by Lyn Denison
“I go down to the tavern occasionally,” Fliss told him. “And I also go over to the mainland every so often.”
He snickered. “Like two or three times a year, max. All I can say is if you’ve got a guy stashed over there then he’s a saint to put up with you never being there.”
“Oh, but the times I’m there really make it so worthwhile,” Fliss said facetiously.
Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “They do? I mean, you do? God, I’m getting all hot and bothered imagining it.”
“How about unleashing all that confined passion on a canvas.” Marcus looked shocked and Fliss blushed when she realized what she’d said.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Fliss Devon. I’m taken aback. That is so unlike Miss Prim and Proper you.”
“You know what I meant.”
“Mmm.” Marcus struck a thoughtful pose. “That just might add a new dimension to my work. Plus it would be such, well, fun.”
“Marcus, please.”
“I’ll get to work immediately,” he said, and headed for the back door to his studio. “Don’t you just wish you could join me?” His laughter echoed after him.
Fliss didn’t have long to cringe at her faux pas because a brightly colored tour bus pulled up outside and a couple of dozen people streamed into the gallery.
“I’ll bet you haven’t eaten,” chided a cheery voice a couple of hours later. Chrissie Hammond grinned as she leaned across Fliss’s desk and moved her keyboard aside. In its place she set a large, cling wrap covered bowl of her famous lemon chicken salad. With a flourish she handed Fliss cutlery and a napkin.
Fliss removed the cling wrap and drew in the tangy aroma. Her tummy rumbled. “You’re a lifesaver, Chrissie. What would I do without you?”
“Fade away to a shadow of your former self, I’d reckon.” She put her hands on her plump hips and shook her head, her unruly red hair shimmering in the light from the skylight above her. “Now me, I could be marooned, foodless, on a deserted island for a month and still put on weight.”
Fliss laughed. “I love you, Chrissie, every acre of you.”
Chrissie laughed, too. “I know. And why do you think I feed you? In the hope you’ll expand a bit like me. Fat is beautiful, you know.”
“You’re not fat. Just cuddly. And you know it.”
Fliss and Chrissie had been friends from primary school and three years ago Chrissie had taken over the failing business next door. A change of name to Chrissie’s Cafe, and Chrissie’s fantastic cooking had made it into one of the best eating places on the island. Lunch or Devonshire teas at Chrissie’s Cafe and a visit to the Delia Devon Gallery were features of most tours of the island.
“So, where are the twins?” Fliss asked between mouthfuls of Chrissie’s delicious salad.
“With Paul’s mother.” Chrissie grimaced. “She sort of condescendingly agreed to have them because of the two tour groups due this arvo.”
“Your mother-in-law is a tough old bird but she does love the kids to bits.”
Chrissie sighed. “I know she does. And Jade and Aaron adore her. It’s just me she can’t abide.”
“Chrissie! You’re imagining it. You know everyone loves you.”
“Oh, yeah? Just a slight exaggeration. Besides, you have to say that. It’s expected of a best friend. But seriously, Fliss, I think my mother-in-law would be happier if the café had failed.” Chrissie pulled a face. “You take my advice, Fliss, and don’t marry an only son. Marry someone with stacks of siblings then your in-laws will have to spread themselves around their big family instead of concentrating on their single chick.”
“No only sons. Right. I’ve taken note,” Fliss said with mock seriousness and Chrissie gave her a considering look.
“I suspect you’re humouring me, Fliss, but just don’t come to me if you end up with the mother-in-law from hell, too.”
Fliss laughed then. “Oh, Chrissie, you are, by far, the most entertaining person I know.” She sobered. “Look, Chrissie. The bottom line is, you and Paul love each other, regardless of how many siblings he has or doesn’t have.”
“I do love him, but—”
“But?” Fliss raised her eyebrows. “What’s with the but?”
Chrissie stood up and shoved her hands into the pockets of her apron. “I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “Lately I haven’t been so sure Paul feels the same about me.”
Fliss set down her fork, stood up and walked around the desk to stand by her friend. “I’m sure you’re mistaken, Chrissie. Paul adores you. You’ve been married for six years. You have two great kids. You’re doing fantastically well with the café and so is Paul with his trucking business.”
“I know. I should be on top of the world. I feel guilty because I’m, well, for feeling the way I do. Sort of disquieted. We never see each other, Fliss. Paul’s been doing a lot of work on the mainland and he’s even started staying over there for days at a time.”
“Well, that sounds practical, time and money-wise,” Fliss suggested reasonably.
“I guess. Rationally I know all that’s true but, well, I miss him. And so do the kids.”
“How much longer will he be working on the mainland?”
Chrissie shrugged. “Who knows? He doesn’t tell me anything either these days. But it doesn’t seem to be ending any time soon.”
“Why not take a couple of days off from the café. The place will survive being without you for that short time. I’m right next door and you said Petra’s settled in okay. You could ask Annabel to help out for a couple of days. I’m sure she’d welcome the work. And you and Paul can get away for some just-the-two-of-us time. What do you think?”
Chrissie brightened. “We could, couldn’t we? Why didn’t I think of that? And I’m sure his mother and mine would share babysitting the twins. Fliss, this is a great idea. I feel better already.” She gave Fliss a hug. “I’d best be getting back. Petra’s only just come on duty and I shouldn’t leave her for too long.”
Fliss followed her friend to the door. “I’m glad it’s working out with my sister. Petra needed the part-time work, especially something that would fit in with her college course.”
“She’s great. She’s got a bubbly personality and the customers love her. She showed me one of the watercolors she’s done for a project at college and it’s fantastic. Your mother would have been proud of her.”
Fliss nodded. “Mum once told me she thought Petra would be a better artist than she was. I’m really looking forward to the showing of her work at the end of next month.”
Chrissie winked at Fliss. “Sure you don’t want to pick up a brush yourself?”
Fliss laughed ruefully. “You know I can’t draw a straight line. I’m afraid I missed out on that particular gene.”
“But you’ve got good business genes. Look how you helped me with the café. And you’ve trebled the business the gallery does.”
Fliss glanced at the light, airy interior of the gallery her mother had built up, at the glass shelves of glazed pottery, exquisite jewelry, the wonderful oils, pastels, watercolors, the pieces of sculpture, most the work of talented local artists. “I think Mum would have been pleased,” she said softly.
Chrissie patted her arm. “I know she would have been. Well, I’d better go get started on the preparations for the arvo teas.” She glanced at her watch. “Two more tour buses, aren’t there?”
“Mmm. And let’s hope the tours are on time and they arrive one at a time. It’s a bit frantic when they all turn up together.”
“Amen to that. Oh, and don’t forget you’re coming over when Paul’s cousin visits, too.”
“Oh, Chrissie, do I have to? You know how much I hate blind dates.”
“He’s really nice, much nicer than he was when we were twelve.”
Fliss rolled her eyes. “Well, he’s going to have to have improved. I remember he chased us with fishing bait.”
“Are you sure that was Graham? He’s a lawyer now, you know.”
�
��I know. Paul’s mother waxed poetic about him last time I was talking to her.”
“She did? Well, don’t let that put you off.” Chrissie grinned. She went to leave but turned back to Fliss. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you the latest gossip.”
Fliss sighed. “I’m just about gossiped out after talking to Marcus this morning.”
“Oh, no. Did Marcus beat me to it?”
“Probably.” Suddenly Fliss wanted to cut this conversation off. Her stomach fluttered and she knew she might not like hearing Chrissie’s snippet of news. “I think I hear a bus heading our way.”
“Yikes. Already? But did Marcus tell you we have a famous visitor on the island?” Chrissie asked, undaunted.
Fliss’s mouth went dry as Marcus’s conversation flooded back. She found she was torn between wanting and not wanting to know if her fears had any grounds.
“No one’s actually seen her yet but old Mrs. Young’s granddaughter’s friend came over on the last ferry with her late on Friday night.”
“Her?” Fliss managed to get out, wishing the approaching tour bus would pick up speed and screech to a noisy stop in front of the gallery.
“Mmm. I thought your father might have said something but Petra said he hadn’t. She’s staying up at the cottage with John. The famous face of Channel Nine, the gorgeous Bailey Macrae.”
Chapter Two
Steady rain began to fall five minutes into Fliss’s twenty-minute walk home. The blue skies and fluffy white clouds of the morning had been replaced by an early evening squall. It was right what they said. You never knew when it was going to rain at the coast. Whoever they were, Fliss reflected wryly. She gave a giggle as a trickle of cold rain ran under her collar.
She shivered and quickened her pace. It was summer for heaven’s sake. Weird to be hot and humid one minute and then cold. Once she got home, Fliss told herself, she was going to stay there, curled up with a good book, a book that would leave no room for thinking about anything except the plot. Her sister Petra was having a late supper with her boyfriend Liam after her shift at Chrissie’s Café so Fliss would have the house to herself.
Fliss pulled her light jacket around her as another drop of cold rain trickled down from her wet hair, under her collar. She groaned softly. She’d be well and truly wet through by the time she reached home.
Hearing a car approaching from behind her she moved further onto the shoulder of the road but instead of passing her by, the car pulled ahead of her and stopped. With a pang of dismay she recognized the distinctive lines of a very well-known and conspicuous Aston Martin.
Fighting an overwhelming urge to turn and run, Fliss walked up to the car. The passenger side window slid down and Fliss’s knees almost gave out beneath her when she saw that John Macrae was alone in the car.
“Hop in, Fliss, and I’ll give you a lift. I take it you’re heading home?”
Fliss hesitated. “I’m pretty wet. What about your upholstery?”
He tapped the seat. “Seat covers. Come on. I know you’re into the healthy walking stuff but pouring rain is a more than valid excuse to accept a lift.”
Fliss grinned and slipped into the passenger seat. “Thanks, John. I appreciate it.”
He pulled back onto the road and she slid a glance at his profile. John Macrae was a ruggedly handsome man and the photo on the dust jacket of his books didn’t do him justice. He had strong features, thick dark hair that was still untouched by grey and she knew his eyes were an arresting shade of blue, so unusual in one so dark. Just like his sister’s.
The family resemblance between John Macrae and his younger sister Bailey was strikingly obvious, although the similar features on Bailey were feminine and alluring. The Macraes were definitely two of the beautiful people.
“How’s your latest book coming along?” Fliss put in quickly, pushing thoughts of his sister to the back of her mind. And talking about John’s book should keep the conversation away from the subject of Bailey Macrae.
John gave an exclamation of disgust. “Not so well and that puts me way out of sorts.”
“Writer’s block?” Fliss asked sympathetically.
“A form of it I guess. It always happens after the initial rush of starting it. I just have to relax and let it flow in its own good time. Being impatient by nature makes that difficult for me to do.”
“Do you have a deadline?”
“Just a personal one, which believe me, is the worst kind of deadline.”
“I really enjoyed your last book. As did Marcus. We were only talking about it this morning. And Marcus told me about your movie deal. Congratulations,” Fliss said sincerely.
John grinned and a deep furrow creased his cheek. “Oh, yes. The movie.” He wriggled his eyebrows. “I’m heading over to the Gold Coast in a couple of days to consult on the moviemaking process. Can you believe that?”
“Wow! That’s really exciting.”
“It is. But don’t tell anyone else I said so. I have to maintain my suave, man of the world image.”
They both laughed as he drew to a stop in front of Fliss’s house. “Thanks, John.” She reached for the door handle.
“Oh, Fliss. Before you go.”
Fliss turned back to him.
“Could I ask you a favour?”
“Sure.” She brushed a damp tendril of fair hair away from her face.
“I suppose you’ve heard Bailey’s here for a visit?”
Fliss’s whole body tensed. “Chrissie did say something,” she said as offhandedly as she could.
“Can I speak confidentially? I trust you, Fliss, or I wouldn’t ask. I mean, every time Bailey sneezes every sleazy reporter is after her, plaguing her, wanting to know everything about her, no matter how asinine.” He ran his hand through his hair. “You see she hasn’t been well.”
Fliss stilled, a heavy dread clutching at her. Bailey was sick? How sick? What could—?
John let out a worried sigh. “You heard she lost young Davie?”
Fliss nodded. That had been a couple of years ago. Bailey’s two-year-old son had fallen from his tricycle, struck his head on the corner of a cement step and he’d never regained consciousness. Fliss had made a dozen attempts at a letter but she’d torn each one up, not knowing what to say. It must have been terrible for them and the tragedy had been the lead story on every news report for a week. Then had come the funeral, although the cameras had kept their distance there, perhaps in deference to their grieving colleagues.
Bailey Macrae’s well-known face had disappeared from the television screen for a month and then she’d returned looking fragile but as beautiful as ever. She’d been thinner, of course, but no one had commented on that. There’d been something else Fliss had noticed. Some of the sparkle had gone from her beautiful blue eyes.
“It was a bloody dreadful accident,” John continued. “Bailey changed after that. No matter what we said, in the beginning she blamed herself. We tried to get her to talk to someone, a professional, but she refused point blank. I think she shut it all inside her and now it’s caught up with her.”
He turned to her, his expression full of concern. “What I’m trying to say, Fliss, is I’m committed to working on this movie and Bailey won’t even consider letting me give up what control I have over it. But I don’t feel right leaving her here on her own either.”
He rested his elbow on the steering wheel and leaned his head on his hand. “You and Bailey used to be friends. I know it was a while ago, before Bailey and Grant married, so it must be what five or six years?”
Eight, a voice inside Fliss screamed. It was eight long years ago, since her world had started to crumble.
“Anyway, I know you and Bailey spent some time together, that you got to know each other pretty well way back before she became a household name. And, well, I thought you might spend some time with her while I’m away.”
“Oh.” Fliss swallowed. “I don’t know, John.”
“I’ll be home as often as I can make it,”
he assured her.
Fliss gave a forced laugh. “As you said, it was a long time ago. She mightn’t even remember me.” Her heart twisted at the thought that Bailey could have forgotten her. Or that she hadn’t.
“She remembers you.” John beamed at her. “She often asked me how you were getting on over the years.”
“She did?” The words slipped out before Fliss could draw them back. And before she could prevent the small glow of warmth inside her.
“Sure. She’s really looking forward to seeing you again.”
You can’t allow it, screamed that same warning voice inside her head, making her tummy flutter nervously. Remember what she did to you. And how long it took for you to get over it.
“What do you say, Fliss? Can you spend some time with Bailey? I don’t mean to spy on her or anything like that. She’d skin me alive if I so much as thought it. I’d just like to know she had someone nearby she could talk to. It would set my mind at rest, that’s for sure.”
“I’m not really sure how much free time I have. Can’t her—? What about her husband? Won’t he be joining her?”
John grimaced. “Not at the moment. I suspect things—” He stopped. “Grant’s in the States at the moment. He’s working on the world swimming titles and can’t get away.”
“Well, I—”
“Why not come over for dinner tomorrow evening?” He gave her a crooked grin. “I’m a world-renowned cook. Anyone who’s anyone angles for an invitation to one of my culinary extravaganzas.”
“I do believe I’ve heard that rumor.”
He chuckled. “Seriously, I am a good cook.”
“Perhaps you should check with Bailey before you invite guests. If she isn’t feeling well she may prefer a quiet evening.”
“Actually, having you over for dinner was Bailey’s suggestion. How about six, six thirty? I know your car’s over on the mainland getting repaired so do you want me to drive over and pick you up?”
Fliss wasn’t even surprised he knew about her car and its need for major repairs, such was the island telegraph. “No. I’ll be fine. I’ll walk over.”
