So Far Into You (29 page)

‘Zac Williams' words of wisdom, hey?'

‘Something like that.'

***

That night, she rang Seth. She told him about the landscaping. He told her about sacking the winemaker in their Great Southern winery, and about approving the purchase of a $200 000 technology spend on a new software system across the company.

‘Makes my day kind of boring in comparison,' she said.

After that, the silence stretched. Remy shifted on the couch, pulling some pillows in behind her back.

‘Are you on the couch?' Seth asked.

‘I am.'

‘Which couch?'

‘The brown dog-eared one in the reading nook. You know, as opposed to the other brown dog-eared one in the living room. I sit here sometimes and think about what the Menzels used to do in this room. They wouldn't have had power then and they probably had a kerosene lamp. Maybe they sat and read, or sewed.'

‘Maybe they spent a lot of time in bed. Didn't you tell me they had a carload of kids?'

Remy laughed. ‘Three boys. Maybe a horse and cartload.'

‘I like picturing you in your house,' Seth said. ‘It makes me feel closer to you.'

‘What about you? Where are you?'

‘In my office.'

Silver-grey. Natural light streaming through the windows. Stainless steel machinery far below.

‘A few years ago the painters came through because marketing wanted to give all our offices a corporate makeover. I didn't let the painters in my office. It felt like they might paint you away if they touched one of these walls.'

‘I was only there once,' Remy reminded gently.

‘Yeah, but you made one hell of an impression,' Seth said huskily, and his voice brought the memory of that afternoon flooding back.

‘Are you busy?' Remy asked; she meant, do you have time to talk?

‘I'm always busy. There's always stuff going on. What's up?'

‘I was thinking it might be fun if you told me a story.'

‘What sort of story?'

‘A sexy one.'

He laughed. ‘That's your thing, not mine.'

‘Not anymore. Go on. It's just you and me here, give it a try.'

‘I'll feel like a dick.'

‘Give it a try,' she pressed. ‘I promise I won't laugh.'

‘Shit.' He stalled for a second. ‘Give me a clue. My mind's blank.'

‘It's nearly nine-thirty here, I'm ready for bed.'

‘You said you were on the couch. I thought you were reading.'

‘Work with me, Seth.'

He sighed. She could imagine him pulling his hand across his scalp. Not all guys were into phone stories, she knew that, but she wanted him and he wasn't here to put her hands on. Plus she'd never done this before—from the other side—and she was curious.

‘Let me shut the door,' he said.

Remy settled into the cushions, squeezing the phone against her ear. If she held it tight enough, it drowned Occhilupo's plaintive whines. Breeze had given up whining. She looked fed up with the entire thing and just wanted her playmate back. Another week or so should make things safe.

‘Okay. I'm here,' he said.

‘Go.'

‘You're going for a job interview today,' he began.

‘Recruitment fantasy. Boss and employee. Lovely. Go for it.'

‘Remy?'

‘Yeah?'

‘No commentary.'

‘Okay.'

He started again: ‘You have a job interview today.'

‘What's the job?'

‘Administration.'

‘Administration?'

‘You wanna be a rocket scientist, go to the NASA sex fantasy website and find your storyteller there.'

‘Sorry. Keep going.'

‘So it's a job interview at a lawyer's office in the city. You've been shopping today, and you're running late.'

‘I'm breathless?'

‘Remy. You're not making this easy for me.'

‘Sorry.' She giggled and he swore and she said: ‘Seriously, I'm sorry. I won't heckle.'

‘You introduce yourself to the receptionist and she asks you to take a seat. It's nearly five o'clock. The receptionist tells you that you're the last interview for the day. You're interested in how many other people have been interviewed.'

‘Are you sure I'm interested in that?'

‘Remy.'

‘Sorry. But seriously. What am I wearing? What's the interviewer's name? Where am I exactly? I'm a chick, Seth. Details matter.'

‘
Christ on a stick.
Okay. So you're wearing a short black skirt. It's cut above your knee. It has a wave in it so that it flounces when you walk. You're wearing sheer black stockings and a white shirt. Your flatmate calls it your pirate shirt because it has big floppy sleeves at the wrist but the rest of the arm is tight. You feel good when you wear it and you chose it because you're going out clubbing later. It's a Friday night.'

Remy was quiet. He was getting into it now, she could tell. She'd never thought he'd go for it, and she intended to enjoy this for everything it was worth.

‘So, the receptionist dials her boss and lets him know that you're there. About thirty seconds later the door of his office opens. You stand up and introduce yourself. He shakes your hand.'

‘What's his name?'

‘Reginald.'

‘Seth, you're killing me here.
Reginald?
'

‘He tells you to call him Reg.'

‘Hell and Tommy.'

Seth ignored her. ‘The receptionist says she's leaving the office now and wishes him a good weekend. He asks her to lock the downstairs on her way out and he asks you to come into his office.'

‘Now we're getting somewhere.'

‘You sit where he indicates and cross your legs. Then you think that's showed off a bit too much leg and you uncross them, folding your feet under your seat. You put your handbag on the floor. His office is modern with a bloody big desk, and he has pictures of naked women on his walls.'

‘Photographs?'

‘Nah, prints. Modigliani's.'

‘Modigli-who?'

‘Never mind. Good nudes. Not trashy.'

‘Nice.'

‘His eyes watch your legs while you're working out where to put them. You always liked your legs. They're your favourite feature. Reg asks about your work history, and your education. He asks you those questions like where do you see yourself in five years, and then he throws in a curve ball. He asks you to describe yourself in three words.

‘You say: “Honest. Loyal.” And you have to think about the third one. While you're thinking about it, you notice he has nice eyes. He's got a good body, short black hair, and you think he's pretty hot. Your last boss had bad breath and sweaty hands, but this guy is confident and classy. You think you could work under him quite happily.'

‘Oh please,' Remy sighed. ‘Work
under
him, seriously?'

‘“Impudent” is the third word you choose. You say: “That's me, Reg, I'm honest, loyal and impudent. My mouth always gets me in trouble.” He smiles. He has a nice smile. His chin has one of those Clint Eastwood clefts you always liked. He says: “Girls don't get in trouble for using their mouths around here. It's kind of an advantage.”'

Remy giggled.

‘What did I do wrong now? Aren't you supposed to be swooning?' he said.

‘Seth, I love you for giving this a go for me, but you aren't that good at it.'

‘Does that mean I can stop now?'

‘You've got some porn star lecherous boss about to jump my bones at a job interview. Yeah, I think so. Quit now while you're ahead.'

‘I'd so much rather play with you in person than over the phone, sweetheart.'

‘Don't feel bad. I don't think I could remember how to make a fantasy phone call after all these years, either.'

‘That's a good thing. I don't ever want you to have to do that again. Unless it's to me. You can have a speed dial to me, okay?'

Speed dial to Seth.
‘That sounds like it could be good fun.'

‘Truth is, Rem. Just talking with you on the phone is enough. You have the most beautiful voice. I could listen to you all day. You can read the dictionary to me and I'd get a hard-on.'

The promise in his voice made her shiver.

Normally, this would be her time to make a wisecrack, but she didn't want to break the mood. The moment felt too important. He felt too important.

‘I miss you,' she said.

He let out a breath. ‘I miss you too, Rem. I'll be home Saturday.'

Chapter 27

By Wednesday, Rina Stein had a dilemma. She had about eighty hectares of vineyard all coming into the sweet spot, with Easter right round the corner. Immovable object meets irresistible force. Try telling a fruit contractor they might need to work Good Friday or Easter Sunday, and see how far it got you. Then try telling a grape to slow how fast it got ripe.

Adding to Rina's quandary, one of those vineyards was Remy Roberts'. Usually, grapegrowers made their own arrangements for picking their fruit, but for his own reasons Seth had agreed to pay for the pickers at Remy's block. So now it was Rina who had to do the work to lock it in.
Good old Rina,
she grumbled.
Rina will fix it.

Seth said he thought Remy's fruit should be ready Thursday or Friday.

Rina's mood darkened as she drove along Red Gum Valley Road, slowing because she knew the driveway must be coming up soon and the trees were thick.

Seth said the property wasn't far after the turn off to Quarry Road, on the left. Rina slowed further, checking her rear-view mirror for traffic, trying to ditch the feeling she was being watched, and she shouldn't be here. She had every right to be here. Seth was Remy's viticulture liaison officer but Seth wasn't here and that meant Rina had to cover. If he wanted the fruit off this week it was up to Rina to check it met specification.

She almost missed the driveway and had to brake hard to make the turn.

Rina picked up speed as she wound alongside a dry winter creek, hoping Remy wasn't home. She didn't want to have to make small talk with her. She didn't want to see her. Remy always looked at her funny, like she
knew.

Slowing as she neared Remy's house, she let out a big sigh of relief. She couldn't see any other cars or people. She parked under a huge ugly pine tree at one corner of the house, picked out her plastic bags and labelling equipment, and climbed out.

It was a pretty enough property, if a bit wild for her taste. She liked gardens how she liked her pubic hair: all clipped and trimmed, with nice neat edges. Remy's garden looked like David Attenborough might pop out from behind a bush at any moment with some rare bug clinging to his finger.

A huge block-headed dog trotted out to the front of the property, barked a couple of times like it didn't trust her being there, but it didn't come off the verandah and she was glad. If it had, she would have been back in the car and out of this place. Bugger those grapes.

Then she looked more closely at the mutt on the steps.

‘I know you,' she muttered.

It was Occhilupo, and Occhy being here meant whatever Seth had going on with Remy was more serious than the kiss the newspaper was crowing about. If his bloody dog was strutting around like he owned the place, what did that mean? Was Seth living here too?
Already?

How had that all happened so fast? How had she missed it? Ailsa would be furious.

Hurt and disappointment cannoned into the black rock of emotions she thought long buried when it came to Seth. The wave of it sent Rina slumping back in the driver's seat. She felt sick, cold all over although the sun on her legs was warm, and
God
she felt stupid. Unbelievably stupid that she'd missed what had been happening right in front of her eyes.

All the signs were there. They were the same as the signs of five years ago: Seth smiling more, frowning less, leaving work early, getting in late. There were times she'd tried to ring him and his number rang engaged for an hour. Then last weekend he hadn't come to the winery at all.

There were other signs too. Rina had overheard Maggie Castle tell Lewis Carney that Seth seemed more relaxed.

He was relaxed because he was in love. With Remy.
Again.

It took several minutes of steady breathing with the driver's door open and her head on her knees before Rina felt able to move.

On the verandah, Occhilupo yawned. Huge yawn. Lots of teeth.

Her brain started working again. She shouldn't jump to conclusions. Seth's trip back to Lasrey headquarters in WA had been a spur-of-the-moment decision so he could take care of that idiot winemaker at their Great Southern winery—Bainbridge. It was natural Seth wouldn't take Occhilupo with him, and he knew Remy liked dogs.

For someone supposed to be taking care of the animal, Remy wasn't doing much of a job at it, Rina thought. Occhilupo could wander. He might get hit by a car on the road. He could bite someone. There were sheep in the neighbour's paddock. He might chase them.

I should call the ranger.

‘Come on, Occhy,'
you big ugly dog.
‘Come on. Let's get you back behind the fence.' She approached the dog and brought him around Remy's verandah to the back. He licked the back of her hand and she wiped his nuzzle mark distastefully on her uniform pants.

When she reached the gate, she saw another dog in the yard. Smaller, but still a living wall of muscle and teeth. Why couldn't people get normal dogs? Little fluffy ones that couldn't take your leg off in a gulp.

Why didn't this one get out if Occhilupo had?

Not my problem.

When Rina opened the gate, Occhilupo arrowed through the gap—nearly tore the gate out of her hand—and both dogs raced to the back of the garden. There was a fair bit of snapping and snarling and growling. Rina hoped she hadn't done the wrong thing. What if they killed each other?