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Nat was quiet. Foley could hear the murmur of Nat’s TV set through the phone handset. She hung on to that sound, to the anticipation of more of Nat’s commentary like it was her last gasp of air.
“Are you watching?”
“I can’t.”
If she saw Drum, Trick, Patrick, whoever he was now, she might come apart. On the night she gave up her ordinary normal guy she couldn’t think about her extraordinary one. He would always be missing, always out there somewhere, making his own rules, living on his edge. That’s the only way she could stand to think about him, because if he wasn’t that confused, intense, challenging man then she’d lost him twice. Once to lack of a secure future, and once to the new future he was building without her.
“Apparently he’s had a trust fund that funnelled his earnings from his shareholding in NCR through a bunch of charities. Did you know that?”
Foley shook her head and willed Nat to keep talking.
“That was passive. He’s going to take control of this new one. Work with charitable groups to help disadvantaged people: low income, single parents, the disadvantaged and the homeless. He’s good interview talent. He doesn’t look mad, he’s making sense. Now they’re talking to his father. This is a big deal, Foley. He’s got a lot of money to play with.” Nat paused. “Are you crying?”
She was sobbing uncontrollably.
“It’s not about Mark, is it?”
She couldn’t get an answer out. Drum had worked a miracle on himself and that made her impossibly joyful and horrifically sad at the same time. He was as lost to her in his new life as he ever had been when he lived in a cave.
Nat let her sob, filling her ear with detail after detail of the interview segment and when it was over she kept talking about Nathan’s new job as a corporate affairs director, her own as the paper’s new editor. It was what Foley needed, that reminder everything changed, people moved on, nothing was static forever.
On Monday morning she got another reminder. Her three month probation as Acting General Manager was up. She opened a single line email from Roger. I’m keeping you. Quit acting. Now the real performance begins.
She forwarded it to Hugh as an FYI with a smiley face and was grinning about it when Adro walked in. He plonked himself in the visitor’s chair she’d occupied so often when Hugh owned this office. “I have good news.”
“Hit me.”
“There’s a genuine buyer for the Beeton house.”
She sat up straighter. “You’re kidding me?”
“A builder submitted redevelopment plans, and they’re all within heritage specification. If the trust accepts the offer the house gets restored. We win.”
They grinned at each other. It was a good omen. Another loose end tied up, and to think she’d get to see the house restored to its former glory made it worth the slightly illegal things she’d done to stop it falling apart.
“But wait, there’s more.” He held a finger aloft. “I have better news.”
Foley laughed. Adro was enthusiastically enthusiastic about work now that he had Gabriella’s job. “I like this part of my job where you give me only good news.”
“It’s insurance against the day when I have to come in here and give you nothing but the apocalypse.”
She laughed. “Hit me.”
“Walter Lam is moving to Queensland.”
“No!”
Adro stomped his feet and air punched with his fists. “Oh yes. It’s true. He’s moving to go live near his grandkids.”
“Oh thank God.”
“Without him the rest of the group will fall over. No more personal objectives couched as community good.” Adro stood. “Do you love me?”
She’d have hugged him but she didn’t want to start any rumours. “I love you.”
He tossed an envelope on her desk. “That came for you. Was passing reception when it arrived.”
She tore the seal and a car key slid out. She looked up, but Adro had gone. The envelope had her name handwritten on the front but there had to be some mistake. She called reception to be told the courier was waiting if she had questions.
