Her father nodded. ‘I know. But they’re elderly and not really sure how to tackle the issue or where to even start. I thought maybe meeting a real live lawyer would help gentle them into it. And, you know, if it’s an excuse to get you to Settlers for a few days … win-win.’
‘A win for you,’ she corrected.
‘Make your papa happy,’ Nonna ordered.
‘I have to put in the hours if I don’t want that chance at partner to pass me by,’ she started to protest, but hesitated as she noticed her father’s obvious disappointment.
She heaved a dramatic sigh. ‘You know being stuck in the country doesn’t float my boat, Pierce.’
He groaned. ‘Dad-level joke.’
‘Never going to get old,’ she retorted. ‘I mean, what normal adult lives on a paddle-wheeler?’
‘Part time,’ Dad protested. ‘And you’d love it if you tried it.’
Jemma shook her head. ‘Not happening. But if your cottage is available, I guess I can make next weekend work. Foronenight,’ she added firmly as her father’s face brightened.
‘Two nights. Make it worth the drive.’
Jemma pulled a face—but perhaps the boredom of a long weekend in the country might soothe her frayed nerves. A change of scene might be just what she needed to put the notes right out of her mind.
4
Jemma
‘I thought we’d be having a quiet dinner in,’ Jemma said as she embraced Samantha in the kitchen of the riverfront cottage. She liked Dad’s partner but was perplexed by their relationship. Her father had never seemed the type to fall for earthiness, yet Sam displayed a simplicity—or perhaps a moral decency—that was lacking in Jemma’s world.
‘Sorry.’ Sam returned the hug unstintingly. ‘Your dad’s keen to take you to the new restaurant in Settlers.’
‘He did mention that. Turkish, isn’t it? Seems random for a country town. I was really hoping for pasta.’ Dad had a knack for taking something relatively mundane to the next level, slow-cooking red meat or flash-frying succulent seafood to add to the perfect handmade pasta. ‘And Pierce’s been raving about some feijoa dessert you made?’
Sam chuckled. ‘It was just a crumble. We’ve had a feijoa glut—thanks to my brother, Jack—so we’re all getting creative. If you’d been here yesterday, you’d have found feijoa and ginger cake taking prime spot on the CWA tradingtable. That’s my favourite.’ She slapped her stomach. ‘Though I do need to find a healthier version.’
‘Absolutely not,’ Dad said, setting Jemma’s suitcase down on the tiled floor. Obviously, she could have brought it in herself, but Dad was old school. Plus, the case was stuffed. She had no idea what clothes were required for a country weekend and her dad had complicated the choice by texting his suggestion of going out for dinner. Though, as she’d followed the narrow, winding track from the clifftop down to the river flat and through the grounds of the magnificent old Wattle Seed Inn, the seclusion suggested that all she needed were comfortable lounging clothes.
After the past week, the idea of hiding out from everything and everyone for a few days held unprecedented appeal.
The small cottage Dad and Sam rented was one of three on the riverbank, an easy stroll across a few hundred metres of manicured lawns to the inn where Dad worked part-time. Further up the river, hidden by the drooping, winter-black branches of willow trees, was the landing where they moored their pride and joy, the restored paddle-wheelerPelicanet.
Dad wrapped his arms around Sam from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. ‘You’re perfect. We’re perfect. Life is perfect.’
Sam leaned back into his embrace. ‘That is so not what you were saying last night: Gabby told me there was some pot banging and pan crashing happening in the inn kitchen.’
Dad grinned. ‘Well, the weekend menu revolved around fresh rock lobster, so when they didn’t turn up, a small-scale tantrum was warranted. On the upside, I’ve already prepped pork belly and slow-cooked brisket, and no crayfish means that Gabby now doesn’t need me for the rest of the weekend. So, Settlers Bridge for Turkish tonight, then I thought we’dsee if the captain can takePelicanetout for a brunch run tomorrow.’
Jemma vaguely recalled her father mentioning that a mechanic moonlighted as the riverboat captain when he and Sam were hosting at the high-end restaurant they ran aboard the vessel. ‘I have work to do, remember,’ she cautioned, flicking a hand toward the smaller suitcase she’d rolled into the cottage. Stuffed with files and case notes, it weighed almost as much as her clothes. The possibility of no internet horrified her, so she’d printed out everything she could need, including copious precedents and case studies that might prove useful. There were hours’ worth of reading and annotating to be done.
‘Aw, no,’ Sam remonstrated. ‘You need to relax a bit, Jemma. Sleep in, take it easy.’
Dad snorted. ‘Even as a teenager, Jemma never slept in.’
He was right. The only way she’d ever found to shut down her overactive brain was by physically exerting herself to the point where her consciousness was focused entirely on snatching the next breath. But the last three days, even running wasn’t working, as, with each pounding step, she rehashed Rohan’s latest dirty move.
‘I’ve put you in the guest room, Jem, but Pierce and I are sleeping onPelicanettonight anyway.’
‘You don’t need to do that,’ she protested as Sam led her down the short hallway.
Sam pushed open a door into a cosily furnished bedroom. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, your dad’s totally driven. But he’s also big on insisting we remember our passion—’
