Amy's Rest Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Dedication

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  FORTY-ONE

  FORTY-TWO

  FORTY-THREE

  FORTY-FOUR

  FORTY-FIVE

  FORTY-SIX

  FORTY-SEVEN

  FORTY-EIGHT

  FORTY-NINE

  FIFTY

  FIFTY-ONE

  FIFTY-TWO

  FIFTY-THREE

  A Note from S R

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  For my wife. Always.

  ONE

  Georgia Ballantyne stood in front of the floor to ceiling window, watching the CityCat ferries weave their way from one side of the Brisbane River to the other.

  This view was why she’d bought the apartment, along with the fact that despite the chaos she knew was happening at street level below, there was no sign of it twenty floors up.

  “Poured you a double,” Ren said, handing Georgia a glass of scotch and ice. “Figured you’d need it.”

  “Thanks,” Georgia replied. She took a sip of the scotch and relished the warmth as it slid down her throat. She padded across the carpet to one of the lounge chairs facing the window and sat with one foot folded under her knee.

  A white folder with Wheeler Developments in simple black type sat alone on the timber coffee table. Georgia picked it up and placed it on her lap. This was the last part of Amy’s estate she had to deal with, and once it was gone, she’d finally be able to move on.

  Ren folded her feet underneath her on the lounge beside Georgia and cradled her wine glass in her hand. “Rick’s put everything you need in there, and he said you just need to sign the top page where he’s highlighted. The builder’s ready to go when you are, so it’ll be up to you when you want to start.”

  Georgia flipped open the folder and thumbed through the paperwork, which included her authority for Rick’s development company to deal with the renovations, as well as the final plans and mock-ups from the architect and designer. Estimated costings were at the back, but Georgia didn’t need to worry about them. Rick was the one paying the bills. Georgia was going to pay him back from the profit once the cottage was sold.

  “Did the builder agree to me helping with labour to save on costs?”

  “The builder’s fine with it,” Ren replied. “But you know you don’t have to? Rick or Celia could oversee it from here.”

  “I know,” Georgia said. “But I just feel like I should be there to see it finished at least, you know? Get some closure.”

  Ren reached across and put her hand on Georgia’s arm. “Are you sure you want to sell it? I know what you and Amy had planned for that place. A change of scenery might be good for you.”

  “And what would I do in a place like Elizabeth Creek?” Georgia asked. “I doubt they’ll be needing mortgage brokers up there.”

  “Start a business,” Ren suggested. “Open a bed and breakfast. The cottage would be perfect for it.”

  Georgia shook her head and smiled sadly. “The cottage was Amy’s idea and now she’s gone…” She blew out a breath. “There’s nothing there for me so I’ll be glad to see it go.”

  “Okay,” Ren said. “As long as you’re sure.” She squeezed Georgia’s arm and took a sip of her wine. “Rick said the main part of the build will take about four weeks, so that’s how long you should plan to be out there. I’ll come out and help with the staging, and after that, Rick will take over for the marketing and sale.”

  Georgia signed the form and handed it to Ren. “I think I can manage that.” She took a sip of her scotch, feeling a sense of relief that Amy’s estate would soon finally be dealt with after two long years.

  Ren folded the form and tucked it into her bag. “Have you thought about signing up for one of those dating services we talked about? That one where they shortlist potential dates for you looked like a good one.”

  Georgia rolled her eyes. “Ren…”

  “No, wait. Hear me out,” Ren said. “You just said yourself that once the cottage is sold, you can move on.”

  “With my life in general,” Georgia explained. “I’m not ready for dating.” She drained her scotch, stood up and walked into the kitchen.

  Ren followed her over and leaned on the island bench. “It’s been nearly three years, George.”

  “Two-and-a-half,” Georgia corrected her.

  “Point is, you have to get out there sooner or later.”

  Georgia splashed water over the bench as she rinsed out her glass and huffed. “Later’s just fine with me.”

  “Just think about it,” Ren said. “You deserve to be happy.”

  “I was happy,” Georgia replied.

  Ren gave Georgia one of her pitying smiles but didn’t say anything more. She gulped down the rest of her wine and handed the glass to Georgia. “I better go. Rick’ll be home with the kids soon.”

  Georgia stepped around the bench and pulled Ren into a hug. “Thanks for helping me out. I don’t know what I’d do without you and Rick.”

  Ren slung her bag over her arm. “You’re welcome.” As she reached the front door, she turned. “We might be having a party this weekend. I’ll let you know.”

  “I might be busy,” Georgia replied.

  Ren lifted an eyebrow and Georgia waved her off. “If I’m going to take four weeks off, I’ll have to get all my paperwork sorted at work.” She held the door open for Ren and waited until the lift doors closed before she went back into the kitchen and poured herself another scotch.

  She glanced around the apartment she’d shared with Amy for the majority of their relationship. It was smaller than they’d initially wanted, but Amy had made it a home with all her little touches of colour and her knick-knacks. Every time they went on holiday she brought back something small to hang on the wall or sit on the TV cabinet or stick on the fridge. Everything here reminded Georgia of Amy, and selling the cottage meant she’d be able to pay off her legal fees and keep the apartment.

  Her eyes fell on the pile of papers on the end of the kitchen table. It was mail addressed to Amy that Georgia had been ignoring. The amount of mail addressed to Amy had dropped off after the first year, but this pile had been accumulating since then. They were mostly just charity brochures and catalogues and Georgia had just gotten to the stage where she didn’t want to deal with them anymore.

  Signing the paperwork for Rick to start renovations on the cottage had lifted a weight off her shoulders, so she decided that if the cottage was finally being dealt with, then she should deal with Amy’s mail.

  Her glass in one hand, Georgia scooped the pile up with the other and carried it to the coffee table and began sorting through it all.

  TWO

  Zoe Jennings spotted the bastard as soon as she walked through the old
saloon doors that opened to the beer garden. Frank Dickson was sitting with his work colleagues, laughing over a few drinks.

  Typical Friday afternoon. No-one in Elizabeth Creek worked after lunch time on Fridays. Except for the publican and his staff of course.

  She stalked over to Frank and stood beside his chair, hands on hips, waiting for him to notice her. Nellie Roebuck noticed her first. Her smile of greeting faded quickly when she realised Zoe wasn’t smiling back.

  Finally, Frank finished whatever joke he was telling and turned to see what his work mates were looking at. His face drained of colour and he swallowed hard. He knew he was in the shit and Zoe was in no mood to let him off lightly.

  “You sold it.” It was a statement, not a question. Zoe already knew the answer thanks to hearing Sally Nugent wondering about the new owner of the workshop when she was filling her trolley with ready-made meals at the IGA.

  “I’m not sure—“

  “We had a deal, Frank. You said you’d wait ‘til I got the deposit.”

  “Well I—“

  “Well you what? Someone offered you more money? Is that it?”

  “Now you just wait—“

  “What? Like you said you’d wait? Or do you mean the sort of wait that means you won’t keep your bloody word?”

  The beer garden had gone deathly quiet and Zoe was aware that all eyes were on her. She didn’t care, not one bit. That workshop was hers. Everyone knew it. And in Elizabeth Creek, your word was your contract. Everyone knew that too, except Frank Dickson, apparently.

  Frank pushed his chair back and stood up, facing off with Zoe. He was a half-head shorter than her, and he rocked onto the balls of his feet to try to lift himself up to her height.

  “You’ve been telling me for two years you’ll get the money, Zoe. Two years! Someone comes along with the money to buy the place and I have to sell it. It’s my job.”

  “You were selling it to me, Frank. You knew what I was planning to do with it.”

  “We didn’t have a contract,” Frank said. “No contract, no sale.”

  He smirked at her, practically daring her to bite back.

  Zoe’s hands balled into fists and it took all her strength not to ring his smarmy little neck.

  “Zoe!”

  She turned at the sound of her name. Jack rolled across the courtyard and positioned his wheelchair between them so Zoe and Frank both had to step back or get their toes run over. “Everything good?”

  “Does it look like it’s good?” Zoe hissed through clenched teeth, not taking her eyes off Frank.

  “Righto, calm down. Robbo’s asked that you keep your voices down out here.”

  “It’s not like no-one else knows what’s going on,” Zoe said, defying Robbo and making sure everyone within earshot could hear her.

  “You should take your sister home,” Frank said. “Before she gets herself into trouble.”

  “You should watch your mouth,” Zoe spat back. “Or you might end up with a fat lip, just like last time.”

  Frank shrank back ever so slightly but he didn’t move.

  “Hey, come on. Time to go,” Jack said, pushing his wheelchair further between them both and turning it so he faced Zoe.

  Zoe stood her ground and glared down at her older brother.

  His face softened and he raised an eyebrow. Then he pulled a face and rolled his eyes to indicate that he knew Frank was a dickhead. Zoe resisted smiling but got the hint.

  She turned and walked away, Jack rolling alongside her.

  As she reached the beer garden doors, Frank called, “You better keep her under control, Jack, or I’ll be calling the Sarge.”

  Zoe turned and gave him the finger as Jack nudged her in the back of the leg with his chair and herded her through the pub and onto the street.

  As soon as they got outside, Jack turned on her. “Jesus, Zoe. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “What do you think I was doing? I was telling him off for selling the workshop.”

  “I know what you were doing, Zoe. I mean, why the hell would you make a scene in there? And with Frank? You want to get kicked out? Again?”

  Zoe didn’t answer.

  Jack raked his fingers through his hair. “Look, I know you don’t care what people think, but I do.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Zoe asked, stopping in the middle of the footpath and folding her arms across her chest.

  Jack puffed out a breath and shook his head. “I’m trying to run a business, Zoe, and going off like that in public isn’t helping.”

  Zoe clenched her jaw. “He sold the bloody workshop, Jack. I wasn’t going off over nothing. And it’s nothing to do with the business anyway.”

  Jack put his hands up to diffuse the situation. “I know, I know. But this new job could be something big and I need you to keep a lid on it.”

  “Something big,” Zoe said, shaking her head. She swept her arms around. “Here? The biggest thing we’ve ever done since Dad died was helping build the footy club house. And they only gave us that job because Dad was a life member.”

  “This is different,” Jack said. “It could take the business to the next level.”

  Zoe rolled her eyes. As much as she loved her brother, working in the family business and Jack’s big developer dream was something Zoe didn’t share. “It’s just a reno.”

  “It’s more than a reno,” Jack said. “It’s a great opportunity to work with one of the best in the business. It could mean more work.”

  “We’ve got plenty of work,” Zoe said, although she knew that wasn’t exactly true. Elizabeth Creek wasn’t booming like some of the other hinterland towns around the place. While Elizabeth Creek was technically on the tourist trail, a rerouting of the highway a few years back had meant that people didn’t come through unless they were looking for the place. Work-wise, it meant most of Jennings Constructions business came in the form of hanging doors or patching walls. She started walking away.

  “We’re starting on Monday,” Jack called after her.

  Zoe turned. “Monday? But I thought we didn’t start that one for a couple of months?”

  “Time frame’s been moved,” Jack replied, wheeling closer to Zoe. “The project manager’s arriving tomorrow morning.”

  “Tomorrow?” Zoe shook her head. “That’s not going to work. I’ve got things to do.”

  “You’ll still be able to get the kids projects ready for the show,” Jack said. “Just come and look at the final plans. I could use an extra pair of eyes. Make sure I haven’t missed anything.”

  Zoe let out a breath. “Will there be beer involved if I go over the plans with you?”

  Jack grinned. “I think I can rustle some up.”

  “All right then.” Zoe uncrossed her arms.

  As Jack wheeled along beside her, heading for home, he said, “This really could be it, Zo.”

  Zoe didn’t say anything. She’d heard that too many times before, and she didn’t want to burst his bubble.

  TWO

  Saturday morning probably wasn’t the best time of day to be travelling to Elizabeth Creek, Georgia admitted, after a three hour road trip turned into five, thanks to getting stuck behind a caravan on a road with no passing lanes. When she finally drove into town, she quickly realised that Rick’s assessment of it being small was an understatement. Georgia had been too busy with work to scope out the place with Amy before they bought the cottage, and she only now doubted the decision to believe Amy’s reassurances that Georgia would fall in love with the place.

  Georgia slowed as she passed the sign that declared that the Business Centre was up ahead. As she turned into the main street, it occurred to her that there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of business going on at all. Most of the shop fronts looked like they were painted in the middle of last century and it seemed as though there was two of everything – two butchers, two cafes, two newsagents, two pubs. It seemed like each side of the street was a mirror image of the ot
her.

  There was no shopping centre to speak of, no giant supermarket chain and no recognisable fast food outlets, and as she drove slowly through the main street, she wondered what Amy had ever seen in the place. She’d been itching to get out of the city and live a more simple life, but for Georgia, the last few years had been anything but simple.

  For the last two years, her life had been dedicated to fighting over the estate with Amy’s estranged family. The sticking point had been the cottage Amy had bought on a whim as a promise to Georgia of the new life they’d have when Amy recovered. But Amy hadn’t recovered. Within the space of six months, Amy had gone from funny and vibrant, always ready for adventure, to a shell of herself, trying desperately to hold on to the belief that the drugs she was taking were making her better and not worse.

  When they’d received the news that Amy had just weeks to live, she’d made Georgia promise to move on with her life and to find someone new when she felt ready to.

  Of course, Georgia had promised. She had to really. Who was she to not grant her dying partner’s final wish? The problem was, Georgia had no idea how she was meant to move on or if she’d ever be ready to.

  That was why this project was so important. Over the next four weeks, Georgia would focus on getting the cottage renovated so it would be easier to sell, and the thing that reminded her of the promises she’d made with Amy over those last few months would finally be gone. The cottage represented a future Georgia could no longer have, and the sooner it was gone, the better.

  She followed the robotic directions of the app on her phone to the end of the main street and turned right. Shop fronts turned to unkempt cottages on big blocks of weedy lawns, and soon she was driving past industrial sheds. She slowed down and started scanning both sides of the street until she spotted the sign she was looking for.

  She pulled into the driveway and parked in an empty car park. Flipping down her visor, she checked her appearance in the mirror, and then opened her door. The heat hit her like a tonne of bricks. It seemed that, unlike in the city, spring had missed Elizabeth Creek and gone straight to early summer. She let out a long sigh. She hoped the next few weeks would go quickly so she could finally move on with her life.