Page 4

Nodding, Hazel picked up one of the apples. As she took a bite, she sat down on the chair at the table in the breakfast nook. Molly put the grocery bags away and joined her daughter, sitting opposite her. She watched as Hazel stared out the window, deep in thought, crunching away on the apple.

“What did you do this morning?” Molly asked.

Hazel turned her head and looked at her mother. She snapped back to reality. “I went for a walk in the forest. I’ve been so miserable about everything. I’ve just been dumped, fired and kicked out of my home.” She pursed her lips. “You know, I think I’ve been looking at this all wrong! This is an excellent opportunity for me. I can go wherever I want and apply for any job I want. The whole of Australia is my oyster. I’m going to start looking for jobs after lunch.” Hazel took another bite of her apple. And get that guy out of my mind, she thought.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve found the positive side.” Molly paused. “Why don’t you take a break from work for a month or two? Take a little while to decompress. Jobs will be there for you to apply for in another couple of months. You’ve worked so hard for the past ten years. I’m sure a small break won’t hurt,” Molly mused.

“Hmm, I guess. I was thinking that, but then I got so excited thinking of all the possibilities. Maybe just a few weeks then. After that, I’ll start properly looking. I don’t want to dip into my savings too much.”

“Well, you don’t have to pay rent here, and I won’t charge you for food. That will help, won’t it?”

“Yeah, it would, but I don’t want to put you out.”

Molly waved her hand. “Nonsense. I’m so glad you’ve come home. I want you to stay as long as you like. It gets a bit lonely here. I’ve been thinking about getting another dog. I think it’s been enough time since Woody.” Molly thought of her beloved dog, a cuddly Dalmatian with a heart-shaped patch over his eye who’d passed the year prior.

“I think that’s a great idea. Would you like me to help you find one?” Hazel suggested.

“Well, I’ve been asking around, and Betty at the fruit shop said Phil Johnson, he’s a blueberry farmer outside town, had a litter of Collies, Rough Collies, I think she said. Most of them have sold, but she thinks there may be one left. It would be about six months old now. She gave me Phil’s number. I was going to give him a call.”

“Rough Collies? Is that the same breed as Lassie?” Hazel asked.

“Yes, I think so. Let’s hope Phil has one left.” Molly grabbed her phone and dialled Phil’s number. He answered, and after a few moments, she hung up. “One left.” She winked at her daughter. “Want to come with me this afternoon to look at him?”

“Sure,” Hazel shrugged. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do.

Sam heard the muffled voices of Hazel and her mother chatting inside and tried to concentrate on the length of weatherboard he was measuring.

He’d heard a bit about her from Molly. Molly talked about her daughter a lot. He got it. She was obviously proud of her child and wanted to talk about her all day long.

Sam felt like he already knew Hazel thanks to Molly’s incessant chatting. But he didn’t mind. Molly had been so kind to him, and she was obviously lonely living here by herself. Sam was a little lonely too, if he was honest. It was nice to chat with her, even if he had no idea who she was talking about.

But over time, he felt like he had an idea of Hazel as a person.

He knew she was smart. Knew she’d studied marketing at university on a full scholarship. Knew she’d had a promising marketing career in Brisbane before moving down to Sydney. Molly had shown Sam the scrapbook she had made with printouts of all of Hazel’s marketing campaigns she had worked on. It was quite impressive, and he remembered the pineapple campaign from the ads on social media.

He knew she was funny. Molly was often quoting some one-liner Hazel had said that had had Molly in stitches.

He also knew that she was staying for a while. Molly hadn’t really passed on any details, but she’d let him know Hazel was around before she’d headed out to the shops. He could tell from the way Molly spoke that she was ecstatic to have her daughter home. Molly said Hazel had surprised her, just appeared on the verandah.

Hazel had also surprised him. He had not been expecting to bump into her, but when he did, well, damn. It was as if he’d been bewitched. He’d felt the spark between them as they made contact. It was as if his skin fizzed with electricity at her touch.

She was breathtakingly beautiful. Her long, wavy brown hair flowed down to her waist, and he found himself lost in her sparkling blue eyes. Her eyes were a particular colour of cornflower blue that he had never seen before. He couldn’t look away. He’d have been happy to stay like that, staring into those gorgeous eyes forever.

But then, those baby blues had narrowed, breaking the spell, when she’d asked who he was. There was a tinge of venom there, but he put it down to the shock.

Sam hauled another board of timber up to the sawhorse.

He thought about the fact that he had never really had a serious girlfriend before. He’d always told himself he would one day, but he wanted to focus on his business and set up his life before he embarked down that path.

People had always made comments about it, how he’d never had a real girlfriend. He used to brush it off, but when he turned thirty, it had started to get to him. His friends had told him he was too picky, and he’d always replied that he just hadn’t met the right girl yet.

But now, two years later, he wondered if he just had.

Molly had said Hazel would be here for a bit. What does that mean? He wondered. A bit? As in, leaving soon?

If Hazel was just passing through, then he wouldn’t let himself get attached. Which was a real shame, because he knew it would be easy to do with her. He’d never gotten attached to a woman before, never had this feeling. He tried to shrug it off. He took out his measuring tape and wrote the measurement down. Like the careful, measured man he was, he took the measurement again. Measure twice, cut once. He double-checked it against what he’d written down.

The number he’d scrawled on the paper was wrong. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d written down a measurement incorrectly. Hazel.