CHAPTER ONE

Troy Charles slumped in his chair with one long leg draped over the padded arm, the other thrust out in front. “If you want me to marry, you find me a wife.”

“I might just have to do that.” His father looked up from the Sunday newspaper. “Fulfill your dearest Grandpa’s last wishes, and soon.” Liam Charles sipped the excellent coffee brewed moments before on Troy’s verandah. The city of Adelaide sprawled to the west, with the Gulf of St. Vincent beyond, and Australis Island to the south.

“Good old Grandpa. I’m eternally grateful.” Troy slumped further. The hangover banged his eyeballs together.

Liam leaned forward. “It is your responsibility.”

Troy met his father’s gaze. “We’ve been over this a hundred times.”

“And a hundred times more until you get it. Abide by the conditions or we both lose.” Liam took up his newspaper. “Unless your nuptials happen within six months, the inheritance will go to some Home for the Bewildered.”

“That’s not funny anymore.”

“Neither is your reticence. Your wedding by twenty-eighth of October or I go to the poorhouse.”

Troy squinted. “You could’ve remarried again regardless of Grandpa’s will.”

Liam dropped his chin. “You well know my not remarrying is because of your grandfather’s will. Carol and I are happy enough as we are.”

Troy closed his eyes. His grandfather Petronius, Petny to the family, had ensured that Troy’s inheritance would be greatly reduced if his dad remarried. His grandfather was protecting the remaining child of his only child, Angie, Troy’s mother, whose death in a car accident along with her other son, Marc, devastated everyone.

Liam didn’t give a toss for himself and his father-in-law’s millions but for his remaining son, Troy, he wanted the best, and Grandpa Petny had bequeathed a lot of money.

Liam gave the open newspaper a couple of shakes. “We come from hard-working stock, and I know you understand the values of that hard work. But your grandfather’s money will ensure your financial future.”

“I know all that.” Troy clapped his hands to his head. And man, that was a mistake. His head protested a clanging thump inside. “Aww, why me?”

“You know ‘why me’. Because your brother died, too. Because your mother was Petny’s only child.” Liam slid a look at his son. “I know you want to get married one day. No-one wants to live a solitary life.”

“I was talking about this bog-awful hangover.” Troy thrust on sunglasses, closed his eyes and leaned back in the deck chair. “If you want me to marry in a big hurry then you better get off your butt and find me a wife. God knows you’d be good at it.”

“That’s my boy.”

“Find me a good woman, that’s all I ask.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Troy lifted the sunglasses with a finger. “I don’t like that look.”

“I might have a plan.”

“I have a sinking feeling and I definitely don’t like that look. What is it?”

“Unorthodox. Old fashioned. A business partnership, something which would satisfy the terms of the will.” Liam shrugged.

“You’ve already got someone in mind.”

“Just thinking.”

“You don’t just think. You connive.”

A shake of the newspaper. “You are so right.”

***

Madelaine Hart stared at her accountant. “Uncle El, what are you saying? I can understand the words, but you’ll have to explain the meaning of it.”

El sat forward, his elbows on the desk. He took off his glasses, swiped a hand through his silver-grey hair then tapped the whiteboard behind him. “I mean, that while you’re in a very good position in the market-place here,” he underlined in red pen, “the business needs an injection of cash here,” another underline, “and you don’t have it. You owe as much as you own.” He streaked two vertical lines against her bank balance and sat back, brows furrowed, lips set in a firm line.

“Yes.” Madelaine shrugged. “And the ramifications are?”

He slipped his glasses back on, glanced down at the paperwork on his desk and glanced up again. “You’re not solvent right now.”

Now that was not an enviable position. “Not solvent? But my future bookings are good.”

“Yes, they are. And solid. Your catering business is very good, but you lack back up capital, or any ready cash for expansion, or – heaven forbid – to cover a disaster. You have nothing spare to market Australis Island Catering and nothing in the back pocket. You need to be able to pay more staff and to grow the business and we need to do something about all of that.” He threw his hands in the air. “I’m just saying.”

Madelaine sat back in her chair and twiddled locks of hair around her fingers. His lean frame looked so relaxed. He had a casual easiness about him. But she knew better. “So, what’s this grand plan? I know you’ve got one.”

El held a finger in the air. “You need a partner. Silent preferably and locked in tight for say, three hundred thousand dollars at an attractive, but not over-the-top rate of interest. That’s just for starters.” He sat back and steepled his fingers in front of his face.

“Three hundred thousand?” Madelaine sucked in her cheeks. A silent partner. “I know we've been over this before, Uncle El, but do they stay silent?”

“Oh yes. They don’t have any operating rights, or controls. That’s vastly simplified, of course. It’s all quite above board and is usually successful.”

She tapped her fingertips together. “I know you have someone in mind. That’s how you work. You break things to me gently when you already have everything in place.”

“That’s what you pay me for.” He leaned back in his chair. “Yes, I have someone in mind. And it’s us.”

“I’m not so sure about that idea.”

“We have money for investing, have a wide and varied portfolio and we’re interested in tourism on Australis Island. It’s time to trust me and my advice.”

Madelaine frowned. “I do trust you and your advice. But you want to have your money in my business. That’s a little bit close to home.”

“It’s a calculated risk. I know your business well, and you. We would remain silent but with sort of a family guidance…”

“Not silent then.”

“There are other clauses et cetera, a bit extra to add, and it might even be a little unorthodox, old fashioned even. But a business partnership nonetheless and something which might suit both parties.” El nodded. “Take a look at the contract, Madds. Have Mike Hennessy look over it for you.”

“I have an appointment with Mike later today. First my accountant, then my solicitor. I figured I’d need to see you both.”

“Good.” El nodded once and almost as an afterthought, continued. “I’ve also got someone who can help in the kitchens. A hands-on person, a chef with good experience in most aspects of a business like yours.” He watched her over the rim of his glasses. “He’s quite capable, versatile.”

She nodded, distracted. A staff member was welcome, especially one with a recommendation from El. But that was not as important as the finances.

A flutter in her belly felt a little like panic. “Australis Island Catering is all I’ve got…”

“Madelaine. You had a wonderful idea and you’ve set up a great business.” El sat back in his seat, reached around and tapped the white board’s SWOT comments—strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, threats. “There’s no one else on the island catering for the upmarket four wheel drive and coach touring companies supplying their gourmet lunches or budget meals, prepared by their own cooks in their own kitchens.”

So far, the very remoteness of the island south of the Australian mainland had protected her. But if she lost the business, she’d lose her precious lifestyle, her income, and a beautiful paradise for a home within the wild Australian bush.

She hadn’t worked so hard since Jeff left just to let it all go for the sake of her pride, but she didn’t like the idea of another man pulling any strings. This was her business; there wasn’t anything left of Jeff in it.

Madelaine picked up the sheaf of papers. “A partnership. It makes me nervous, but I’ll have a look at it.”

“I’d never put you in a bad place, Madelaine. My gorgeous partner, your mother, would kill me and after ten years or so with her, I know that for a fact.”

“I know you wouldn’t. But I’m a grown-up girl now, Uncle El. Have to think for myself. Thank you. I think.”

El nodded. “Mike will find things straight up and perfectly legal. If it goes ahead, your problems will be solved immediately. And I could keep an eye on things for you.”

“Yes, okay. Email me the details. If Mike can’t see a problem…”

El waited a beat. “See Mike. He knows all about my plan. And don’t worry, I’ll organize the hired help.”

Mike Hennessy looked at her over his glasses. Then took them off and laid them on the desk in front of him. “It looks fine to me, Madd, certainly a watertight contract. Needs an extra clause or two before you sign it, nothing we can’t fix, but it’s certainly all above board. El wouldn’t risk anything with you. Or his money, let’s be real about that.” He picked up his coffee. “Did he suggest anything else?”

Madelaine shook her head. “Only that there was a bit extra to add, and that it might be unorthodox and something-or-other. That he was organising hired help, would get them to the island for me.”

“That’s all he said?” He sipped and looked at her. “That he’d get them to Australis?”

Madelaine pulled her earlobe. “That was enough, trust me. I don’t need any more. The damned thing almost sounds like an arranged marriage as it is.”

Coffee shot out of Mike’s mouth and nose, leapt out of his mug and splashed over his shirt and tie. He hunched over the desk, a hacking cough convulsing him.

Madelaine ran around to his side of the desk, grabbed the coffee cup and set it down. She thumped him on the back. “For God’s sake, Mike, be careful. It wasn’t that funny.”