Amy’s chest warmed with love as she read and re-read the email. Maybe she should call him and tell him everything, tell him that she’d failed and was struggling and that she missed him and Nan like crazy.
No, she wasn’t ready yet. Shame and embarrassment still crawled under her skin, too close to the surface. Besides, Pop was never one for phone calls, always found them awkward. He much preferred the written word.
Amy typed back an email.
Hi Pop
Glad you and Nan liked the recipe. I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve got in store for me.
A fresh twist on a cupcake would be appreciated!
Talk soon.
Love
Amy
Amy put on a load of washing and made herself a quick dinner. She ate it at the bench while reading an old recipe book she remembered Rachel lugging around with her during their culinary school days. A fantastic book with a tonne of classic dessert, cake, and pastry recipes.
After dinner, she showered and climbed into bed. She wished Tom had come back here with her, but he and Sam were spending the evening with Mitch. Which was a good thing, and she wasn’t going to get in the way of that.
An incoming email pinged on her iPhone. Before she had even opened it, she knew it was from Pop.
Hi Amy
Funny you should mention cupcakes. I made this recipe and tried it out on Nan for Valentine’s Day. I call them my luscious cherry chocolate Cupid cakes. You are going to love them. Let me know what you think.
Love
Pop
Her flesh prickled with goose bumps as she read the email and peered at the picture of a professionally presented cupcake with cherry-red icing and a chocolate Cupid’s bow piercing a chocolate dipped cherry sitting on top.
She typed back a message telling Pop that she would make them tomorrow and send him some pictures through. She closed the phone and laid back on her pillows.
Looking up at the ceiling, a small grin on her lips, she whispered, ‘I see what you’re doing, Rachel.’
Chapter 27
Tom was itching to tell Amy the good news. During the week, he had emailed a resignation letter to his employers’ Human Resources department.
As he had hacked away at the keyboard, he was a ball of emotion. On one hand, he was exhilarated to never need to make that long journey to Western Australia again, nor endure the blistering hot summer, even more pronounced as the sun glinted off the heavy machinery sending out heat like a microwave.
At the same time, a tight little ball of anxiety nestled in his gut because the dynamics between himself and Mitch hadn’t improved. There was still some work to do as far as Mitch was concerned.
But he had been working on a special project that he hoped would cheer Mitch up. He was on his way to see him first where he would also let him know the decision made to work back at the vineyard full-time.
Tom carried a case of Rachel’s Blend—a tailored blend of the vineyard’s reds—that he and Sam had handcrafted fifty cases of over the last week.
He knocked on Mitch’s door.
‘In here,’ yelled Mitch.
Tom went inside and found Mitch standing at the kitchen bench eating one of the meals Amy had left for him.
‘Sophie asleep?’ Tom asked, his volume lowering in case his voice drifted and woke her.
Mitch nodded. ‘I’ve been up all night with her.’
‘Do you want me and Sam to take her for a couple of hours, so you can catch up on some sleep?’
He shovelled a forkful of lasagne into his mouth and shook his head.
Tom placed the box on the bench top, the bottles inside clinking. ‘Thought I’d drop in and show you what Sam and I developed.’
Mitch’s eyes went to the purple box, The Mathews Family Vineyard logo and Limited Edition appearing on all sides.
Tom lifted out a bottle of wine. The label was dotted with Rachel’s favourite flowers, wispy billy buttons, which were native to the Alpine region. The bright yellow flowers were contrasted against a rich purple background. The label’s text read:
Rachel’s Blend
1989 – 2016
Forever in our hearts
He handed the bottle to Mitch.
Mitch glanced at it. ‘Looks good.’ And handed it back.
Tom smiled and held it out for him again. ‘Did you read it?’
His plate clanged as Mitch dropped his fork down. He snatched the bottle, regarded the label, and went to hand it back but did a double-take. For a long moment, he didn’t raise his eyes. His breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling.
Not until Tom noticed the tic beating in Mitch’s jaw did he realise the reaction was one of anger. His stomach clenched, pulse quickened.
Mitch raised his face and glared at Tom. His nose wrinkled as his lips twisted into a snarl. ‘What the fuck is this?’
Tom closed his eyes as he exhaled. ‘I thought it would be nice to handcraft a commemorative blend for Rachel. Quite obviously, you don’t feel the same.’
Mitch snarled, his fist tight on the head of the wine. ‘You thought it would be nice, did you?’ His tone was mocking, scathing.
Tom knew the answer wasn’t important, it wasn’t going to change how Mitch was reacting. ‘Yeah, I did.’
Mitch lifted the bottle above his head and threw it as hard as he could at Tom.
Tom jumped to the side, twisting his torso so it didn’t connect with his ribs. The bottle crashed into the wall behind him exploding glass and cold red wine on the floor and up the back of Tom’s legs.
‘What kind of imbecile are you? You think a bottle of wine that you sell for thirty bucks a pop is thoughtful?’
Tom drew a deep breath in, mortified at the shaking rigidity of Mitch’s body, the intense anger in his eyes and the set of his face. Had he been so wrong with his thinking on this? Dismissive, even, of how Mitch might react to this?
‘I should have checked with you first before I went ahead with it. I apologise, I didn’t mean—’
‘This cheapens her,’ Mitch said shaking his head. ‘Reduces her to a commodity. She’s more than that, Tom. More than that to me.’ He slapped his palm on his chest then pointed towards the nursery. ‘More than that to Sophie.’
Cheapens her? That was it. Anger blasted through Tom, fogging his brain. Never was it his intention to cheapen Rachel and Mitch bloody well knew that. He squeezed his fist. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth. ‘Don’t treat me like I’m a fucking idiot,’ he yelled.
‘Well stop acting like one!’ Mitch roared.
Crying sounded out, and Tom’s heart rate ratcheted.
Mitch rolled his head back, face to the ceiling and yelled, ‘Fuuuuucccckkk! Now Sophie’s awake.’ He looked at the case still sitting on the bench. ‘Get that out of my fucking sight now!’ Then he strode out of the room.
Tom pursed his lips, rubbed hard at his jaw. The sour fermented scent of wine flooded the room, made him feel sick to the stomach. He looked at the mess behind him, a big dent in the plaster and the white wall streaked with red. Shards of green glass were spread all over the tiled floor.
He went to find a broom to start cleaning it up but shook his head. No way. Mitch could deal with it. Tom didn’t need this shit—to be treated as though he was an unthoughtful prick. Glass crunched under his boots as he collected the box from the bench, then he stormed out the house.
Down in his car, Tom stared at the case of wine sitting on the passenger seat beside him. To him, it was perfect. The rest of the staff had agreed. Members of the sales staff even cried when they saw it. How could he have misjudged this so much?
Tom hit the steering wheel with his palm over and over again and groaned long and low.
Amy was serving a customer when he arrived at Sugar Cakes. During the drive into town, he used the time to calm himself—to try and see the reaction from Mitch’s viewpoint. But he couldn’t.
Either way he turned it over in his brain, there was no excus
ing Mitch’s rage. But this wasn’t Amy’s concern, and he wasn’t going to taint their time together stressing over Mitch. God knows, they did that enough.
Striding through the kitchen, Tom smiled as he saw the cupcake she had left him on the bench. He would come back to that soon.
He poked his head out the front. ‘I thought I recognised that voice,’ he said, noticing Felicity. She was a long-term friend of his mother’s.
‘Tom. How are you?’ she asked, meeting him just in front of the glass cabinets and kissing his cheek. ‘Look at you. You get more handsome the older you get. Or …’ She looked at Amy, then back to him with a knowing grin. ‘I see what’s happening here. You’re having a good impact on him,’ she said to Amy.
A beautiful blush crept across Amy’s cheeks. Tom laughed.
‘Good to see,’ Felicity said. ‘So, Tom, tell me, how’s Mitch going?’ Her voice deepened with sympathy. The mood in the room dropped. Felicity winced. ‘Oh, dear, not good?’
‘Up and down,’ Tom said, not wanting to give too much away.
Felicity looked between both Tom and Amy. ‘You know, I do run a Women’s Health Centre, but I’m a qualified counsellor. If Mitch or any of you want to drop by after-hours, at all, you give me a call.’ She stared off into the distance and shook her head. ‘In fact, I might drop in and see Mitch.’
Tom nodded. ‘That may be a good idea.’
‘Then that’s what I’ll do. And, Amy, I’ve meant to ask you. I run a trivia night at the town hall each Thursday night at six. Come along. You’ll get to meet some of the locals.’
Amy hesitated a moment, but a polite smile transpired. ‘I will.’
With a self-satisfied grin, as though all items had been ticked off her list, Felicity said, ‘I shall see you then.’ She collected her box of cupcakes with a flourish, waved her hand in the air to announce she was leaving, then strolled out.
Tom exchanged a glance with Amy, and they both chuckled.
‘She’s quite eccentric,’ Amy said.
‘I couldn’t agree more.’
Out the back, Tom flicked on the jug to make them both a cup of coffee. ‘How’s your day been?’ he asked.
Amy blew out a long breath. ‘Hectic. This is the first quiet period I’ve had. I made an additional six dozen Cupid cupcakes, and they are selling like crazy.’
He pointed to the cake on the bench. ‘This is your grandfather’s recipe?’
‘And it’s divine. Literally.’ A hand on her hip, she narrowed her eyes. ‘And don’t you think it’s a coincidence that this is the recipe he sent me?’
Tom stared at cherry-topped cupcake that epitomised romance. Perfect for the current theme in the shop. ‘I’d not thought about it, but, yeah, it is a coincidence.’
‘I’ve had people from over an hour away drive here just for the cupcakes. You know, I’m thinking about putting in an espresso machine so I can sell coffee too. Maybe I can employ a casual. If people are travelling so far, they’d want a drink as well.’
The excitement was evident in her tone and it warmed his heart to see it. Plus, it indicated to him that maybe Amy was getting serious about Sugar Cakes. Maybe she could see herself running the store for the long term. And anything he could do to support her, he would. ‘That’s a great idea. Shouldn’t be hard to organise.’
‘I’m going to look into it.’
He cocked his head to the side. ‘Your cupcakes must be getting a name for themselves if people are driving so far to try them?’
‘And not for the reason you’re thinking,’ she said with a grin.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘What do you mean?’
‘People think that after eating my cupcakes, they have a high chance of meeting a lover.’ The volume of her voice had lowered as though it was a secret.
Tom scoffed, then laughed, but when she didn’t smile, his grin fell away. ‘They don’t believe that, do they?’
‘Seems they do. I’ve heard at least a dozen stories of it happening. An older man stopped in this morning to thank me for helping him find a woman. He’d been single for over a decade.’ Eyes cast to the floor, she said, ‘I think I kind of believe it too.’ She met his gaze again and shrugged. ‘I believe Rachel, somehow, might be behind it. She was always renowned for her matchmaking skills. I feel like she’s inspiring the recipes I make. And there’s been all these weird coincidences.’
Tom was silent as his heart beat up into his throat. Yes, he talked to his own father in the vineyard, but he never once believed he was still there. Just his memory.
Deep down, Tom was a practical man. Amy speaking such woo-woo nonsense filled his gut with an uneasy feeling. This was an unhealthy way for her to cope with her grief. And if she believed Rachel was still somehow around, what was going to happen later down the track when she realised she wasn’t?
A crevice of pain would open up all over again.
Amy laughed, but it was tense and self-conscious. ‘Don’t listen to me,’ she said waving at him. ‘I’m just … I don’t know what I’m talking about. I guess it’s nice to pretend.’
Tom nodded. ‘Of course.’
She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. ‘Now, I know you’re in the wine business, but you smell like a brewery.’ Her gaze travelled down his body. ‘Look at your legs, you’ve red wine all over them.’ She climbed off her seat to get a closer look. ‘No, it’s not. It’s blood. You’ve little cuts on your calves.’ She picked at his leg. Pain shot through him. ‘And glass.’ She held up a small shard in front of his face. ‘What the hell happened?’
He shook his head. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘I will worry about it.’
He raised his hands in defeat. ‘Might be better to show you. But if you happen to find this offensive, I apologise in advance. No way was it my intention to insult Rachel with this. I thought it would be lovely …’ he trailed off. He was getting a little tired of trying to justify it.
Tom headed out to the car for the case of wine, brought it inside and plonked it on the bench in front of Amy. He pulled out a bottle and handed it to her.
‘What’s this?’ she asked, taking it from him.
He’d not shown Amy yet, he was keeping it as a surprise—a happy surprise. Amy read the label and stared at it for a long moment. When she lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes were glossing. ‘I think this is the most beautiful gesture.’
Tom narrowed his eyes as confusion muddled his brain. ‘You do?’
She nodded. ‘Definitely. A thoughtful memorial. And this label is just perfect. The colours. The flowers …’ Her voice cracked. ‘Perfect.’
Tom scrubbed his face with his hands. ‘Mitch didn’t think so.’
Her eyes widened. ‘He didn’t?’
‘I just took it over to show him and—’
She gasped. ‘That’s why your legs are cut?’
He nodded. ‘He thought it degraded Rachel’s memory.’
Amy shook her head, lips parted. ‘I … how? I think it’s gorgeous.’
Tom threaded his hands behind his head, elbows out wide, and huffed. ‘I did too. But I may as well throw them out. I’d hate to think what he’d do if he saw the rest.’
‘You can’t. All this work. Maybe he just needs some time to see this clearly.’
‘Maybe.’
But he didn’t know. Being around Mitch at the moment was like walking on eggshells. He was no longer the same person. Grief had made him unpredictable. Tom just had to do his best to get him through it.
If only he knew how.
He parted his lips, drew a breath to speak, but a loud clang and scrape, like metal against metal, interrupted him. A motor roared.
Amy jerked and stared out through the back screen. ‘What the hell is that?’ She lurched to her feet and headed for the door.
Tom was a step behind.
A tow truck, engine rumbling, was outside. A man was pulling a winch towards the undercarriage of Amy’s car.
‘What the hel
l are you doing?’ she said, shoving open the door and marching outside.
‘Hey, hey, hey,’ yelled Tom, overtaking her. ‘That’s not your property!’
The man had deep wrinkles in his face giving him a worn out appearance. Thinning hoary hair covered his head and chin. He raised a hand with an expression of boredom. ‘Mate, I’m just doing my job. I’m repossessing this vehicle.’
Tom took a step back and gaped. Repossessing?
Amy gasped behind him. ‘No!’
‘If you’re in disagreement, you’re to talk to your financier,’ the man continued, as though he’d said the same thing a thousand times. Probably had.
Amy ran to him. ‘Please. No. I missed two payments. I neeeeed this car.’
Again his hand went up. ‘Hey, I’m just doing my job, lady. You need to talk to your financier.’
Tom met Amy’s gaze, and his heart sunk to see what he saw in those features: shame, surrender.
Amy’s shoulders slumped in defeat. ‘Fine. Take it. I hope you sleep well at night.’
‘I’m just trying to earn a living,’ the man said.
Amy spun and marched back into the shop.
‘Are you sure there’s no way to stop this? What if I pay you money?’ Tom asked.
The man shook his head. ‘At this point, all communication is to be made with the financier. I’m here to collect the car. If you want to give me a hundred bucks out of the goodness of your heart, I’m not going to say no. But you’re also not gonna be able to keep your car.’
Anger punched through Tom, vibrating his muscles. It was all so lawless and intrusive that this arsehole could come here and take Amy’s car. ‘Fine,’ Tom said. ‘We’ll ring the financier. Where’s the car going to be held?’
‘Two hours south at a wrecking yard. It will be held there for a week before it’s sent to auction.’
‘Just let me check she’s left nothing inside,’ he said.
The man gestured to the car. ‘Be my guest.’
Tom checked the car, gathering the few personal possessions that were inside then, without another word, went back inside.
Amy was in her room, sitting on the bed. Her fists were opening and closing on her lap. The front door bell tingled.
‘I’ll serve them,’ Tom said.
Bittersweet Page 22
