Belle’s garden.
‘Need a hand, Uncle Spence?’
‘All good kiddo,’ he told his niece. Genevieve was taller than Addison, but smart like her mum and, thankfully, more diplomatic, like her dad.
After the offer they’d received yesterday, and the realisation that if Ian and Louisa accepted the generous amount, this would be his last Christmas at South Giddi Giddi, Spencer was in no hurry to rush through the day.
‘Luckily I stocked up on antacids,’ Addison said, cupping Bryce’s cheek. ‘I’ve noticed you ogling the pork crackling, triple-baked potatoes and Chrissy pudding in the kitchen. I’ll order an ECG for our return too, shall I?’ She blew a kiss to her husband, whose low-cholesterol diet had been derailed days before Christmas.
‘Love you too, honey.’ Bryce grinned. ‘Spencer’s cooking is irresistible. Such a shame you didn’t learn to cook like him.’
‘You’d have had two heart attacks by now if I had,’ she said. ‘Normal eating resumes after this meal.’
Spencer turned away to serve up, not wanting to see the tenderness beneath Addison and Bryce’s banter.
He pulled out the plates, wondering whether Clem had sworn off cooking while the cafe was closed, or if she was doing the same thing as him right now. She’d replied to yesterday’s ‘Happy Christmas Eve’ text message with a thumbs up, and if that wasn’t enough of an omen, the lack of return well wishes certainly was.
‘Who’s setting the table?’ Spencer heaped cutlery onto the bench, surveying his niece and nephew. ‘Kids?’
‘Flynn’s on it,’ said Genevieve, reaching across to ruffle her brother’s hair, as if Flynn was still the baby of the family instead of the six-foot young man he’d grown into when they weren’t looking.
Within moments, his niece and nephew were wrestling on the rug, much to Dolly’s delight, who gave a few excited yips and jumped into the melee.
‘Righto, righto. Outside, both of you,’ Addison ordered, shaking her head with an indulgent eye-roll.
Soon they were sitting in the rotunda in the garden, toasting with Addison’s favourite Adelaide Hills wines, and as the conversation flowed around him, Spencer’s mind went back to Clem, Harriet and Indi. How would they have fitted into this tableau?
Would the little girls be shy, or would they slot right in with his niece and nephew, rough and tumbling on the lounge room floor before lunch, cutting deals at the dinner table to trade their least favourite vegetables, and grumbling about the lack of elbow room? He could picture them chattering about their friends, the play, their summer holiday plans, burrowing their way inside his family’s hearts as quickly as they had his.
‘You’ll slop gravy down your white shirt if you keep doing that,’ Bryce scolded Flynn, who was piling food into his mouth while leaning back on his chair. ‘Where can I find napkins?’
‘I’ll get them,’ Spencer said, pushing back his chair. He went inside and opened the hall cupboard and, in the hunt for the Christmas-themed napkins, found the green- and red-wrapped gifts he’d bought for Clem and her daughters.
Spencer blew out a soft breath and pushed them behind the winter blankets, surprised at how much it hurt to know they wouldn’t get to the sweet little girls or the beautiful woman they’d been intended for.
How could he love someone who had said something so hurtful, who didn’t even try to understand the reasons why he’d helped Belle?
‘Hey Spence, did you find them?’
He grabbed the napkins and turned to face Louisa. ‘Yep, got ’em.’
She smiled, taking the napkins from his hand and returned with him to the table outside. ‘You know, I like kids better when they’re this age. Little ones are delightful, but all-consuming. With older ones, you get the switched-on conversations, a proper glimpse into the generation that’ll shape our future.’
‘You’re not sad you could only have one child, that you never had grandkids?’
Louisa’s smile softened. ‘If I spent my days regretting things outside my control, I’d be in a bad place by now. I take the joy where I can find it, just as you can get the best of your nieces and nephews when they visit, feel pride as a teacher, or as a play director. Family isn’t purely your own flesh and blood. You’ve felt like my son from the moment you swept Belle off her feet.’
Spencer’s gaze landed on the fluffy white and pink flowers climbing up the rotunda. This time last week, he’d looked at the climbing Pierre de Ronsard rose, smiling at the unopened buds that would be in full bloom to deliver to Clem with thegifts on Christmas Eve, when her girls were asleep and his guests had turned in for the night.
He thought of Indi and Harriet and their excitement about Christmas, and how much he’d hoped to be part of their celebrations. If he and Clem were together, the girls would become his daughters too.
But if they couldn’t see eye to eye on something he couldn’t change even if he tried, something he knew he’d do again, even with the heartache that followed, was there any point trying?
19
Along with the sunflowers and the summer sunshine, patronage at Sunny Cross finally turned a corner and on the first day of January, the cafe was buzzing with customers. Clem whistled as they steadily emptied the display case, order by order, feeling pleased. Tomorrow also promised to be a bumper day, with the town accommodation fully booked and the coffee van heading to the Saturday markets.
She popped cleaning supplies in a bucket, ready to whisk out to the van this arvo, and returned to the counter to see Sebastian pulling out chairs for Ian and Louisa Brealy.
