It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

by Kylie Scott

  Another grunt.

  “Are we communicating entirely in caveman language now?” I asked. “Because I’m not sure that’s going to work.”

  “Not really in the mood for your sarcasm.”

  “I wasn’t really in the mood to get yelled at in the front yard like a naughty child,” I said. “So I guess that makes us even.”

  The pale blue of his eyes turned arctic.

  “Pete.” I held tight to the strap of my handbag. “What’s going on?”

  “Your dad asked me to drop by and pick you up,” he told the far wall. “He wants you to sit in on a business meeting. Get a feel for things. See what you think.”

  “He never mentioned anything about that last night.”

  “I tried to call to let you know, but you weren’t answering your phone.”

  “No, I was swimming at the beach,” I reported in a calm voice. Not beating him over the head with my bag, no matter how much I might have liked to. Out of interest, I pulled my cell out of the bag. Five missed messages. That was quite a lot. “Then I grabbed some breakfast. I left my phone in the car and didn’t think to check my messages when I got back to it.”

  His jaw tensed. “I got worried.”

  “You did?”

  “What if you’d been in a car accident or something and I had no idea where you were?”

  “Okay.” I took a deep breath. Now we were getting somewhere. It wasn’t like people didn’t care about me, but this was a little intense. “What if in the future I make sure to leave you a note?”

  “And check your messages.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  The tension in his shoulders eased some. “Good.”

  “Now you apologize to me for reaming me a new one instead of talking to me about your concerns like an adult.”

  His gaze shot to my face.

  I just waited.

  Then, eventually, he sighed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I just . . .”

  “You were worried. I get it,” I said.

  “You good to go?”

  “No.” I scratched at my salt-filled scalp. “I’ll need a quick shower and change of clothes.”

  A jerk of the chin. “Please don’t take long—people are waiting.”

  The meeting included Dad, Pete, and the seconds in charge from each of the two building crews. They talked about the progress of current jobs (though things were pretty quiet this time of year with people on holiday plus Dad’s wedding coming up), how things were coming together with upcoming ones, and shared industry gossip. All while I sat in the corner with a cup of coffee, making a few notes on my phone. Until the other guys left, I was pretty much ignored. Which was fine.

  “You playing a game on there?” asked Pete. “Are we disturbing you?”

  “Doing some research and taking a few notes, actually.” I gave him my best professional smile. “Sounds like the business is running as smoothly as ever. If I come onboard, Helga can clue me into all the admin details. But if you want me taking over some of the liaising between customers et cetera, then I’m going to need to expand on the bare-bones knowledge of the process I’ve currently got.”

  “It’d be a steep learning curve for you,” he said flatly.

  Dad’s brows drew in slightly. “Said it wouldn’t be easy, sweetheart. But we’ll of course be there supporting you every step of the way.”

  “So I’m guessing you also want me to think about ways to grow?” I asked.

  “Among other things.”

  “Is this the room where you talk to prospective customers?”

  “Yeah,” said Dad. “If they come in. Usually, it’s just to sign papers. Initially we go to them, check out the site.”

  I nodded. “Okay. The office as a whole could do with a little work and there’s no computer in here. A lot of your suppliers keep stock lists and photos solely online now.”

  “That’s what the tablets are for.” Dad waved a hand at the one lying on the table in front of him.

  “You might want to think about getting a screen in here just the same,” I said. “I take it you’ve been mostly getting jobs by word of mouth?”

  “Right,” said Dad, “referrals from contractors and customers.”

  “That’s probably partly because your website sucks. I mean, has it been updated in the last fifteen years?” I asked. “If you want to reach business farther afield then you’ll want to look at updating it. The information on there is scarce, for starters. You might want to consider getting some professional pictures taken of previous work for the site. Some framed and hung up in here might be nice too.”

  Pete just blinked. “So your contribution is that we make things prettier?”

  “How about updated to this century and more easily accessible to potential new clients?”

  “She’s got a point.” Dad scratched his head, thinking things over.

  “You don’t rate high in online searches either. Might be worth looking into.”

  “Sounds like a lot of money,” grumbled Pete.

  “You talk about growth, but you don’t want to invest in marketing?” I shot back.

  “Hey, what’s going on between you two?” asked Dad, voice slightly raised. “I thought you’d sorted things out.”

  Pete said nothing. But the bad vibes kept right on coming.

  “That’s all I’ve got for now.” Gathering my stuff, I rose to my feet. “Don’t get stressed, Dad. You’re getting married tomorrow. Happy thoughts.”

  He sighed, also standing. “We done here, then?”

  “Yeah.” Pen tapping against the desk, Pete nodded.

  “Sweetheart, want to spend the afternoon helping me get the backyard set up for tonight?” asked Dad. “It involves climbing ladders and trees to hang up fairy lights.”

  “Sounds great. Can I visit with Helga for a bit first, though?”

  “Of course.”

  The Friday-night barbeque mostly consisted of Shanti’s extended family who’d flown in from Darwin. Nice people. Very chatty. Good thing, since I was feeling a little overwhelmed by everything. Yes, I talked to people at work and socialized some outside of it. But this was intense. A family barbeque now meant about two dozen people and an over-the-top exotic feast. The array of food was amazing. Turkish breads and dips, giant mezze platters, a variety of salads, and mouthwatering grilled meats. Pretty soon, I’d stuffed myself so much, I couldn’t eat another thing.

  Also, my plan to give my liver a night off wasn’t working out so well. Every time I put a glass down, someone seemed to hand me another. Shanti’s cousin owned a small winery and the grape juice was flowing like nobody’s business. And it was damn good.

  Meanwhile, Pete was still communicating with me in mostly grunts and glares. An intricate language. So rich and varied and full of nuances. Not. We’d largely managed to avoid each other.

  “Adele, how are you, my darling?” asked Shanti in a loud voice. I think she’d had a couple of drinks too. Pre-wedding jitters, maybe?

  “Good, good. And you?”

  “Fantastic. Isn’t it a gorgeous night?” She wrapped an arm around my waist, pressing herself to my side. “And you look magnificent.”

  “You are so good for my ego.”

  “What? I merely state the truth.”

  We laughed.

  I’d settled on a chambray fitted midi dress I was particularly fond of. Had a nicely cut vee neckline that stopped just low enough to rule out wearing a normal bra, but still looked tailored and classy. Same wedges as the night before, and I’d tied my hair up to get it off my neck.

  Shanti clucked her tongue. “Your nose is pink from the sun.”

  “Damn.”

  Dad then joined in to inspect my minor sunburn. “Told you to put on a hat.”

  “I was wearing sunscreen.”

  Pete stood nearby. He’d been cornered early on in the evening by two of Shanti’s sisters. I really couldn’t fault their taste in men. Even if he currently was ever
so slightly annoying the living shit out of me. There’d really been no need for his attitude in the meeting. If he didn’t want me near the business, the man needed to brave up and say so.

  I smiled. “I also went for a swim at the beach this morning. Might have been then.”

  “You need to be more careful,” said Shanti.

  “It won’t happen again. Promise.”

  “Andrew, her glass is almost empty.” Shanti took my still half-filled wineglass, handing it over to Dad.

  “What are you drinking, sweetheart?”

  “The Sémillon, thank you.”

  Once Dad disappeared, Shanti whispered in my ear, “How odd that Leona isn’t here.”

  “She was invited?”

  “Pete usually brings her to things. I wonder if they’ve had a falling out. His mood is more down than I might have hoped for.” Her gaze roamed over the couple of dozen barbeque invitees. “You really do look lovely tonight, darling.”

  “So do you.”

  She gave me a squeeze, her glamorous silk caftan swirling about her in a riot of colors. “Peter will come to his senses eventually, and I’m sure you’ll be great friends once again.”

  “We’re doing okay,” I said. “I just seem to have a gift for irritating him, unfortunately.”

  “Yes, your father mentioned . . .” Shanti turned toward where Pete was still penned in by Shanti’s equally gorgeous sisters. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t brought Leona. Scoring at weddings was a fine old tradition dating back many a year. Of course, he looked dazzling. He’d gone with black pants and a white button-down shirt tonight. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and a couple of buttons undone at his neck. Damn him and his raw male beauty getting all up in my face from across the room. The truth was, sober or otherwise, he went straight to my head.

  “It must be very strange for him to know you as a teenage girl and now suddenly here you are all grown up and so beautiful,” said Shanti. “He seems very intent on keeping an eye on you this evening.”

  I licked my lips. “Maybe he thinks I’m going to start dancing on a table.”

  Shanti laughed. “That would be quite the sight to see.”

  “Here you go.” Dad handed me a full wineglass. And given the things were about goblet size, this could easily turn messy.

  “Thank you.”

  “How did the office visit go today?” asked Shanti.

  “Helga loves the idea of her taking over,” said Dad. “Sooner the better, as far as she’s concerned.”

  “The woman definitely has better places to be.” I smiled. “She showed me lots of pictures of her garden and grandchildren. She also has grand plans of staging a coup and taking over as president at the local croquet club.”

  “Good on her. It’s all down to you now, sweetheart.”

  Shanti clapped her hands. “I’m very hopeful this will all work out and we’ll have you much closer, Adele.”

  “Me too. Your aunty would like a word when you’re ready.” Dad offered Shanti his arm and off they went.

  As if Pete felt my gaze on him, he looked up. A very grown-up and civilized staring competition commenced. Like hell I’d look away first, no matter how twisted up inside he made me feel. He was probably plotting my death. Might be best for me to sleep with the door locked tonight. A chair wedged under the knob or something. It was important to plan ahead.

  Eventually, he made his excuses and came my way.

  “Adele.”

  “If me considering the job is a problem for you, I really wish you’d just tell me.”

  His brows rose. “Straight into it, huh?”

  “I think that’s best, don’t you?”

  He said nothing.

  “Yes or no, Pete. It’s really that simple,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Don’t worry about Dad. I’ll just say I wasn’t interested. But I want your honest opinion this time.”

  “My honest opinion.” His smile was all sharp teeth. “Alright. I think if you come back and take this job, you’ll be bored in no time, and take off leaving a fucking mess again.”

  “That’s what you think?”

  He jerked his chin. “That is what I think.”

  “Wow. Okay.” I was honestly kind of shocked. My shoulders slumped. It felt like all of the air had been let out of me. To think, I’d imagined we were getting along better. How quickly things changed. “Thank you for being honest with me. Brutally so.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I downed about half of the wine. It was necessary.

  “See, when I went home today and you weren’t there,” he said, “I thought, for just a moment, that you might have packed up and gone back down south.”

  I froze. “Wait, what?”

  “Yeah. Thought you’d left without a word.”

  “But all of my things were still there,” I said, sunburned nose scrunched up in disbelief. “I only went to the beach.”

  “Right. I soon figured that out.” He nodded. “But, can you see how me thinking that maybe you’d gone, finding that idea so believable even for just a second, is really damn telling?”

  “Yes, Pete. It demonstrates your neurosis quite well.”

  “Can’t resist being a smart-ass, can you?” He grinned, then swallowed. “But here’s the thing. I don’t trust you, kid. That’s what it comes down to.”

  “You don’t want to trust me.”

  “Maybe. Is there a difference?”

  My smile wavered. “So it doesn’t actually matter what I say or do. You’re never going to forgive me.”

  He saluted me with his glass. “Have a nice night.”

  Hazel: If you’re awake we need to talk. If you’re not awake we should still talk anyway.

  Me: Wide the fuck awake.

  Hazel: Calling.

  “I need an update,” said Hazel the second I picked up the phone.

  “Hello to you too.”

  “What’s going on up there in the sunshine state?”

  I groaned. “You’re sure you want to know?”

  “Oh my God, I know that tone of voice. What did you do?”

  “Okay.” I took a deep breath. “So we talked and I hugged him.”

  “You hugged him or you humped him? Tell the truth.”

  “Hugged only, honestly,” I said. “I kept my pelvis mostly to myself.”

  “Huh. That’s it?”

  “Apparently that was enough. The man has been less than happy all day.”

  “Jerk.”

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “I’m untrustworthy and basically the worst.”

  “I don’t know. Must have been one hell of a hug.”

  “I didn’t even grope. It was all rather restrained.” I flopped back on the bed. “How’s Maddie and everything?”

  “Good, great,” she said. “We’re the boring old farts. We have to live vicariously through you now. What else have you got?”

  “Um, I met the girlfriend. Though he says she’s more a friend.”

  “Ooh.”

  “Lawyer. Gorgeous. Thin.”

  “Damn her.”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you going to try to hug him again?”

  “I really don’t think such behavior would be welcome,” I said. “What do you want me to do? Attack him in dark hallways? Sneak up on him when he’s asleep?”

  “Pretty sure both of those options would count as assault.”

  “Maybe not, then. I’d rather kick him right now, anyway.”

  “Hm.”

  “We were getting on so well,” I said. “Sharing of thoughts and feelings, even.”

  “Feelings are scary.”

  I said nothing.

  “Especially for someone like you who generally avoids them.”

  “Is that your professional opinion?”

  “My professional opinion is that between your parents’ messy divorce and this guy rejecting you so spectacularly when you were eighteen, you decided no emotional entanglements,” she said. “For the most p
art at least. It was safer, right?”

  “I’m not saying emotions are the enemy, because that would sound crazy. But we all know they are.”

  “Yeah, but now you’ve turned them back on and things are happening.”

  “Not anymore they’re not—he shut me down completely,” I said.

  She made a noise in her throat. “Sorry it all went south.”

  “I’ll survive. Thanks for listening and providing the diagnosis.”

  “You’re very welcome,” she said. “Call me if you’re about to do anything too insane and need talking down from the edge.”

  “Ha. Sure. You got it.”

  “’Night.”

  Chapter Seven

  Eight Years Ago . . .

  “Adele Margaret Reid, did you sneak out?”

  “Maybe.” I smiled. “And where on earth did you hear my full name?”

  Pete shrugged. “I don’t know, must have been when your dad was pissed at you sometime.”

  “You have a good memory.”

  He sat on a log in front of a small campfire, a glass of scotch in his hand. Behind him sprawled his brand-new humble abode, a shed with a small kitchen-and-bathroom setup. There was just enough room left over for his futon and a TV. I’d have gone a little crazy in such cramped quarters. But Pete deemed it sufficient to live in while he saved his money and built his dream home.

  “Speaking of which, better tell your father you’re over here,” he said.

  “It’s only across the road.” I sat down beside him, trying to get comfortable without getting any splinters. Maybe coming over in my sleep shorts and tank top was a bad idea. “Besides, when I left, he was snoring so loud the roof was rattling. If he does wake up, I’ve got my phone on me. It’s fine.”

  “Hm.”

  “It’s the middle of summer—why do you need a fire?”

  “Atmosphere.” His smile, there was something almost dopey about it. Same went for the relaxed set of his face and hazy eyes.

  “How drunk are you?” I asked with no small amount of wonder.

  “I’ve had a couple.”

  “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually under the influence.”

  He snorted. “You’ve seen me have a drink before.”