| |
In the front sitting room of Palmerston House, a game of Scrabble was underway. Elizabeth White, the owner of the old bed and breakfast property, was locked in fierce battle with Angus McGregor, Belinda Crossman, and George Campbell. Angus was her biggest issue, not only because they’d played often enough for him to have worked out many of her moves, but because he wasn’t playing fair today, kissing her cheek every time she scored better than anyone. Which was most rounds, in spite of his deliberate distraction.
On her next turn, she thought for a while, then placed the letters to make the word ‘behave’.
“Well, that won’t win you many points, seeing as I can now do this...” Belinda laid out ‘buzzard’ and sat back with a grin. “I’m going to catch you.”
“It wasn’t meant to win points.”
Angus chuckled. He shuffled his letters, then used Elizabeth’s word to make ‘never’.
George burst out laughing and Belinda frowned, looking from one to the other. “Are you having a private conversation instead of concentrating on this momentous game?” She folded her arms. Belinda lived in Melbourne where she studied beauty, but was home with her mother, Sylvia, and younger sister, Jess, during the summer break. “Because I came here expecting a serious and professional approach to an afternoon battle of wills.”
The familiar growl of the Lotus interrupted the moment.
“I wonder where those two are going.” Belinda stood up to peer through the window. “Maybe Warrnambool?”
“Willow Bay, dear,” Elizabeth said. “Going sailing overnight.”
Belinda swung around. “On Jasmine Sea? Well, I guess they must be because it’s their yacht, but is it a good idea?”
“Oh, child, come and sit again.” George smiled. “She’s a sound boat and is well repaired.”
“Sound boats don’t sink!”
“They will if someone puts a hole in them. I know it was frightening seeing her almost sink, but everyone is fine and the fact is Jasmine Sea means a great deal to Christie and Martin. They’ll be home tomorrow.” Angus patted Belinda’s seat and she came back. “Let them enjoy their time together. They’ve certainly earned it.”
The ringing of the phone stopped the game for a few moments, and as Elizabeth went to answer, Belinda decided to refresh everyone’s drinks.
“When are you planning on doing it, Angus?” George kept an eye on the doorway and his voice low.
“On?”
“It seems you and Elizabeth have quite a delightful relationship.”
“Indeed.”
“This town never tires of happy couples.” George glanced at Angus. “We love weddings. And I can whip up some rings for you both.”
“George.”
“Well, you’re already living here.”
“Oh, but not like... not that way. I wouldn’t do anything to disrespect Elizabeth’s standing in the community.”
“Sorry. One would assume...”
Angus frowned until his forehead furrowed deeply. “Does everyone think that? It didn’t occur to me people would, but I imagine it might look as though I’m taking advantage of being Elizabeth’s guest.”
“Nobody would think so, Angus. You’re considered a gentleman, but we don’t live in the eighteenth century either.”
“I hate to think Elizabeth’s good name might be ruined because of how long I’ve stayed. How would anyone know I’m a paying long-term guest?” Angus tapped his fingers on the table as he spoke. “My intentions are good and I do want to ask her... well, one day, so perhaps I need to find other accommodation.”
Eyes back on the door, George shook his head. “I’m quite certain she wouldn’t want you to.”
“No. I think I must, George. I’ll speak to John Jones and see if there’s anything suitable for rent in town.”
“You should talk to Elizabeth first.”
“My mind is made up so not another word on it. I shall move out as soon as possible.”
With a sigh, George dropped his head and silence fell between them.
“Drinks are here!” Belinda breezed in with a tray of glasses and a jug of iced lemonade. “Come on, Elizabeth? What are you doing out there?”
“Umm, nothing, dear. Admiring the grandfather clock.” Elizabeth came in and sat before her Scrabble tiles. “It really is wonderful having it back here, George, so thank you again.”
“Pleasure. It stayed away too long.”
Belinda poured drinks and passed them around. “Are you okay, Elizabeth?” she asked. “Did the phone call make you sad?”
Angus shot a look at Elizabeth, who played with the letters.
“It was just Martha.” She drew in a breath and raised her eyes to Angus. “Thomas and Martha invited you and me to Christmas dinner at the cottage. With Christie and Martin.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I said... I said it sounded wonderful and I’d speak with you.”
“It does.” Angus reached out and took Elizabeth’s hand. She didn’t return the pressure when he squeezed it. “So, I’ll let her know we’ll be there?”
“We’ll need to go shopping for something special to take to the cottage.”
“George, what are your plans for Christmas?” Elizabeth asked.
“Oh, he’s coming over to our house. Mum and Jess invited George, Daphne and John, and you-know-who!” Belinda did a little jig in her seat. “Okay, so it’s Barry, and how much fun will it be having such a nice big group.” Barry Parks was a local builder who’d worked on the old cottage as well as Christie’s salon. He and Sylvia were becoming what Jess called ‘an item’, much to Barry’s amusement and Sylvia’s embarrassment.
“I’m looking forward to it, knowing the beautiful food your mother makes every day for the bakery,” George said.
“And my unspeakably exceptional chocolate brownies will celebrate the splendid day with the inclusion of cherries, nuts, extra chocolate, and anything else I can come up with,” Belinda said. “I might be a beauty specialist extraordinaire-in-training, but creating pastries is what defines me.”
Angus and George laughed and Elizabeth smiled, but it was forced. Belinda mouthed ‘are you okay?’ and she nodded. Her hand was still in Angus’ but her eyes dropped back to her letters.
***
“The last time I did this, I almost hit the rocks.” Christie turned the wheel slightly and the yacht responding effortlessly beneath her feet. This was the first time they’d taken her out to sea since her return from dry dock.
“No, you didn’t.” Martin sat to one side, not the least bit interested in what Christie was doing, but intent on her face. “You steered Jasmine Sea down the middle of the channel, the way I’d taught you. As you’re doing right now.”
“I let her drift though. For ages whilst I was below. All the time I was crying and panicking, she might have run aground.”
“But she didn’t. And you held it together once you focused on the job at hand.”
“If you call leaving Jasmine Sea where she could be damaged by my ex, then taking Randall with me on a sinking yacht, holding it together? Sure, I did well.” Her voice trembled.
Martin was behind her in an instant, arms firmly around her waist. “You saved Randall’s life. You somehow kept Jasmine Sea afloat with a hole in her hull and a deadly storm bearing down.” He tightened his hold. “You kept yourself alive when Derek tried to take you from me. Start seeing this through a different filter, sweetheart. You were courageous and strong.”
She sighed and relaxed against him, as though releasing the fear coiled inside for so long. After a moment, she smiled. “I love you. I’m thirsty though.”
“Needy. Bossy. Beautiful.” Martin kissed her neck. “I’ll find some water.”
By the time he returned with bottles of water, Jasmine Sea was through the channel. “What would you like me to do?”
“I’m the captain? Cool. Then you are required to prepare the spinnaker. There’s a fine wind we’re about to take advantage of.” Her eyes sparkled and she adjusted her stance to balance as the swell increased. “Afterwards—”
“Afterwards, sweetheart, I’ll help you reconsider this captain illusion you have.”
In moments, the yacht was in open water and a strong breeze filled her spinnaker. As though desperate to run free, Jasmine Sea skimmed across the sea, barely touching the waves in her haste.
“Steady her a bit.” Martin called from the bow, where he squatted, hand shading his eyes.
This was like the first day Christie and Martin sailed together. They’d gone the other direction, only as far as Green Bay, but along the way Christie was enchanted by dolphins swimming alongside and fell in love with the yacht Martin had given her.
Along the Shipwreck Coast they sailed for an hour, then another. Close enough to land to see Warrnambool glide by. Martin took over as they crossed paths with fishing boats, Christie tired and ready to hand over.
The landscape changed and Martin searched the shore for a suitable mooring. They came upon a quiet cove, where other yachts bobbed gently and the wind was nothing more than a wisp. Surrounded by old forest, Jasmine Sea cast anchor.
“Shall we go ashore?” Martin gazed at the tiny beach.
“You decide. I’m happy here. I’ll take some photos and send to Thomas.”
“Better make them selfies or he won’t believe they’re from you.”
Christie took her phone out and began snapping pictures. She took a few of Martin, who, in his dark sunglasses, unbuttoned white cotton shirt, and shorts, was as handsome as any movie star she’d worked with over her career as a make-up artist. Even more than some.
“Are you quite done?”
“Never. Ever. You should be a model.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Shall I take some of you to send to Thomas?”
She handed over her phone and Martin spent way too long filling the camera with photos of his new wife. “Should be one or two you’ll like.” He returned the phone with a smile. “Send away, and I’ll open some wine.”
There were no other people in the cove, only the handful of weekend yachts. Christie settled herself on the comfortable seats at the stern, and gazed at the bushland a hundred or so metres away. The beach was small – like Willow Bay – but here the sand was rich gold, rather than the almost white shore where Jasmine Sea usually moored. The gentle rocking of the yacht was soothing and Christie’s eyes fluttered closed.
She must have napped for a while, for the sun was heading toward the horizon and the air was cooler when she woke. Martin sat opposite with an open sketch book, drawing her. “How long did I—” She yawned, and Martin turned the book to show her an almost completed sketch.
“Long enough. Now, do you want wine, or will it put you back to sleep?” he teased.
Christie stretched. “Wide awake now. Yes please. And sorry. Didn’t mean to spoil our time together.”
“I got to watch you sleep.” He leaned over to kiss the tip of her nose. “And Thomas sent a reply to say thanks. And confirmed Angus and Elizabeth are coming to Christmas dinner.”
“Oh, goodie. Have you got any ideas for presents?”
Martin poured two glasses of their favourite chardonnay from an ice bucket. “You mean, in addition to the designer scarves you bought for Martha and Elizabeth in Sydney, oh and the designer ties for the gentlemen? Plus the boxes of delicacies I know you ordered from the little chocolate shop we went to?”
“Well, I wanted them to share some of our experiences from Sydney. I loved our honeymoon.”
“As did I. Here,” he handed Christie a glass. “Let’s make a toast to them.”
“Cool. Okay, to Martha and Thomas, the second happiest couple in the world!”
Martin lifted his glass. “They might disagree, but I don’t. And to Angus and Elizabeth, a couple meant to be together.”
“Cheers. Nice one. I wonder when Angus will propose.”
“Sweetheart.”
“Harmless speculation. Christmas Day would be special.”
“What makes you think he’s close to doing so?” Martin sipped his wine, smiling at Christie over the rim.
“He loves her. They’ve both been alone for a long time. She loves him. What else? Oh, as your toast stated, they are meant to be together. So why wouldn’t he? Nothing will come between them.”