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‘This week sometime, I guess.’ He hoped his answer would satisfy her curiosity, because he didn’t want to go into it any further – she’d be able to read right through his blasé facade.
‘That’s a bit lackadaisical for a man who likes everything in order.’ She paused, regarding him through motherly eyes – all-knowing, all-seeing. ‘Don’t you think you should touch base with her sooner rather than later, seeing as she arrived two days ago?’ She very clearly wasn’t about to give up her subtle interrogation.
‘Yeah.’ He half-shrugged. ‘I reckon she might need a few days to get over the jet lag before I start talking wedding business with her, though.’
‘I see.’ Remaining standing on the other side of the bench, she scooped some pie onto her spoon, then raised it to her lips as if in slow motion, her astute gaze pinned to Connor.
‘What?’ he said, garbling through his mouthful.
She failed at stifling a little grin. ‘Nothing.’
He pointed his empty spoon at her. ‘Exactly.’
She pointed hers back at him. ‘As I told you all those years ago, you’re allowed to like her, you know.’
‘Am I now?’ He should have guessed she wasn’t finished with the conversation – his mother was always like a bull at a gate when she had a point to get across. ‘Thanks for the heads up, Mum, I’ll make sure I keep it in mind.’
‘Good.’ She nodded affirmatively. ‘Because you always get that special sparkle in your eye when it comes to Samantha Evans.’
‘Sparkle, schmarkle, you’re talking gobbledegook.’ Connor cringed at his overuse of silly words – a dead giveaway that he was playing cool when he wasn’t. ‘FYI, too, Mum, you know she’s married, right?’
‘Oh, is she?’ Joyce pulled a cat-who-got-the-cream face. ‘I heard they’d broken up.’
Stunned, Connor had to take a moment before replying. ‘Where did you hear that from?’
‘Oh, you know, around.’ She motioned her spoon in little circles.
‘Far out, she only got here two days ago.’ He shook his head at the speed news travelled around Gum Tree Gully – like a ball fired from a cannon. ‘Besides, you know better than to listen to gossip.’
‘Yes, in most cases I do.’
‘What’s different about this case?’
She shrugged melodramatically. ‘Nothing.’
‘Exactly,’ he replied, trying not to laugh at her look of earnestness. ‘Thanks for the pie, it was bloody delicious, as always.’ The change of subject was deliberate. ‘Can I have a piece for the road?’
‘Of course you can, help yourself.’
Standing, he used the same plate and did just that. ‘You want a hand with the dishes before I go home and get me a well-needed shower?’
‘Nope, I’ll clean this up.’ She waved him in the direction of the hallway. ‘No, shoo, be gone with you.’
‘Love you, too.’ Chuckling, he then pecked her cheek. ‘Catch you tomorrow,’ he called over his shoulder as he disappeared out the kitchen doorway to her reply of how much she loved him too.
***
Rising from her sleep and drifting into the waking day just as disorientated as she had the morning before, Samantha took a few moments to recall where she was. Buried beneath a soft doona, with the air conditioner set at twenty degrees, she stretched her relaxed body to life. She plucked her earplugs out, and the sounds of the countryside instantly filled her ears – the distant hum of a tractor, the growl of a four-wheeler motorbike flying past the homestead, horses whickering, cattle lowing. After taking a few more moments to wake, then sliding from the bed, she wandered over to the window and tugged the curtains open. Squinting into the bright sunshine, her gaze was instantly drawn to where the sky appeared so big, so blue, so perfect, it almost felt forged. Over to her left, wire fencing stretched on for as far as her eye could see. The closest section cornered off the paddocks that housed Shea’s beloved horses. With yesterday spent unpacking, shopping for her odds and sods, and helping Shea with a few wedding plans, it had flown by before she had a chance to wander about the property. She couldn’t wait to greet the magnificent creatures and inhale their equine scent. Bottled as men’s aftershave, it would sell like hot cakes, she was sure. Off to her right, vivid-coloured bougainvillea climbed up the side of the water tank, and beside it was a fruit, herb and vegetable patch to be proud of. Shea had always had a green thumb, just like her mother. As for herself, she killed anything plant-like. Even her cactus had died because she’d overwatered it. Smack bang in the middle of the backyard was the big old mulberry tree that promptly reminded her of the days she and Shea would return home with pink-stained fingers, T-shirts and lips from the delicious berries. Those were the days.
Yawning, she stretched her arms high and considered having a shower before heading downstairs to face the day head on. Half an hour later, dressed in a free-flowing yellow sundress, with her long hair tamed into a ponytail, and a dusting of make-up on, she made her way to where Shea was hard at work in the kitchen.
‘Hey, lovely.’ Shea’s bright smile took up most of her face. ‘You sleep well?’
‘Morning, bestie, I sure did, better than I have in ages, actually.’
‘Excellent.’ Her hand going to the lid, Shea fired the blender to life. ‘What would you like for breakfast?’ she called over the racket. ‘I can whip you up some bacon and eggs, or an omelette.’
‘Thanks, but all good.’ Samantha tugged the fridge open. ‘I’ll just have a tub of yoghurt.’
