Authors: Joanne Hill
Daniel drummed his fingers on his desk and glanced out at
his view of Sydney. At times it did feel like his view. The Christie’s view. A
family who, whenever a history was written about the city, were included. Today
the view was drizzly and miserable. Not to mention uncharacteristically humid.
He loosened the collar of his shirt. He needed a shower.
If he had the morals of his brothers, he’d jump on a plane
and head to a warm climate and leave others to run the business while he soaked
up a tan by the sea.
Nora buzzed and he straightened. His concentration has been
shot and he welcomed her. “Come in.”
She strode in with a folder in one hand and set it down on
his desk. The phone rang in the outer office and she excused herself. Daniel
focused on her as she walked away, analysing her for the second time in as many
weeks. Nora was tall and slender. She’d told him she once modeled for a
swimsuit catalogue and he could believe it. Yet he never consciously thought of
her as attractive.
His mind jumped to Mel.
A second later he clenched his fist so hard his fingernails
almost pierced his skin. He was always thinking of Mel. It was beginning to
annoy the heck out of him, darn it.
“Excuse me?” Nora suddenly said as she walked back into the
office.
“What?” He frowned. “Did I say that out loud?”
She nodded, and twirled her pen. “Is everything all right?
You have been extremely distracted lately.”
He gestured out the window to the grim scene. It was raining
hard now. “It’s difficult to concentrate.”
“It's more than the weather. Maybe you should take some time
off to be with your grandfather.”
“I saw him this morning. He told me to get the hell back to
work and stop worrying about him when he has the best medical care money could buy
right there.”
“Sir Arthur is stubborn.”
He rubbed both his hands hard, up and down his face, and
Nora said, “Go on, Daniel.” She rarely called him Daniel. “Go home. You work
too hard. I can hold the fort here.”
He proceeded to massage his forehead. He never went home.
Not before this.
Nora collected her folder. “Nothing is going to fall apart
today,” she reassured him. “Or next week for that matter. And don’t tell me
Queensland was a break because it wasn’t. You came back grumpier than when you
left. Go and see a movie or something.” She added with a grin on her face, “Go
and see a romantic comedy. You need a laugh.”
He glowered. She knew he hated romantic comedies.
He bet Mel loved them.
Take your wife with you.
His phone rang, Nora left the room, and he reached for his
cell. It was Hugh.
Daniel came in through the door of the spare room, and said
nothing as he handed her a package. Mel had barely seen him in the days since
they’d gotten back from Queensland.
She’d lost track of time, absorbed in pinning together a new
pattern. She’d already taken it apart once when it had begun to look like
something a homeless shelter would turn down. She took the brown package. “What
is it?”
“Open it.”
Curiosity was grinding away at her, and she waited for him
to leave and head back to his suite or back out again, but he waited.
“Go on,” he encouraged.
“Okay.” She pulled the tape off, and slid out white tissue
paper and unwrapped it.
She pulled out a frame and turned it over. The world seemed
to stop as she stared at the photo. Their framed wedding photo.
“Gosh,” she murmured. Her voice suddenly sounded thick.
Clogged. She drew in a shaky breath.
He began to loosen his tie. “Not bad is it.”
“No. It’s…” She didn’t understand but somehow, she had no
idea how, she was looking at the picture of a couple who looked very much as if
they were in love. Of a tall, insanely good looking man in a black suit and
tie, his arm around a woman in a sophisticated white dress, holding a bouquet
of perfect pink and white roses. Smiles on both their faces. What to her eye
looked like real smiles which was uncanny. She could barely remember smiling at
all, she’d been terrified most of the time.
In the photo, Daniel’s arm was around her waist and she
realised her hand was on top of his. How had that happened? When had that
happened? Both Hugh and Claire had cameras, and had taken photos, she
remembered that, but she had no memory of this moment. Maybe her hand had only
been there a split second, so briefly she hadn’t been consciously aware, but at
that moment it had been captured forever.
She looked up to find him watching her, his dark brows knit
together.
“So. What is this for? Fake marriages don’t have framed
wedding portraits.”
He shrugged unemotionally. “Claire had them framed. She thought
we might like it. I took one over to Grandad on the way. He said you were the
most beautiful bride he’d seen and it was almost as good as being there on the
day.” He paused. “He seemed…” He shook his head. “He seemed more relaxed than
I’ve seen him for a while.” He glanced at the wedding ring still on his finger.
He kept it in his car; put it on whenever he visited Arthur. Now, he slid it
off, and Mel looked hastily down at the photo. They weren’t wearing the rings
in the photo. So it had been taken before the vows.
She drew a shaky breath. “We do look nice.” In the photo,
her brown hair was styled and curled, her face expertly made up. She looked
like the cover girl of a bridal magazine. “We look lovely.”
He had turned away to leave the room, but at her comment he
spun around.
There was the oddest look on his face. “Melinda,
you
were lovely.”
Their eyes clashed. Again, something on his face, in his
expression, across his eyes she couldn’t read, couldn’t decipher.
Then he looked away. “I need to shower and head out.”
Again. “Business?”
His jaw tightened. “A dinner meeting with some trade
partners from Tokyo. I called Patsy earlier to let her know to prepare dinner
for you only.”
Patsy hadn’t said anything but then she had probably and
naturally assumed that Mel had known. After all, she was the wife. Even if they
slept in separate bedrooms and lived lives that rarely collided, she was his
wife.
Still, Mel could have opened a can and had beans on toast.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said. She got slowly to
her feet, wiped her palms down the thighs of her jeans and turned to face him.
He glanced at his watch, frowned, impatient. “Mel, I don’t
want to be late?”
“I could have prepared dinner for myself.”
“Why should you when Patsy is paid to do it?”
“Because I can. Because I didn’t expect to be waited on.”
His jaw hardened. “Is that a hardship, Mel? A penthouse
apartment, a trip to Surfers? An unlimited credit card.” His face darkened.
“What was I thinking?”
“I’m the one doing you the favor, Daniel.”
“Yes, you are. I have never claimed it was any other way.
And you are being paid very handsomely to do this.” His voice was low as he
closed the gap between them so he was standing just a foot from her, arms
folded across his chest, blocking her from leaving. “But you know what? Here’s
a one-time offer. We end it right now. If you really want to, we’ll call it
quits.” He reached for the phone in his jacket pocket, his eyes determined. Was
he bluffing? How had the atmosphere changed so drastically in just seconds? “I
can call Hugh. He’ll start the paperwork.”
Confusion rocked her. “You don’t mean it. What about Sir
Arthur, your brothers?”
“Forget about my brothers and my grandfather. This is about
you. But remember this. I never forced you into this Mel. I made you an offer,
and you agreed.” His voice was an uncompromising challenge. And if she backed
out, she would get nothing. No money. Nothing. Just the patchwork, the books
she’d bought her mother, the nice clothes. And memories.
“Is that what you want?” His voice was clipped.
The words reverberated through her mind. Was that what she
wanted? She rubbed her hands over her face. No. Of course not. She couldn’t
give this up when it was going to help her and Ellie out. She’d be crazy.
“I didn’t think so,” he remarked. He made to walk through
the door. Then he stopped. His shoulders heaved and he spun round.
“I’ve got a full schedule tomorrow but we can do breakfast.”
Is that what it was called, when you had cornflakes with your
wife? Doing breakfast.
“Sounds fine,” she said carefully.
“I’ll send a car for nine. Actually… make it ten. There’s a
good restaurant at Watson’s Bay. I’ll book for brunch. They do a good Eggs
Benedict.”
The restaurant over looked the harbor and was packed to
capacity. A waiter showed them to their table, a private booth out of the view
of most tables, handed them menus and Daniel ordered coffee for himself, tea
for her, and when the waiter had gone, looked thoroughly uncomfortable.
Mel sighed. If he had lesser manners, he’d be tapping his
fingers on the table and consulting his cell phone every minute. This wasn’t
what she wanted. Two people looking as if they’d rather be anywhere else.
Although she wasn’t speaking for herself. She did want to be here, and after
last night, when he’d suggested in far too calm a manner that they pull the
plug on the deal, she knew without any doubts, she was going to see this
through to the end. Which meant putting the focus where it belonged. On Sir
Arthur.
She stirred the pot of tea to see if it was ready to pour.
She’d never known her grandparents. Ellie’s parents had died when Mel was a
toddler, but they had effectively wiped Ellie from their lives, and along with
their daughter, the granddaughter born out of wedlock – the disgrace of the
family. It had affected Ellie more than Mel. Mel’s father was simply a shadowy
figure who wanted nothing to do with her, who had strung her mother along on an
affair and then left her when she had fallen pregnant. Which meant Sir Arthur
had taken up a space in her heart that she wanted him to fill, even needed him
to. She just hadn’t known it until now.
Sometimes she took Barnaby on a walk through the streets nearby,
then shared tea and scones with Sir Arthur as she read aloud the headlines from
the women’s magazines to keep abreast of Sydney society. Daniel disapproved
immensely. The Christies distanced themselves from celebrity but Arthur liked
to know what was going on, and frequently added his own commentary to tales of
the old rich. She had well and truly fallen in love with the old codger. And if
she wasn’t careful, Daniel, too.
Or was that already too late?
Just attraction, she told herself hastily as she poured her
tea.
She watched him across the table, inhaled the scent of his
aftershave. Admired the seductive curve to his jaw. The lines around his eyes
when he smiled, rare as it was. The cut of his black hair. It had grown these
past weeks, and he’d taken to brushing it back every so often. He was far too
taken up with family business to even acknowledge it was starting to become a
nuisance. She hoped he didn’t cut it. She dreamt of running her hands through
his hair, imagined him lying on his back, hands clasped behind his head, a lazy
smile on his face, watching her…
She rubbed at a sudden rush of goosebumps on her arms.
“We can close the window if it’s cold,” he said, beckoning
towards wide open windows overlooking the harbor.
She shook her head. “I’m not cold. And this is perfect.”
Their meals arrived, and they began. He was right about the
Eggs Benedict.
Daniel’s phone began to vibrate on the table, and he scowled
as he reached for it.
She topped up her tea as he listened in silence. In a split
second, the color vanished from his face.
He ended the call. “Finish your breakfast,” he told her. “We
need to go.”
She was about to ask where, when she realised. Her throat
was dry and her appetite had gone, and she reached for her bag. “We can go
now.”
Arthur had private nurses, his own personal physician, the
best care any man could hope for, but as Daniel ushered Mel to the bedroom of
the private hospital, he braced himself against the knowledge that the one
thing Arthur didn’t have was time. From the beginning, they’d known that. When
the pain became too bad, he would be admitted for care. He could stay in his
house, with the medical staff, but Arthur felt it was easier on his dedicated
housekeeping staff if they weren’t, as he had blithely put it months before,
“surrounded by the stench of impending death.” Daniel’s mind reeled, trying to
comprehend it. He couldn’t fathom what it could be like, knowing your own life
was coming to an end in a few short weeks.
Arthur lay in his bed, dressed in pale blue pyjamas, his
eyes open and his gaze on the doctor deep in discussion with him.
He sensed movement and turned. When he saw Daniel, his eyes
visibly brightened.
“I heard you’d shifted house.” Daniel’s throat was thick and
he tamped back on it, not wishing anyone to see what he was feeling.
Arthur’s mouth curled then he noticed Mel and said in a
voice that had aged these past weeks, “Hello, Melinda.”
“It’s good to see you, grandad” she said, bending to kiss
his sallow cheek.
“Don’t talk,” Daniel instructed him. “You’ll wear yourself
out. You’ll have no energy left for flirting with the nurses.”
A weak smile crossed his grandfather’s face, but he shook
his head. “Danny. I need to ask you a favour.”
“Anything.” Daniel sat on the edge of the bed, and his voice
softened. “You know that. Anything.”
“It’s Barnaby.”
Just the mention of the dog’s name was enough to make Daniel
break out in hives. “What about Barnaby?”
“You need to get him from my home and take him with you.”