The Sunshine Potluck Society, page 4
She steepled her hands together on the desk while she listened. “Okay.”
“I told him to stay out of it. But he said he’s going to bring it up in the leadership meeting. I know you’ll back me up on this.”
“Thanks for letting me know. I understand.”
He studied her with a wary look. “So, what are you going to say?”
She inhaled a slow breath. “I know they’ve worked really hard on this case. But we’re a team. Greg is a closer. He is the best we’ve got when it comes to presenting a case in court. They should take advantage of that. If he wins for them, we all win.”
Phil’s face grew red. “If that’s what you think.”
“I do,” she said. “I’ll let Stuart and Renee know. I’m sure the bonuses they’ll receive if they win the case will be convincing.”
When he left her office, she sat in silence for a while, staring at the closed door. Phil wanted to take over the firm when she retired. He’d told her that about five years earlier. His sights were firmly set on the senior partner position that she’d held for twenty years. And even though he was a very capable barrister, she was still undecided about putting her baby, her firm, into his hands. It was their unspoken agreement. But, she’d worked so hard to build the firm’s reputation as a high-class, elegant and well-run team. If he took over, she was concerned about him running it into the ground with his competitiveness and internal spats with the other partners and staff.
It was one of the reasons she was so reluctant to retire. But Caleb had asked her to slow down. And she knew that she needed to do whatever it took to save her marriage. What good would it be if she saved her firm but not her marriage? She couldn’t imagine life without Caleb. How could she grow old alone? She’d always pictured the two of them side by side. Was it too late? Was he already out of reach?
She wiped tears from the corners of her eyes, stood and straightened her suit, then strode to the boardroom for the meeting.
The room was already full. There were six partners around the table. It wasn’t a large firm, but it was one she was immensely proud of building.
“Good morning, everyone. Thank you so much for being here promptly. And I appreciate all of you pitching in to keep things running last week while I was away at the conference.” She sat at the head of the table and laid her hands on the dark timber surface. “It was a very productive time. I have some business cards to give out to each of you for follow-up.”
There were nods and murmurs of greeting from around the table. Phil sat at the other end. His brow was furrowed. Evelyne pulled up a chair by the door, her laptop on a small lap desk. She would take the minutes so they could refer to them throughout the week.
“I want to open the meeting with the first order of business.” Debbie cleared her throat and pushed her grey bob back behind her ears. “I’ve wanted to slow down my pace of work for a while now. I know we’re very busy and there’s a lot going on, but at some stage, we all have to make decisions about what’s best for us and our families.”
She saw the interest and curiosity drift across Phil’s face as he sat up straighter in his chair.
“So, I’ll be moving to a three-day work week starting from today. I’ll take two days off per week, depending on client appointments and court dates. It’s a trial. I’ll revisit and reassess in three months. If it hasn’t worked for us, I’ll come up with a different solution. But I’m confident we can make it work.” Her heart hammered in her throat. She wasn’t confident at all. She was terrified the firm would sink without her there every single day. As Evelyne had recently told her, it didn’t work when she wasn’t there. And Debbie knew that was the risk she was taking.
“Two days?” Phil asked. “I’m sure we can manage without you for two days a week.”
There were murmurs of agreement, although she noted shock on some faces. She hadn’t expected anything else from Phil. He looked downright smug. No doubt he was keen to get her out of the way so he could take charge of more of their top clients. He was the most ruthlessly ambitious man she’d ever met and normally she loved that about him — it made it easy to get him to do things the way she wanted him to. But now she wasn’t so sure it would work out in her favour. Still, what else could she do? She relied on him to keep the company going.
“I appreciate all of your support. Let’s get to the other items on the agenda…”
Chapter Nine
Gwen lived in a big house on a round hill behind Joanna’s street. Bribie Island was a small, mostly flat island off the coast of southeast Queensland. It was joined to the mainland by a long bridge over the Pumicestone Passage.
Sunshine was a cozy hamlet that huddled around a bay on the eastern shoreline. Gwen could see the ocean from her front verandah, and she often sat there with a cup of coffee to mull over things while she watched waves crash against the golden sand. There was something therapeutic about the steady rhythm and the shushing sound. It comforted her.
And today, she needed that. She took a sip of coffee and leaned back in her chair. A magpie warbled in the gumtree in the front yard. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her husband’s shirt and the perfume she’d smelled on it. Debbie thought Gwen should confront him, but she wasn’t ready to do that. She hated confrontation on the best of days. But something like this — it might mean the end of her marriage. Would it be better to know or not know? Would it be better to leave things as they were and put up with the uncertainty, or to uncover the truth?
She honestly couldn’t say.
It was easy when she was twenty and single to declare that she’d never put up with infidelity and she wanted to know the absolute truth from her future husband. But now she was sixty years old, and she’d spent a lifetime with the man she loved, raising four children with him. When the family gathered for an event, there were ten grandchildren. And it was bedlam. But in a good way.
She loved the noise and chaos of her family get-togethers. But what she didn’t like was that her husband, children and grandchildren were all perfectly happy to let her manage everything on her own. She’d clean the house, buy the food, prepare and serve the food, then clean up afterwards. Sometimes her daughter would offer to wash the dishes, but her three sons never lifted a finger. They took after their father that way. And now that they were raising children of their own, they expected her to also help them with that.
At thirty-five, Brandon was the eldest. He had four children with his wife, Mara. They’d been separated for over twelve months, and on the weeks he had the children, he often drove them over to Gwen’s and dropped them off so he could run errands, or go on a date, or even go cycling. At first, she’d been happy to do it. He’d always been a lovely boy, so handsome and charming. And he needed her. His marriage was on the rocks, and he was struggling. She could see that. But that was a year ago, and it seemed more and more that he was taking advantage.
Now that they’d reconciled, Gwen was extremely grateful to see him happy again, but he seemed to feel entitled to leave the kids with her, without a word of thanks.
His brothers, Hilton and Frank, had followed his example. They were both married, but they often dropped the children with her without asking first. They assumed she’d be home and have nothing else to do.
“I’ve got to work, Mum. See you after five,” was all they’d say by way of explanation.
She didn’t mind. Of course she didn’t. She loved that her children saw her as someone they could rely on. It showed that her boys loved her and her parenting style. They were comfortable having her help to raise their children. But she was tired. And there were other things she wanted to do with her life.
She’d been waiting and waiting for Duncan to retire so the two of them could finally spend time together, travel, enjoy the fruits of their labour. And now his shirt, the perfume—it could change everything. Or maybe it was nothing. Maybe she was getting worked up over something silly. There were a dozen possible explanations for the scent. Now that some time had passed, she couldn’t recall exactly how it had smelled. She didn’t know if it meant anything at all. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
The doorbell rang. She set her coffee cup down on a small wicker glass-top table and hurried to open it. Brandon stood on her doorstep with the four children. All of them were under the age of ten. It was Monday morning. The two older kids were supposed to be in school. But both had on casual clothes rather than their uniforms, although they did have their backpacks. She knew what this meant. Her day was about to be completely hijacked.
“Hello, my darlings. How are you all?”
“Hey, Mum, not so great. Kimmy and Nolan are sick, and the two younger ones say they have sore throats. I can’t take them to daycare. They’ve really cracked down on people bringing sick kids.”
She offered a sympathetic smile. Each of the kids either looked miserable or bored. The younger ones ran at her legs and threw their arms around a knee each.
“Nanna!”
She couldn’t help laughing. “You’re going to knock me over one of these days. You’re getting so big.”
“I’ll be back to get them around five. Maybe six. Work has been crazy.” He waved goodbye and jogged down the front path to his idling SUV.
Gwen ushered the four children inside, then stood in the doorway to watch him drive away. He hadn’t said please or thank you. She didn’t raise him like that. When had he decided to do away entirely with his manners? Maybe she’d been too slack, always giving in. She’d spoiled him.
With a sigh, she shut the door then walked to the kitchen, where she found the children had all dropped their backpacks and were either rummaging in the fridge or playing with the TV remote.
“How about we all make fresh, hot pikelets for morning tea, and then you can do some painting?” she trilled.
The younger kids were soon absorbed in mixing pikelet batter, but the older kids retreated to the den with their iPads. Gwen helped them to pour large spoonfuls of the batter into her electric frying pan. Then she flipped them over when they bubbled on top.
Before long, the kids had batter on their noses and cheeks from licking out the bowl. When finally the golden pikelets were done, they ate them with lashings of creamy butter and strawberry jam she’d made from her garden in the cool autumn months. Then she cleaned them up and sat them on the closed-in back porch with watercolour paints and easels.
She made sure the outer door was locked, set the baby monitor she’d purchased years ago on the BBQ, and then retreated inside to do some housework. The laundry was still in the dryer from days ago. It’d be wrinkled now, and she’d have to iron it all. But she hadn’t been in the mood to finish it up after she’d smelled the perfume. Now that some time had passed, she was ready to get it finished and hung up.
She reached for Duncan’s shirt, smoothed it out and studied the collar. Was that lipstick? No, surely not. She was imagining things. It was a small pink smudge. She’d have to wash the shirt again to get that out of the fabric. She held it up to her nose and breathed in deeply. It smelled like a field of daisies now after going through the washer and dryer. Then she tossed it into a bucket of hot water to soak with bleach and finished the rest of the laundry.
When she returned to the back deck, the older kids had hung up everyone’s paintings to dry on the line with pegs she’d strung up for that purpose. And she took them inside for lunch and a movie in the den. She sat on the couch with them. One child on her left, snuggled into her side. Another on her right, head on her thigh. The other two sat at her feet, cuddling up to each leg. These were her favourite moments. When everyone was quiet and close. It felt good to be loved.
But it would also be nice to be appreciated. She’d never said anything to Brandon, or the other adults in her family, about it. Maybe it was time. She didn’t want much. She was happy to help. In fact, she loved it. She’d dedicated her life to caring for her family. She’d raised her children with very little help. Neither her parents nor Duncan’s were nearby. She’d done without babysitters, without the village that people like to talk about. And she’d relished every moment.
She was born to do this. It was her favourite thing in the world — being a mother, a grandmother. Still, she was supposed to be retired by this age, lounging by a pool, pottering in a garden or travelling the world. It would be nice to have a little time to herself now and then. And she could do with a rest, maybe a nap each afternoon. Even without all of that, she would manage with a kind word, the occasional thank you. She was feeling unappreciated. Especially by Duncan. If he was stepping out on her after all of her years of faithfulness, love and care, she simply wouldn’t understand.
Chapter Ten
When Emily awoke on Tuesday morning, she vowed to do better. To stop thinking so much about Aaron sleeping in the next room. Instead, she’d focus on her work. She had a job to do, and that job was getting busier now that she and Joanna were putting together the book for her publisher. The Sunshine Potluck Society Cookbook had become an all-consuming, time-sucking project that she and Joanna couldn’t get enough of. It was intoxicating pulling together the photographs, the recipes, the stories and anecdotes. It was still a hot mess, but she could see the potential. And it excited her.
Joanna had even agreed to list her and all of the members of their monthly brunch group as authors. She would be a published author. As she lay on her back, staring at the ceiling above her bed, a little thrill ran down her spine. An author! She never imagined in her wildest dreams that would happen. It was only a partial credit. It wasn’t her book entirely, but her name would be on it. And she loved the idea.
She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and got up with a yawn. Sunlight streamed through the edge of the drapes in a slanted rectangle of light on the hardwood floor. She showered and dressed, then helped Joanna get ready for the day. Joanna didn’t need much assistance, but Emily liked to bring her a cup of coffee in bed and then make her bed and plump her pillows while Joanna showered.
Then she got to work cooking breakfast for all three of them. Aaron usually joined them to eat and then headed out to his newly acquired job in the city. He’d bought a new wardrobe, with Emily’s help. He’d asked her if she would mind going shopping with him, and she said she’d be happy to help. They’d spent the entire day at a nearby shopping centre on the mainland picking out dress shirts, slacks, belts and shoes.
He’d had a haircut as well, and she’d chosen from the book of photographs which one she liked best. He’d shown it to the hairdresser and came out looking even more dapper than ever. His hair was already short from his time in the military, but now it was sculpted in a fashionable style, and when dressed in his new business attire, he was strikingly handsome.
As she scrambled eggs and fried bacon for their breakfast, she couldn’t help remembering him dressed up in a suit for his year twelve formal. He’d worn a black suit with a bow tie. The only one in the entire year to sport a bow tie. He’d stood out from the crowd then, just as he did now. Only back then, he’d been the school’s bad boy. The resident rebellious teen. He often did things that made her wonder what he was thinking — like jumping off the bridge into the bay or joyriding in his uncle’s boat without his permission. She was the type of girl who always played by the rules, so his carefree attitude made her nervous. All the girls had a crush on him, but he seemed not to notice. He lived his life as though no one was watching, and she’d always admired and been envious of that.
Joanna emerged from her bedroom looking fresh and happy. She was smiling from ear to ear and carrying the folder they were using to store all of their photographs and recipes for the cookbook layout under one arm.
“It’s a beautiful day!” she said, setting the folder down on the dining table.
“Yes, it is. Not a cloud in the sky.”
“I’m excited to work on our cookbook,” Joanna replied as she opened the folder. “I suppose we should wait until after breakfast, although I hate to put it off.”
“Yes, let’s eat first, and then we can dive in. I’ve been thinking about the layout for the French theme. We should definitely use some of the pictures you took when you last visited Paris. Don’t you think?”
“I’d like to. And I want to share an anecdote about a pastry shop I visited while I was there. The croissants were divine.” Joanna closed the folder again, then came to the kitchen to help Emily carry the plates to the table.
Steam rose from the eggs and bacon. Butter melted in small pools on the edges of the toast.
She set the plates on the table, then returned to the kitchen to pour them each a coffee. It was hot and black. The milk and sugar were on the table for people to add as they preferred.
Aaron burst in through the front door. He wore a singlet top with a pair of athletic shorts. His body was bathed in sweat, and he was breathing hard.
“Oh, dear! You’re dripping sweat on the floor.” Joanna clapped her hands to her cheeks.
“Good morning,” he said with a grin. “Sorry, Gran.” His teeth were white against his tanned face. He had on a pair of reflective sunglasses which he pushed up on top of his head.
“Good morning,” Emily said, suddenly feeling shy. “I made eggs.”
“Perfect,” he replied. “I’ll have a quick shower and join you.” He jogged down the hallway.
Emily met Joanna’s gaze. Joanna was smiling with a knowing look. “He’s a nice boy.”
“Yes, he is,” Emily said, busying herself with setting the table with glasses of juice.
Joanna watched her a moment, then sat at the table. Emily joined her. They said grace and began to eat. It only took Aaron a few minutes to join them. Now he had wet hair and wore a sea-green T-shirt with the collar turned up.
“How far did you run today?” Emily asked.
