Cottage on Oceanview Lane

by Lilly Mirren

  Stephanie took one of the coffees from his tray with a chuckle, her green eyes glowing. "Thanks, boss, you're the best. I was thinking that a good dose of caffeine was in order. The twins had me up half the night coughing." She shook her head, covering a yawn with the folder.

  "Sorry to hear that. Hope they're feeling better soon. Hey, could you buzz me in?" He raised both hands, showing they were full, and she gave a brisk nod, her auburn hair stirring in the messy bun that perched on top of her head.

  "New Year's Eve, Sarge. You got any plans?"

  He shook his head. "Not really. Working, then I'll head over to Dad's. How about you?"

  "We're taking the twins to a pool party in Banora Point. It's going to be a nightmare. But at least there will be fireworks afterwards."

  He chuckled. "Good for you, you'll have a blast."

  "I'm sure we will, come on inside. You're not the first one in today. Your new Proby is here already, I gave her a tour of the office."

  His nostrils flared. "Great."

  Steph's pink-painted lips pursed. "Be nice."

  "I always am," he growled.

  She chuckled, then flicked the ID card looped around her neck against the wall, and pushed the security door open. He stepped through, smiled and opened his mouth. She pushed the file back in between his teeth.

  As he walked to his desk, Franklin couldn't help letting her words play over in his mind.

  His new partner was here.

  In the office, his office, no doubt waiting to meet him. Eager to start the job that shouldn't be vacant. The office looked empty; no sign of the new recruit - probably sitting in the tiny kitchen rethinking life choices.

  He'd told the brass he didn't want a new probationary constable, didn't need one. He had everything here under control. There wasn’t an epidemic of violent crimes underway in Emerald Cove anyway. He knew how to police the area; heck, he'd grown up on its streets, had built solid relationships with almost every single resident. There wasn't much about his town he didn't know, couldn't take care of himself.

  Of course, they hadn't listened to him. Protocol, they'd said. When he'd pointed out the crime statistics, they'd nodded. Good police work, they'd commented.

  Still, you need a partner up there.

  He sighed, eying the open glass door that led to his office.

  The Emerald Cove Police District was a small one. Just him, two night shift senior constables, the new proby and the receptionist. They shared the space with a road safety expert and two water police officers who covered the wider coastal area and reported to the Police Area Command in the nearby Tweed Heads rather than to him.

  It was an intimate and friendly post, and he liked it that way. No sense having too many officers in a place like the Cove. It was a waste of resources, especially when there were so many towns and cities understaffed. He'd tried making that argument to the recruitment office in Sydney as well, but they hadn't bought it.

  They were determined to replace his partner with someone new, whether he wanted them to or not. But he didn't have to like it, and there was nothing in the handbook that said he had to make it easy either.

  He set the coffees down on the desk, plucked the now damp folder from between his lips and slumped into his chair. He opened the folder, scanned its contents.

  It was a personnel file on the new recruit, and he had to say, even for a newbie, its contents were decidedly spare on details. It didn't tell him much about his new partner, something that bothered him even more than the mere fact of being forced to take someone on right out of university. As if he had the time to bottle-feed a proby.

  He sighed again and slammed the folder down on the desk. Then he distributed the remaining coffees to two other officers who'd wandered into the office soon after him. He chatted with each for a few moments before moving on.

  When he returned to his desk, his own coffee in hand, there was a woman standing outside his door, her hands clasped in front of her perfectly pressed, sky blue and navy uniform.

  He passed her without a word, sat behind his desk and sipped his coffee.

  "Come in," he said.

  She stepped inside, stood in front of the desk, her brown eyes flicking between his face, the back of his computer screen and the framed certificates and photographs on the wall, then coming to rest on his face again. Her eyes met his, flecks of green and gold lit up the brown, and her lips pressed a little tighter together as she studied him.

  "You must be Constable Rebecca Mair. Correct?"

  She nodded. "Yes, sir."

  "Please, take a seat."

  She slid into the chair opposite him. He'd expected her to be anxious, with sweaty palms, maybe nervous chatter…but instead she was calm, serene even. Her back was straight, hands resting on top of her thighs.

  She was a petite woman. Obviously kept herself in good shape, but still. It wouldn't take much more than a stiff breeze to blow her over, and that was hardly what he needed out on the street when things turned bad. Who'd back him up? She wouldn't be able to do it. She looked more like a kindergarten teacher than a cop.

  If he'd wanted someone to sing lullabies to the criminals he brought into the station, he could've asked Martha from the Foodstore to do that. The girl had a lovely voice. He recalled the Christmas she'd sung "Silent Night" at the Carols by Candlelight in the park a few years earlier. It'd brought tears to people's eyes. But he didn't need a fifteen-year-old girl singing lullabies; he needed a partner who could push a thug to the ground and run down a shoplifter.

  He swallowed the things he wanted to say and instead opened her file and studied it as though it were the first time he'd seen it.

  "So…Rebecca, you're from…Sydney?"

  She nodded once. "Yes, sir."

  "It doesn't say much in here, I'll be honest. But since you applied to join the force in Sydney, and trained there, I'm going to guess you're from there."

  He posed it as a statement but hoped she'd divulge more information. She didn't. He studied her. She sat silently, not squirming, not shifting in her seat, no smile on her tanned face.

  He inhaled a quick breath. "And this is your first posting?"

  Another nod. "Yes, sir."

  She wasn't a talker; he'd give her that. He liked a bit of quiet around the office. Still, he'd been hoping she'd give him more…fill out the details of her past so he could get some idea of who would be riding around town with him in his cruiser.

  "Your desk is the one outside my door. Steph does up the shift schedule every Monday. You'll be riding with me, and I don't like smoking or gum chewing. Any questions?"

  "No, sir."

  "There's a stack of files on your desk, you can start by filing them in the grey cabinets against the wall."

  "Yes, sir."

  He watched her leave, irritation boiling in his gut. She was unreadable. Dewy-eyed, innocent, inexperienced and a complete mystery. If they ever did stumble across some real crime in Emerald Cove, she was going to get him killed. A shiver ran down his spine. He switched on his computer and leaned back in his chair while it booted up. His only option was to force her to leave of her own accord. Then maybe the head office would let him be, and stop insisting on assigning him a partner.

  Chapter 17

  Meg

  The unit smelled like bleach and lemon oil. Meg tucked a red curl behind one ear and scanned the living room with a sigh. Everything looked the same yet different. She'd moved things around as best she could after getting advice from an occupational therapist.

  Thankfully, the building manager had allowed her to change her lease and take a bottom floor unit rather than the one they'd had. Brad's friend Jack had helped her move everything in one weekend. At least they didn't have much between the two of them, so it hadn't taken long. Then, Vicky had come over to help her unpack after work.

  She'd had a small ramp installed from the front door down to the living room, and a railing in the shower. Had put all of the things he might need to reach in the low
er cupboards in the kitchen and bathroom. She'd bought a book of suggestions about how to make their home wheelchair friendly and followed them as best she could. She hoped she hadn't missed anything obvious.

  "It looks good, Meg," Vicky said as she arranged a bunch of fresh-picked flowers in a vase on the kitchen bench.

  Meg turned to face her, hands pressed to her hips. "You think?"

  "Absolutely. It's warm and inviting, he'll be happy here. You both will."

  Meg's breath caught in her throat. Would either of them ever be happy again? She doubted it. Before she left Hawaii, Brad had barely looked at her, hadn't said more than a few words, hadn't even told her goodbye. She'd walked out of his hospital room and caught a taxi to the airport with a giant lump in her throat that hadn't gone away until well into the flight home when she'd distracted herself by watching a movie.

  Even now, whenever she thought about him, she had to fight to keep the tears at bay. It wasn't even the accident; she'd come to terms with that, could live with his disability. The doctors had assured her that he could have a full life, and she believed them.

  It was him. He'd pushed her away and didn't want anything more to do with her. She couldn't help wondering if maybe he never would.

  "I hope Brad likes it," she said around a ball of grief that'd lodged itself in her throat, making her voice sound thick with tears.

  Vicky wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sure he'll love it. After all, you're here, what more could a guy want?"

  Meg shook her head. "You don't understand…"

  "What? What is it?" Vicky's blue eyes studied hers, concern etched in the lines on her forehead.

  Meg sighed. "He doesn't want…"

  "What doesn't he want?" Vicky prompted.

  "Me. He doesn't want me." Tears burst free, and Meg buried her head in Vicky's shoulder.

  Vicky rubbed a circle on her back. "No, no, that's not true. Of course he wants you, he married you. I've never seen anyone more sickeningly in love. Trust me, blurgh, it was really disgusting for all of us to watch." She laughed softly. "It's going to be okay, Meg. He's had an accident, I'm sure he's angry about it, but he'll come around."

  Meg couldn't help smiling through her tears. She wiped her eyes with her fingertips. "Really? Disgusting, huh?"

  Vicky grinned. "Absolutely gross."

  Meg rolled her eyes. "Well, in that case…"

  "In all seriousness, honey, this is probably the hardest thing the two of you will ever have to face. But I believe in both of you, I believe in your love." Vicky pressed a hand to each of Meg's shoulders and looked her in the eye. "You can do this."

  Meg nodded. "Okay, you're right. We can get through it… We will get through it."

  "Good, now let's check the bedroom."

  They found Vicky's childhood friend Sarah in the bedroom, putting fresh sheets on the bed. Meg remembered Sarah from when she was a kid. Sarah was the one all the girls Meg's own age admired from afar. She'd always been beautiful, long brown hair swinging down her back when she walked, lithe pale limbs, dark flashing eyes and a big smile with dimples at the sides. All the boys in town were in love with her, and she didn't seem to care.

  Sarah was the volleyball star, the surfing champion, and finally, when she moved away to the big city to become an editor at a publishing house, Meg had dreamed that maybe someday when she grew up she'd do something just as glamorous. Of course, she hadn't had the money or grades to attend university. Instead, she'd left school early for a hairdressing apprenticeship at a local salon and stayed in the Cove.

  And now Sarah was back, standing in her bedroom with a smile on her face.

  "Are these sheets okay, Meg?"

  "Perfect," Meg replied. "Thank you so much for helping out, you really didn't have to."

  "I'm happy to do it." Sarah smiled. "Besides, I could do with the company. It's a little…um…shall we say, quiet, out at the cottage with only a stray dog for company." She chuckled and continued smoothing the fitted sheet into place.

  Vicky moved to help her, throwing the flat sheet over the top of the mattress. "Have you heard from Jeremy lately?"

  Sarah's nose wrinkled. "Yes, he calls all the time. I can't seem to get away from him. I think I'm going to have to change my number."

  "Really? It's that bad?" Vicky tucked the sheet under one corner of the mattress.

  Meg checked the drawers to make sure all of Brad's clothes were folded neatly while they chatted.

  "I don't know, maybe I'm being dramatic. I keep thinking he'll eventually stop calling, stop asking to come and visit. He wants to get back together, says he doesn't accept that things are over between us just like that. I told him it wasn't just like that, it was a gradual thing, only he didn't see it." Sarah lifted the corner of the mattress closest to her to tuck sheets under it.

  "Who's Jeremy?" Meg interrupted.

  Sarah and Vicky straightened. Sarah bit down on her lip. Vicky chuckled. "Jeremy Goodall. He's a dreamily good-looking, very talented and super rich and famous author from Sydney. And he's Sarah's former fiancé."

  Sarah huffed. "You make him sound so perfect."

  "Isn't he?" Vicky quipped with a wink.

  "I suppose so, on paper. Only, he's not perfect for me."

  "Oh, you were engaged…that's right. I think I remember reading something about it in the paper," Meg said.

  Sarah's eyes widened. "It was in the newspaper?"

  "Of course," Vicky replied. "Anything the famous editor Sarah Flannigan does is recorded for posterity in the Emerald Cove Gazette."

  Sarah inhaled a sharp breath. "You're kidding."

  "Nope." Vicky laughed.

  Sarah shook her head. "This place is crazy."

  "Nothing's changed," Meg replied with a smile.

  She caught herself. Was that her first smile since the accident? Other than the fake ones she'd plastered to her face whenever she walked into Brad's room of course. She couldn't remember. It might've been. It felt strange to let it happen, to let her lips pull up at the corners that way and release a lightness into her heart. Familiar, yet somehow wrong. The smile faded.

  They made their way back to the living room and sat on the couch. Vicky groaned, her face pale.

  "You okay, Vicky?" Sarah asked.

  "Yeah, I think so. Just not feeling great for some reason. I hope I'm not coming down with something."

  "That's no good, let me know if I can get you anything," Meg added. "Water? Juice?"

  "No, I'll be fine. I think I need to sit still for a few minutes."

  Meg nodded, then exhaled a slow breath. "I guess we're done getting this place ready for Brad. Thank you so much for all of your help."

  "You're most welcome," Vicky replied.

  "No worries," Sarah said.

  "What are you doing tonight?" Vicky asked.

  Meg shrugged. "Going to bed early, I guess. I'm pretty wiped."

  "But it's New Year's Eve… Come out with us." Vicky leaned forward, her eyes gleaming.

  "Yeah, you should come," Sarah added. "Mum's having a party at the cafe, it should be pretty fun. There'll be live music, good food…"

  "And we'll be there, so it's the place to be," Vicky added with a wink.

  Meg grinned, though the expression was hesitant and felt foreign. "Okay. Count me in."

  Chapter 18

  Sarah

  The hum of conversation could be heard only when there was a break between songs. Sarah slid a tray of nachos and mini sausages in fresh-baked sourdough rolls onto a table, nodded at the call of thanks and hurried back to the kitchen.

  Mum had hired extra waitstaff for the party, thank goodness. The place was packed to the rafters with people; most were locals, but there were a fair number of tourists as well. She'd agreed to help serve, though she felt bad for Vicky and Meg, who were seated in a corner, heads together, talking. She'd convinced them to come but now was ignoring them to take food to strangers.

  She sighed and pushed through the kitchen do
ors. Standing inside the kitchen gave her a moment's respite from the noise.

  "There you are," Mum said, pushing a plate of fried chicken with chips towards her on the metal counter. "This one's for table eight."

  The New Year's Eve menu gave partygoers a discounted three-course meal with a drink, to go along with the live music. So far, the chicken strips with chips seemed to be the crowd favourite.

  "Thanks." Sarah set it on the black tray in her hands.

  "How's it going out there?" Mum asked, wiping a line of sweat from her forehead with the back of her sleeve.

  "It's packed. People are hungry and thirsty, and the music is great. Who's that singing?"

  Mum smiled. "That's Crystal Waters. She waits tables most days but can sing like an angel as well. Isn't she great?"

  Sarah nodded. "I love her music. I think the crowd agrees."

  "Yes, she's very popular with the locals."

  "She's got quite the stage name," Sarah replied with a laugh.

  "It's not her real name, of course, but it's what she goes by. I'm not sure why…"

  Sarah hurried back through the swinging doors and into the cafe. She waited tables, bussed the dirty dishes back to the kitchen and generally helped out for another two hours until her back ached and her feet throbbed.

  Finally, she slumped into a seat across from Vicky and Meg with a groan. "I need a break. I'm not used to being on my feet so long. I've gotten soft in my old age."

  Vicky chuckled. "Yes, you're so old."

  "Didn't you used to work here years ago?" Meg asked.

  Sarah nodded. "Yep. We all had to work at the cafe during our high school years. Family business, there was no way out of it, unfortunately."

  "I don't know, I think it seems like a nice place to work…maybe not on New Year's Eve, but most of the time."

  Sarah leaned forward, her gaze finding the full-time waiter on staff who was working that night. The rest of the group were temporary.

  "See that guy over there?" She pointed him out as subtly as possible.

  Meg and Vicky both looked.

  "Do you mean the waiter with the floppy blond hair?" Vicky asked.