“New locks and deadbolts on the windows. A security system. If the local youngsters have taken to using the place as a knocking shop, I need a deterrent.”
Emma spluttered. “Is that what they taught you in those posh schools in the States? Words like knocking shop?”
“I didn’t spend all my time at school,” Cassie said primly. “Some of my friends came from England and taught me the slang.”
“Good to hear. What about inside the house? Decorating-wise, I mean?”
“The walls are in good condition, apart from the graffiti. I’ll paint everything a neutral color, if I can get paint to cover the spray-paint. The floors are great. I’ll scrub them and coat them with a clear seal. I still love to sew and might buy a machine to make curtains. Once that’s done, I can buy furniture and move in, sooner if I can finish the main bedroom and get the kitchen sorted. Maybe a bit ambitious for a month, but I’ll do as much as I can before I leave.”
Emma frowned. “You’re so isolated. What happens if those yahoos turn up in the middle of the night?”
“From memory, there are three farms farther down my road. I might go and introduce myself to the neighbors. Clevedon has a community cop. I’ll stop by and report the vandalism and ask if anyone else has had problems.”
“All good ideas,” Emma said. “The place doesn’t seem as creepy now that Jack has trimmed back the undergrowth and the lawn is cut. Obvious signs of habitation might do the trick with the vandals.”
“True. Are you going swimming? I didn’t pack my swimsuit and no way am I swimming in my underwear. I’ll stick to paddling.”
“Jack loves the water. He taught me to swim. At least, I manage to stay afloat for longer now. If it’s too cold to swim in the sea, we go to the public pool. It’s heated in the winter. Anyway, long story short, Jack has probably grabbed my swimsuit for me.”
Cassie studied her friend. Easy to perceive her happiness, her spark, her satisfaction with the status quo. From their regular letters, she’d known Emma had a crush on Jack, and given her friend’s descriptions, she’d wondered if they’d last. But now, seeing them together, her concern dispersed. Jack adored Emma and touched her often in a casual manner. He lit up whenever he looked at her friend. That spear of envy struck again and she focused on the road.
“I wish I could meet someone like Jack.”
“You will. You want my advice?”
“No.”
“Too bad. My advice is to take advantage of your break while you make decisions about your future. Get out and meet people. I’ll introduce you around. Accept a few dates and live. Enjoy yourself, and even if you don’t find a man, you’ll probably get material for your song writing.”
Emma was right. She had to stop worrying about getting hurt again and take a few risks. At the very least, she’d make new friends, which was something she sorely lacked given the amount of time she spent on the road.
They rounded the corner and Maraetai beach came into view. The wharf appeared more dilapidated than the one in her memory and the old homes had gone, replaced by modern two-level houses, designed to take advantage of the sea views. The beach, however, remained the same as it had during her childhood visits. A long expanse of foreshore, covered with broken shells and sand, looked pristine. Small waves tumbled and rushed over each other, racing toward high-tide mark. A mother and two toddlers played at the edge of the waves, the children’s high-pitch squeaks bringing a smile to her face.
One day she’d like to have children. Her mouth firmed as she climbed from her rental. She’d be a good parent—not an absentee one.
Huh, perhaps that was part of the reason she was digging in her heels when it came to committing to another long tour. Something to consider…
“I’m going to get my swim suit,” Emma said. “The guys will want to eat first.”
Cassie’s belly rumbled at the idea of food. “I’ll come and take orders, then go and buy our lunch while you’re changing.”
Four hours later, Cassie dragged her two bags from the rear of her rental and hauled them into her motel room. Jack and Emma had offered to pick her up and drive her to the barbecue, but she’d decided it was better to drive herself. Give herself an escape route.
Right now, she could do with a hot bath since her muscles screamed, her body protesting her morning’s exertions.
Spotlessly clean, the motel room had one room dominated by a double bed and a kitchenette to do basic cooking. A square, two-person table with chairs rounded out the amenities in the cream and brown room. Like many motels she’d stayed in over the years, it lacked personality. A few photos around the place would help since she intended to stay here for at least a week.
She dumped her bag and strode into the bathroom. A shower. Well, that would do. She unzipped her dress and peeled it off.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Just a sec!”Ugh. She scooped up the dress, yanked it back over her head.
The knock sounded again.
“Coming,” she repeated, a fraction louder.
Of course, she tangled her arms, jamming them in the wrong gaps, and she cursed under her breath as she fumbled to right the material and put her arms in the sleeve holes.
