The Things We Never Knew

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The Things We Never Knew Page 13

by Megan Mayfair


  She laughed. “Sometimes they do, don’t they?”

  Chapter 28

  It wasn’t going to be easy to get a sample of Michelle’s hair.

  And it wasn’t simply the logistics involved, it was the uneasy feeling whenever Bebe thought about it. Breaking Michelle’s trust and being sneaky—it didn’t sit well with her. In an ideal world, she’d just ask, but how could she suggest to Michelle that maybe her father cheated on his wife? And how would she feel about taking a quick DNA test to prove this?

  Bebe placed her head in her hands. This was ridiculous, but perhaps it was the best way. Michelle need not know anything about it, and if it turned out as a no-match, she’d be none the wiser. It was far better than raising it with Michelle and causing hurt and confusion if there need not be any.

  She slipped a clean comb into a tissue and placed it into an empty pocket in her handbag. She also placed a fresh, clear, Ziploc bag alongside it. She wasn’t sure what she’d be able to get, but given they were going to spend the day together, she wanted to be prepared to either offer her a comb or be able to grab something of Michelle’s, like a takeaway coffee cup that could be tested.

  Her phone rang. Michelle.

  “Hey. I know we were going to go shopping, but would you mind coming over to my house?

  Bebe tensed. Go to the Fitzgerald family home? She swallowed. What if Greg were there? What if he recognised her from the day outside his workplace or the café?

  A cold hand gripped her heart. What if he recognised her and drew the connection? She didn’t look that much like her mother, but surely he could have an inkling, right?

  She chewed her nail. Or maybe he was blissfully unaware of who she was, the fact he’d run into her and her connection with Petra. He’d not seemed to make any connection to her that day at Espresso Walk. “To your house?” she clarified.

  “Yeah. I need to test making these éclairs for my family cooking competition and you can be my guinea pig.”

  “Éclairs?” she asked, as a way to stall while she considered the upside to the situation—it would be much easier to get a sample of Michelle’s DNA from her home. And that would once and for all prove things, one way or another.

  “Yes. Gabriel has shown me how to make a dish and I want to test it out.”

  “Err. Okay.”

  “Excellent. I’ll text you the address.”

  She hung up the phone, uncertain as to whether she’d made the right decision. Her debate of the pros and cons continued until she arrived at Michelle’s house.

  It was just as she had expected—the suburban dream. Solid house. Nice block. Calm street. A house full of kids. And nothing like she’d ever experienced.

  She held her breath as she rang the doorbell. Would Greg open it?

  The door opened, and it was Michelle with a tea towel over her shoulder and flour on her nose.

  “Thanks for coming over,” she said, gesturing for Bebe to come in. “Everyone is out so I knew this was the only time I could make this recipe in this kitchen. I need to make sure I have the settings right on the oven. If they know what I’m doing, they’ll try to sabotage me.”

  They walked through to the kitchen.

  “Who lives here?” Bebe looked around the room, taking in the faint smell of pumpkin soup and the sun filtering through a window, giving it a cosy glow. It wasn’t an expensive-looking kitchen with flashy European appliances, but it had been built to last with wooden cupboards and a generous bench.

  She pulled up one of the stools at the counter. She could imagine kids sitting up here, eating bowls full of cereal or doing their homework.

  “Mum, Dad, and me, the loser of the family, right? Still with my parents.”

  Bebe shrugged. “I live with my mother.” It was hard to imagine not living with her. It had always been just them and would be at least for the next six months while they were both in New York.

  “That’s a bit different. You’ve lived all over the world. This is my childhood home, and all these years later”—she waved a wooden spoon around the kitchen and leaned forward against the bench—“I’m still here.”

  Bebe smiled. “It’s nice.”

  “I’d love to get my own place, but I’m so broke after Canada. I’m trying to save a little bit now.” She gestured towards a block of chocolate. “Here, can you break this up for me?”

  “Of course.” Bebe stood and washed her hands in the sink. “I’m sorry about Canada.”

  “Don’t be. I got distracted and didn’t study well. My grades were terrible, and when I returned, I couldn’t get my head into classes here and I got so many fails that they asked me to leave.”

  “Why were you distracted?” Bebe picked up the block of dark cooking chocolate and broke it into small pieces.

  “His name was Ashton.” She frowned and paused, her spoon hovering over ingredients in a large ceramic bowl. “Is Ashton, I guess. Strange how I just put him in the past tense.”

  Bebe smiled. “Perhaps that’s a good thing that you’re putting him behind you.”

  “It wasn’t long ago that I never thought I’d be able to do that.”

  “Break-ups are hard.”

  “This one in particular. I thought I’d found the one, that he could give me everything. His family are rich, really rich. And powerful and they’re a bit famous. I thought my life would be nothing but parties and private planes, but it was as if, at the stroke of midnight, everything turned into a pumpkin.”

  Bebe was silent. She’d seen their relationship play out on social media, but it was weird to admit she’d been cyber-stalking Michelle and her Canadian quasi-royalty boyfriend. And her family here. Come to think of it, she knew nearly everything there was to know about Michelle, but she couldn’t admit that. It was vital to play it cool.

  Michelle levelled off a cup of sugar and poured it into the bowl. “He kept on delaying me meeting his family. I didn’t think too much of it at the time as I was busy between university and skiing and working and partying, and then finally, I overheard him on speakerphone with his mother, who told him that she had no interest in meeting some ski bunny from Australia and that he needed to think of the family image.”

  Bebe’s mouth fell open. “The family image?” she repeated, slowly.

  “Yep. I guess I wasn’t … I don’t know … rich enough? Connected enough? Cultured enough?” She continued to mix the ingredients with a wooden spoon. “Anyway, after that, he went cold on me and ended things with a text message. He’s now dating a stick-insect called Gretchen whose parents I think own half of Canada and a couple of Islands too.”

  “You’re better off without him.” What a bunch of stuck-up snobs.

  “I guess. But it still hurts. I shouldn’t say that when I’m seeing someone else, and I really like Leon, but it does still hurt. Is that wrong?” She tilted her head to the side.

  “If it still hurts, it still hurts. You can’t deny that. Maybe Leon will be a way that you can move on from that and realise you deserve better than how Ashton treated you.”

  Michelle flashed her a beautiful smile, but it quickly faded. “I don’t want Leon just to be a rebound thing.”

  Bebe shook her head. “I didn’t say he was, but it could be nice to see where it goes.”

  “We’re taking it pretty slowly.” She tipped the contents of the mixing bowl out and rolled the pastry. “Dating Ashton was a bit of a blur, to be honest. We were always out and doing things. When I think about it now, we didn’t actually talk much.” She held the rolling pin up and tilted her head to the side as if trying to recall.

  “I understand that.”

  “How are things going with Harry? He’s nice to talk to.”

  “He is.” It was one of the things she liked most about him.

  “He’s mad about you.” Michelle flashed her a smile. “He always looks so pleased when you stop by Espresso Walk.”

  “I like him.” Bebe frowned as these words came out of her mouth. She’d not really art
iculated it like that to herself, or anyone, but there it was. She did like Harry. A lot.

  She cleared her throat. She had to stop daydreaming about Harry and focus on why she was there. “May I use your bathroom, please?”

  “Of course. Go down that hallway and it’s second on the left.”

  Bebe slipped past a wall of family photos. School photos. Wedding pictures. Family holiday snaps. It seemed overwhelming as she stared and tried to imagine herself in them, lined up in a school dress or around the Christmas table. Everyone looked so happy, and her heart ached.

  The bathroom counter had bottles of perfumes, hair products and make-up, and it smelled of Michelle’s perfume. She carefully opened a cupboard next to the vanity, and saw a hairbrush sitting on a shelf.

  She inched her hand forward to pick it up before she snapped her hand back.

  What was she thinking? She pinched the bridge of her nose. She couldn’t do this.

  She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She was going to see the best in this situation, just like Harry told her she did.

  She’d had a great, interesting and exciting life, and Michelle was a good person who clearly needed the support of her family unit. She didn’t deserve to have her life blown apart, even if it were true. Why should she pay for the sins of her father?

  Bebe should be grateful she’d been able to meet Michelle and become friends with her. For someone who had always lived out of a suitcase, connections like Harry and Michelle had been hard to come by.

  Was it worth not knowing some things in order to have so much more?

  Chapter 29

  Michelle drizzled chocolate over the éclairs and stood back as Gabriel leaned over to inspect them.

  “I tried so hard. I did them at home the other day too. I think I got the oven right. Ours isn’t a commercial one like here, but I did your calculations…” She was rambling.

  A smile curled over Gabriel’s lips. “Not bad.” He glanced back at her. “Not bad at all. The colour of the pastry looks good, the chocolate looks glossy and the cream doesn’t appear to be runny.

  “Are you going to try one?” She wrung her hands on a tea towel. Bebe had raved about them at her house, which was lovely but Gabriel was the expert.

  He nodded and picked up a pastry. He inspected it and bit. Chewing slowly, he continued to nod. “Perfect.”

  She gasped. “Perfect?”

  He gave a thumbs up. “Don’t tell Tessa but I think these are better than hers.”

  “Yay!” She flung her arms around Gabriel’s neck. She pulled back. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t very professional.”

  “It’s okay.” He leaned a hand on the bench. “I think you’re a certainty for your family cooking competition.”

  She probably was, thanks to him, but more than that, perfecting the recipe over time and thinking about all the elements had been far more interesting than she’d expected.

  It was quite amazing to make something out of nothing. It must be how Bebe felt when she designed and sewed a gown from nothing more than basic fabric.

  “Thank you for helping me, Gabriel. I really appreciate it.”

  “It’s been a pleasure. As I said, you’re a natural.”

  She hesitated. “I’d love to keep learning from you, but I don’t want to get in your way.”

  “You’re not in my way.” He flipped a tea towel over his shoulder. “I can always use some help. Why don’t I talk to Tessa and we can see if we can come up with some sort of arrangement?”

  She smiled. “That would be great, but if it’s okay, I’d like to ask Tessa myself.”

  Later that morning, Tessa walked through the café. Michelle paused, took a deep breath, straightened her apron and approached her boss.

  “Tessa?”

  “Hmm?” Tessa looked up from an iPad. “Sorry, I’m dealing with a real estate agent who is trying to gouge me on this new place. Seriously. I wish my cousin Lottie had something on her books.”

  Lottie was a real estate agent. Harry had pointed her out in the café and she regularly stopped by with clients for coffee.

  She spoke rapidly like Tessa did and had the same intimidating, feisty personality. The De Luca family seemed as high-energy, large and noisy as the Fitzgeralds, and there always seemed to be uncles, aunts, and cousins coming and going.

  “I don’t want to interrupt, but I’m wondering if it is okay to help Gabriel in the kitchen sometimes?” she asked.

  Tessa frowned. “I thought he had enough staff?”

  “No. It’s just I want to learn more about food and cooking. I won’t get in his way, and I’m happy to come in on my day off. The more I know, the more useful I can be to customers when they have questions about the food.”

  Tessa tilted her head. “Come in on your day off? That’s keen.”

  “I’m interested in cooking, pastry in particular.”

  “How interested?”

  She wasn’t sure what this meant. “Very?” she asked, hesitantly.

  Tessa chuckled. “You’ve been a great employee, Michelle. You work really well with Harry and the crew, and it’s wonderful to see you taking an interest in what we cook here. I’ve been impressed, and I always believe in using people’s talents.” She brought a finger to her red lips and narrowed her eyes. “I’m more than happy for you to help in the kitchen, and we can move some of your shifts around to do that, but I’d like you to try it and in a few weeks’ time, let’s check in on how you are going. If this new place gets off the ground, I’m going to need more chefs.”

  Michelle’s heart sped up. “Chefs?”

  “If it was something you were interested in learning, I’d be happy to look at a career pathway for you. My father has worked with apprentices for years.”

  An apprenticeship? She thought back to the conversation at the family dinner table when she was first kicked out of uni. The idea hadn’t been that appealing then, but that was a plumbing apprenticeship. Cooking was far more interesting. And learning more from Gabriel? That was certainly a wonderful opportunity.

  “I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.” Was she good enough to make this a career? Or commit to studying again?

  “Consider it an option. In the meantime, that’s fine for you to work with my father.” Tessa walked to the kitchen.

  It was certainly nice to have options. Michelle straightened her shoulders and walked to the counter. Those had felt few and far between in recent times.

  The café door opened, and Bebe gave her a wave as she entered.

  “Hey. Nice to see you. You know it’s Harry’s day off,” Michelle said, pouring her a glass of water and setting it down in front of her at Bebe’s favourite table—the one near the window with the cushions and where the light filtered in no matter what time of day.

  Bebe smiled and slipped into her seat. “I know. I like it here.”

  Michelle looked around. She did too. “Harry said that I need to give you a muffin when you come in? Do you want one?”

  “Did he?” Bebe blushed. “Not today, but thank you. Just a latte, please.”

  “No worries. How’s work going?”

  “Not bad.” Bebe held up her notebook, revealing a delicate sketch of a woman with a lace skirt, each fold of fabric so beautifully shaded that even in pencil, the design leapt off the page.

  “Fashion block has clearly gone.” Michelle whistled.

  “Pretty much.” Bebe gave herself a contented smile, and pulled a pencil from a small case in front of her.

  “That’s great. You know, I was wondering if you wanted to go with me to …” She paused as she saw Ashton.

  She blinked. It couldn’t be. She’d thought she’d seen him everywhere after they had broken up. At the airport, at the supermarket, filling a car with petrol, or catching a bus. Could this be the real version, or just her imagination?

  He smiled through the glass window. That smile was far too real to be an illusion.

  Michelle pulled open the door. A cool bre
eze hit her face. If she had been dreaming, that would have woken her up.

  But it wasn’t an illusion. It was real. He was here.

  “Hey, Michelle,” he said softly

  Hearing his voice again was surreal. “What are you doing here?” she asked, staring at him.

  Leaning into her, he kissed her cheek. “I’m here to see you.”

  “But what about Gretchen?”

  “Gretchen? What about her?”

  “I thought you were dating her?” All those photos on Instagram? What had those been?

  “She’s just a friend. I told you that from the start.”

  She folded her arms. “It didn’t seem like that.”

  “I’m sorry if it did, but that’s all she was. Besides, these past few months, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”

  Their eyes met and familiar feelings washed over her as when they’d first met.

  But this was different. The pain he’d caused hurtled through her. “You hurt me.”

  “I know.” His face softened. “I’m sorry. If I could go back and change things, I would, but I can’t so that’s why I’m here now. I’m trying to make amends so we can start again.” He took her hands and gave them a squeeze.

  She looked down at his hands over hers. “I don’t know.”

  “Michelle, I love you. Please tell me you still feel the same way.”

  Her mouth fell open. He loved her? He’d never said that when they were together.

  But why now? After all this time? She rubbed her temple. Her brain hurt. Her heart hurt. She looked around the street. It wasn’t the time or place to have this conversation.

  “What do you say?” he asked, hopefully.

  “I’m at work. This isn’t the time to talk about it.”

  “I understand. I’ve caught you off guard. What time do you finish? Maybe we can get a drink and talk properly.”

  She was going straight to Clare and Pete’s house after work to babysit Timothy. “I’m busy tonight.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “That sounds …” she began before she remembered the family Master Chef Trophy. She couldn’t back out of that, and especially not as she’d asked Leon to come over for it. Oh goodness. Leon. Her shoulders slumped.

 

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