Macushla. As they drove back to Mindalby, her mother was quiet, but Sean’s macushla ran through Serena’s mind like a promise of happiness for her mother. And if the glint in her mother’s eyes was any indication, Sean might become her stepfather.
She pulled into a parking space in front of the craft store, Dawn’s new favourite shop.
Dawn got out, eager to share the news of the commune’s interest with Callie. ‘Phone me when you want to be picked up. I’m off to see Paul.’
Dawn held her door open and pinned Serena with one of her listen-to-mother-she-knows-best looks. ‘Be nice to him, darling. Don’t let your search for your father stop you living life to the fullest. Paul likes you—a lot.’ She closed the door and threw Serena a kiss before walking briskly into the shop.
Had she become fixated on finding her father at the expense of a relationship? If she did nothing more, she would never know.
Not for certain.
And if she didn’t know for sure, what was there to stop her enjoying time with Paul? Nothing.
Nothing except honesty and the fact she cared about Paul and his family. Nice as it would be to know the face and name of her father with bone-deep certainty, filling in the other half of her family tree had become less important than wanting to disprove her father was one of the Carey twins.
Didn’t that tell her anything about what was important in her life?
Her mother had set her mind at rest about the Carey men, but Frankston was still an obstacle. There had to be a way to determine if he was her father without raising Paul’s suspicions. Because Frankston looked like being the last man standing in her quest.
Paul’s yard lay quiet in the late afternoon, and long, dry grass whipped backwards and forwards in front of the paling fence. She parked, surprised Paul hadn’t come out at the sound of her car. Was she really in his bad books? She knocked on the workshop door and waited, listening with half an ear for the sound of Paul working or Jack’s short, sharp yips. She knocked again before pushing the door open.
Two weeks in town and it still surprised her how many people left homes and shops unlocked. City ways were too deeply ingrained; she still locked her car when she left it.
A quick look around the workshop revealed only that Paul’s tools were neatly packed away. A sheet covered the leather panels he’d been working on so hopefully when she first arrived. Had he finished for the day and gone to visit his parents? Biting her lip, she considered leaving but curiosity got the better of her and she lifted a corner of the sheet.
Exquisite workmanship and sublime detail leapt from the panel. Gently tracing a fingertip over the cotton bolls, she realised Paul had done more work since her last visit. The panel was complete and the compulsion to see the whole consumed her. Carefully, she lifted the sheet off the work of art and stood back to take it all in.
Four panels of this size, hung side by side on a white wall, would be stunning; they deserved a place of honour where the public could see and enjoy them. Someone influential and wealthy enough to facilitate the purchase had to see what Paul had created.
Someone such as the head of the Cotton Board.
Without stopping to think it through, Serena switched on the lights above the workbench. Whipping out her phone she clicked off several photos of the second panel, then lifted the sheet covering panel number one and took several more photos from different angles. She checked the images on her screen and muttered, ‘Not good enough.’ Well aware of her limitations as a photographer, and with a growing sense of unease, she dragged a stool into place and scrambled onto it. Her head banged the light and she angled her body awkwardly to avoid casting a shadow over the panels, but at last she lined up both within the same frame and held her finger down on the button.
The series of clicks was soft, but still she didn’t hear him until he was standing below her.
‘What are you doing?’ His gaze was wary and the barrier she’d sensed the other day loomed higher than before.
Hand over her thudding heart, she teetered on the stool. ‘Paul, good grief, you startled me. You weren’t here and I came inside to wait out of the cold and—I’m sorry but I peeked under the cover and when I saw you had finished the second panel, I wanted to see the whole of it.’
He folded his arms and his gaze dropped to the phone still in her hands.
‘This? I—I’ve had an idea. Can I shout you a coffee and run it by you?’ Shivering, she jumped off the stool and bumped into the solid expanse of Paul’s chest.
He was like a furnace, giving off heat and displeasure in equal measure.
She backed off a couple of steps. ‘You really should keep a heater on in here. Jack will be—’
It was the flicker of pain across his face that halted her babble mid-sentence. With a sinking heart, she looked into the far corner. Jack’s bedding was gone and bare floorboards mocked her failure to see what was now clear.
Swallowing the awful certainty, she dragged in a breath before asking him. ‘What happened to Jack?’
‘He passed away a couple of days ago.’ Paul’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and he turned away.
‘Oh, Paul, I’m so sorry.’
‘Yeah, well, he was nearly seventeen.’
‘Pets are part of your family. It’s hard when you lose one you’ve known most of your life. Please—can I buy you a drink? We could go to the pub if you like or—’
‘Now is not a good time, Serena. Look, I don’t care why you were photographing my work. It’s not important.’
‘Of course it’s important. It’s what has driven you to work so hard all these years, isn’t it? And you need to be paid for your work to pay off your loan to save your family farm.’
‘This is family business, okay? It’s not your problem.’
She recoiled with a hissed intake of breath and her knuckles turned white on her phone.
***
Paul winced. Could he be more of an insensitive clod? If he was right, Serena was searching for the missing part of her family. Hayden had flung the same words at him when he’d told his big brother to mind his business. But that was different. They were family and family looked out for one another.
Who did Serena have? He opened his mouth to apologise.
She found her voice before he did. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude in your affairs.’ Head held high, she walked quickly around the far side of the bench and pulled open the door.
‘I didn’t mean—dammit, Serena.’
Hand on the doorknob, she looked back at him, her green eyes moist and her cheeks pink. ‘It’s fine, Paul. I crossed a line into family territory. Your family, not mine. It won’t happen again.’
She turned away but paused and spoke over her shoulder. ‘I’m really sorry about Jack.’
The door closed behind her. Seconds later, her car engine started and the crunch of tyres faded along his gravel driveway.
It was no good berating himself for hurting Serena. He’d done it and it couldn’t be undone. But he could press on with his enquiries on her behalf. A man-to-man chat with Uncle Josh was called for. Paul had failed Hayden by not being there in the right way, but he’d be damned if he’d fail Serena in this.
He went in search of his wallet then headed up to the Ace in the Hole.
His uncle was leaning on the bar chatting with Max Dooley. The barman set a schooner in front of Josh and looked at Paul. ‘Same for you?’
Paul nodded. ‘Thanks. Josh, I’ve been looking for you.’
Josh raised his glass in a salute to his nephew before downing a third of it in one go. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. ‘Thirsty work talking up the co-op. If you’re shouting, I’ll have another.’
Paul caught Max’s eye, raised a finger and pointed at his uncle.
‘Okay, Paulie, spill. Which one are you worrying about now?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Boy, you’re like a sheepdog rounding up your flock and keeping them safe. I saw you with young Serena at the farm, remember? You like her, and—’
‘How did you—?’
‘I can read you like a book. You try to make things right for everyone else and put your own concerns to one side. This morning at the mill, Hayden stomped off with a face like thunder. You looked like you’d been given a dose of castor oil. So—is it Hayden or Serena that has you chasing me down now?’
Max set two beers on the counter and wiped a cloth over the neighbouring stretch of bar. ‘I’m betting on the sheila having a grip on his balls.’
Josh chuckled. ‘Nah, he’d be wearing a grin from here to next Christmas if she had. Got your Y-fronts in a twist about something though.’
‘Sheesh, can it, the pair of you.’ He drank his beer, relishing the bitter slide over his tongue.
‘Oi, Max, two more here, mate.’ On the far side of the bar, Herbie sat with a group of mill workers.
‘Why aren’t you sitting with them?’
‘I figured you’d run me to earth here sooner or later. Gonna tell me now Max is busy?’
‘I’m worried about Hayden—and Serena.’
‘In that case, I’ll get a couple of whiskies and you grab a table out of the way. Big ears and bigger mouths on some of these blokes.’
He chose a table in the darkest corner, one where a light had blown above the alcove, and slid along the bench.
Josh set a glass of whiskey in front of him and sat in the opposite chair. ‘Woman trouble usually means a man needs something else to warm his night.’
‘Shit, Josh, what’s that? A triple?’
‘You look like you need it.’ Josh sipped his whiskey and released a sigh of pleasure. ‘Nothing like good whiskey to solve your problems. Right, which one shall we tackle first?’
Josh had guided him through a range of teenage problems. Mostly his advice was good, but when it came to women, Paul added more than a pinch of salt.
‘Let’s start with Serena. I know there’s more to her coming to Mindalby than just designing for the festival. In fact, since dinner at the farm, I’m pretty sure she’s looking for her father. Are you her father?’
‘Whoa, Paulie, I don’t kiss and tell.’
‘That’s not an answer, unless you mean you did kiss—know—Dawn back in the Byron Bay period?’
Josh sat back in his seat and sighed. ‘I wish I’d been that lucky. If Serena were my daughter, I’d be a happy man, but no. Dawn was friendly—’
Paul raised an eyebrow. ‘When you say friendly—’
‘Sadly, not that friendly, at least not with me. Nor your father, if that’s what you’re thinking—although I doubt he’d remember. High as a kite he was.’
Nor your father—not that friendly—nor your father. Josh’s words ran around Paul’s brain in a happy refrain. Tension leached from him and he leaned across the table.
‘You’re sure about that?’
‘Yep. He passed out and I kept an eye on him until daylight. Makes a change, hey, me being the responsible one? Anyway, young Dawn was curled up sound asleep near the campfire all night. She was lovely but she wasn’t interested in me in that way. And the next morning, Jake and I drove away.’ Josh raised his whiskey glass to the light, turning it around in his hand as though admiring the contents.
‘Did you really think your father had been unfaithful to your mother? Is that what this is about? If you think your father would chase a bit of skirt just because I do, you’re way off course, Paulie. No woman ever tempted Jake once he met your mother.’
‘In the context of Serena, I stopped thinking rationally.’
‘In the context of women, no man thinks rationally.’
Paul swirled the whiskey in his glass and sipped. A burst of peaty goodness filled his mouth and ran down his throat. Serena wasn’t family. Not half-sister, not even cousin.
Now all he had to do was ask her forgiveness for today’s stupid comment and—
Until he’d found an answer to his brother’s dilemma there could be no and. Family had to be his first priority. ‘Thanks for that, Josh. Now all I have to do is arrange a break-in.’
Josh’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm. ‘Put that thought out of your head right now. You won’t help Hayden by going to jail for illegal entry.’
‘That cotton is rightfully his. Unprocessed, he doesn’t owe the mill a cent, but the administrators won’t release it.’
Josh’s grip tightened. ‘He’ll get it—soon. The co-op will see to that. Sit tight. There will be a final meeting of creditors before much longer. Then you’ll put the co-op idea in front of those finance people, there’ll be a vote, and voila.’
‘But will it be soon enough? Hayden’s on the edge now. I know Penny Fordham is positive the accountants—and the bank—will be satisfied. I just want to make sure—’
‘Hayden will be fine. You sort out your situation and let him get on with managing Carey Cotton. You put him in charge of it when you chose to open the saddlery, remember?’
How could he forget? Guilt gnawed his insides like a rat. Maybe it was time to step back and give his brother the right to do as he chose with what Paul had given up.
‘You’re right. Thanks for reminding me. And for letting me bend your ear.’
‘And the whiskey. Reckon another shot would go down a treat. Your shout.’