Finding Elizabeth (4 page)

“There’s nothing either of us can do. It’s important that you have a lovely time where it’s warm. That’s what I want for you, Mum.”

A heavy sigh came down the line. Her mother blew her nose and said, “The sun is heavenly. I’m a new woman already.” Katherine heard Cynthia muttering in the background. Despite her grief, Katherine’s mother giggled. “Cynthia’s a tyrant, you know. She makes me do all these weird contortions in the water, says it’s therapeutic.”

“Yes—and the pool boy’s my treat!” Cynthia called out.

Margaret gasped. “See what I have to put up with?”

“Oh, it sounds real tough,” Katherine joked.

“How is Pierre?”

“Changing the subject, Mum? Pool boys aren’t your thing?” She heard her mother gasp again, and giggled. “Anyway, Pierre is like a kid in a candy store, happy organising the festivities.”

“Give him a hug for me,” Margaret suggested.

“Will do. I’m off to Valley Lodge to see how I best fit in. The elderly are looking forward to my classes and care.”

“I hope you’re not doing this for me, okay? I will not let you waste your life nursing me.”

“Mum! That’s not why I’m doing this. I loved it last summer when we danced for them. Five years ago, I decided that once I retired I would be a physiotherapist. And if my new skills can help you, then why not?”

“Okay, just making sure.”

“Yeah well, you just stop worrying, and I will too. The skies will clear and you’ll get home, it doesn’t matter what day. I’d better go, talk to you soon. Love you.”

In the vestibule, Katherine dug out her favourite, fleecy-lined boots. The phone rang; this time it was the landline in the living room.

Why does that happen? It’s a conspiracy.

“Damn it.” She hurried to the carved sideboard and picked up the handset, but before she uttered a word …

“Miss me yet?”

Shit, he’d found her. That’s it, no more Miss Nice. “Stay the bloody hell out of my life, Eric!” Katherine hissed.

Her fingers squeezed the handset. Pity it wasn’t his neck. She slammed the receiver down, not once, but several times, just to be sure. She let fly a few choice curses on her way out. The phone rang again. She stomped through the living room and yanked the connection out of the wall. “Keep trying, moron!”

Back in the vestibule, Katherine pulled on her boots and covered her head and ears with her red knitted hat. She wrapped a matching scarf around her nose and mouth, and slipped on a pair of sunglasses to protect her eyes from the glare. She hitched the long strap of her purse around her neck and across her chest to the opposite hip. Stored under the bench seat was an array of skates. She pulled hers out, slung them over her shoulder, and smiled.

Rugged up against the bitter cold, Katherine left the cabin and stomped down the icy granite steps. Anger surged because she’d mislaid her shit-for-brains-man radar. On reflection, what pissed her off most was that, as a patron, Eric had weaselled his way into the company
. He took advantage of our good nature. How stupid were we?!
She pulled her hat further down.

Except for a few clouds clinging to the craggy peaks, the sky had cleared and a bright winter sun greeted her as she headed for her car.

Katherine brooded as she scraped ice off the windscreen. Men never hung around unless they had issues, baggage, or were really screwed up—like Eric. She couldn’t get away from him. At her age, she should’ve had more sense. Should’ve been able to tell from at least ten metres whether a person had all their faculties or not. It was all too hard. Better to concentrate on what she was going to do with the rest of her life. At least that brought a smile to her face. And damn it, she could eat whatever she wanted.

Jack Riley’s bum hit the icy bench. Instantly, the brutal cold pierced his skin through a thick layer of thermal underwear and denim.

Man, it was freezing. He should never have slogged into town wearing tennis racquets on his feet. With every step, snow splattered up the back of his legs. The locals must think him a novice. No, rephrase that, the locals
knew
he was a novice.

Stretching to remove the kinks from his spine and legs, Jack tried to catch as much of the sun’s rays as possible. He could have been lazing on white, sandy beaches under the tropical sun of Port Douglas or Sydney; instead he was in an icebox that made his face ache, his eyes water and his nose drip. He felt like moaning—so he did.

He lifted his sunglasses and rested them on the ridiculous multicoloured hat with a pom-pom on top. Dave’s grandmother had knitted it, and Jack was thankful it covered his head and ears. She’d fought
hard
to protect a homeless young kid. Everyone who’d helped got a colourful knitted hat. The lawyer Jack had found for her received a hat and matching scarf. Yeah, everything about his hat made him smile.

“Wow, who’s that?” he whispered and quickly forced his slouching body upright.

A young woman had stopped at the kerb opposite him, making sure it was safe before she crossed. The blades of her skates, slung casually over one shoulder, flashed as they caught the sun. Her long raven hair, in brilliant contrast to her red snow hat, had escaped the scarf wound around her nose and face, and the dark waves bounced and fluttered in her wake. She had pushed her sunglasses up on top of her hat and all Jack could see were two inches of pale skin and a pair of expressive eyes. When her eyes met Jack’s, he held his breath.

If only he could see the rest of her face. She made his blood pulse hot through his body, which moments ago had almost been frostbitten. Her elegant posture, the sway of her hips and her long legs—everything about her made him smile.

Pull the scarf down. Come on, pull the scarf down.

Something about her seemed familiar. She waited in the centre of the road for a battered cream-coloured pickup to pass. It left a trail of polluted condensation. She coughed, and waved at the smog.
It can’t be
, Jack smiled. She came closer and caught him staring. Their eyes locked for a heartbeat. Oh, oh. Did he see a spark of anger—or worse, accusation?

Dismissing him, she scanned the area up and down the street in search of something or someone. She was humming, perhaps to cover the fact that she was nervous, or wary. She approached, to the right of him, just feet away now, and her gaze dropped, pinning him with clear, blue eyes.

“G’day,” he said, giving her his best, slow, easy smile.

Was that a nod? He wanted it to be. As she passed, the air moved and he caught a hint of her perfume; a light scent, a promise of spring. She stumbled over a crack in the pavement and in the same instant, Jack leaned forward, arms reaching, ready to help. She found her footing, turned a frosty glare his way, and he stopped in mid-action. Quickly she mounted the steps to the general store. The old-fashioned bell attached to the front door tinkled and his mystery woman disappeared inside.

In a flash, Jack was on his feet, rubbing the feeling back into his bum and thighs, ready to follow. Wait a minute, why was he doing this? He didn’t know, and right now didn’t care.

“What the hell,” he muttered. Slinging the snowshoes over his shoulder, he mounted the steps leading to the store.

He had to see her face, had to meet her.

The man sitting on the bench freezing his bum off was an idiot, Katherine decided. He’d stared at her the moment she stepped off the kerb and the whole time she’d been trying to cross the street. What was there to see covered from head to foot except for her eyes? What she wanted to do was grab his silly hat and beat him over the head with it. It wasn’t a good idea to try her patience this morning.

Her mistake had been to glance his way and then immediately trip on the uneven footpath. His instant reaction was to reach out to her. She’d swung around and glared at him and he froze.
Good
. It was his fault she’d tripped.

The bell tinkled as she pushed the door open to the grocery store. Katherine pulled down her scarf and breathed in the aromas of coffee beans, teas, chocolate, and sweets. Memories flooded back to when she was young and on her way home from school. Every Friday she would pop into the store and buy her favourite, a piece of vanilla fudge. The familiar store helped her relax, and shake off men behaving like morons this morning.

To hell with men!

The store had everything—groceries, sewing needles, garden tools and more. Packed to the rafters with hardware and spilling down over the floor, it barely left room for the huge potbellied stove radiating warmth all around.

“Good morning, Katherine,” Millie said from behind the old, beaten wooden counter, her rosy cheeks plumping as she smiled, the soft skin around her hazel eyes crinkling. “It’s lovely to see you home for the holidays. And the sun’s shining, it’s perfect.”

“Hi, Millie, you’re looking well,” Katherine replied with a warm smile. Ted Steele and his wife Millie were honest, hard-working people, much like her mum and dad had been. Except now, there was just her mum.

“Thank you.” Concern clouded Millie’s face. “Are you okay, dear? You look worried.”

“It’s nothing. I had a late night and an early start this morning. Once I’ve finished here, I’m off to Julie’s Café for a stack of hot pancakes, maple syrup and cream.” She could hardly wait.

“Sounds delicious. By the way, please thank Pierre for the tickets. We made it to the evening performance of
The Fire Bird
. And you were wonderful, Katherine, so beautiful up there on the stage, I cried.”

Katherine laughed. “Gosh.”

Millie leaned over the counter and whispered, “I’m sure we weren’t the only ones. A young man right in front of us was sitting on the edge of his seat. Ted would deny it, but I know his eyes were glistening too.”

“Where is the old softy?” Katherine asked, artfully deflecting any further questions about ballet. She still had to accept the fact she’d ended her career.

“I’m out the back,” Ted’s gravelly voice called out. “But I’m not too busy to wish my favourite customer a Merry Christmas.” He came in from the storeroom—a tall man, soft around the edges, with iron-grey hair and a big fat greying moustache. The bib on his calico apron blinked with tiny red lights that said “Seasons Greetings”. “Merry Christmas, Katy. Loved ya dancin’,” he chuckled. “Nice to see ya in town for the holidays. Traffic’s bad, but don’t care. Tourists been great for business.”

“I passed one sitting outside. It’s got to be one of the coldest days on record. If he sits there much longer, he’ll freeze to that bench.”

Ted’s brow crinkled, forcing his bristly eyebrows to jut out. “I have several blowtorches, we can thaw him off—from a good distance, of course.” A big grin mapped laughter lines on his face. “It was minus twenty-five Celsius outside this mornin’. This fool wasn’t wearin’ a multicoloured hat with a pom-pom on top, was he?”

“Yes, that’s him,” Katherine replied. “Do you know him?” A little snooping never hurt.

“He came in real early this morning and spoke to Ted, said he’s from Australia, staying at the Holmes’ place,” Millie smiled. “You know, the big house on the ridge—by himself too. I believe it’s a house swap. I wonder what the Holmes’ are getting.”

“Can’t be too bad,” Ted put in. “The Holmes’ buy this fella’s wine.”

“He’s looking for someone,” Millie said. “But he doesn’t know who, exactly. Someone named Ellie Johnson. It’s a popular name in these parts. He’ll have a tough time.”

“Nice fella,” Ted chuckled. “Bit jetlagged.”

The bell tinkled as the door swung open, but it was the thud of boots on the timber floor that caught Katherine’s attention. She turned to see a tall man, rugged up in sheepskin, approaching the counter. Yep, it was the idiot from outside with his screwball hat. Katherine could only assume he was harmless. But staring at people would only end in trouble. Eventually, someone was going to slap him. He was cute though—if she were the least bit interested, which she wasn’t.

“We were just talkin’ about you!” Ted exclaimed, “Heard you may be sittin’ on the sidewalk bench! Ya have to know sittin’ anywhere outside on a day like this will turn ya into a popsicle.”

The red-nosed Australian had an infectious chuckle. He pulled off his hat and gloves, shoved them into his pockets and briefly faced his palms to the radiating heat as he neared the big potbelly stove.

“It’s a long story,” the stranger said. “And has something to do with snowshoes and trying to get them off. It would’ve made a great funniest home video. Not that I have anything against amusing people, but I’m not falling on my backside if I can help it. Not out there, it’s deadly.”

He had a deep mellow voice, and she had to admit his accent was endearing.

But he was no Gerard Butler on a hot beach.

He flashed Katherine a brilliant smile. His blue-grey eyes, crinkling at the corners, didn’t waver as they openly studied hers.
That’s a bit cheeky
. She gave him a cheesy, I’ve-got-you-pegged smile back. She had a perfect right to be in a petulant mood; Eric had made sure of that.

“Katherine,” Millie said happily, distracting Katherine from making further appraisals. “This is Jack. I’m sorry, I don’t know your last name, but Ted has told me all about you.”