“I’ve moved the ordering system online. Betsy wrote orders into her ledger by hand, and she also counted stock and planned trips to the flower market that way. I’ve put all of it into a web-based system we can access from our mobile phones. Now I don’t have to lug that big ledger with me everywhere, I can see what stock I have in the shop at a glance wherever I am, and I can place orders while I’m watching my favourite TV show.”
“Good for you. I hope Betsy can keep up.”
“She’ll love it once she gets the hang of it. It’s so easy to use.”
“I wish I had someone like you working for my business. It’s so hard to find anyone with a bit of self-motivation.” He ran his fingers through his hair, setting it on end. “But I suppose you wouldn’t want to trade in flowers for yachts.”
She laughed. “Not at the moment. I’m enjoying my work, and it puts me in contact with brides who need wedding planners. Between the two jobs, I’m finally putting a little bit of money into my savings account each month. I’ve never been able to do that before. I’ve always thought I’d live my life in quiet desperation, but I’m happy. You know, apart from the whole psycho-brother thing.”
“Still having issues there?” He frowned.
She shrugged. “I’ll tell you all about it over coffee. Let’s climb this hill. It’s going to take all our breath for a while.”
She tugged him by the hand, and they set out to ascend the hill that led up to the cliffs. The trail they were taking was a cow track in a field adjacent to Bradford’s childhood house. Below them, the road wound down to a private cove where Bea’s beach cottage stood.
Bea had moved in with Aidan, so she wasn’t likely to be home. But perhaps they should drop by anyway. Charmaine hadn’t seen the beach cottage—she’d only heard about it. And she liked the idea of stopping by with Bea’s brother to take a look. Maybe she could offer to rent the place from Bea now that it was empty.
“Is your sister renting out the cottage?” she asked.
“Yes. She said she was going to clean it up and get it ready for a tenant. I think she’s there today.”
“Do you think I should rent it?”
“Yeah, why not? It’s a cute place. Bea and Dani did a good job fixing it up.”
“Is it too isolated?”
“Well, no one lives close by. Dad’s house is up the hill, but there’s no line of sight between the two places. Of course, Bea lived at the cottage on her own for months and she loved it. So, I guess it depends if you like isolation and privacy or not.”
“I do.” She was puffing now. The exertion was invigorating. She loved to get out in nature and enjoyed exercising outdoors. It was one of her favourite parts of living on Coral Island. How easy it was to get out and about and explore the natural beauty of the place.
“Let’s stop under this tree for a minute,” she said. “The sun is hot today. I wish I’d worn a hat.”
“Take your time,” Bradford said. “There’s no rush.”
While they rested, Charmaine tented a hand over her eyes to scan the clifftops. It wasn’t far now—maybe a few hundred metres more to go. Then they could head back and slurp down a delicious iced coffee. All the extra calories wouldn’t matter after a walk like that.
A flash of red on the cliffs caught her eye. What was it? A person, definitely a person. She squinted and pointed. “Someone’s walking up ahead. Do you think it’s your dad?”
The person walked towards the edge of the cliff.
“Too short. And he doesn’t wear red.”
“Is that Betsy?” Just as she asked the question, the figure disappeared beyond the cliff face. “And did she just leap off the cliff or decide to traverse the rocky cliff face?”
Bradford frowned. “It didn’t look like a leap, but Betsy has to be in her eighties. Why is she tackling a cliff?”
“No idea. She’s such an odd duck sometimes. I don’t know why she does half the things I catch her doing.”
“Like what?”
“The other day, I came into the room, and she was shredding all those old photos—the ones of her with famous people that she had hanging up in the shop. I was so shocked, I didn’t say anything. I hope they were copies. She didn’t look at me. She just kept on shredding. It was so strange.”
“That is odd.”
“You know, your sister and her friends have a theory about Betsy.”
“Do they?” He fixed his gaze on Charmaine. “What’s the theory?”
