Clem leaned across the glass-topped dining table, correcting Harriet’s pistol-like grip on the fork. ‘Mind your manners, Harri. And stop feeding the dog, she’ll be sick if everyone keepsslipping her food.’ The beagle was sitting at Harriet’s feet, its big eyes watching every spilled morsel.
Yep, Clem told herself,it could be heaps worse. But still, she couldn’t help noticing that Spencer steered clear of her every time Mia and Jeff threw a party or barbecue. It wasn’t as if she’d publicly ridiculed his decision to chase love on prime-time TV. Maybe shewouldhave told him how ridiculous she thought it was, if they ever ventured past stilted small talk.
She leaned an elbow on the table, deliberating between another serve of Greek salad, pickled octopus or the flake, before casting a look towards the Weber.
Sure, he was handsome—enough to be snapped up by the TV producers— with those dark grey eyes, wavy hair that always looked a few weeks overdue for a cut, and a smile he seemed to share freely with everyone but her. He had no trouble asking Hazel about the library’s book club, or telling Mia’s mother-in-law how much he loved her cooking, so why was he always so stand-offish around her?
Agatha Angelino leaned over the table, gesturing to the men at the barbecue. ‘Such a lovely boy, Spencer. Always brings me roses when his garden is in full flush, and the freshest honey I ever tasted, and look at how sweet he is with those kiddos. Jeff and Bernard could take a leaf from his book.’
Indi and Reggie, along with Hazel’s daughter Alma, had ditched the dining table in favour of the backyard jungle-gym, and as they watched, Spencer miraculously offloaded three fish sliders to the fussy youngsters, making them laugh as he handed the food over.
‘Those ladies on TV will go bonkers over him. I’m surprised a smart girl like you didn’t get in first, Clem.’
Clem shrugged. ‘I’ve known Spencer for almost three years now, and I can count the number of conversations we’ve hadon one hand. At first I thought he was shy, but now I think it’s just me.’
‘You’re making a mountain out of a molehill,’ Hazel chipped in. ‘He’s a perfectly nice guy. If I was into the tall, tanned and brooding type, I might have had a crack myself. Last pregnancy, my libido flat-lined the entire nine months, but this time around, my hormones are out of control, and the whole heavily-pregnant-single-mum situation is scaring off the only half-decent guys on the dating apps. I can almost see the appeal of a dating program, where nobody knows your entire backstory.’
‘Ha,’ Mia said, joining them with a fresh jug of lemonade. ‘Maybe you should broaden your taste from tortured, artsy guys. Especially after that double bass player! Have you heard that story yet, Clem?’
Their laughter filled the backyard and Clem clamped her hands over Harriet’s ears. Hazel’s hit and miss dating history wasn’t fit for an eight-year-old’s ears, and Clem quickly steered the conversation to a child-friendly topic. ‘Thanks again for your baklava recipe, Aggie. Wait till you hear how I’ve used it in the new menu.’
Her friends’ enthusiasm about the concept of baklava donuts had Clem eager to make another batch when she unlocked the cafe the following morning. She ran through the ingredients list while she switched on the stereo, unstacked the chairs and flicked on the heater. First light was just hitting the horizon, casting the softest glow over the paddocks on the outskirts of town.
Mornings were Clem’s favourite, and in the middle of autumn, the sunrises over Sunny Cross Farm were particularly spectacular. The first customer of the day pulled up just as the sun peeked over the tree line.
‘Look at that sky,’ Courtney said, admiring the view as she ordered takeaway coffees. ‘Oh, and I’ll grab a picnic hamper for our builders. They’ve worked so hard to keep the farmhouse reno on schedule, and after the rave reviews from Janey’s new neighbours, I’m hoping some of your delicacies will provide the boost they need to finish strong.’
Clem flushed with pleasure, and relayed the order to Kev in the kitchen. Several tourists filed in, and while Courtney waited for her coffee, she chatted with the visitors.
‘Did you hear that? She’s recommending the scones and slices,’ Sebastian said. ‘What a legend.’
‘If we could just attract fifty more die-hard customers like that, we’d be set,’ Clem agreed.
Sebastian nodded, working the espresso machine. ‘We’ve got great food, and darn good service. We just need more foot traffic.’
Clem passed him a carton of oat milk, thinking of the packed tables she’d seen at the bustling cafe in the main street. ‘And why don’t we win any of the catering contracts? Somehow, Brew Haven keeps expanding. Did you hear they’re planning a beer garden? They’ve already got a bigger premises, a central location in the heart of Penwarra and nine staff to our team of three.’
Sebastian passed her the coffees Courtney had ordered. ‘But we’ve got more heart, better food and much better karma. And wait till that paddock is full of sunflowers again, that’ll draw the crowds.’
Clem glanced over the empty tables, including her grandfather’s favourite, the one in the corner overlooking the land that had been in her family for generations. It didn’t look like much on a chilly April morning, but come summertime, the paddocks would be ablaze with cheerful yellow sunflowers, just like they’d been in her grandfather’s heyday.
‘You’ll have customers coming in from all corners of South Australia when that paddock’s in full bloom,’ Seb went on. ‘And don’t forget our new vegan-friendly menu. Your smashed avocado, pea, mint and plant-based fetta concoctions taste much better than the bland fare Marco Grubb offers at Brew Haven.’
The cafe was quiet all morning, and Clem’s worried gaze kept tracking to the large north-facing windows as she swept up. Would a field of sunflowers really be enough to boost their numbers? She didn’t have time to attend fancy workshops on business management or expansion, but there had to be other ways to boost their bottom line.
Sebastian and Kev depended on her for their weekly pay packet. And then there was her babysitter, Isobel West, who was saving for university next year.
I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my doors open.
Later that week, when Spencer returned to the house as evening fell, smoke was curling from the chimney and he felt grateful for Ian and Louisa Brealy and the little touches that made his life smoother.
Spencer shrugged off his jacket and workboots. He’d stepped in nearly every puddle in the muddy dusk-lit paddock after school, but eventually he’d ushered a cranky ewe back through the storm-damaged fence.
How long the stubborn animal would be contained by his makeshift fencing remained to be seen; he just hoped tonight’s thunderstorms would provide enough of a deterrent until he was able to fix it properly. He dialled the Brealys’ landline to update them on the task.
As the phone rang, Spencer spotted the basket of neatly folded laundry—more of Louisa’s handiwork.
‘You’re too good to me, Louisa,’ Spencer told his mother-in-law when she answered, cradling the phone between his ear and his shoulder.
