by Stacey Nash
‘Okay, Mr Morgan.’ She bowed her head. ‘Goodnight.’
When Morgan emerged from the Fat Buddha, Hannah was nowhere to be seen. He rounded the corner to the community centre and her ute no longer stood in the place she’d left it. He scrubbed the five o’clock shadow peppering his chin. The entire evening had somehow turned to shit and for what—because she’d admitted to liking him when they were both teenagers? Or because her ex-friend had arrived? He’d be damned if he didn’t feel compelled to figure out the puzzle that was Hannah Burton.
Chapter 12
Hannah’s heart squeezed as she peeled away from the restaurant. She shouldn’t have gone to dinner with him. Shouldn’t have even called him about Cooper. Most definitely shouldn’t have been thinking about him non-stop. She should have gone to Jase with her worries.
Because as soon as she got anywhere near that man her hormones took over, and that was not good. Jase was right. Morgan was bad news. He’d caused enough trouble in their family before, and there was no way she wanted to revisit those times. She needed to stay far away from him and shut down those feelings before she did something stupid.
As the lights of town faded in her rear-view mirror, Hannah’s erratic heart eased and so too did her thoughts. But maybe … what if … Morgan had changed? By the time she reached the long driveway that led into Burton Park she was certain of only one thing: she’d made a fool of herself. Not only had she told Morgan she liked him back in school, but afterwards, she’d run off like a lunatic.
Her phone buzzed on the seat beside her and she snuck a glance its way in time to see Morgan’s name flashing on the screen. Unable to face what he thought she let it ring out as she flew up the driveway, a dusty shadow trailing behind her.
The living-room window shone with the flashing light of the TV as she pulled up in front of the old house. Her twin came crashing back into her thoughts and she hoped Morgan was right in that Coop wouldn’t do anything crazy with those gin blueprints.
Still sitting in the ute she picked up her phone, scrolled past the missed call from Morgan, and dialled Cooper. His phone rang once then went to message bank. She hung up and called right back. This time he picked up on the third ring.
‘What is it?’
‘Whatever it is you’re planning please don’t do it.’
The line went dead. She called again. It hit message bank without a single ring. Heat rose in Hannah’s chest and she clenched her teeth. Short of turning around and driving right back to town, there wasn’t a lot she could do. Cooper was just angry, and he’d cool off soon.
But angry people often made stupid choices.
She gathered up her handbag, climbed out of the ute and slammed the door shut. With anger overriding her earlier fear, Hannah stormed into the house where a pile of unopened envelopes waited on the table. She flicked through—creditor, creditor, another creditor. The outgoing expenses were piling up and no income had come in yet this season. Bloody Don Carter and his bloody closed gin. It had caused more trouble than this town deserved. Hannah wanted out. Out of the troubles, out of the gin, out of cotton. She found her laptop right away and plonked herself at the dining table with a sheet of paper on which to take notes. The biggest thing she’d taken away from uni was that an internet search was the easiest and often best way to start research. You just had to stay away from that dodgy online encyclopedia.
She followed a tangled web of research from one site to the next and scribbled on the paper as she went. Finally, when her eyes were heavy and her hand sluggish, she dropped the pen, yawned and read over the first page of notes.
Additional livestock: too risky
GMO cotton: market uncertainty, ginning issues
Wheat: not in the right climate belt
Rye / Barley: too hot
Red Beans: high demand, variable market price, susceptible to pests
Jojoba: right climate, growing demand, hardy plant, drought resistant, high market price.
Feeling optimistic, Hannah gathered up her notes and headed to her room. As she dumped all the papers on the desk, she dug her phone from her pocket. She flicked off a text to Cooper.
I care because I love you. Sit tight, I’ll help you figure this.
She wasn’t surprised he didn’t text back. But she was excited to find that Morgan had left another message. Maybe he didn’t think she was a fool after all. Maybe he had something to say about her confession. Hannah stared at the new voicemail notification for a full minute before raising the phone to her ear.
‘Whatever tonight was about, I want you to know I had a good time.’
She swallowed the excess moisture in her mouth and put the phone down then, tummy fluttering like crazy, she climbed into bed. It hadn’t taken long for all those feelings she’d hidden for years to come crashing back—if they’d ever left.
***
The next day, Hannah glanced around the table at the Burton family. She might be outnumbered three to one, but Pop was already swayed. Besides, she was the brains trust of this operation and they knew it, so maybe she’d get a majority vote.
‘By diversifying our options, we’ll spread the risk, which means that events like the mill’s closure won’t hurt as much.’
Abandoned, their full coffee mugs littered the table. Pop nodded. Kate chewed her lip. Jase frowned, went to speak, but Pop silenced him with a raised hand, so Jase snapped his mouth shut.
‘I’m not saying we should get out of cotton altogether, but we have a hundred thousand hectares out there. Only a quarter of that runs livestock. Our sheep don’t bring in a lot of profit, because we don’t utilise their potential. We rely almost entirely on our cotton and if something happens to that then, well …’ She shrugged.
‘We’re up shit creek,’ Pop proclaimed.
‘Exactly. If we branch out and take, say, half of the land we’re currently using, then next time we’re up the creek we’ll have a paddle, so to speak.’
Pop hadn’t stopped nodding. Jase, though, was getting tenser by the second. He’d leaned way back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. ‘And who’s to say this—’ he air-quoted with his fingers, ‘—other crop is going to be successful? We’ve never grown anything but cotton. Hell, Burton Park has never been into anything other than running sheep or picking bolls.’
‘It’s not that different,’ Hannah reasoned. ‘If we choose the right crop we should be able to utilise our current skills and even most of the same equipment. The rest we can modify.’
Jase’s expression didn’t change, and Hannah had the feeling that it wouldn’t matter what she said, her brother wasn’t going to budge. He’d decided diversifying was a ridiculous idea and that was that.
‘What do you have in mind?’ Kate sipped at her coffee. ‘I doubt you’ve called us all here for a meeting without a solid pitch.’
‘Yeah, Hannah,’ Jase volleyed. ‘What do you wanna try?’
He was so gosh-darn full of attitude Hannah felt like telling him to leave the conversation and not return until he’d grown up. Instead she held his stare. ‘Jojoba.’
Pop’s face morphed from interested to confused.
Jase outright laughed. ‘You mean that shit on all the shampoo commercials?’
‘That shit is consistently fetching thirty dollars a barrel and has been for years.’
Kate gasped. Pop’s eyes practically turned into dollar signs and Jase snorted. ‘For some hippie oil.’
‘For some hippie oil,’ Hannah confirmed, dragging her coffee mug across the table. ‘The plant grows from cuttings or seedlings. The established bush is drought tolerant, practically immune to known pests, and harvested in a very similar way to almonds with a mechanical picker.’
The older two were sold; she could read it all over their faces.
‘There’s a guy down south who’s been growing it for five years. I’ve set up a Skype conference for tomorrow.’
She pulled the same pose as Jase, sitting back in her chair, her arms l
oosely crossed over her chest.
‘Let’s hear what he’s got to say,’ Pop said.
Jase shook his head. ‘I don’t like it. We should be working on a way to help the community, not only looking after our own necks. Or putting them on the chopping block. My priority is finding another buyer.’
‘Don’t be pigheaded, boy.’ Pop clenched his coffee mug.
With that Jase pushed out from his chair and left.
‘What are we gonna do about Ardmax?’ Hannah yelled after him, but either he ignored her or he was already too far away.
‘Can’t hurt to get more info.’ Kate pursed her lips.
Hannah smiled as she packed away the papers and moved into the office to finish up with the piling bills from their creditors. They needed this season’s harvest gone and its proceeds in the bank already. Then next season, maybe they’d try something new.
***
‘How do I turn it off?’ Pop jabbed a gnarled finger at her laptop screen.
‘Wait, Pop. Not like that.’ She reached in front of him and used the touch pad to shut down Skype.
‘These new-fangled devices are complicated.’ He pushed himself out of the chair then rubbed a hand across his lower back.
Stepping away from the computer, Hannah took in the three of them crammed around the head of the dining-room table. Not one of them displayed any sign of what they thought of jojoba farming. Pop had this befuddled expression from the wonders of ‘Sky people’ as he’d been referring to the conference call. Kate’s flat look betrayed nothing and Jase? Well, Jase always seemed to wear peeved off these days.
‘Well,’ Hannah asked. ‘What did you think?’
Pop dragged his attention away from the black laptop long enough to shoot Hannah an ear-to-ear grin.
Jase’s phone buzzed and he picked up. ‘Jason Burton.’
‘I like it,’ Pop answered.
‘Yeah?’ Jase asked. ‘They’ll ship from Brissie?’ A long pause in which Pop continued talking, but Jase had Hannah’s undivided attention. ‘That’s perfect …’ His voice trailed off as he left the room, walking towards the front door.
‘The risk doesn’t seem too great.’ Pop kept talking. ‘If we plant out half the back paddock, maybe even some of the west paddock, then in two years we’ll have a steady flow of beans, rain or drought.’
‘Five hundred a bale?’ Jase’s shout echoed through the open door, bouncing off all the walls.
Hannah grinned and moved around the table to better hear what was happening outside, but Pop’s monologue continued. ‘The benefit outweighs the risk. The price won’t change when it’s been sitting at thirty bucks a barrel for so long. But then there’s the pressing …’
Five hundred dollars a bale? Surely that wasn’t a sale price.
‘Hannah …’ Pop’s fingers clicked in front of her face and Hannah snapped her attention to him.
‘Thirty a barrel,’ she said. ‘I know, it’s a great price and we’d get a few thousand barrels out of a season.’
The front door slapped against the screen.
‘The pressing,’ Pop urged. ‘Where would we get the beans pressed for oil?’
‘It’s a wax, not an oil. And it’s extracted much like the lilly pilly. There’s a facility not far from Dubbo. We’d ship there for processing, the same way we use Mindalby Cotton.’
Jase appeared at the doorway leading into the dining room.
‘Four years until they reach maturity, he said, didn’t he?’ Pop’s fingers tapped the tabletop.
‘Yes.’ Hannah glanced towards her brother, or rather his wide grin. The phone was no longer at his ear, but rather cradled in his hand.
Pop barrelled on despite Jase’s obvious good news. ‘We need to look at the long term. A gradual transition would be ideal. Perhaps continuing with a cotton majority for a while would work.’ He nodded to himself. ‘We just need to sort out how to finance this venture.’
Hannah was so excited she didn’t know who to look at: sold bales versed diversified farming.
‘What the hell?’ Jase’s good mood suddenly shifted. ‘I duck out to take a call and in ten minutes you decide that’s it, we’re hippie oil farmers?’
Pop nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘You don’t reckon GM cotton would be a better choice? Or you know, the regular old cotton that put Burton Park on the map?’
‘Your sister’s right.’ Pop reached for his coffee. ‘By spreading the stakes we lessen the risk.’
‘That bloke said the plants take four years to reach maturity. That’s four goddamn years without an income, and if shiny hair goes out of fashion in that time we’re screwed.’
‘It’s not just used for hair products,’ Hannah reasoned.
‘I don’t care what the hell it’s used for.’ Jase’s voice rose. ‘It’s not a staple crop.’
‘No, it’s niche, and that’s better.’
Jase’s glare swung to Pop who said, ‘I like the idea.’
‘I give up.’ Jase threw his arms into the air. ‘Don’t expect me to tend any little shrubs. I’ll be busy harvesting bolls to make us all a goddamn living.’
‘You’ll be doing what I tell you to, boy.’
Jase swung around, his mouth pressed into a straight line, a vein near his neck bulging. ‘I’m not a child, and I’m tired of being treated like one. You can manage this place yourself. I quit.’
And with that he stormed through the house and out the door, which slammed closed behind him.
Hannah’s stomach clenched, but Pop just shuffled out of the room as if nothing had happened. The Burtons had always been a tight-knit family, but lately everything was falling apart at the seams.
Chapter 13
Tuesdays were usually quiet at the Red Diamond, but this was ridiculous. Not a single soul had ventured into the bistro all evening and now there they were, a full two hours from closing, and Ruby had already suggested they shut up shop. As much as she’d love an early night, Hannah needed those extra hours in her pay packet.
Besides, she wasn’t sure she was ready to face the heat at home. Since Jase had stormed out after yesterday’s meeting, she’d felt like poop. Pop was acting as if her brother were a petulant child who’d come home and fall into line, but Hannah knew better.
She picked up a tray of polished glasses and used her butt to push through the bistro doors that led to the main bar. Other than the usual crew languishing by the pokies, things were quiet in there too. She dumped the metal tray onto the bar and Jonno appeared from wherever he’d been hiding.
‘Done already, love?’
Hannah pushed a chunk of escaped hair away from tickling her nose. ‘There’s not much going on tonight.’
‘Nope,’ Jonno agreed. ‘Did ya see your brother before? I told him you was workin’.’
Hannah frowned. ‘I must have missed him.’
‘Shame,’ Jonno said. ‘He was hammered. Probably coulda used some help. I tried …’ the barman shrugged.
‘Strange for him to be in town tonight,’ Hannah muttered to herself.
‘Not Jason, the other one.’ Jonno moved away to serve a regular down the other end. Though she’d left the bistro unattended, Hannah chanced waiting until he returned. She hadn’t heard from Cooper in days, and if he was smashed, things mustn’t be any better.
‘What was he doing?’ she asked the barman on his return.
‘Drinkin’, loiterin’, talkin’ rubbish.’
‘What sort of rubbish?’ From her periphery, Hannah noticed someone heading into the bistro. ‘Wait, no. Tell me later, I’ve gotta run.’
Without looking back to see if Jonno had anything further to say, she strode across the carpeted floor and through the double doors into the bistro. The moment her gaze landed on the Chuck Taylors balanced on the barstool’s footrest, her whole body sighed. Tonight he wore a black jacket over jeans, and he wore it well. From behind, anyway.
Tensing as she remembered the way she’d run off on him, Hannah walked
around the side of the bar with a tight smile.
‘A customer?’ she hedged.
‘A good-looking one too.’
Hannah stood on tiptoe to peer over his head. She made a show of searching the entire room, then dropped onto her heels. ‘Where? I can’t see any hotties.’
Morgan chuckled, the laugh dancing in his brown eyes.
‘You here for dinner? I’ll go check the kitchen’s opened.’
‘Dinner and the company.’ Morgan winked, sending Hannah’s heart into a frenzied spiralling beat.
‘Well then.’ Heat rushed Hannah’s cheeks, which only made that sexy smile creep onto his lips. ‘I’ll be right back.’
She exited the bar and pushed through the kitchen door, where Ruby was busy scrubbing benches. Morgan’s good mood must have rubbed off on her, for Hannah leaned against the cool steel of the servery and exhaled a happy sigh.
‘We’ve got a customer.’
Ruby kept rubbing grease off benches. ‘Vats and ovens are off. Offer them something cold.’
‘Like?’
‘Salad. Oysters. I could do a sandwich. Or …’ She waddled over to the stove and slapped a skillet onto the burner. ‘Blow it. Anything I can fry in a pan.’
‘Thanks. I’ll get the order asap.’
Hannah pushed back through the door, and the heat of Morgan’s gaze hit her right away. She waited until she reached the bar where he sat before she spoke. ‘The kitchen started shutting down because it was quiet. We can still do a couple of things though—steak and salad, or fish, maybe a Caesar salad, natural oysters …’
‘Hmm.’ Morgan tapped a long finger against the counter. ‘Oysters.’
That one word was loaded with so much innuendo Hannah didn’t know where to look, so she faked confidence. ‘Maybe I’ll steal one or two.’
Morgan invited just that with his sexy smile. Honestly, it was a wonder he hadn’t done a runner after the way she’d last left him. She pulled out her order pad to hurry things along, lest Ruby call the kitchen closed. Besides, she really shouldn’t be flirting with him.
