The brick exterior of the Chinese restaurant never failed to amuse Nathan. With its front circular windows, like full moons, and the round entranceway surrounding the door, it was so kitsch it was almost fashionable again. More than likely the design held some deep symbolism, but to him, it was simply amusing and made the restaurant easy to describe to people.
Thank god it was Friday afternoon. And even more praise to the deities that he was on his way to spend time with Callie. Hopefully this was the first of many hours they’d spend together again. As long as she didn’t want to get into any deep and meaningful discussions of the past, they could pick up where they’d left off. Mates with a lifetime of history, memories and in-jokes.
He pulled open the door and walked between the tables to stand in line at the counter. With its bright red and gold wallpaper patterned with white birds, the interior was as unique and dated as the outside. This place was part of their shared history, although the times they’d been here had mostly been as part of separate married couples. He and Sharon, Callie and Tony, sharing nights out and laughing over fortune cookies. Then when the kids came along, combined family nights with the young ones sucking down fizzy fire-engine red drinks and eating deep-fried icecream.
His chest ached like it always did when he thought about how the good times had come to an abrupt end after Sharon and Tony’s affair. Could he have done more to stop it? Should he have told Callie what he knew? How much of it was his fault?
His turn to order meant he could stop all the self-examination. There was no point going over what couldn’t be changed.
‘Nathan! How are you? Is my son behaving for you?’
Nathan chuckled and made the obligatory small talk with Hien, the owner and Thanh’s dad. After several minutes, he was able to give his order and take his number. The small restaurant was busy tonight, with several people already waiting for takeaway orders and more seated at the tables. Many of the faces were unfamiliar to him—journos, maybe, or people associated with the mill’s administrators. The aroma of Asian spices made his stomach growl.
At the far side of the room, he spotted Mike O’Malley, the planning officer at the local shire council, standing near the heavy wooden cabinet. He dodged around a group standing waiting to pay, and walked up beside him. ‘Hi, Mike. Any word yet on the building approval for the golf club expansion?’
‘Nathan.’ Mike shook his outstretched hand. ‘Nothing yet. It’s still in the pipeline as far as I know.’
‘Damn. It would be good to get started sooner rather than later.’ If he could count on income from that it would make his bottom line look much more secure.
‘You affected by the mill closing too?’ The other man shook his head. ‘It’s going to be a blow to the whole town.’
‘I’m not as affected as some of the others, but they still owe us money. I’m not holding my breath for it.’
They lapsed into silence, both knowing what the closure would mean to the town. Hien called out a number from behind the counter and they simultaneously checked their tickets. A tall skinny man with silver hair tied back with a piece of leather stepped forward to collect his order.
Mike folded his arms and rocked his weight back onto his heels. ‘By the way, are you free on Wednesday night next week?’
Nathan looked him up and down and grinned. ‘Sorry, mate, I know the ladies love you but you’re not my type.’
Mike rewarded his quip with a cuff to the shoulder.
‘Idiot. I need someone to help out with training my soccer Under-nines this week. The kids look forward to the kick-around so I don’t want to cancel, and we’re down a few helpers.’
‘Sure. You know I’m more of a league man myself, but I don’t mind helping out.’
Although he’d been a regular rugby league player in his twenties and thirties, he’d given it away for good now. Except for that charity match last year when he tried to convince himself he was younger than he actually was. His body had reminded him pretty quick smart that he was fifty, not fifteen, and no longer suited for contact sports. He’d hobbled around for weeks with a bruise on his hip like he’d been hit by one of Julian Stone’s fuel tankers. ‘What time? And the usual place?’
‘Five-thirty. Yep, out at the sports field on Louth Road.’
Nathan tapped the time into the calendar on his phone. ‘Done. It’s a date. Flowers or chocolates?’
Mike tossed him a wry look. ‘If that’s how you usually get lucky, then go right ahead. But I’d prefer beer, if you don’t mind.’ He stepped forward as his number was called. ‘See you on Wednesday. Leave your walking stick at home, old boy.’
***
In the shop, Callie paced the floor and smoothed down the front of her dress with damp palms. Had she really agreed to Nathan coming over and sharing a meal in a manner that could be construed as social? What the heck had she been thinking? Working together was one thing, but sharing a meal brought up too many memories, both good and bad. It was too much like a date. How many times had she dreamt of being on a date with Nathan? But they’d been friends. Romance hadn’t happened then, and it wasn’t going to happen now.
She came to a halt at the far wall, turned, then looked up on hearing a muted thud at the front of the shop. Nathan stood outside the front door, banging on the glass with his elbow to attract her attention.
With a deep breath, she hurried over to let him inside. ‘Hi.’ She willed her heart to stop its frantic thudding.
‘I come bearing gifts.’ He raised his hands holding two white plastic bags bulging with takeaway containers.
He stepped around her in a tempting waft of freshly showered male and cedar wood mixed with the mouth-watering aroma of honey chicken. The smell made her hungry—and not simply for food.
‘Just like the wise men, hey?’ Keep it light. She shut and locked the door behind him. ‘Bring it into the back room.’
Maybe she shouldn’t have decided to eat at the plastic fold-up table in the back kitchenette. The room seemed to shrink as she followed him in, his presence seeming to take up all the available space. She stepped closer to the table and brushed against his arm.
Way too close, too cosy and too intimate. They were alone. For the first time since the dance, when she’d seen something in his eyes that had given her hope.
This was a mistake. He should go.
Leaning across the table, he untied the bags and laid out the containers. As he opened the first lid, the steam from the honey chicken wafted the aroma over to her and her stomach growled. Hoping he hadn’t heard, she clamped her arm across her belly.
‘Here, sit and eat before you deafen us both.’ He stuck a spoon in the centre of the container and pushed it towards her.
So much for hoping he hadn’t heard. ‘You were supposed to be a gentleman and ignore that.’ She helped herself to the fried rice and then spooned her honey chicken over the top.
‘I thought you knew me better than that.’ He winked and sent her a wicked grin. ‘A growling tummy is probably the least embarrassing thing you’ve done in front of me. You have no secrets.’
That’s what you think. If only he knew her biggest secret. The fact she’d been in love with him since she was sixteen. That she’d never stopped loving him even when he belonged to Sharon. A love pushed aside when she’d met Tony, but was now threatening to raise its head once again.
She pasted on her brightest smile so he wouldn’t guess what she was thinking. ‘Well, it’s obviously no secret that I’m starving.’ She took a mouthful of fried rice and honey chicken, the flavours exploding on her tongue as she chewed.
‘Oh my god, that is so good. It’s been so long …’ She closed her eyes to concentrate on the sweet taste.
When she opened her eyes, he was watching her, an odd expression on his face. ‘What? Why are you looking at me like that? Oh god, do I have sauce on my face?’ She reached for her napkin and dabbed at her lips.
He shrugged, a flush staining his cheekbones. ‘No, it’s not that. It’s just … You’re …’ He shifted in his seat and took another mouthful of his Szechuan beef.
‘I’m what?’ Old? Wrinkled? Going grey? She had a mirror—she knew how she looked. Well, he was older and greyer too. Except he’d aged well, the changes of time making him look sexier than ever.
‘It doesn’t matter. It just feels … right. Sitting here like this.’
‘Yeah, it does.’ She shouldn’t read anything into his comments. She’d wasted far too much of her life trying to convince herself the things he said meant he had feelings for her. She wasn’t about to start that again.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Callie finished the portion on her plate and nudged the rest of the container over to Nathan. He wasted no time in helping himself to what was left. Just like the old days. How easily they’d slipped back into old habits. Like how they’d finish each other’s sentences, each knowing what the other was thinking. Their school friends used to call them an old married couple.
That was a safe topic to talk about. ‘Do you see much of the gang from school anymore?’ They’d been a motley group of kids that hung around together, drawn into the same orbit by their inability to fit in anywhere else. They were the nerds, the dreamers, the weirdos.
‘A few. I get together with Barnsey and Tobes once in a blue moon to play pool and shoot the breeze. I’m friends with Lou on Facebook, she owns a pharmacy in Bourke, but no one knows what happened to Al. Nobody’s heard from him since he went to Sydney to work.’
‘He’s probably working for NASA or SpaceX or someone by now.’ Thinking of the old gang, she stacked the empty containers into one another and wiped her hands on a paper serviette. ‘I really should make an effort to get back in touch with people. I think I’m ready to leave my hermit days behind. The shop will force me into being social again.’
‘And about time too.’ He pushed aside his now empty plate. ‘Speaking of the shop, tell me what you want to do.’
Callie stood and walked over to her burgundy leather briefcase on the bench, a gift from her parents when she’d graduated from university. They’d been as proud as Punch when she’d been the first from their families to do so. The case was quite tattered around the edges from use by now and the clasp sometimes stuck but she couldn’t bear to get rid of it. In some ways, it reminded her of who she’d been. The young girl with the world at her feet.
Well, now she was an old girl, and the world was at her feet once again. She ran her hand over the buttery-soft leather and smiled. She could do this. She was ready for a new challenge.
Withdrawing her folder of plans, she carried it back to the table and moved the takeaway food containers to clear a space. She flipped open the folder to show a sketch of the layout she’d designed and took her seat. ‘I want shelves along here.’ She leaned over, trying desperately to ignore his tempting scent, and traced along the design with her finger. ‘Four freestanding units here on wheels so I can move them around. If that’s too hard I can order flatpack units online.’
Eyes narrowed, Nathan winced and shot her a pained look that made her giggle. He said, ‘Don’t you dare! Flatpack is the work of the devil.’
She’d missed his sense of humour. The wry observations and sarcastic comments that never failed to make her laugh, often at inappropriate times.
He pulled a well-thumbed spiral notebook from his shirt pocket and jotted down notes. ‘What else?’
Her excitement grew as she explained her vision. ‘Along this wall? Could you make units with sloping shelves to display bolts of fabric? I’ll give you the measurements.’
‘Too easy.’
He tapped the end of the pencil against his chin. How many times had she watched him do that while he thought?
‘How about you hang some of your quilts along the back wall here as samples? You could put them up high so you can still utilise the rest of the wall for stock.’
‘Great idea.’ She added the idea to her long list. ‘I have just the ones in mind.’ Bouncing ideas off him sparked her imagination even more. She could almost smell the crisp fabric, feel the velvet ribbons between her fingers.
He leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes on the plan. ‘I like the idea of the units on wheels—as long as you don’t torture me by buying flatpack. You could move them over to the walls over here and free up this space if you wanted to run workshops or such.’
Running workshops? Could she really do that? Possibly in the future, but was she ready for it now? Baby steps. ‘Maybe. And I want to start by repainting the store. Something a bit more welcoming than stark white.’
‘I’ll give you a hand with the painting too if you like. I can loan you a builder’s scaffolding tower. That’ll be easier than going up and down ladders all day.’
‘That would be fantastic.’ Reality intruded in the shape of her budget. ‘Oh, how much will that be?’ She clicked on the end of her pen and turned to the right page in her notebook, ready to add the cost to her list of figures. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too expensive. She had some leeway, but she’d had to keep the costs to a reasonable amount. The savings she had would only last for so long.
‘No charge. I’m not using it at the moment.’ He reached across the table and pulled a prawn cracker from the white paper bag. ‘Do you have a spare key? If you give it to me tonight, I’ll call in before work and set it up for you.’
Callie took a moment to think about it. She’d always found it hard to accept favours. More so in the last five years when she’d forced herself to be independent. Rely on no one, that way she’d never be let down.
But if she wanted to be part of the community, with its give and take, it might be a habit she’d have to break. And she knew Nathan wouldn’t let her down. ‘Thank you.’
Two small words but they felt like a leap of faith. The weight in her chest lifted a little. Yes, she could do this.