The Chocolatier's Secret (Magnolia Creek, Book 2)

by Helen J Rolfe

  After chatting with Ben, Molly spent the rest of the day making the most of the new surroundings. She caught the tram to the city, loving the ting of the bell as they approached lights or warned a pedestrian who’d crossed the road dangerously. Ting, ting, ting went the bell – coming through! She loved it. She went up to the top of Eureka SkyDeck and dared to walk out on The Edge, the almost three-hundred-metre glass cube suspended above Melbourne city. Up there she felt invincible, like nothing could go wrong for her now.

  She stopped for a hot chocolate at a quaint café in one of Melbourne’s laneways, she checked out the famous domed structure of Flinders Street Station, dodging out of the way of commuters as they raced for their trains. She bought a woollen dress at the big department store in Bourke Street, crossing over a smaller road to go in the other side before realising she’d ended up in a different shop entirely. And when her jet lag caught up with her, she caught the tram back to South Yarra, watching out the window and gazing upon green spaces freshened up by last night’s downpour.

  Back at the apartment Molly boiled the kettle and made a cup of tea. She sat at the table and hopped onto Facebook again, ready to chat with Ben. He’d sent her a longer message this time, telling her all about his trip to Sentosa Island and Resort World. He’d sent her a photo of him and Seb on a ride called the Luge, his long legs bunched right up as he tried to fit on the thing. She’d laughed at his story about the most revolting nachos he’d ever tasted with warm, puke-like cheese and a runny salsa. He suggested she check out the impressive Crown Casino during her time in Melbourne, and he asked her how she felt about meeting Andrew Bennett.

  Molly: I honestly don’t know how to feel. The euphoria from the flight has kept me going till now, but I’m starting to get nervous about the whole thing.

  Ben: You can’t back out now!

  Molly: I won’t.

  Ben: Good. And the offer still stands. I’ll be back in Melbourne soon, and if you want to meet up, I’m all yours.

  Molly: Goodnight, Ben, jet lag has defeated me today.

  Ben: I’ll take that as a yes! Goodnight, Molly, sweet dreams. x

  She smiled at the ‘x’, and although she didn’t reply with a kiss in return, she did go to bed thinking about him, her tiredness the only reason he didn’t leap into her dreams.

  *

  Two days later Molly’s jet lag had subsided a little, and with the sun in the sky, she collected a hire car and programmed the satnav with the postcode for Magnolia Creek Holiday Cottages.

  This was it. She was really doing this.

  Molly enjoyed the freedom on the drive, the space you didn’t get in England crammed up on the motorways, going nowhere, pulling in and out of parked cars on tiny side streets that were the only way to get through some towns. She sipped from her bottle of water at her side and let the satnav do the thinking as the wind blew through the open windows and lifted tendrils of dark hair around the sides of her face.

  The countryside was amazing, or was it the bush? She really had no idea in this foreign country, but whatever it was called, it was stunning scenery to drive through. She smiled at unfamiliar signposts and read words out loud: Murrindindi … what a funny word that was. But then, finally a name she knew as the road narrowed and the trees formed a canopy overhead.

  A sign in big, swirly writing said: Welcome to Magnolia Creek.

  She was here. She was going to meet Andrew Bennett.

  Chapter Twenty

  Andrew

  ‘How could you?’ Andrew repeated, over and over. He got to his feet, paced the kitchen.

  Louis looked at the floor. ‘I’m so—’

  ‘Don’t you dare say you’re sorry!’ Andrew’s fists balled against his sides, his head hung as low as it could go. He leant against the kitchen bench for balance.

  ‘I’ll be upstairs if you need me.’ Gemma had stayed while Louis told his story, but now she put a hand to Andrew’s shoulder, and he briefly touched his cheek to her skin. He felt her grip holding him, holding him up from all of this, until she retreated from the room and the kitchen fell into silence.

  ‘How could you do it, Dad?’

  He’d trusted this man sitting at the kitchen table. He’d trusted him his whole life. This man he loved and respected; a man who’d betrayed him so brutally.

  ‘You had no right to do it!’ Andrew yelled. ‘I might have been young, but I wasn’t stupid.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say, son.’

  ‘How could you pay her mother to get rid of our baby, part of your own flesh and blood?’ Andrew spat.

  ‘I did it because I thought she’d ruin you. She said as much.’

  ‘But the sex was consensual.’

  ‘She would’ve twisted it, maybe even persuaded Julia to say the same. God knows what the woman was capable of.’

  ‘All this time … all this time, I’ve despised Julia for not having the decency to face me and tell me what she had planned. And all along, she didn’t even do anything wrong.’ He thought about Julia as a teenager, giggling as they listened to the radio in his bedroom, her cheek as soft as silk against his as they both promised silently to never love another. He sat opposite Louis now, unable to stop himself worrying at how pale his father was, how weak. But no, this wasn’t about Louis today. This was about him. About Julia. About the child he’d never met.

  ‘I didn’t see I had any choice,’ Louis said quietly. ‘I had to give her the money or she’d have dragged your name through the mud and I didn’t want to take the risk.’

  ‘We could’ve tried.’ Andrew shook his head.

  ‘I didn’t want you to settle either.’

  ‘I’m not sure I follow.’

  ‘I didn’t want you to settle, like I did,’ he mumbled.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  Louis rubbed at his swollen fingers. ‘When your mum fell pregnant, there was no discussion about what we would do. What you did in those days was you got married and that was the end of it.’ When Andrew looked at him, he said, ‘I loved your mother, we were good together and really close friends. But I’m not sure I ever loved her the way you should. The way you love Gemma, like she’s a jewel at the bottom of the ocean, someone you found and keep looking at as though you can’t believe your luck.

  ‘Penny was younger than me, she was besotted, and we had a lot of fun when we first got together. But I’d already decided what I wanted to do, career wise, and I was going to go off to make my name in the world as a pastry chef in America or Europe.’

  ‘But you did all that, here in Australia.’

  Louis shook his head. ‘I should’ve been applying for apprenticeships instead of running around with a girl. I lost my focus and the next thing I knew, Penny was pregnant. I was in a job I didn’t mind, but not an exciting job given my ambition. But it paid the bills and so that’s where I stayed when I married. It wasn’t Penny’s fault, not at all, but when you were a baby I resented her for tying me down.’

  ‘It takes two to make a baby, Dad.’

  ‘I know it does.’ His breathing sounded raspy, but Andrew didn’t ask whether he was okay. ‘I wanted you to fall in love,’ he wheezed, ‘have everything, including the one part of my life that perhaps I was missing. I was a horrible husband for a while, angry because I wasn’t doing the things I wanted to do. I battled with it until my own father gave me a stern talking to. He told me I had responsibilities. He told me not to let them down. And I did love your mother. I learned what true love really was, right up until the day she died, but I had a life with tinges of regret that I’d never found a love that was so passionate it was all-consuming. A love I couldn’t live without. You change a lot in your late teens and early twenties. It’s the age you really start to learn about yourself, and believe me, it’s much easier to do when you only have yourself to think about. My love with your mother grew out of mutual respect and friendship, but it didn’t come naturally. I didn’t want you to face the same battle.’

  �
�I loved Julia,’ said Andrew. ‘I know fifteen is young, and maybe we wouldn’t have stayed together anyway if she hadn’t got pregnant, but you had no right to take the choice away from me. We both deserved to find out for ourselves.’

  Louis nodded but stayed silent.

  Andrew was mildly aware of the sounds from upstairs: Gemma flushing the toilet, using the sink to clean her teeth as she got ready for bed, waiting for him to find out what had happened. Waiting to see if he yelled, screamed at his dad, threw something else. He watched Louis, the elderly man who looked as though his world was rapidly falling apart around him, just as his had done all those years ago. The lines on his face always spoke of wisdom and experience, but right now all they looked like to Andrew were marks from the lies he’d told.

  Andrew pushed back from the table, scraped both hands through his hair. ‘This all feels like a hellish nightmare to me. I don’t understand how any of you could rest easy after you did it … the money, the letters. It was all such a ruthless and sick plan. I can’t believe you played any part in it.’

  ‘I can’t believe Julia had the baby,’ said Louis, hands shaking. ‘Kathleen assured me she wasn’t going to let it happen. She was so sure of what she wanted for her child. If I’d have known, I–’

  ‘You what? You would’ve taken her to the clinic yourself?’ Andrew’s voice went up enough to bring Gemma down to the kitchen in her pyjamas.

  Louis met Andrew’s stare for the first time. ‘I don’t know what we would’ve done had Julia wanted to keep the baby and you wanted to stand by her.’

  ‘What you would’ve done? You would’ve stood by me, Dad, like any normal parent!’

  ‘I wanted what was best for you!’ Louis’ raised his voice the best he could. ‘What any parent wants.’

  ‘Well, I hope if I ever become a parent,’ said Andrew, ‘I do a damn sight better than you.’

  ‘Andrew …’ When Gemma came into the kitchen, she touched him on the arm. ‘Enough.’ She went over to Louis who was struggling for breath now. ‘Slowly, Louis, slowly.’ She put a hand on her father-in-law’s back and held his hand with her other, trying to calm him.

  Louis squeezed Gemma’s hand before continuing. ‘We did what we thought best. For our child. When you become a parent—’

  ‘Don’t you dare talk to me about becoming a parent! Thanks to you I never ever got the chance to be one. And by some cruel twist of fate, it’s not happening for Gemma and me either. God, I can’t believe this.’

  ‘I’ll go. Let you digest this.’ Louis stood up from the table, shuffled across the kitchen.

  Andrew flew across the room, his face inches from his father’s. ‘I will never forgive you for this, never.’

  Louis’ body shook, his hand on the back door. Andrew didn’t know if he’d ever look at his dad in the same way again. How he’d ever have the respect and love he’d once had for him. He wasn’t sure they could move on from this.

  ‘You broke both of our hearts that day,’ he told Louis. ‘We were fifteen years old and we were fucking terrified. And you were responsible. You. You were the reason for my unhappiness, for what Julia went through on her own, responsible for my daughter, who is out there somewhere probably convinced she wasn’t wanted.’

  Louis pushed the door handle down to make his escape.

  ‘How can I give you a part of me knowing what you took away from me?’ Andrew yelled after him.

  Gemma put a hand on his arm. ‘Andrew, don’t say anything you’ll regret.’

  But Andrew wasn’t finished.

  ‘Your kidneys may be failing, but your sense of compassion disappeared back then when you ruined three peoples’ lives.’

  ‘Andrew!’ Gemma was desperate now.

  ‘No, Gemma.’ Andrew looked at his father. ‘I won’t do it. I won’t go through the pain of an operation to save you. You can go to hell!’

  Andrew stormed out of the kitchen, away from the father he didn’t think he’d ever be able to respect again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Molly

  Magnolia Creek was as picturesque as its name suggested. Molly drove along Main Street with its shops on either side, but with someone right behind her, she didn’t have time to slow and look for Magnolia Creek Chocolaterie. She followed the signs to Magnolia House, a huge white structure with a veranda at the front, and drove round to a modest tarmac car park at the rear servicing a row of eight holiday cottages. It was such a beautiful day, and when she knew the mid-March weather back home would be fighting to grab a tenth of the sunshine she’d had in her short time here, it made her want to stay outside. In truth, she wanted to bask in the holiday weather and not have to tackle the reason she’d come.

  Stepping out into the sunshine and a cool autumn breeze, Molly lifted her suitcase from the boot and stood for a moment beside the magnolia trees, which were naked save for a few burgundy leaves. This bushland setting was a complete contrast to the hustle and bustle of Melbourne’s city with its trams, tall buildings and vibrant culture. The photograph of this place on the internet had shown the magnolia trees in full bloom with port wine leaves against the stunning whitewash of the cottages with their miniature verandas and tiny doorways, but even with the change of season, the cottages looked delightful. She took in the view of the lake as she walked over to the main house to check in.

  Molly collected her key and went over to let herself in to cottage number six. The front door led into a dinky square hallway with a skylight fitted into the pointed roof. Off one side was a double bedroom and small en-suite bathroom, much like a holiday cottage in Cornwall, with seashells collected in an ocean-blue china bowl, photographs of sandy beaches strung together with old rope hanging on the wall by the mirror. The bed was made up with pale blue linen, fluffy ice-white cushions sitting on top, a white satin runner at the foot of the bed.

  The lounge room was off to the left of the front door, and off that a kitchenette, which was modern and bright. All rooms in the cottage carried on the themes of sea blues and pearly whites, and she wondered whether all eight cottages were the same. Tea and coffee supplies had been added, two scones sat beneath a see-through cloche and Molly couldn’t resist lifting it to inhale the fresh smell. And with her suitcase still at her feet, she spread one with the awaiting jam and cream and tucked in hungrily.

  After she’d eaten, Molly wheeled her case into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. This was certainly a step up from the basic and tired-looking little apartment in South Yarra. The window in the bedroom had been left open, and Molly checked for bugs, relieved to find the fly-screen covering the open gap to stop anything getting in. And when she saw the little basket beside the bed containing a selection of chocolates, her heart leapt. Little luxuries were a big thing in her book.

  She unwrapped the first and tasted a hint of orange, and then she unwrapped another two, both milk chocolate mint. She threw the rubbish in the bin, and it was only as she reached for the fourth chocolate, that she noticed the inscription on the wrapping: Magnolia Creek Chocolaterie.

  Her jaw stopped working as she wondered whether Andrew Bennett had been inside this cottage himself, whether he’d laid the chocolates in the delicate straw baskets for the guests.

  Don’t be stupid, Molly. Of course he hadn’t.

  But then again, he could’ve made them in the first place, his hands could’ve wrapped them.

  This was driving her insane.

  The sooner she got out there and did what she came here to do, the better.

  *

  Molly took a full hour to psych herself up to venture outside of her cottage. She showered, changed – twice – ending up in the same pale pink shirt and dark denim jeans she’d had on in the first place. She’d brushed her hair more times than a fairy princess, preened what little make-up she had on and hummed and hawed about whether to wear her flip-flops or more sensible attire for walking and exploring.

  When she finally left the cottage and stepped off the miniature
veranda at the front, the sun reflected off the lake and she pulled her sunglasses down. She followed the curve of the wall past the swaying branches of the surrounding trees, past Magnolia House where a redhead was stringing up fairy lights. She followed the path up to Main Street, but when she reached the top she started to feel afraid. She wished she’d logged on and got a talking to from Ben before this moment, but they’d messaged this morning and he was about to catch his flight from Singapore. She wondered whether they’d ever meet again. He’d offered to meet in the city. He seemed keen, and she had to admit, so was she. She was intrigued about him, this caring man who people looked up to in their Facebook group and all because of what? Because he’d got over his fear of flying and they wished they could too? He was a great mentor and encouraging to others and this thought warmed Molly as much as the sun on her back as she carried on walking. She’d trusted him right from the start and had no explanation as to why. They’d simply fallen into a friendship, and it felt right.

  She paused opposite a shop undergoing renovations. She couldn’t make out what the sign in the window said from here. She’d heard there had been bushfires last year, and when she looked to the right, she could see blackened trees, still standing tall, refusing to be defeated. This place felt strong, it had a presence, but it didn’t make her feel any less nervous. She continued on her way and nodded a hello to a lady with bright red lipstick and dark wavy hair that caught the light. And when Molly reached Magnolia Gifts she stopped, still. She knew from her Google research that the chocolaterie would be the next stop.