Course he was.
Ian caught his look. ‘We’re not selling though, nice as it is to be asked,’ he said firmly. ‘Nor subdividing. Not right now.’
‘You look familiar, mate. You work in Mount Gambier?’ He looked at Spencer’s laptop bag and the bundle of marking under his arm.
Spencer was liking this conversation less and less.
The agent slapped his hand against the thigh of his navy chinos, giving a laugh. ‘That’s where I know you from, you’re that guy from the telly. We’ve been watching you.’
He spun around, taking in the garden. ‘And that’s the famous rotunda from the TV show. The wife makes me watch theprogram, and I don’t want to embarrass you, but she’s cheering for you and Emily. No wonder you don’t want to sell, you’ll be carrying one of those lovely ladies over the threshold and popping out a few babies before they can say ‘shotgun’, right?’
Spencer cringed. This week’s teaser adverts showed footage of Kyra and Emily cooing over Mia’s baby bump at the friends and family barbecue. He hadn’t seen it until Addison had texted him a link, and half of the school had been giving him stick about it ever since.
‘We’re not allowed to talk about the outcome of the show until the final episode’s aired. If you’ll excuse me.’
He started towards the house, but the bloke’s booming voice was impossible to ignore. ‘If you change your mind, Ian, we’ve got a buyer ready and willing to pay top dollar for a place like this.’
Spencer opened the back door.
‘My client’s cashed up, I’ve no doubt I’ll find them something if I knock on enough doors. You wouldn’t believe the number of city folk who want to try their hand at small orchards, or truffle farming, miniature goat breeding. Lots of options, lots of money. I’m happy to help make the magic happen.’
I bet you are,Spencer thought, shutting the door behind him. Ian was out there a little longer before the Lexus left, and to Spencer’s surprise, he was carrying the agent’s glossy promotional folders when he came inside.
‘I’d rather slather myself in honey and lie in front of the beehives,’ Spencer said, with a shake of his head.
‘Yeah, same here,’ Ian muttered.
‘Cuppa or beer?’
When his father-in-law didn’t answer, Spencer went to the fridge, slipped two stubbies into coolers and grabbed a packet of corn chips.
He’s actually thinking about it.
It was only when they were out on the verandah that Ian cleared his throat, shooting Spencer a searching look.
‘Do you love it here, Spencer? Do you wake up every morning wishing you could spend all day farming? Have you ever wished that Louisa and I would step aside and let you at it?’
Spencer set down the packet. The chips felt like they were stuck in his throat, and he washed them down with beer, considering his answer.
‘I know it was Belle’s dream,’ Ian continued. ‘And I know you two were keen on succession planning all those years ago, but is that still your dream? Or have we hemmed you into that corner, and the idea of taking it on now feels like forcing a triangle through a circle?’
‘Ian …’ Spencer trailed off. Birds flitted past the verandah, the roses around the rotunda swayed in the warm, early December breeze and Dolly snuffled around the garden in search of the echidna she’d spotted the week before.
Could he really leave this place for good? He’d thought about doing it for Emily, if her dream was to return to her family orchard, and who knew where the relationship with Clem would lead. He saw a beautiful future together, the opportunity to start a family of their own, but things had felt off this week. The latest episodes ofLove on the Landhadn’t helped, especially last night’s body painting scenes from his solo date with Madeleine.
The fact that Clem hadn’t answered his calls last night or this morning spoke volumes.
And if Louisa and Ian were leaving the district, and Clem couldn’t understand that the television show was more fiction than fact, then what did he have to stay here for?
‘I don’t know what I want,’ he admitted.
Ian traced a line in the dusty glass top of the outdoor table, and Dolly bounded up the verandah steps and settled at Ian’sfeet. Even though Ian tolerated, rather than adored pets, he stroked Dolly’s velvety ears.
‘If you want someone to play devil’s advocate, I can do that too. Do you mind me asking what’s keeping you here? Is it Belle? I know you’ve barely looked at other women since Belle died, and things with Emily didn’t go as planned, but maybe it’s time to move on?’
‘Trust me, it’s not that simple.’
Every time he looked out at the garden, or walked through the kitchen, he was reminded of the past, and everything that Belle touched.
