‘Gemma? Did you hear me?’
Gemma jumped in her chair and blinked as she brought her mind back to what she was supposed to be focusing on. The meeting.
‘I’m sorry, I was a bit distracted. You were saying?’
Her father was frowning from the end of the boardroom table; across from Gemma, her cousin Philip sniggered and her uncles were busy shuffling papers and sending sidelong glances at the clients. A blush crept up her neck as she realised that every set of eyes was now fixed on her curiously.
She’d been working in the firm for six weeks, comforting herself by making a plan to give it six months and then leave if she didn’t like it. But she knew that Northcotes didn’t simply tide themselves over in the business for a while; they pretty much had to be carried out of there in a coffin!
And so much for her father’s argument that she should join the business so he could finally retire. Other than a few days a week when he knocked off early or came in late after a round of golf, there was no sign of him actually reducing his workload—much to her mother’s dismay. Apparently Northcotes didn’t simply retire either! An image popped into her mind of herself forty or fifty years from now, with her hair in a big grey bun, both herself and her desk covered in cobwebs.
Her Uncle James cleared his throat and repeated his question and Gemma took a deep breath and did her best to concentrate.
The truth was, she already hated the job. Each morning she forced herself out of bed and into the office, dreading every second of the day ahead. She felt uncomfortable in the tailored skirt suits and fitted blouses she had to wear, as well as the high heels that hurt her feet. She missed jumping out of bed, dragging on jeans and a t-shirt and pulling her hair back in a ponytail before starting her day. She resented the time she had to spend every morning putting on make-up and doing her hair. And she especially loathed being stuck behind these big glass windows, even if they overlooked a spectacular harbour view.
She missed Dunoon.
She felt like a square peg in a round hole. Although she had known them all her life, she felt as though she had nothing in common with the people she worked with. Her cousins were both married and played golf on weekends—they were like miniature versions of her father and uncles, something she hadn’t questioned before but now found a little creepy. More than anything, she didn’t belong in this job. She knew she couldn’t put off telling her father much longer. Some big changes had to be made, for the sake of her sanity if nothing else, but right now she felt as though she was perched on the edge of a building with one foot up on the rail, waiting for the final push that would send her flying.
Gemma had tried to snap herself out of her low spirits. Even six weeks on she was still on farm time, waking up early every day, and she had taken to getting up and going for a walk. She’d read somewhere that endorphins produced by exercise were good for depression. She wondered if a broken heart was in the same class as depression. At least it couldn’t hurt. So she went walking most days, enjoying the crisp morning air. It wasn’t the same kind of crispness that she’d grown to love out at Dunoon, but it was as close as she was going to get in the heart of the city.
Jazz had settled back into city life easily, getting a part-time job waiting tables at the local cafe while she awaited news on the many job applications she’d sent out since they came back. Gemma had offered her the spare room until she found a better paying job. Most evenings Jazz went out for drinks, and was seldom home on the weekends. Sometimes Gemma reflected a little sourly that she should probably take encouragement from Jazz’s ability to bounce back from heartbreak.
This Friday night, Gemma was meeting her parents for dinner. Even though making the effort to dress up and go out was the last thing she felt like after a long week of work, she knew that declining the invitation would only cause a huge fuss that she didn’t feel like dealing with. Going out would be the lesser of two evils, and she made a deal with herself as she locked her car and headed for the restaurant: if she smiled enough through dinner, she could have an extra slice of the lemon and lime cheesecake she’d made last night and put in the freezer.
Walking into the restaurant, she couldn’t help admiring the tastefully outfitted room. The crisp white linen on every table, secluded areas set aside for those wanting a more intimate dining experience and the tasteful yet unpretentious artworks that were scattered throughout the room—it all created an atmosphere which gave diners a truly unique and memorable experience. It also didn’t hurt that the restaurant was owned by a celebrity chef, but she admired the way they’d put the place together.
Her parents were already seated at a table, and her heart sank as she saw they weren’t alone. She plastered a polite smile on her face and leaned down to kiss them both in greeting. Their guest stood up and put out his hand as her father introduced him. ‘This is Nathan Dupoint. You remember, I went to university with his father. He dropped by to say hello while he was in town and we invited him to dinner with us. Nathan, my daughter, Gemma.’
‘It’s nice to see you again, Gemma. I believe we met once before, many years ago.’
She did remember. ‘You pulled my plaits and teased me about wearing braces.’
Her mother cleared her throat pointedly from across the table, but Nathan seemed amused and held her hand just a fraction too long. Dinner with her parents was one thing, but being polite to a stranger was a whole other kettle of fish; it was going to take more than one piece of cheesecake to get through this. When the waiter came by to ask if she wanted a drink she quickly ordered a glass of wine, and took a hasty sip when it arrived.
She hadn’t planned on ordering a second glass, but Nathan was turning out to be a drag and she was desperately trying to catch the drinks waiter for a refill. In the last half hour they’d already heard no less than three times that Nathan was the youngest manager in his field, and Gemma suspected they’d hear it a few more times if he could possibly find a way to slip it into the conversation. He waved his hands about languidly while he spoke, and Gemma couldn’t help noticing the immaculately manicured nails. When he’d shook her hand earlier she’d felt how soft his skin was. Somehow it just wasn’t right that a guy could have a better manicure than her. An image of strong, work-hardened hands flashed before her eyes and she quickly pushed it aside before the familiar wave of longing had a chance to take hold.
‘Your father tells me you’ve just joined the company. How are you finding it?’ Nathan asked, sitting back in his seat as he sipped his wine and considered her.
Gemma opened her mouth to speak, but her father cut in briskly. ‘She’s got a bit to learn, but I think she’ll be fine.’
The abrupt dismissal in her father’s tone hit a nerve and suddenly Jazz’s words played back through her head: ‘You are the only one keeping yourself trapped in your life. You’ve got a backbone—use it.’
‘So, have you always wanted to go into the family business, Gemma?’ Nathan asked, his gaze slipping a little to hover somewhere between her chest and neck.
‘Actually, no,’ Gemma found herself saying. ‘I wanted to be a chef when I finished high school.’
‘I wanted to be a train driver, but that was never going to happen, now, was it?’ her father interjected sarcastically.
‘Why not? Why couldn’t you have been a train driver?’ Gemma demanded, surprising herself and her parents.
Her father stared at her for a moment, then sighed. ‘Because I had responsibilities. My father expected me to take over the company he and his father had built from the ground up, that’s why. You think I would have been able to bring you up in the lifestyle you take for granted if I’d been a train driver?’
‘Surely if you wanted to do something else, your father would have supported your decision,’ Gemma said, staring at her father almost pleadingly. ‘Isn’t that what parents are supposed to do? Encourage their kids to be whatever they want to be?’
‘I think you’ve had enough to drink,’ her father muttered.
‘I’ve barely finished my first one,’ she said loudly. ‘It’s not the wine talking; it’s me finally telling you what I’ve wanted to tell you for years. Dad, I don’t want to work for you. I want to be a chef.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He took a hasty sip of his wine, scowling at her to indicate she’d gone too far.
Gemma couldn’t back down now. ‘It’s not ridiculous. I’m sorry, Dad, but I just can’t see myself working in the office for the rest of my life. I don’t love what I’m doing, not the way you love it. I love cooking.’
‘Darling, this isn’t really the time or place to be having this conversation,’ her mother put in, glancing anxiously across at their dinner guest who looked like he wished he was sitting at any one of the other tables in the room right now.
‘When is the right time, Mum? There’s never a right time. I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore. Before I went out to Bingorra, I had no idea what I was capable of. Once I stepped out of my comfort zone, I discovered I could do amazing things. I drenched sheep and helped castrate cattle, for goodness sake.’ From the corner of her eye she saw Nathan covering his mouth with his hand, and her mother’s mouth dropped open in horror. ‘I could never imagine doing that before, and yet I did. I need to do this, Dad.’
‘You can’t be serious!’ her father blustered.
‘I am,’ she said slowly, as the enormity of what she was saying hit her. Holy cow, she was really doing this. A surge of panic threatened to choke her as she realised that she was actually telling her parents she was quitting her job so she could be a chef. She wondered for a moment whether she was dreaming; but if it were a dream, why would Nathan the metrosexual be sitting at the table with them, wearing a confused expression on his undoubtedly freshly moisturised face?
Dinner wrapped up pretty quickly after that, as her father was fuming silently and her mother looked like she was about to burst into tears. Gemma almost felt sorry for Nathan, who looked distinctly uncomfortable at finding himself inadvertently caught up in their family domestic. She slipped away after a hasty goodnight to her parents. She knew that further unpleasant discussions were inevitable, but this time she was determined not to buckle under pressure. She just needed to remember that she was so much stronger than she used to be; even if the magnitude of the risk she was taking terrified her, she was ready to give it a try. Nothing and no one could get in the way of her dream now.
Two weeks later, Gemma stared at her bedroom wall in disbelief.
This wasn’t happening.
It couldn’t be happening.
She dropped her eyes to her lap once more and realised with a sinking sensation that this was indeed happening.
Once again she saw herself on top of that building she’d pictured earlier; now, though, her foot slipped from the edge and she began to freefall.
According to the two bright blue lines on a small plastic stick, Gemma Northcote, heir to a mini dynasty and soon to be unemployed, was about to become a single mother.
Fan-freakin-tastic.