Save The Date!

‘A T.’

She turned to find him holding up the sheet of paper bearing the single letter. His lips twisted. ‘He did say he wasn’t going to make it easy, didn’t he?’

She gathered up the other five books. ‘Obviously it’s going to spell something out. Maybe a name.’ This room was devoid of any furniture so she took the books back through to the kitchen and set them on the table before walking away.

‘Where are you going?’

He spoke sharply and she spun around. ‘I thought you might like some privacy.’

He cocked an eyebrow, all tough-guy badness in a blink of his eye. ‘Aren’t you curious?’

She wished she could say no. ‘Of course I am. I’m burning up with it.’

‘Then stay. We’d have never got this far if it weren’t for you.’

She didn’t need any further encouragement. She moved back to the table and watched silently as he laid the six letters out. When he was done they both stood back and stared at it.

T H E S U N

A growl left her throat. ‘What the bloody hell is that supposed to be and what’s all this nonsense of X, C and M on the last card?’

‘Roman numerals,’ Rick said, leaning over to look at them more closely. ‘I think it’s a date.’

He straightened. Nell stiffened. ‘The Sun,’ they said at the same time, referring to a Sydney newspaper.

‘I’m not good with Roman numerals.’ Nell moved back around to her computer. ‘But there’s bound to be a site on the web that can tell us what that date might be.’

Rick didn’t move. ‘It’s the twenty-sixth of May in the year of two thousand and thirteen.’

That was almost a year ago now. ‘The paper is bound to archive its back issues online.’ She went to the newspaper’s homepage, flicked through several screens and found the paper issued for the twenty-sixth of May. All the while she was aware of Rick standing on the other side of the table, unmoving, and it started to worry her. ‘Rick!’

He started and glanced her way. It hit her that inactivity wasn’t good for him. ‘Here, I found the right paper. I think. You do the search while I organise cake and coffee.’

Searching would keep him focused. Organising afternoon tea would give her something to do with her hands other than fidget.

He took her seat. ‘What do you reckon—search the personal classifieds for some coded message?’

She growled. ‘It better not be too coded.’

He laughed and turned his attention back to the computer screen.

She measured out coffee and set cupcakes on a plate—Citrus Burst, Pine Lime, Vanilla Cream and Café au Lait. She almost swiped a finger through the frosting of the coffee cupcake, but pulled back at the last minute. It had taken her a lot of work to lose her teenage puppy fat. As soon as she had her Victorian teahouse up and running she meant to enjoy the fruits of her labours to her heart’s content and to hell with her waistline. But until then...

Her nose curled. It was a well-known fact that slender women received more chances and better opportunities than plump women. It wasn’t fair. In her opinion it was downright scandalous, but she didn’t have too many assets—a big house that was threatening to crumble down around her, her ability to cook the best cupcakes on the planet and a trim figure. She meant to make the most of all of them while she could.

Behind her, she sensed Rick’s sudden stillness. She swung to him. ‘Well?’ Her voice came out choked, as if she had an entire cupcake lodged in her throat.

‘There’s a message here...for me.’

Her heart gave a giant kick. ‘Does he tell you...?’

‘No. The message reads: Rick Bradford. Many Happy Returns.’

The twenty-sixth of May was his birthday?

‘You’ve exceeded expectations. For she’s a jolly good fellow.’

‘She?’ That couldn’t be right, surely?

‘She,’ he repeated.

‘Do you think that’s some oblique way of saying your unknown sibling is a sister?’

‘I think he’s referring to you.’

Her?

‘Return on the thirteenth of March.’

She slammed the plate of cupcakes to the table. ‘Return where?’ she shouted.

‘I think he means to the classifieds in the newspaper.’ He leaned back. ‘Which means he put some thought into all of this before he died—paid for these ads well in advance. I wonder how many years’ worth he organised.’

The intricacy of John’s scheme stunned her. ‘The thirteenth of March is only a couple of weeks away.’ She bared her teeth. ‘That is if he’s referring to this year. There’s no guarantee of that, of course.’

‘All will be revealed then if you have the eyes to see it.’

She opened a kitchen cupboard just so she could slam it shut again. ‘That’s what I think of that!’

‘And it ends with Hip Hip Hooray!’

‘Oh, and that’s worth its weight,’ she snarled.

He laughed. ‘He was right about one thing. You are a jolly good fellow. I’d never have got this far if it hadn’t been for you.’

‘Well, of course you wouldn’t!’ she exploded, pacing up and down. ‘That’s the whole stupid point, isn’t it? How could you ever have possibly traced that stupid code to bits of paper in my books? How would you have ever known about my stupid marigold tin? How dare he risk everything on something so...so tenuous! How could he risk... All of it hangs on such a thin thread that could’ve broken at any time.’ She slashed a hand through the air. ‘How could he know I’d keep helping you? How could he know you’d even stick around? How could he know that I hadn’t sold the house?’

‘He couldn’t.’

She stared at the plate of colourful cupcakes and made a fist. Rick dragged the plate towards him out of harm’s way.

‘Princess, it’s not worth getting all hot under the collar about.’

‘Not worth...’ She started to shake.

‘You’re really furious at him, aren’t you?’

She had a feeling they weren’t talking about John any more. ‘Yes,’ she gritted out. Because whether they were talking about her father or his, it was true on both counts. ‘How dare he drag me into his nasty little game!’

Again, that counted on both heads.

‘What right did he have? What...’

The air went out of her and she sat with a thump.

Rick leaned towards her, his eyes wary. ‘Uh, Nell...you okay?’

She swallowed. ‘Earlier you said that he might be trying to make himself feel better...to make amends.’

‘Yeah, so?’

‘That’s what this is about. He wants me to make amends too.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

RICK PULLED UP short when he strode into the kitchen to find Nell drinking coffee and eating cupcakes.

At ten on a Wednesday morning.

He counted two cupcake wrappers, which meant she was steadily making her way through a third. He frowned. That wasn’t the way to eat one of those cupcakes! Every mouthful should be savoured to the full.

She didn’t look up. He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Good morning.’

She continued to glare at the table. ‘Morning.’ Bite. Chew. Swallow.

Okay, take two. ‘I ducked out to grab a few supplies. I ran out of sugar soap and sandpaper.’

‘You don’t need to justify your movements, Rick. I believe you’ll keep your side of the bargain. The how and when is entirely up to you.’

He should leave her be and get back to sanding and painting, keep it all on a work footing. He hesitated and then pulled out a chair and sat. ‘You don’t need to justify your movements to me either, but what on earth are you doing at home—’ eating cupcakes as if they were nothing more extraordinary than a digestive ‘—when peak morning tea time is about to hit Sydney’s CBD?’

She ate more cupcake. Her shoulders hunched. ‘Candy has broken down.’

He grimaced. ‘She’s at the garage being repaired?’

More cupcake and more shoulder hunching. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’

Finally she looked at him. He tried not to wince at the lines of strain that bracketed her mouth. ‘Because of these.’ She held up a pile of opened letters. ‘Bills.’ She then proceeded to set each one down onto the table, barking out the amount due. ‘It adds up to more than half of what I have left in my account. At the moment I’m not sure I can afford to get Candy fixed.’

Yet without Candy on the road she wouldn’t be able to earn the money to pay those bills.

If there was something he’d learned in the last fortnight—other than the fact he really wanted to kiss her—it was that Nell worked like a Trojan. If anyone deserved to cop a break, she did.

‘How much money are you expecting to come in from your party orders and how much do you have outstanding?’

She blew out a breath, pushed her plate away and pulled her laptop towards her. ‘Let’s see...’ Her fingers danced across the keyboard.

He came around the table to peer over her shoulder. What he saw made him frown. ‘Princess, there’re half a dozen orders here—’ big orders too ‘—from over three months ago and the bills are still outstanding.’

If her shoulders drooped any further they’d be on a level with the table. He pointed to her spreadsheet. ‘Look—here, here and here.’ The movement brought him in close so her hair tickled his jaw and the sugar-drenched scent of her made his mouth water. He moved back a few inches to stop himself from doing something stupid. ‘These three orders on their own would cover the cost of your bills.’

‘I know, but...’

She leapt up and he shot back, dodging her chair before it could do him a serious injury. She paced to the end of the table and then spun back, flinging an arm in the air.

‘How do you make people pay? I’ve sent each of them at least three reminder letters. I’ve spoken to them on the phone and each time I’ve been assured the cheque is in the mail. Funny thing is, though, none of those cheques have yet materialised.’

‘Do you know if any of these people are in financial difficulties?’

‘No! That’s the thing. I mean I have written off a couple of debts because I found out...’

She’d written those debts off because she knew what it was like, hadn’t she? Because she had an amazing ability to empathise with others—something he’d have never expected in someone from her background. But then he’d misjudged her on so many levels.

It didn’t change several salient facts. ‘Do you think it’s either reasonable or responsible to order a party load of cupcakes if you can’t afford it?’

For a long moment she didn’t say anything. ‘I shudder to think how many bills my father didn’t pay.’

‘They weren’t your responsibility, Princess.’ And in the meantime people with the wherewithal to pay took advantage of her. He ground his teeth together.

She merely shrugged. ‘You want to know something funny?’

From the tone of her voice he suspected he wasn’t going to find whatever it was either amusing or humorous. ‘What’s that?’

‘Each of those people—’ she gestured to the computer ‘—with the outstanding debts; I thought they were my friends.’

It took an effort of will to keep his shoulders loose and relaxed. Two things were certain. Firstly, these people were not friends and secondly, she couldn’t afford to write those debts off.

‘What you need to do, Princess, is hire a money collector.’

She gazed at him blankly.

‘And, as you currently have me at your disposal...’

She stilled. For a glorious moment her eyes gleamed that extraordinary emerald-green that made him want to kiss her all over again. ‘Ooh, I couldn’t...’

‘You have no choice.’

He’d had experience of money collectors from the other side of the fence—they’d visited his mother and grandmother on a too regular basis. But it meant he knew the grim and forbidding demeanour, and he knew how to come across as threatening without actually threatening someone illegally. He’d threaten this lot with exposure in the local paper if they didn’t cough up.

She shifted from one foot to the other.

‘You worked hard for that money.’

‘I know, but...’

‘Nell, if you don’t have the stomach for this then maybe you need to rethink your plans for Whittaker House.’

She stiffened at that. Without another word she printed off those three bills and handed them to him. He glanced at them and nodded when he saw they contained all the information he needed—names, addresses and amounts outstanding.

‘Please don’t frighten them.’

‘Of course not.’ He crossed his fingers behind his back. After he was done they’d think twice before failing to pay a bill again.

‘I mean...this will be seriously humiliating for them.’

He’d make sure of it. These people hadn’t just humiliated Nell—they’d hurt her, had tried to bully her. They were supposed to be her friends, for goodness’ sake!

‘And just so you know...’ she moistened her lips ‘...the Fenimores have a Rottweiler.’

He tried not to focus on the shine of her lips. Or on the sweet curve of her lower lip and the way it seemed to swell under his gaze. He snapped away.

This attraction between him and Nell was crazy. It couldn’t go anywhere. Acting on it would be a stupid thing to do.

But glorious.

He ignored the insidious voice and tried to concentrate on the conversation. ‘Is he vicious?’

‘Not in the slightest. He’s a big softie. Call their bluff if they...’ She lifted a shoulder.

He almost laughed at that, but it wouldn’t have been a pretty laugh. He didn’t bother telling Nell that he didn’t respond well to threats. He’d deal with the Fenimores.

Before he left, however... ‘Nell, sit. We need to have a tough talk.’

She eyed him uncertainly, but did as he asked. He knew these bills were merely the tip of Nell’s financial troubles. He’d been working on that darn business plan of hers and there wasn’t a bank manager in Sydney who’d lend her a red cent unless she put Whittaker House up as collateral. He told her that now in plain unvarnished English.

‘But—’

‘I’m not telling you this because I want to make your life difficult, but you need to know the truth.’ The panic that raced through her eyes clutched at his heart. ‘Nell, I know you loved your grandmother.’

‘Yes, of course, but...’

But what did that have to do with anything? He could see the question in her eyes even if she didn’t ask it out loud. ‘How badly do you want to save Whittaker House? How badly do you want to turn it into a Victorian teahouse?’

She shot to her feet and clenched her hands so hard she shook. ‘It’s the most important thing in the world to me.’

Because she wanted to honour the memory of the only person who’d shown her unconditional love? Because she wanted to prove she wasn’t useless and that she could make a success of her life? Because she had nothing else in her life? Oh, Princess, you deserve so much more.

The last thought disturbed him. He shook it off. ‘You really want it more than anything?’

‘Yes.’ Her chin lifted.

Stop thinking about kissing her! ‘So you’re prepared to make sacrifices?’

‘Of course I am!’

His heart grew heavy in his chest. ‘You have a source of income that will get you started and keep you out of trouble for a long while. Nell, you need to sell your grandmother’s diamond ring.’ And probably the emerald as well.

The last of the colour leached from her face. She sat.

He found himself crouching in front of her and clasping her hands. ‘It’s not a betrayal of your grandmother.’

‘Then why does it feel that way?’

‘If she were here now, what would she tell you to do?’

‘I...’

‘Did she place more value on things rather than people?’

‘No! She...’ She gave a half-laugh full of love...and loss. ‘She’d just want me to be happy. If she’d ever had to choose between her diamond ring or this house she’d have sold the ring in an instant.’

He waited and eventually she lifted her chin and squeezed his hands. ‘You’re right. It’s time to be practical. My grandmother’s spirit doesn’t reside in a few pieces of jewellery.’

He stood and moved back. Holding Nell’s hand when she was upset was one thing. Holding it when she fired back to life was altogether different.

Different and compelling and bewitching.

‘Besides, those jewels would’ve been more trouble than they’re worth. I’d have had to be constantly looking over my shoulder waiting for my father to try and take them.’

Rick had grown up among people like that, but it made his gut clench that the Princess had experienced it too.

‘For heaven’s sake, look at me! Sitting around here comfort eating and feeling sorry for myself. How pathetic!’

She was a lot of things, but pathetic wasn’t one of them.

He shifted his weight. ‘If someone offered you a pot of gold to get you out of this fix...and it’d mean you’d get to keep your grandmother’s rings, would you accept it?’

She bit her lip and then shook her head. ‘No.’

He breathed easier.

‘I want to do this under my own steam.’

Good.

‘So while you go and play bailiff I’m going to get my grandmother’s ring out of the safety deposit box and make an appointment with a jewellery evaluator. An antique piece like that...it might even be worth placing in an auction.’

A coil of tension in his chest loosened at the colour in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. Way to go, Princess.

‘I think it might be a good idea for me to attend that appointment with you.’

She stared at him and then a Cheshire cat grin slanted across her face. ‘While I have absolutely no intention of being taken advantage of, I think that’s an excellent plan. I dare anyone to even think of it while you have my back.’

Exactly. ‘I’ll see you back here in a couple of hours.’

‘Won’t you need more time?’

The addresses were all within twenty minutes of Nell’s house. ‘I don’t think so.’ He made for the door.

‘Rick.’ She bit her lip. ‘Don’t let any of them make you feel like a second-class citizen. You have more true honour in your pinkie finger than any of them have in their entire bodies.’

Something inside him expanded. He couldn’t utter a word.

‘And you—you who have every reason to bear me a grudge—have shown me more true friendship than just about anyone.’

As she spoke she moved towards him. All he could do was watch. Common sense told him to back up, but his feet refused to move. Reaching up on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek, drenching him in all of her sweetness. A groan rose in his throat, but he swallowed it back.

‘Thank you.’

The sincerity of it shook him loose. ‘No sweat, Princess.’ He had to break the moment or something would happen—something earth-shattering that had the potential to break both of them.

It doesn’t have to.

But it would. Guys like him didn’t end up with girls like her.

He cleared his throat. ‘I don’t suppose you could spare a cupcake or two for a hardworking bailiff on his weary travels?’

She laughed at that, retrieved a large cardboard box of them and pushed it into his hands. ‘Maybe you could leave one with each of them as a gesture of...goodwill.’

He grinned. ‘Behind that pretty face you’re evil, you know?’

She blinked.

‘Because we both know one cupcake is never enough.’

That slow smile spread across her face again. ‘Give them hell, Rick.’

He tipped an imaginary hat at her and left. He fully intended to.

* * *

Rick returned to find Nell waiting for him. She immediately leapt up to put the kettle on to boil. ‘How did it go? Were they horrible to you? Did they say mean things to you?’

Not: Did you get my money? Not: Was the mission successful? But: Were they horrible to you? He stopped dead and just stared.

Her face darkened. ‘They were.’ He watched in a kind of bemusement as her hands clenched. ‘I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have asked that of you. I should’ve done my own dirty work and—’

‘I had a ball.’

She eyed him warily. ‘You did?’ she finally ventured.

He could see she didn’t believe him. ‘Ever since I got out of jail, people like those clients of yours have made me feel like scum. I can’t tell you how satisfying it was to turn the tables. Do you have any more outstanding debts I can deal with?’

That surprised a laugh out of her—as it was meant to. She pushed him into a chair, set a plate of sandwiches in front of him and grabbed him a beer. ‘One thing’s for sure. You’ve earned lunch.’

She stood over him then with arms folded. He glanced up, a sandwich halted halfway to his mouth. ‘What?’

‘I don’t think you should let anyone make you feel like scum.’

That was easier said than done, but... It struck him then that Nell had only ever treated him as an equal—someone deserving of respect and consideration.

The realisation tightened his chest. He bit into the sandwich then took a swig of his beer. Neither loosened the tension growing inside him. He pulled three cheques from his pocket and handed them to her.

She flicked through them and her eyes widened. ‘You managed to get them to sign cheques for the entire amounts outstanding?’

He wanted to puff out his chest at the delight bubbling up through her. ‘What were you expecting?’

‘More promises. Part payment at best.’ She perched on a chair across the table from him and crossed a leg. ‘It couldn’t have been easy.’

‘Princess, it was a piece of cake.’

* * *

Nell stared at him. It might’ve been simple for him, but there was no way on God’s green she’d have been able to manage this same outcome. She checked the amount on the cheques again. ‘This is amazing.’

He was amazing.

‘This will keep the wolf from the door for a little while.’ Enough to give her some breathing space at least.

‘Were you really friends with those people?’

Some of the golden delight leached out of her. ‘I thought we were.’ If a single one of those people had found themselves in the same desperate financial straits that she had, she wouldn’t have dropped them. She might not have been able to give them financial aid, but she’d have offered them moral support. She’d—

‘Princess?’

She snapped to. Although she tried to keep her face composed she couldn’t stop her lips from twisting. ‘It seems my entire life has been a series of very poor judgement calls.’ Letting her parents browbeat her into saying Rick had taken her locket; working so hard to earn her parents’ love and approval to discover that they’d never been worth the effort, that they didn’t know the meaning of the word love; spending her free time with people who only liked her when she was successful—shallow, callous people who enjoyed playing power games with those less fortunate than themselves.

It wasn’t noble, but... ‘I hope you gave them a seriously hard time.’

‘I can assure you that they didn’t enjoy the experience.’

The warmth in his eyes almost undid her. She leapt up to pour herself a glass of water. ‘Oh, here.’ She pulled a velvet pouch from her handbag. ‘My grandmother’s ring. You might like to keep a hold of it.’

‘No.’

She frowned. ‘I thought you were going to be my muscle, my brawn...my hard man.’ It’d be safer with him than with her.

‘You keep hold of the ring and I’ll guard you.’ There wasn’t an ounce of compromise in his eyes. Slowly she pocketed it again, recalling his words when he’d demanded the jewels be removed from the cottage. I’ve been to prison, Nell, and I’m not going back.

Bile churned in her stomach. Jail must’ve been hell. Pure hell. She wished he’d been spared that.

‘Did you make an appointment for a valuation?’

‘Yes, we’re to meet with the evaluator in an hour.’

He stopped eating to stare at her. It felt as if his gaze reached right down into her soul. She swallowed and wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. ‘You sure you’re okay with this?’ he said.

Was he afraid she’d become hysterical partway through negotiations?

‘I wish things could be otherwise, but that’s just not possible. So, yes, I’m okay with this.’