Louisa and Ian mean well, but when you told me you’d be working together even more closely with auditions for the play, editing scripts, building sets, I couldn’t help wondering how I’d fit in.
Watching Ian mow your lawn as I packed my suitcase, and seeing the laundry basket on your back step and Louisa’s casserole dish on the stove when I returned from town today were the final reminder that they’re an intrinsic part of this package deal.
If you can find a lady who ticks all your boxes and wants to slide right into your late wife’s role, then good luck to you. But it’s not me, Spencer. I’m sorry.
X Emily
Spencer let out a long sigh. He walked to the fireplace, dropped the letter in and watched it curl and char before finally catching fire. He’d rolled the dice, and while Emily had been lovely, she was right about them being on different pages.
As the weather picked up, so did the cafe’s patronage and Clem was pleased to be run off her feet in mid-August, with a steady stream of customers, two catering jobs and an enquiry about a potential wedding catering opportunity.
‘Not a bad run for a nippy Saturday,’ Kev said, looking up from the pot of crème pâtissière he was stirring. ‘Twice as many orders as last weekend, and well up on this time last month. You mightn’t have time for those school catering jobs or that coffee van after all,’ he said.
Clem felt another rush of joy when she looked through the kitchen window to the carport.
The van’s new coffee machine was sitting in the storeroom, waiting to be installed, and with a bit of luck, the menu proofs would be on their way soon. She was determined to pitch for several school catering contracts when they opened for tender later in the year too, and was buoyed by both prospects.
‘Still a month and a bit until the van’s maiden voyage,’ Clem said, opening the oven door, ‘but I can’t wait.’
Steam puffed around Clem’s face, tickling her fringe against her forehead as she pulled the scones from the piping-hot oven.
‘Another perfect batch,’ Kev said, with a groan of appreciative envy. ‘No wonder you got all those ribbons in the show,they keep coming out sky high and fluffy. I would’ve given my eye teeth to get consistent results like that when I cooked at the Threeways Roadhouse in the Territory. The grey nomads would’ve lapped them up.’
Clem eased the scones onto the cooling rack and wiped her floury fingertips on her apron. ‘It’s easy when I’ve made so many batches, but the real hero’s the recipe, not the chef. I’ll hand over scone-making duties to you for a while if that’s okay. You’d better get some practice in if I’m going to head off on the school camp in November. I haven’t told Harriet yet, and her teacher isn’t announcing it to the class until midterm, so there’s still time to change your mind.’
Kev spooned the golden custard into a storage container. ‘Fine with me, fine with Seb. With a bit of luck, Little Miss over there will have thrown in the towel by then.’
Clem followed his gaze to Selina at the far end of the cafe, who was awkwardly stacking plates of slice and cake onto her arm, exactly the way Clem had warned her not to last weekend. Clem hadn’t worked out if Selina was forgetful or just stubborn, but either way, she suspected there would be more smashed crockery before the end of the shift. If it was another employee, she would have gently but firmly steered them towards another part-time job. But every time she came close, she felt that same pang of guilt over the coffee van misunderstanding and her great-aunt’s predicament. Jean had been unwell the last few times she’d seen her, was it the stress of having inadvertently promised the coffee van to Selina only to sell it to Clem?
What’s a few plates for the sake of family harmony?she told herself. Jean, her grandfather’s sister, had welcomed Clem and Jack with open arms when they’d returned to Penwarra several years back. Giving Selina a job was the least she could do.
‘She’ll come good,’ Clem said. ‘But seriously, you’re okay with the camp idea?’
‘As long as you’re happy leaving the cafe in our hands? Three days is plenty of time for Sebastian and me to make a ham fist of things. Not everyone would put such blind faith in a pair like us.’
Both men had chequered pasts and an uneasy history with the law, but Clem trusted them with her home, her children and her life, as well as her business.
‘Such a pessimist.’ Clem laughed, rolling out the next batch of scone dough. ‘You two work well together, and by the time school camp rolls around you’ll be an old hat at running the show. Can you pass the scone cutter, please?’
Kev twisted to grab a waterglass from the shelf above him and passed it to her.
‘Aha, I’ve found the cause of your sinking scones dilemma, Kev. Cutting scones with a glass is like applying make-up with a cricket bat. I need the cutter over there,’ Clem said, pointing to the sink.
Kev rolled his eyes, but she saw the older man run his finger across the edge of the thin metal scone cutter thoughtfully.
‘Nanna Shirley said the sharp edge is the trick to making good scones. A thick blunt edge, like a drinking glass, presses the scone down and compacts the dough. Dunk the cutter in the bag of flour first, and it’ll glide in and out like silk.’
‘Your grandmother was an excellent cook, and a stickler for process, and I suspect the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree. I’ll give your fancy cutter a shot.’
They worked in companionable silence, the only sounds the hum of the customers, the ovens and the quiet kitchen radio. The back door opened, and Kev laughed at the sight of Harriet and Indi jostling through the storeroom. ‘Here’strouble. You must have heard the timer going off for the new blueberry muffins.’
It was always touching to see the burly old bachelor turn into a soft teddy bear when the girls entered the kitchen. Their eyes widened as he lifted a tea towel to reveal two dozen blue-speckled muffins on a cooling rack.
‘And one for Isobel too, she’s tidying the lounge room,’ Harriet said.
Selina must have heard the comment because the frown on her face deepened as she walked to the dishwasher. ‘Remind me to get a cushy babysitting gig next time,’ she mumbled, slouching irritably as Kev divided a warm muffin into quarters and added a small curl of butter to the steaming middle.
‘Can you come back with us too, Selina?’ Indi said.
