Home Truths (18 page)

Jennifer heard a strangled squeak come out of her mouth. She cleared her throat. ‘We never dreamt — I mean, at least I thought some of it would go to someone else, like Veronica. Why us?'

‘My guess is, you're his family.' Was that a wicked, little smile? Mr Spaulding had a sense of humour. The next moment he was serious again. ‘We know nothing of this woman Veronica.'

Sofie blinked, turning pale now. ‘I need a paper bag,' she mumbled.

‘Mum, get a grip.'

‘What if our parents decide to contest the will?' Jennifer put in.

‘They can try. In fact, their lawyer has contacted me already. As I explained to him, they can spend a lot of money contesting Bob's will, but they will fail. Bob Feldman was
adamant
, he didn't want his properties to fall into their hands. I am under strict instructions. Your uncle also had concerns regarding your brother, Bret. Bob decided against bequeathing your brother anything, only to have it squandered on harebrained schemes and gambling. However, he did make provisions for Bret: it's a small boutique vineyard, twenty kilometres north of town. But you, Jennifer, and you, Sofie, hold it in trust until such time you believe Bret is responsible. Until then, you will both look after Bret as you see fit; Bob was adamant about that as well. There is a copy of a statement from your uncle in the file. Read it carefully.'

Jennifer's mind reeled at this news. If
she
couldn't cope, how must Sofie feel? She looked across at her sister, who stared wide-eyed at Robert Spaulding.

‘Probate will take a few months,' he continued. ‘It's a formality that everyone has to endure. You needn't worry, your uncle made sure his properties were well managed. He kept a vigilant eye on all his accounts.'

Jennifer found her voice. ‘I don't understand. We were close. He mentioned pharmacies, but we never thought to ask about his financial state. Why would we? We never took him up on his offer to help us financially either. And he did offer. Thinking back, he used to buy us gifts he thought we needed.' She couldn't stop herself and babbled on. ‘Are you sure Uncle Bob had no female friend, local people who helped him, the odd fireman, clergyman, Country Women's Association members?'

‘You are the only ones. Though he had many friends.' He nodded for emphasis. ‘Many. Perhaps one of them could have been a special lady. I wouldn't know, nor is it any of my business.' He opened a drawer in his desk, took out two fat envelopes, and handed one each to Jennifer and Sofie. ‘Bob kept his financial affairs close to his chest, he wasn't one to boast. There's something he said to me once, which might help you. “People behave differently towards you if they believe you have money. They want a piece of what you've got.” Having said that, your uncle was a very generous man.'

‘Yes,' Jennifer admitted. ‘The family image thing runs deep.'

‘Bob knew you'd both be strapped for cash, as he would say. He left some with me to pass on to you. Take this folder too, all the legal documents are inside. Read them carefully and don't feel overwhelmed; it's all fairly simple.'

He buzzed his secretary. ‘Barbara, come into my office please.'

Barbara, a statuesque grey-blonde, wearing a crisp white blouse under a navy blue suit, came in and stood beside Mr Spaulding.

‘Barbara, I need you to witness these young ladies signing the trustee papers and counting the money. Jennifer, make sure you have two thousand dollars. Sofie, you should have three thousand dollars, one extra for Claudia.'

‘I've never seen this much cash,' Jennifer mumbled.

‘Me either,' Sofie whispered.

Claudia stared goggle-eyed at the envelope. ‘A thousand for me. Yay!'

‘All there? Good. Sign here, please.' The solicitor pointed to the dotted lines on several sets of documents. An unexpected softness lifted his serious face. Eyes on Claudia, he paused. ‘My dear girl, let me just say that your eulogy was exactly what Bob would've liked and,
ahem
, your outfit too.'

Claudia beamed. Jennifer took Mr Spaulding's hand and shook it, thanking him. Sofie stood up but didn't move.

‘I'm sure my sister thanks you too.'

Out on the footpath, arms flapping, Claudia started jumping up and down with excitement.

‘Wow! Seriously sick. Mum, we're rich! We can move from Manly into something huge. We can get the biggest LCD, wide-angle screen with surround sound. Oh, oh, I was so not looking forward to working as a checkout chick to save up for a car, and now I don't have to. This is fantastic, I can't wait to tell Skids!'

‘Holy crap — we own vineyards!' Jennifer blinked at her sister, hoping it would help her understand.

‘I can't get my head around this,' Sofie mumbled. She frowned at her daughter. ‘You are not to tell Skids or
anyone
. I want you to be crystal clear on this, Claudia.'

‘Mum! Jeez.'

‘We own vineyards,' Jennifer whispered to herself.

‘Jen! Help me out here, what do you think?'

‘Well…there are responsibilities that come with this,' Jennifer nodded at Claudia. ‘People's jobs, mostly. And I think what your mum is saying is, if the wrong people should find out, like whatsisface your dad, then — I don't know, he might try something like demand half. And your mum wouldn't want to deal with that.' And there was Bret and his thugs. ‘If Bret happens to ring,' she eyed both of them. ‘Do
not
say a word about this to him either.'

Claudia rolled her eyes. ‘Skids wouldn't tell anybody.' Jennifer gave her a stern look. ‘Okay, I won't say anything to anyone.' Another look from Jennifer. ‘I promise. Anyway, listen to the both of you, waffling on about negative stuff.'

‘I need a double shot latté,' Jennifer announced and looked around for a café.

All three peered up and down the street. They couldn't see a coffee shop among the many signs hanging under the wide awnings.

‘There's Trudy, the florist. Stay here, I'll go ask her.' Stepping out of the shade and into the sun, Jennifer instantly felt the sting of its rays. As heat rose from the bitumen straight through the soles of her shoes, she picked up her pace and jogged across the street. ‘Trudy!'

The young woman, wearing T-shirt, shorts and Crocs, turned around.

‘Oh hi, you bought the yellow roses yesterday. Bob Feldman's niece.'

‘Hi, just wanted to ask, is there a place in town where we can get a coffee?'

‘Sure, there's the bakery and the teashop. Or the roadhouse — they make a great cappuccino with instant and lots of froth.'

Jennifer felt her shoulders slump. ‘I'll try the bakery.'

‘Good choice.' Trudy slanted her head and gave Jennifer the eye. ‘I heard Mrs Jarvis say, Calum's been around the shop a fair bit?'

‘Has he?' Jennifer questioned. On reflection, Calum hadn't come around just for the sake of it. He always had good reason — hadn't he? She wondered where this was going: part of her wanted —
needed —
to know, while another part cried out, run!

‘You can't keep anything quiet in this town. Though Mrs Jarvis is no gossip.' Trudy shook her head. ‘She said Cal was putting up smoke alarms to keep the adjoining shops safe. Others are saying there's more to it than that, especially after Cal nearly smashed the front door trying to get in, you know.' She gave Jennifer a quirky little shrug.

‘He was…that's because he happened to be…' Jennifer stuttered.

‘Anyway, don't listen to blabbermouths or other rumours about Cal.'

Jennifer stiffened. ‘What rumours?'

‘It's nothing really. A local girl got herself pregnant and pointed her belly at Cal.' Trudy shrugged. ‘One day he's every mother's dream son in-law and the next he's off their Christmas list. I don't care about that sort of crap, he's a doll.'

It was totally irrational. Nevertheless, Jennifer could not ignore the sharp pang in her chest. ‘I think we'll go and find that coffee now. Thanks, Trudy.' Frowning, she jogged back to where Sofie and Claudia waited.

‘What, no coffee to be had?' Sofie smoothed away stray hair around Jennifer's face.

‘Sure there is.' Jennifer strode off, shoulders straight, thoughts racing. What did it matter to her what Calum was accused of? She barely knew him. Come to think of it, she barely knew Vlad, waiting fruitlessly back in London. He was definitely off
her
Christmas list; he just didn't know it yet. A relationship was built on trust — and he'd lost hers when he'd taken money from her purse. Borrowed money and never returned it. Booked her on a cheap, dodgy plane and pocketed the change.

Strike three — you're out.

* * *

Jennifer placed a small cardboard tray of coffees and lamingtons on the low breakfast bar in her sister's motel room.

She sipped her espresso and sighed.
‘Hmm
…this is good, and just in time, I was starting to hallucinate.'

‘You probably drink too much of the stuff.' Sofie joined her, holding a folder of legal papers.

‘What am I going to do while you sit there reading?' Claudia asked, biting into a lamington. Desiccated coconut and chocolate stuck to her lips.

‘We won't be long,' Sofie said. ‘Watch an in-house movie.'

‘Great,' Claudia moaned and flopped onto the bed. ‘You should've let me bring my phone, Mum. Please can I use yours?'

‘We had a deal.'

‘Mum!'
Claudia whined. ‘At least let me text Skids?'

Sofie handed Claudia her mobile. ‘Don't say anything about the will,' she warned.

Jennifer opened the folder to find several large photos of their uncle's vineyards. ‘Have you got these?' Jennifer handed them over to her sister.

Sofie looked at them. ‘Yes, I've got duplicates,' she whispered in awe.

Jennifer spread the photos out in front of her. ‘Stunning, simply stunning. I never dreamt they were like this. The buildings and home look like a small Tuscan castillo.'

‘There's a lot we didn't know about our uncle,' Sofie said. ‘He took us there for my eighteenth, remember?' She pointed to a photo of a beautiful sandstone mansion with terraces overlooking rolling hills covered in lush vines. ‘I never knew it was his.'

By early evening, Jennifer couldn't stand any more of the mumbo-jumbo legal jargon. ‘I need an interpreter for most of this. C'mon, let's go for a walk and find a place to eat.'

Stepping out into the setting sun that cast a rich orange glow over the countryside, Jennifer paused. If she ignored the Edwardian architecture and focused on the rolling hills covered with vineyards, she could be in Tuscany.

Jennifer tossed a coin. ‘Okay, heads for the RSL, tails for the pub.' She peered down at her hand. ‘It's the pub then. Come on, I'm starving.' She hooked Sofie with one arm and Claudia with the other, and strode towards the hotel.

The twang of soft country music came from inside. A glass panel set into the door had
Blue Sapphire Dining Room
in fancy scrollwork etched into the glass.

Sofie and Claudia shoved the doors open. Jennifer followed.

Familiar aromas of herbs, garlic and char-grilled meat hit her nose, and her stomach began to rumble. They moved into a rustic timber dining room, and were greeted with soft lighting and large candles burning on every table. The battered timber tables looked as if they'd seen a few steel capped boots, belt buckles and various other sharp objects, such as knives. Clive had carved a love note to Betty: Clive loves Betty, Jan 1962.
How sweet.

But something else of far greater significance caught Jennifer's eye. The man had his back to her, but she knew immediately who it was. Calum sat with a group of men and women. Jennifer's heart did a little flip-flop, her knees turned to jelly and her appetite vanished.

Sofie nudged her out of her stupor.

Knees, stomach, body — hello! Jennifer demanded she get a grip; this was just plain silly.

Sofie nudged her again. She leaned in close to Jennifer and whispered, ‘He's just perfect.'

Jennifer's mouth went dry. She turned to Sofie and whispered back, ‘Shut up, Sofe.' She concentrated on walking casually, without bumping into furniture, to where Claudia stood selecting a meal from the chalkboard menu, hanging behind the salad bar.

A short, bald clean-shaven cook, wearing an apron over his shorts, a T-shirt stretched across bodybuilder muscles, and crocodile-skin boots, came out through a set of swinging saloon doors and waited while they studied the menu.

‘I'll have grilled fish, chips, salad and orange juice, thanks,' Claudia said.

‘Charred shark, woodies and OJ,' he called out over his shoulder.

‘I'll have a small prime steak and roast vegetables,' Sofie added.

‘Prime moo and char veg,' he called again.

Jennifer sighed. ‘I'll have a salad. Or soup — got any soup?'

The cook's heavy brows gathered in a frown; with an insane look in his eyes, he crossed his meaty arms and stared at Jennifer.

‘For God's, sake, Jen.' Sofie sounded impatient. ‘You were hungry a moment ago.'

‘Oh all right.' Jennifer rolled her eyes. ‘I'll have the prime moo and char greens, but make it small. Please don't give me half a cow. And could we have two glasses of your house red? Thank you.'

They sat down in a quiet corner and discussed what they should do about their legacy, while Jennifer did her utmost to concentrate and ignore Calum's beautiful back. He was leaning on the table, his white T-shirt stretched taut across muscles.

Mesmerised Jennifer lost all concentration.

‘Jen — Jen!'

‘Hmm?'

‘As Mr Spaulding said, all Uncle Bob's businesses are running smoothly.' Sofie stopped talking when the waiter placed the food and wine down in front of them. She took a sip from her glass. ‘We have to work out what to do with the shop and Uncle Bob's home, soon-ish. And we have to sort through his personal belongings as well.'