Pride filled her at the thought of her idea coming to fruition. Before the end of the week, she’d pitch to him in person about how she could make his restaurant fly, and with a little luck, she’d leave Rosevale Grove with her debt to Jason paid and a nest egg in the bank.
Bindi pulled her stool closer to Elora’s. ‘Are you having fun? Because I know raucous trivia nights aren’t for everyone.’
‘I’m having a ball,’ Elora said, smiling at her new friend. ‘Can you tell I’m a total novice and have never been to one?’
‘Really? You must have a great grasp of general knowledge, because you beat that bozo Thommo to answers several times and he regards himself as the king of trivia.’ Bindi shot him a fond glance. ‘Useless facts, most of it.’
Elora laughed. ‘You guys have been friends for a long time and it shows.’
‘Yeah, these blokes are okay.’ Bindi pointed at Cruz under the table. ‘What’s his story? Are you two a couple?’
‘Hell, no!’
Bindi snickered. ‘You gave us the spiel about working for him to promote the farm, but I see the sparks between you.’ She fanned her face. ‘You two are burning up.’
Elora shrugged, feigning nonchalance. ‘He’s attractive, in a grumpy sort of way.’
Bindi laughed so loud that Thommo made circles at his temple with his finger, then pointed at her.
‘You think he’s grumpy now? He’s mellowed. A lot. At high school, he rarely spoke, knocked back party invitations and preferred to be home on a Saturday night rather than smoking joints and sculling rum and cola with the rest of us down by the river.’
While Elora understood the loneliness of high school, she’d gone out of her way to join in as much as she could, so the thought of Cruz eschewing normal teen stuff made her sad.
‘Anyway, to change tack, do you think he’s hiring?’
Startled by Bindi’s swift change of topic, Elora said, ‘I have no idea what his plans are, but he’ll be running the farm for a while, so you should ask him.’
Bindi screwed up her nose. ‘I don’t want to make it seem like I’m asking for favours after we’ve just got reacquainted after twelve years.’
‘But it wouldn’t be a favour if he has to hire pickers and packers during the ripe season?’
‘That’s a few months off and I can’t wait that long,’ Bindi murmured, so softly Elora had trouble hearing it over the din.
She had no right to ask what Bindi meant, but the fear in the woman’s eyes alluded to a problem beyond not being able to pay bills. It wouldn’t be right to tell Bindi about the possibility of Cruz opening a restaurant on the farm, but she could offer some reassurance now and tackle Cruz later about hiring her. She’d already mentioned involving his old crew in the pop-up, so it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility to offer Bindi a job.
‘Leave it with me.’ She winked, hoping to ease Bindi’s sudden funk. ‘My promotional skills are exceptional so once I raise the farm’s profile I’m sure Cruz will have to hire extra staff to help him run it.’
The creases wrinkling Bindi’s brow eased. ‘Thanks. It’s a shame you’re heading back to the city soon, because I don’t click with many people, and I think we could’ve been great mates.’
‘We can do a long-distance friendship.’
‘I haven’t been to Melbourne in years.’
‘A girls’ weekend halfway in Charlton might be doable?’
‘You’re on.’
Elora didn’t tell Bindi that she made plans, keen to develop friendships, but often cancelled at the last minute when anxiety got the better of her. She put herself out there with friendships and relationships, and people were drawn to her outgoing nature, but a fake persona meant she rarely shared anything beyond superficial stuff. And deepening a friendship meant revealing too much. That thought alone tightened an invisible vice around her chest.
Interestingly, Elora got the same vibe off Bindi, that she had something to hide and wouldn’t allow anyone to get too close.
Before Elora could say anything else, Bindi took a sip of beer and turned back to Robbo and Thommo, who were squabbling over who’d be writing down the answers for the final round. Cruz and Kyle were deep in conversation, and she liked that Cruz’s shoulders had relaxed. When they’d finished dinner and entered this older section of the pub, tension had radiated off him and she’d had no idea why, because the atmosphere wrapped her in a warm hug. She loved the nostalgic vibe of the old pub. This part must’ve been a sports bar once upon a time, considering the framed black and white footy photos on the wall, alongside pennants for a regional darts competition. The pool table, covered in faded green felt, had locals in flannel shirts clustered around it, while the more serious competitors pointed at the scores on an ancient chalkboard and argued good-naturedly. A table of grey-haired older women knitted, nursing their sherries as their needles clacked at a furious pace without them glancing at their creations once.
Elora wondered what it would’ve been like to stay in one place long enough to have a pub like this to belong to. A bistro to share meals with her parents, a bar that reeked of beer and fried onions to swap stories in, a raffle to win a gigantic meat tray that could’ve fed them for a month.
She loved her folks, but at times like this, surrounded by jocularity and camaraderie, she couldn’t help but resent them a little for their nomadic lifestyle and selfishness in putting their needs above hers.
The trivia host, a wizened octogenarian named Gazza, stepped onto the stage and picked up the cordless mic. ‘Time for you Einsteins to stop chattering and take your seats. We’re about to start the final round. Let’s see if you have more than one brain cell between you.’
