Heart of the Outback (45 page)

He spread the front page out in front of her to show the picture of herself, and one of CJ emblazoned with the headline — the man with the golden touch acknowledges love child with a Roy Preston by-line.

“Oh, no.”

Billy laughed at her dismay. “Oh, yes. You’re a celebrity now.”

As per CJ’s instructions, all the interested parties — Shellie, Les, Natalie, Francey, and out of courtesy the Spinettis, sat in CJ’s study at the time he’d appointed — an hour after breakfast.

“This won’t take long,” CJ promised as he spread some papers out in front of him. Eventually he looked up and at them one by one. “Last night’s revelations regarding Francey’s relationship to me have necessitated several changes to my will. I intend to legally acknowledge my natural daughter,” he smiled at Francey. “My solicitor has advised me that
the simplest way to do this is to write a new will with the same entitlements for everyone except for one difference. Where Richard’s name was inserted as the heir to the bulk of my estate, Francey’s name will now be inserted.”

“May I say something?” Francey asked. What if she said it now? That she intended to walk away from everything. From CJ, Murrundi, her future inheritance, the responsibilities. She’d thought about it, long and hard. She knew what she was getting into if she stayed and in a way it would be easier to turn her back on it. She looked at CJ, and intercepted the love in his direct gaze as he waited expectantly for her to speak. Damn! She couldn’t do it. In some strange, no, wonderful way she had become as bound to him as he was to her. He nodded his assent and she went on. “I don’t think that’s fair — to Natalie. It may have been proved that I’m your child but I’ve not grown up here, I’ve not been a part of the family … Perhaps a fifty-fifty split would be more equitable.”

“You’re part of the family now,” CJ’s tone was firm. “I commend your sense of fair play, but I assure you, in the terms of my will, Natalie, who is already a wealthy woman, is well catered for.”

“Am I?” Natalie queried. Hungover or not she would have her say. “When Richard was alive I accepted the fact that I had to take a lesser share. He was the male heir, my half-brother and I loved him. This is different. Francey’s female and your illegal brat. Legally I’m not sure what the ramifications are but I feel quite strongly that I would contest such a will and let the courts judge the case on its merits.”

CJ’s smile was controlled. “Well, by that time I
wouldn’t be around to stop you but think it through carefully, Natalie. I’ve had expert legal advice from the top law firm in the state. As my acknowledged heir and with proof of Francey’s relationship to me, all you might do is make a barrister more wealthy than he already is.”

“Anyway,” Shellie fussed, “I hate all this talk about death and wills. CJ’s going to be around for a long time, now that he’s so much better.”

“But I have a right, a longer standing right,” Natalie ignored Shellie’s attempt to change the subject. Her fingers curled into fists which she beat on the side arm of the chair. “I’ve lived here all my life. My mother’s money gave you the start to get where you are today.”

“Which I’ve acknowledged,” CJ pointed out. “That’s why your settlement is so generous.”

“You’ve never shown much interest in running Murrundi, or in CJ’s other business interests. What would you do? Sell them all off and pocket the profits?” Les said to Natalie.

“I could get a manager in to run everything, lots of cattle stations are run that way … as you well know,” Natalie told Les tartly.

“There’s a clause in my will that states Murrundi can’t be sold until ten years after my death,” CJ advised all of them.

Francey cleared her throat and spoke. “Look, really, this talk about wills and what happens afterwards is unsettling and unnecessary at this point in time.”

“Not so,” CJ interceded. “It’s important that these matters are understood, by all of us.”

“Oh, you think it’s unsettling, do you?” Natalie snapped at Francey. “You’re sitting pretty, aren’t you? CJ’s white-haired girl. All you have to do is hang around and be nice to him and … and …”

“That’s enough,” CJ’s tone was curt. “Natalie, if you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head then kindly leave this room.”

“I …I…” Natalie spluttered, outraged by the tone of her stepfather’s ultimatum. “I was just speaking my mind, that’s all.”

“You were being offensive and you know it,” CJ returned, unimpressed. “I’ve had enough of it. You’ve been like this for months. Either change your ways or make yourself scarce. Now.”

Natalie turned on Francey. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’d have him all to yourself so you could worm your way in even deeper.” She stood and straightened. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get some fresh air.”

Only Les saw the look Natalie threw in Francey’s direction as she made a red-faced exit. Hate and loathing mixed with an expression of sheer malice were clearly displayed. Silly bitch. Didn’t she realise she was falling into CJ’s trap? Making herself come over as greedy and selfish, proving how great the difference was between herself and Francey. Not that he cared. She deserved whatever she got or didn’t get.

To her parents delight, Francey drove them to the Mt Isa airport in CJ’s Rolls-Royce.

“Are you sure you’re going to be all right up here?” Lucia worried as they exchanged a parting hug. “That Natalie’s a bitch. Be careful of her.”

“Of course, Mamma. Things will be strained for a while, no doubt about that. I’m still angry with CJ and he knows it. But it’ll sort itself out.”

“Be happy,
cara
, that is the most important thing. The power and the money are empty tools without happiness,” Carlo said as he kissed her on both cheeks. “And stay just as you are. Don’t change now that you’re going to be a mega-rich woman.”

“I’m not mega-rich yet and I don’t know … I need time to get used to the idea, to everything.”

“And your Steve. What are you-?”

“I’m going to see him as soon as your plane takes off.”

“Bene,”
Carlo said. “I like him. He’s good husband material,” he added with a twinkle in his eye. “Oh, Papà, you never give up, do you?”

F
rancey parked the Rolls unobtrusively under several low-growing eucalypts in Steve’s street, and headed for his front door. Unlocked, as usual, she turned the knob and went inside, her heart beat accelerating simply because she could hardly wait to see him. Doubts had been niggling at her subconscious since the party, growing, festering. Why hadn’t he been in touch with her since CJ’s announcement?

“Steve?” Francey called a greeting. She found him in the kitchen fixing a cup of coffee. “Hi!” she said, too brightly, as she gave him a hug. He hugged her back but didn’t kiss her. Yes, something was definitely up!

“Hi, yourself,” he answered in his deep policeman’s voice. “Want a coffee?”

With the filled coffee mugs in their hands they went back into the living room. Steve waited for
Francey to sit then he found a chair for himself, as far removed from her as possible. He noted that she looked tired, strung out, and a little agitated but was desperately trying not to show it. He’d never seen her like that before, not even when she’d been lost in the bush. He knew the cause. Coming to terms with being CJ’s daughter and all it entailed. Frankly, it was something he wouldn’t have wished hoisted on anyone he was fond of.

“Some birthday party, hey? I turn twenty-seven and find I have a new Dad as well,” she began tentatively. Her smile was tremulous as she tried not to allow the insecurities warring inside her to take control. Certain, disquieting vibrations were emanating from him. Cool and contained. Worrying. Her stomach began to tie itself into knots. Where was the old Steve, the one she knew so well? The warm, compassionate, good-humoured guy she had fallen in love with.
This
Steve was acting like a virtual stranger instead of the passionate lover he’d been a couple of nights ago. She desperately wanted and needed the old Steve to resurface.

“Yeah,” he shrugged his wide shoulders. “I guess joint congratulations are in order. It’s not every day you hear that you’re closely related to a multimillionaire.”

“It’s taking some getting used to, believe me. I’m not sure I —”

“Well, I think it’s great,” he interrupted, averting his eyes so he didn’t look directly at her. “You fit right in. It’ll work out well, I’m sure. CJ’s got a worthy heir and you have the chance to be the mega-successful businesswoman you’ve always wanted to be.”

Highly tuned, she listened to the nuances in his tone. Again, cool, distanced, as if they were discussing an absent third party instead of herself. Support and understanding was what she had come here for. She wanted to pour out her feelings about the doubts and uncertainties she felt inside, and the awesome responsibilities that would arise some time in the future. She valued his opinion, needed his affection and what was she getting? “Mr Cool” and his remote analysis. Why was he behaving this way? Was it her fault? She firmly believed that the best approach was a direct one. Ask!

“Steve, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged again, deliberately nonchalant. “I couldn’t be happier for you. You have a great opportunity, Francey. Think of all the things you can do in the future, with CJ’s money behind you.”

“Yes, I know that,” she said impatiently. “But … it won’t change us, will it? I mean what we have together is too important, too precious.” There, she’d said it, got it out in the open. Now she waited, almost afraid to breathe, for his answer.

“Oh …” he began consideringly, as if only now giving it some thought. “I think it’s bound to change our relationship. It’d be unrealistic to think otherwise. You’re going to be one hell of a busy lady ‘cause I’m sure that now you’ve been acknowledged as CJ’s heir he’ll up his training program. You’ll be dealing with important businesspeople. Rubbing shoulders with politicians, the rich and famous, and jetting to all manner of wonderful places, I imagine. I doubt there’ll be much time for
us
in the future.”

“That’s crazy.” The hard knot in her stomach tightened. What was he trying to tell her? “We’ll make time. We have in the past.”

“Which hasn’t always been easy,” he stated. “Things have changed, Francey, whether we like it or not. CJ’s announcement saw to that. Surely you see it too?”

“I haven’t changed and what I feel for you hasn’t changed,” she said stubbornly.

Francey tried to ignore the terrible fear that was beginning to spread through the tightness in the pit of her stomach, through her limbs to her very soul. Up to now they had always been on the same wavelength, she could always tell what he was thinking, feeling and vice versa. Now she didn’t like what she was hearing nor did she understand the vibes coming from him. Steve was distancing himself from her and she couldn’t understand why. She loved him and she thought he loved her with the same depth of passion. Maybe — the thought brought a crushing pain to the middle of her chest — she’d been wrong.

“Is it because I’m part Aboriginal, not Italian?”

“Don’t be bloody silly. That has nothing to do with it,” he bit back, hiding the hurt that she might even consider such a possibility. He took another sip of coffee, his dark eyes clashing with hers, and when he spoke his tone was hard. “Face reality, Francey. You’ve moved upwards, into a very elite and different circle. It was fine when you were Francey Spinetti, architect — at a stretch we were kind of on the same level. Can’t you see that everything is different now? You’re going to be incredibly wealthy one day — I never will be. I have my pride, you know. I don’t
want people saying: ‘Oh, look at Parrish, he’s latched on to Francey because of her money. What’s the male equivalent for a gold-digger? The same — gold-digger!’”

“That’s ridiculous!” she shouted, despair replaced by anger. Another part of her life, the status quo, what she’d come to expect between them, was falling apart.
No
, she cried inside, dismayed, disappointed and confused by his reaction. She couldn’t let this happen to them, what they’d had together was too good. Somehow she had to make Steve see that. “People do it all the time. Rich people marry not so rich people. It’s what you feel inside that counts. Not the money, not the trappings.”

“Not around Mt Isa,” he said succinctly. “People love to gossip, believe the worst. It’s the same everywhere.” He’d seen it here and in Sydney, he knew he was right and that Francey had to be a touch naive to believe otherwise. God, he hated what he was doing to them but wasn’t it kinder to make the cut now rather than later when their feelings were more deeply engaged? If he had to be strong for both of them then he damned well would be even if it meant that she’d hate him for the rest of their lives. Somehow, right now he didn’t know how, he would live with it.

In silence she stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. He wasn’t making any sense. Didn’t what they feel for each other count enough to outweigh the imbalances? It did as far as she was concerned. But then, she suddenly realised, maybe from Steve’s angle things were different … and he had his pride. Litres of it! Pride had made him walk
away from a career in the NSW Police Service instead of toughing it out … Could it make him walk away from her too? And … then there was the remote possibility that maybe, with her rose-tinted glasses on, she had imbued him with qualities he didn’t really have.

Well, she decided, it was time to ask
the
question, find the bottom line. “Are you saying that we shouldn’t see each other any more?”

Try as he might he couldn’t look her in the eyes again. “Maybe that would be a good idea, for a while. Let things settle. Give ourselves time to rethink our relationship and where we want it to go.”

“I thought we both knew where we wanted it to go,” she murmured, trying to keep the dismay out of her voice. Don’t let him do this to us, a voice inside her head said. Steve was the best thing that had come into her life. She loved him and had intended to plan a life with him. She had thought that was what he wanted too. Perhaps she had been wrong about that.