Phoebe Hawkins didn’t stuff around when it came to accommodation. Although this was Perth, where a man wearing work clothes and coated in rust-coloured dirt could be a billionaire, Matt couldn’t help feeling self-conscious when he approached the Sanctum’s front desk. The boutique hotel’s receptionist didn’t blink at his casual attire and ragged backpack. She simply checked him in before politely indicating the way to the business centre where his mother waited.
He checked his watch and mobile for the umpteenth time and compared them. Quarter past six Perth time, which meant nine fifteen Victorian time. Callie should have been home.
He dialled again, and again the call went straight through to voicemail. ‘Me again. Can you call? I’m worried.’ He hesitated then went on. ‘I love you.’
He hung up, feeling dumb. Doug had probably offered her an extra shift. He was stressing over nothing, but that didn’t stop the churning apprehension that had settled in his stomach since landing, when he’d turned his phone back on and found not a single missed call or message from Callie.
The lift’s lurch did nothing to ease his anxiety. He thought again of the weird phone conversation he’d had with Wal during his Adelaide stopover. If nothing was wrong, why had Wal called to ask if Matt had spoken to Callie? It wasn’t like him to chase up like that. As if Matt didn’t have enough uncertainty prickling his back, Wal’s mutter about having to go into Dargate to talk to Tony only made the prickles spread further. By the time he’d hung up, Matt was so full of worry he’d thought about cancelling the entire trip, but with one flight a day between Dargate and Adelaide he’d had no choice but to stick to schedule.
The lift doors slid quietly open. Matt followed the plush, immaculately carpeted hallway to the Hancock Room, where he’d been told Phoebe was working, and knocked. When no one came to the door he pushed it open anyway and found his mother at the back of the room, a laptop open in front of her and a mobile phone pressed to her ear. She glanced up, waved him inside, and went straight back to what she was doing – talking in Mandarin while tapping a pen against a notepad.
After dumping his backpack on one of the black leather chairs, Matt made his way around the jarrah meeting table and planted a dutiful kiss on his mother’s cheek. She looked up and quirked her mouth before nodding at whoever was on the phone. It was a look he recognised all too well from childhood, when he’d walk in, heart leaping with hope that today would be the day she dropped everything and smiled just for him. Except that day never happened and never would. He’d learned not to mind but today her distraction irritated.
‘Mum?’
Green eyes flashing, she frowned and sliced her hand through the air, continuing the conversation.
Matt checked his watch again. Six twenty-three and still no call, no text, no nothing from Callie. He strode to the window and stared out. Past Perth’s verdant parkland, the city sprawled like a Lego set. Heat shimmer rose from a landscape made entirely of angles, making him long for the soft, calm edges of home. What the fuck was he doing here? He hated it. This concrete, heartless mess that pulsed money. He wanted Callie and Glenmore. He wanted what mattered.
Lost in worry, Matt didn’t notice his mother had stopped talking until she said his name.
‘Matthew,’ she said, rising from her chair and approaching. ‘You’re looking very rural.’ She hugged him in that uncomfortable way she had, as if she didn’t know where her arms and body belonged.
Now she’d returned to her version of a normal person, he studied her. Despite cool green eyes and symmetrical features, she was more nice looking than beautiful, but it was her elegance that made passers-by look twice. Phoebe was tall, almost Matt’s height, and slim with it, her figure accentuated by expertly tailored clothes. Her blunt cut, shoulder-length hair hung silky and straight. Thin, shaped eyebrows widened her eyes, her long, pointed nose lengthening her face. A severe mouth was disguised with lip liner and lipstick. The only frivolity appeared to be a platinum and diamond drop necklace, but even that, nestled against her pale skin in the V of her jade-coloured silk blouse, appeared as classy as the rest of her.
Wal’s sisters once described Phoebe Hawkins as being like an old movie star except they hadn’t meant it as a flattering comparison. She was, they agreed, lovely to look at but her ambition destroyed all warmth. They were right, but that didn’t stop Matt loving her. For all Phoebe’s frailties, she was still his mother.
‘And you’re looking very bankery.’ He held her at arm’s length. ‘But I mean that in the best way.’
‘You always were excellent at stating the obvious.’ She glanced over her shoulder at the computer as it made a pinging noise. ‘Ahh, that’s probably your father. We’ve been having quite a conversation.’
His mum and Kieren in conversation? Now that was something new.
‘How is he?’
Her mouth tipped a little. ‘Rather furious with me at the moment.’
‘Don’t tell me you’ve beaten him to some major deal?’
‘Not quite.’ She held out her arm, indicating a seat, as if he was a client instead of her son. ‘Best get settled.’
Matt waited for his mother to reveal more but she merely took her seat and turned the computer toward her, mouth quirk heightening as she clicked and read. Matt studied her, his confusion growing. It wasn’t like Phoebe to play games, she was always business like. The only moment of foolery she’d ever had – that Matt believed – occurred the night she and Kieran had sex.
The enigmatic expression stayed as she clicked the mouse, making her appear young and very pretty, like the girl she must have once been before ambition steeled her edges. Finally she closed the laptop lid and folded her hands in her lap.
‘All right, Mum. What’s going on? The last time I saw you look this smug was the night you signed Mr Zhao as a client.’
‘Do I really look that pleased?’
‘You do.’
She smiled again. ‘Well, I have organised something special. And, I must say, with perfect timing. It’s rather pleasing to be able to tell you this in person.’
‘Tell me what in person?’ said Matt, unable to stop impatience from entering his tone. He loved his mother but right now he wanted to be back at Glenmore, with Callie, not watching her gloat over some business deal in a posh hotel.
‘Your father and I have bought you a property.’
Matt blinked, unsure if he’d heard correctly. A property? Did she mean a farm?
Phoebe smiled. ‘You were never going to get one on your own and your father owed you. And I owed you too.’
‘You don’t. Neither of you do. I’m doing okay on my own.’
‘Living with Uncle Wal?’ She shook her head before sitting up very straight and regarding him steadily. ‘Look, we – Kieran and I – both appreciate we haven’t been the ideal parents—’
Matt pushed his chair back, cutting her off. He stood, running his hand over his face. He was here, away from Callie, because his parents, after twenty-six-plus years, had decided to go on some bizarre guilt trip? ‘This is nuts.’
‘Not quite the reaction I expected.’
‘I’m sorry but . . .’ Matt breathed out hard. If only Callie would call, he might be able to think clearly. He forced himself to sit back down. ‘Okay, let me get this straight. You and Keiren bought me a property – a farm, I take it – to make up for—’ he raised his hands and eyes to the ceiling, ‘—fuck knows what. And I’m grateful, I am, but you didn’t have to. I can make my own way.’
Phoebe tapped a manicured nail against the laptop lid, assessing him steadily, cool businesswoman once more. ‘It’s a commercial decision as well. If you fail, the land has excellent development potential. You’ll be secure either way, as will our investment. As it stands, you own fifty-one per cent of MPK Holdings. Kieran and I own the remaining forty-nine per cent, split twenty-five per cent my way, twenty-four to your father. That way, should he change his mind – which he’d better not – he can’t pull it out from under your feet.’
Matt let his hands flop between his legs, wondering why he felt so upset when his parents had effectively handed him his dream.
‘Okay, so where is this property?’
‘The perfect place. Right next door to Uncle Wal’s.’
The tamped-down fear that had been haunting Matt since his arrival rose in a flood. Horror spread across his skin like swarming ants.
‘You mean . . .’ He couldn’t say it, but the property name screamed in his head anyway.
‘Yes,’ announced Phoebe triumphantly. ‘We bought you Glenmore.’