Leath's Legacy Page 21

  “I’m fine,” she replied inanely, trying to manufacture some saliva back into her mouth.

  “I know your friend was ringing you at seven. I thought you might need someone to talk to.”

  Oh crap! Now her whole body turned to pulp.

  “Did she have any more startling news?”

  Words spurted from Leath’s mouth. All about the coroner’s court and Margaret’s death and her parents’ lies and her sense of betrayal and everything else clogged up inside about Penny.

  “Shall I come over?”

  She rubbed the tightness across her forehead. Oh God, yes. Please come and hold me.

  “I’m only a couple of minutes away. If I could help...?”

  If he could help? He could make all this go away. For a little while he could shove it all from her mind. Instead, his comfort would provide joy and excitement and fulfilment.

  Even as her body tingled, her shoulders slumped. But it would only go away until tomorrow. Then she’d be filled with the devastating remorse unrequited love would bring.

  With a shaky breath she gave the only answer she could. “I’m okay.” She swung down the legs that had somehow gravitated onto the sofa while she’d been speaking, and stood up. “Thanks, all the same.”

  Had she even managed to instil some strength into her voice? She hoped so. Stumbling across to the fridge she poured a drink, needing something to distract her from his silken voice—least she renege.

  “Actually I was about to ring your mother.”

  “My mother?” he chuckled. “And I hoped you were so quick answering cos you were about to call me.”

  She forced a chuckle. “Sorry. I never gave you a thought,” she lied.

  His disbelieving laugh echoed in her ear. “Not even a little thought?”

  Somehow she had to do this, had to convince him she hadn’t spent hours mooning over him after he dropped her off. How could she make the pretence sound likely? Believable? “Well, I suppose I did wonder how your mother was. So I guess you could say I did. But it was only a little thought.”

  She took a deep breath and shot for the jugular. “I had more important things on my mind.”

  “I know you do.”

  Damn, he doesn’t sound put off or worried about being ignored. He didn’t sound deflated at all. His confidence remained intact.

  “Would you like to speak to her?”

  Speak to whom?

  “I’ll get Mum for you, shall I?”

  Oh, his mother. “Only if she’s feeling well enough.”

  “She’s fine.” Kirk gave another little chuckle. He’d guessed she was using his mother as a distraction.

  Thank heavens she had something definite to ask Mary, not just an inquiry into her health. Kirk should deduce this from overhearing one end of the conversation.

  Mary assured Leath her discomfort had lasted only hours and she was back to being “as fit as a fiddle.”

  “I wondered if you would look at some of Penny’s photos. Maybe one evening before I go back to Auckland?”

  “Of course, we’d love to. When do you have to go back?”

  “Not until next Wednesday.”

  “Oh good, that gives us plenty of time to get to know you better.” Leath was taken aback at the warmth in Mary’s voice. “How about the day after tomorrow? Terry goes to a care centre tomorrow, and he’s often tired afterwards.”

  “Wonderful. Thanks so much.”

  “You must join us for dinner. Bring all the photos up, and we’ll see how many we can help you with.”

  “But I won’t impose over dinnertime—”

  “Of course you’ll have dinner with us. There’s nothing worse than cooking for yourself. I bet you’re living off canned food when you’re up here.”

  Leath laughed. Had Mary been a fly on her wall? Baked beans and eggs were her staple diet in Greene Valley. “Well, if you’re sure...that would be lovely.”

  Was lovely quite the right word? It was very kind of Mary, but sitting with Kirk, sharing a meal with him and his family. It somehow emphasised a connection she couldn’t contemplate. Mustn’t contemplate.

  “Then in response I’d like to invite you to join us for a barbeque on Saturday. Robby will be here and I know he’d like to meet you.” Maybe not, but he’d need to meet the neighbours at some stage. “Tristan will already be here painting with me.”

  Realisation hit her like a sledge hammer. She could have bitten out her tongue. “If you don’t think it would be traumatic for Terry, that is.”

  Terry’s association with this house was the reason they’d been so desperate to buy the place. Socialising down here might be upsetting for him.

  Mary’s voice softened. “How considerate, thank you Leath.” Leath heard her draw a deep breath. “To be honest, I don’t know what sort of reaction he will have. I never know from one moment to the next. We have good days and bad days.” Another sigh. “I’m learning to take each day as it comes.”

  “Then you decide on Saturday. We’ll look forward to you coming to the barbie. If Terry’s not up to it, then don’t worry. I’ll send home a doggy bag for you both.”

  Mary chuckled. “Thank you, dear. You’re very understanding. Did you want to talk to Kirk again?”

  “No! No, thanks. Good night.” Cutting the connection, Leath frowned. Mary’s query had sounded eager, hopeful.

  Oh no. She didn’t sense matchmaking in the air, did she? That wouldn’t do. Not when Kirk’s deepest emotions weren’t involved.

  Next morning a very determined and focused Leath prepared for work. After the whole day off yesterday, she was behind schedule. Two units needed to be completed before her holiday was over. Robby and she had agreed having all seven ready for this summer was unrealistic.

  Providing the idea proved successful, and their marketing worked, irregular tariffs from five units hopefully would cover rates and insurance before making a dent in the amount they’d spent doing the place up.

  Leaving her rinsed coffee mug upturned on the bench, Leath headed outside. Even Kirk’s text wishing her “good morning” hadn’t deterred her optimism she’d achieve heaps today.

  His mention of expecting to be tied up for the next couple of days helped her arrive at this conclusion. He wouldn’t be intruding. Not physically, anyway.

  Because the Roman villa allowed more scope for Tristan to help her on Saturday, this morning she would sketch out their next theme, Arabian Nights.

  Originally tempted to use a melee of curtaining to achieve the effect of a Moroccan tent, she’d decided fabric would require extra cleaning. Instead she had a supply of green, red and gold paints and hoped to incorporate a design she’d seen in a library book.

  If it worked, this unit would capture the Moroccan ethos. Any guests electing to stay here could imagine they were visiting with Arabian kings and sultans of a bygone era.

  She grimaced as she stared up at the ceiling. Getting red and green painted stripes to give the impression of flowing fabric would be difficult but...she chewed her bottom lip and then shrugged, berating herself for wasting time.

  Her goal for today was to map out her design and get the ceiling painted. She dragged the ladder into place, picked up a pencil, and climbed.

  ****

  All the way to the Buchanan’s house next evening, despite a stern lecture to quell her nerves, Leath soon found her concern wasted. Kirk wasn’t even home. He’d had to go to Auckland.

  Leath refused to accept the mood settling over her resembled disappointment. She wasn’t disappointed. She was eager and excited at the prospect of what the photos might reveal. Terry was alert and talkative and she enjoyed verbally fencing with the children. Why would she care whether Kirk was there or not?

  “My mummy will be out of hospell soon.” Little Olivia, her missing front teeth making her lisp a little, sat beside Leath. “I miss her.”

  Leath smiled down at her. “I bet she’s missing you more.”

  “Not when we put all our m
issing together,” Tristan argued.

  “When are you expecting Fiona home?” Leath asked Mary.

  “Can’t be soon enough for me.” Terry’s eyes twinkled. “Get these noisy hooligans out of my house.”

  How awful Alzheimer’s is for families. Leath shook her head. Here was Terry at his best, laughing and joking with his grandchildren, interacting—albeit a little uncertain at times—but being part of everything around him. Tomorrow might be the day he wouldn’t even recognise them.

  “Stop kidding, Granddad,” Olivia ordered in a stern voice. “You know you love us.”

  Laughter filled the room at the feigned fierce expression on Terry’s face.

  “Cade said Fiona’s hoping to be out before the weekend.” Mary told Leath, worrying her bottom lip. “I hope she doesn’t bug them to let her out too soon. We’re a long way from a hospital up here.”

  “I’m sure the doctors will take that into account. They won’t release her if they have any doubts about her recovery. It’s incredible what modern medicine is doing now. Patients heal so much faster...” Her words faded away.

  “Go on, say it”—Mary grimaced—“...than in my day?”

  Leath grinned back, lying in denial, “I would never presume...”

  Mary chuckled. “No, I don’t think you would, but you may as well. It was clearly what you were thinking.”

  Leath searched for something different to say. This familiar interaction placed her on a way-too-close relationship with Mary.

  “I’m so pleased she’ll be home before I have to leave. I would have visited her in hospital on my way home, of course, but its great knowing she’ll be out by then.”

  She smiled as the children cleared the dishes from the table. “Now I understand why they’re so excited.”

  Mary refused to allow Leath access to the kitchen after dinner. Instead the adults poured over Leath’s photos. At the ready with a pen, Leath annotated names of those the pair recognised.

  The more recent photos were of local community events, and her hosts were able to often name everyone in the pictures. But the albums from an earlier era drew very little.

  “She was well into her thirties, maybe even forty when she arrived in Greene Valley,” Mary explained.

  “Their marriage certificate said she was forty-two and George was forty-seven.”

  “There you go, then. These photos”—Mary ran her finger across a couple of albums open on the table—“are earlier. Look at the clothes, and those hairdos. These would have been taken well before she married George.” She flipped a page. “We might be able to pick out Penny, though.”

  Leath frowned as she looked over their shoulders. “I couldn’t see anyone who looked vaguely like the woman in the wedding photo.”

  “That shot isn’t a good likeness,” Terry murmured. He had an uncanny eye and in almost every one of the earlier pictures he’d identified Penny.

  “Look Mary.” Terry pointed at a man who appeared in several photos. “I think he’s her brother. What do you think?”

  He frowned, rubbing a hand around the back of his neck. “Or maybe I’ve forgotten.” His frown deepened. “I think he used to visit them. He was a lot older than in these, of course, but I think that’s him. John or Jim? Maybe it was Jack. Do you remember his name, Mary?” His apologetic look sliced through Leath’s excitement.

  “If Penny had a brother, could he still be alive? Would you know?” Even as the words escaped Leath knew they were rhetorical. The neighbours hadn’t been close. It was unlikely the Buchanans would know whether Penny’s brother was alive or dead.

  She watched them share a glance before confirming this with a shake of their heads.

  “No, he must be dead,” Leath mused out loud. “Or he’d have been her next of kin in the retirement home. But what if he’d had children? They might know what happened.”

  Leath checked her watch. Damn, too late to ring Joyce now. “Our flatmate’s mother is a keen genealogist; she’s helping me look up public records. She’ll know how to find Penny’s siblings and any surviving children of those siblings.”

  Leath had to stop herself from jumping up and down as another possible avenue of discovery opened. “Thank you so much, Terry”—she hugged his shoulders—“you’ve given me something else to try.”

  It was impossible to clamp down on her excitement. “I’m not giving up on this until I find every answer I can. Even if it takes me years.”

  ****

  An eager call to Joyce next morning left Leath disappointed. Expecting out-of-town family to arrive for the upcoming long weekend, Joyce wasn’t going to be able to do any more research until the following week.

  Masking disappointment, Leath reassured her, “That’s great cos I’ll be back on Wednesday. We could go to the family history centre together.” Relieved to hear the regret leave Joyce’s voice, Leath arranged to call the following week and organise a time.

  With a forced cheery farewell, she dropped her mobile onto the chair. Blast! She wanted answers now, today, this minute. There might be cousins somewhere able to answer the many questions buzzing around inside her head.

  Chaffing against the inevitable isn’t getting the work done, she chided as she tried to switch off and concentrate on things possible to control. Like preparing for their very first guests. The thought of having her dreams come to fruition helped lift Leath out of her mood.

  This afternoon, about three—she’d asked for an expected arrival time so she might prepare a welcome—a couple from the Coromandal were coming to spend the weekend in the South Seas unit. With a light step Leath checked the unit one more time, leaving the windows and doors open to encourage the fresh, salt-laden air to enhance the theme of the room. She laughed aloud at her own absurdity.

  “Please let them enjoy their stay,” she whispered, her gaze rising upward.

  Providing everything worked well, this weekend summoned in a new future for her and Robby, a future of financial security. Penny’s money hadn’t felt theirs to enjoy. But by using it to achieve all this...

  Leath wandered onto the driveway in front of the house and swung around. If this venture succeeded, they could afford to eat steak every night. Prime steak, too.

  Steak! Drat. She’d invited who knows how many people to a barbeque tomorrow night and hadn’t thought about what to feed them. Grabbing her phone she texted Robby. A wholesale butcher in Albany should still be open when he left the city, he could get meat there. She’d slip into town in the morning and get vegetables and bread.

  Content she’d sorted out a plan of action for tomorrow, it was time to get on with the Arabian Nights.

  Examining yesterday’s work as she entered the unit she nodded her satisfaction. The “drapes” across the ceiling weren’t quite three-dimensional, but they’d work once she completed the similarly painted walls. By the time she painted the small but intricate gold patterns onto each panel around the walls it would look pretty much like a Moor tent, she decided.

  Absorbed, she missed the purr of a car engine close by. The horn’s toot had her brush skittling across the panel she worked on, leaving a gold smudge behind it.

  Oh no! Her guests had arrived early. She wasn’t ready. The wine...she hadn’t even made the scones yet. Swiping the smudged paint haphazardly with a cloth, she dropped it and rushed outside.

  Kirk leant on the open door of his car, looking around for her. His hand stopped its movement toward the horn again. Irrationally irritated by his smile, Leath stomped forward.

  “What do you want?”

  His smile grew into a grin. “And hello to you, too.”

  Heat burned Leath’s face and she dropped her gaze. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t hear the car. The horn startled me.”

  Kirk looked at her strangely when she remained silent. “I guess you’re busy...”

  Yes. She was busy. Too busy to stop and talk to him now. She stared at him, focusing on his left ear for fear what looking into his eyes might do
to her determination not to show how much he affected her.

  “I stopped by to invite you to dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Dinner?” she repeated.

  “Yeah, dinner, you know, the meal you normally eat in the evening. There’s an Indian restaurant down the coast a little that serves the most incredible food.”

  An uncertain look crossed his face. “You do like Indian, don’t you? You enjoyed that samosa you had in Whangarei. I remember you saying you like spicy food.”

  Leath’s head bobbed up and down. He’d remembered what she ate. “Ahh—”

  “You’re not going back to Auckland until Wednesday, you said?”

  “Ahh, no.” Where had her brain disappeared to, for heaven’s sake?

  “So I can pick you up around six-thirty?” His smile echoed his confidence.

  Her shaking head wiped the smile away. “I have plans for tomorrow.”

  His eyebrows plunged down over narrowed eyes. “Oh.”

  With a darkening expression he straightened, his back stiff. He turned and strode to his car throwing over his shoulder a scathing response, “I apologise for assuming...”

  In a second, Leath’s inertia vanished and she tore after him, grabbing at his arm as he opened the door. “I’m having a barbeque tomorrow night.”

  Desperate words jumped out, running after each other. “I’ve invited the Buchanan family to a barbeque. I didn’t know if you’d be back, but I want you—”

  Kirk grasped her arms, glaring down at her. “You haven’t got a hot date with some other bloke?”

  Leath’s eyes boggled. What other bloke? She hadn’t even seen any eligible blokes around Greene Valley, except this one. She shook her head.

  His grip lightened. “You weren’t fobbing me off?”

  Again Leath shook her head, brown eyes now locked with blue. A smile twitched at the edge of Kirk’s lips. “You invited my whole family to a barbeque?”

  This time she nodded.

  “So I’m invited, too?” His hands were running up and down her bare arms.

  He seemed to be enjoying this one-sided conversation a little too much, but Leath wasn’t sure her own voice would work. She was having enough trouble controlling the quivering sensations coursing through her at his touch.