia scowls. “As if I would agree to that.”
“No, and you should never have to.” Yet Lily-Rose had expected her own husband to be okay with her having an affair. Well, that’s not entirely true—she never anticipated Hugh would find out.
Of course, in her career, Lily-Rose had been hit on by many men who were infatuated with the characters she played on screen. For the most part, it was always so easy to turn down their advances because she loved Hugh with all her heart. But in the back of her mind, she always wondered if that exact combination of man and opportunity presented itself, would she be able to resist?
Turns out, she couldn’t.
“I’m glad it’s over,” Pia says. “I think, in a way, it had been over for months.”
“I never liked Ben. He was too charming. Too eager to please.” In her career, she had met many people like that, and they were mostly self-serving narcissists. “You need someone supportive. Someone kind and loyal. Someone more like …”
“Dad?”
Lily-Rose turns away and pulls on her earlobe. “Please don’t. I’m not in the mood.”
“Dad told me about the divorce.”
“Gloat about it more like it,” she mumbles, finally facing her daughter again.
Pia frowns. “Not at all. He’s very upset. He’s heading off to Africa to volunteer for Doctors Without Borders for a couple of months.”
Her marriage breaks down and she has her genitalia photographed while vomiting into a gutter. Hugh’s marriage ends and he heads off to a war-torn region to volunteer. “I’ve never been good enough for that man. Who can be that charitable all the time?”
Although, when she first met Hugh in her second year of acting school, he was in his final year of medical school. He was leading a rally on campus, protesting against the destruction of the Amazon rainforest. Seeing the passion in his expression and hearing it in his strong voice as he stood in front of the raucous crowd, chanting and preaching, she thought she’d never find a better man.
And if she were to be honest, she never has. Antonio was young, sexy, and a skilled lover, but he didn’t have a fraction of the passion Hugh possesses.
“He’s hurting. A lot,” Pia says.
Lily-Rose places her palm on her chest. “So am I. Just because I’m the one who fucked up doesn’t mean I’m not hurting …” she trails off when her voice cracks. But she will not cry here in a public café in front
of her daughter.
Pia reaches across the space and pats Lily-Rose’s hand. “I know, Mum. I’m sorry. I know you’re hurting too.”
Damien returns with two lattes and places them on the table in front of them. “Enjoy, ladies.”
They both smile their thanks.
Pia leans back in her seat while Lily-Rose cups her mug and sips the hot coffee. Delicious, dark roasted, yet with a fruity undertone exactly like Damien described.
“So, what about work? You got any movies coming up?” Pia asks.
Lily-Rose braces for the rush of painful sensation that accompanies thoughts about the industry lately. Her career is all tied up in her affair, divorce, and the media trumpeting everything to the public.
She flinches as she recalls charging headfirst at the wall, waking from her stupor to see her frightened assistant’s face looming above her, the persistent headache that lasted for weeks afterwards, the purple and blue bruises that bloomed under her eyes.
She shakes her head. “Nor am I looking. I’m thinking about quitting. I’m done with all the bullshit.”
Pia smirks. “I don’t believe it. You’re too big for this town. I truly can’t see you staying here for the long haul.”
Lily-Rose shrugs a shoulder and sips her latte. “You forget, darling, this is where my life started.” But how could this be where she ends up? A career spanning twenty-five years, and she is back where it all began. And she is only fifty.
But she isn’t anything like the woman she was ten years ago, let alone one year ago. She barely recognises herself, so how can Pia even assume to predict or know anything about her?
Grief tumbles through her then, pinching her heart. To lose your sense-of-self is frightening and very very sad.
But one trait still lingers—perseverance. She didn’t endure hundreds of auditions and rejections and put up with predatory behaviour from co-workers and employers as she strove to break through and finally make it as an actress without gleaning some determination.
She glances out past the other guests towards the paddocks in the distance and blinks away the gloss of her eyes before she meets her daughter’s gaze. “You underestimate me.”
Chapter 15
Pia
Aknock comes at the front door five minutes before eight. Pia spent extra time dressing this morning. She wears a tight pair of jeans—the pair from her collection that makes her backside look the best—and a red, low-cut shirt. She had read somewhere that men find women who wear red more attractive.
Pia opens the door to find Luca standing there in his uniform: knee-length cargos and a pale blue polo shirt with his business name stitched across the pocket. His chin is covered with three days of rich brown growth that accentuates his eyes.
Her breath is thieved as she gazes up at his face. “Good morning,” she says, words a mere whisper.
He grins, and her legs grow weak. “Morning, Pia.”
Luca is divine—tall, and his shoulders are wide like an Olympic swimmer. He has luscious dark hair that she wishes to run her fingers through, and each time she looks into his eyes, she has thoughts of obsidian held up to sunlight.
A part of her wonders if this intense immediate attraction is because she is pregnant and is biologically hunting out a father to take care of them.
And a part of her wonders if it’s a simple yet complicated case of two souls who are meant to meet regardless of the circumstances.
During the week, Nan had caught Pia standing on the stairs and staring at the multi-coloured shimmers of light that streamed through the lead-glass window. Her mind had drifted to Luca, and she hadn’t even seen or heard Nan descending the stairs towards her.
Nan shuffled her to the first landing and told her in a stern assertive way that under no circumstances is she allowed to start a romance with the building contractor.
“It’s unprofessional, first and foremost,” Nan had said. “And completely uncouth. But it could jeopardise this entire project if this love affair turns sour. That’s not an unreasonable prediction. You’re a beautiful young woman and he’s a handsome young man, but that’s where it ends.”
“Nan, it’s strictly professional. I want this … need this bed and breakfast to be a success as much as you do. Maybe even more so.”
Pia is a reasonable, rational person, mostly. But what is it about being told not to do something that makes it so much more of an attractive prospect?
She gestures Luca come inside. He wipes his boots on the doormat and steps through into the entrance hall. “The rest of the family won’t be joining us?”
She shakes her head. “They’re happy for you to tell me everything, then I can try and translate it to them later. But afterwards, we’ll meet up with everyone to run through the numbers.”
“Sounds good.”
“So, where would you like to start?” she asks.
“Upstairs.”
Her heart skips a beat as the innuendo in that single word rockets through her system.
Luca clears his throat, rubs his palm over his jaw. “Then we’ll work our way down here and finish outside.”
She tries to ignore the growing warmth in her cheeks. “Perfect. I’ll let you lead the way.”
He meets her eyes and holds her gaze for a tic longer than is socially polite. Within his eyes, an intensity she’s not seen before blazes: an unspoken promise. From that one look, she knows he has been daydreaming about her in all the ways she has been daydreaming about him.
Luca leads her around the manor, showing her what he is required to restructure, build or fix in order to transform the manor into ten guest bedrooms with ensuites. He explains how he will carefully restore the windows and he smiles all the while.
She arches a brow. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Smile still broad, he says, “I’ve always appreciated this house. I would ride past it every afternoon on the way home from school and admire it. Rustic Victorian Gothic architecture. Like the town’s church, which I was also lucky enough to renovate.”
“I didn’t realise you were a long-term local?”
“My nonna lived here, but she moved to Hobart before my mother was born. After she passed, my family moved back. I think I was about twelve.”
Pia smiles. “You enjoy living in a small town like this?”
“For the most part. I’m keen to hear how the daughter of a famous actress is adapting? Must be a huge change for you.”
She shrugs a shoulder. “Too soon to tell, I think. At the moment, it feels like a holiday with the added excitement of planning a renovation.”
“I think a bed and breakfast will do well here. It’s a historic town and tourists have felt short-changed that this manor has been off-limits.”
“What do the locals think?”
“You know how small towns are—half the residents want more tourists, half don’t.”
“I can understand that. But I think we’re doing a great thing. No one is going to preserve the heritage of a home more honestly than the owners.”
“Agreed. And with me overseeing it, I’ll make that a reality.”
She smiles up at him. “Thank you.”
He lifts his hands, both palms up. “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve got months ahead of us. Renovations for some families can be incredibly stressful. Who knows, you all might hate me to death by the end of it.”
Pia rolls her head back and laughs. “I’m sure we won’t hate you.”
They tread downstairs and Luca explains the upgrades to the kitchen, living room, dining room, ballroom and renovation of the lower-level bathrooms.
Out through the back door into the warm morning sun, Luca discusses the upgrade to the patio. They head to the stables—a long timber and brick structure with big doors bolted shut with black cast-iron hinges. They haven’t been used for over fifty years.
“My draftsman has drawn up all the plans for each of your apartments. The internal layouts will all be similar, but once we fit them out,
you can each decide on your own inclusions with respect to flooring, fittings and tiles.”
Her family have decided that they would each build a residence in the stables, leaving the manor entirely for guests. Despite Nan’s stern demeanour, a gloom was present in her eyes when she mentioned it, saying without words to Pia that this was a difficult decision for her to make. But a decision that made sense.
The apartments would be built first before any other work, which paves the way for undisrupted renovations of the manor because they wouldn’t be living among the chaos.
“And how big is the floor plan?” Pia has a baby to consider now.
“A decent size, even with the stables split equally into five. We’ll be adding a mezzanine level and with the inclusion of a rectory at the back, you will have one-hundred-and-fifty metres squared of living space. That’s more than enough for a small family, let alone one person.”
She nods. “That’s decent floor space.”
He opens the folder he has in his hand. “I think you’ll like the plans. I’ve done everything possible to make the spaces functional yet still feel roomy.”
Pia runs her gaze over the lines and measurements, but she doesn’t have the skills to read these drawings and visualise the building they will eventually become. “I’m going to have to trust you on this.”
He meets her eyes, his expression serious. “You can trust me, Pia. I’m good at what I do.” There is no arrogance in his tone, nor over-confidence. With his deep timbre and assertive words, all she finds is comfort and, yes, trust.
She is starting to see that this is the type of man Luca is—calm, professional, and unafraid to take control. A gentle current of warmth moves through her body as the deep desire that palpably throbs between them expands. Her heart rate accelerates.
She quickly looks away. No use getting ahead of herself. In less than nine months, she is going to be a mother; that’s what she should be focusing on.
They stroll to the front of the property, which is quite a walk, considering the size of the manor. The temperature is above average today and has been all week.
The Secrets Mothers Keep Page 7
