In His Good Hands (6 page)

Another minute went by. The line of customers in front of the tellers inched forward. At least
they
were getting somewhere.

He jumped to his feet, paced the dark blue carpet, slapping the envelope against his thigh. This morning one of the gym’s regulars had canceled his membership. Added to the three already lost last week, the gym was losing members twice as fast as new ones were joining.

“Good morning, Brett,” Renita said from behind him.

He whirled around. “Morning.”

He breathed in her fragrance, something fresh and floral, as she walked past him to unlock her office door. He noted her full, curvy figure molded into a tight-fitting suit, and her dark, wavy hair loosely pinned up.

What the hell? What was he doing, checking out Renita? Today was strictly about business.

Brett waited for her to take a seat behind her desk before he sat. She lowered herself slowly, with a barely disguised grimace.

“Feeling sore after your workout?” he asked.

“A touch,” she admitted.

“The best cure for stiffness is more exercise.”

“Naturally,” she said drily. “Torture is its own reward.”

Slowly she readied her desk for the day, putting her purse in a drawer, stacking loose papers over to one side. A jar of jelly beans sat next to the phone. With a glance at him, she started to reach for them, then drew her arm back, wincing.

“Don’t put them away on my account,” Brett said. “I like the black ones myself.”

“You’d have to fight me for them. Since you’d win, they’re going in my drawer.” Setting her jaw, she half stood and leaned over to grab the jar. “On second thought, I’m throwing them out. If I’m going to kill myself with exercise, there’s no point undermining my efforts.” She dropped the jar into the rubbish bin with a loud metallic clank.

Next she tried to shrug out of her jacket, but her movements were constricted and obviously painful.

Brett hesitated, then finally jumped up and went around her desk. “Let me.” He eased it off her shoulders. From his vantage point he could see the V in her blouse and the shadow between her breasts.

Geez, he was doing it again. Shut down the radar, mate. This is Renita.

“You might like a hot bath,” he said, moving back to his chair.

A blush washed over her cheeks.

“I mean for sore muscles. Or benzocaine ointment.”

“Right,” she said briskly, clearing her throat. “So, what’s up?”

Brett removed his spreadsheet from the envelope. “I’ve itemized and costed the equipment I need. I think you’ll find everything’s correct this time.”

Renita took the papers. “You got onto this quickly.”

“I need to move on the refurbishment.” Brett clapped his hands on his knees, forcing himself to sit still.

Instead of looking over the document, she leaned back in her chair. “How are your parents doing?”

“They’re good.” Silence. She was waiting for more. “They’re…in the same house I grew up in, doing the same things they’ve done for the past thirty years. Dad’s retired, but he still teaches karate. Mum has her garden club. They play bowls every weekend. Same old, same old.”

“I think that’s nice. My parents don’t do much together anymore. Tegan’s a lovely girl. How old is she?”

Oh, for God’s sake.
Now
she wanted to chat? “Thirteen. In grade eight.”

“Is she enjoying school? Aside from math, that is.”

“She’s doing okay. It’s been an adjustment for her, transferring so close to the end of the school year.” He eyed his spreadsheet pointedly. “So…”

“I notice she hangs around the gym a lot. Has she made new friends yet? Gotten involved in school activities?”

Brett stifled a sigh. If Renita wanted to talk, he would have to go along with it. “She’s taking sailing lessons at the local beach club. Her partner, Amy, is a friend from school.” He paused. “She’s excited about her junior school dance, which apparently I have to chaperone.”

“A school dance. Fun.” Renita’s eyes dropped to the spreadsheet.

Finally,
Brett thought.

Her pen tracked line by line as her gaze moved down the sheet of costings. Brett watched her closely, trying to gauge her reaction. She looked interested, thoughtful. Her eyebrows arched ever so slightly.

She put her pen down and looked up. “You’ve been very thorough.”

He shrugged, hiding a swell of pride. “No big deal.”

“But…” Renita perused the document, pen tapping the desk blotter. “Does the equipment have to be brand-new? Couldn’t you get by with cheaper machines? I had a look online and there’s a lot of used exercise equipment out there.”

“You don’t know what problems you’re getting when you buy used,” Brett explained. “This particular brand is state of the art. I want to be ahead of my competitors in Frankston and Mornington, not playing catch-up.”

“But do you have to replace all the equipment at once?” she persisted. “Why not spread the cost over time?”

“Unless I refurbish properly, I won’t get the influx of new members I need to make a profit.”

“I hear what you’re saying, but this is a large amount of money.”

“It’s a business. There are set-up costs.”

“I’m sorry, Brett. I can’t approve this loan. But I will authorize you to receive $50,000. Perhaps in six months—”

He sat back, stunned. “I don’t have six months.” He couldn’t believe she was turning him down. Again. “If I’m going to get the gym off to a good start I need to act quickly.”

“I understand your urgency and I’m sympathetic. If you can just be patient—”

Brett surged to his feet and began to pace her office. “I know the fitness industry. Fifty thousand is chicken feed. You can’t tell me when and where I can spend money on my business.”

“See, that’s the thing, Brett….” She waited a beat. “I can.”

He turned around, eyes narrowed. Was she enjoying this?

“You’ll be able to paint and put new flooring in, as well as buy some secondhand equipment to replace the broken machines. Does that make sense?”

“I already have used equipment. I want brand-new.” Hell, now he sounded like little Charlotte, begging “Unca Brett” to stay for dinner. “I can turn the business around. I
know
I can. But only if I have the funds to do it.”

“I’d like to give you the whole amount, Brett, I really would. But I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“It comes to the same thing.”

“This will be the
Brett O’Connor
Fitness Center.” He jabbed her desk with a finger. “I have a reputation to live up to.”

“And I have to abide by bank guidelines.” She spread her hands. “Fifty thousand. Take it or leave it.”

Brett paced away. Belatedly, he recalled how her smile had evaporated when he’d mentioned Tegan’s dance. And why, that first time he’d come to the bank, her lame excuse about why she’d dropped his tutorials in high school hadn’t rung true. “Is this because—”

“Because…?”

“No, it can’t be.” He shook his head.

“What?” she asked.

“Because of what happened in high school before our grade eleven dance?”

He’d let her down gently but even so embarrassment had blared from her crimson face like a stuck car horn. Poor kid. He’d forgotten all about the incident until now.

“Please, give me some credit as a professional.” Her manner stiff, she rose and started gathering his papers together. “I’ll draw up the necessary documents and have my assistant contact you when they’re ready.”

“I apologize. That was a dumb thing to say. Could we grab a coffee and talk about this?” This was no attempt to charm. Just sheer desperation.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Anyway, I have another appointment.” She handed him his envelope, then came out from behind the desk, walked over to the door and opened it.

Burning at her dismissal, Brett followed. He’d spent hours on this. She’d rejected his hard work after looking at it for five minutes. “Fifty thousand is pointless.”

“You don’t have to take it.”

“Oh, I’ll take it,” he said bitterly. “I have no other choice, as you keep reminding me.”

“You’ll see I’m right, Brett. As the gym picks up you can buy new equipment piece by piece.”

“No problem.” Slapping the envelope against his thigh, he turned and strode out the door. With or without her help, he was going to get what he needed for his gym.

Oliver, Sienna’s fourteen-year-old son, took off after Jack’s dog Bogie along the rabbit trails that ran steeply down to the creek. Lexie trailed in the rear, gathering wildflowers, as often as not looking up into the treetops as into the bushes.

Renita’s thoughts drifted back to food. Fresh sourdough bread slathered in warm Brie cheese… No, no, no. No more bread or chocolate or cheeseburgers. In spite of all her exercise her weight had gone up. Muscle gain? Still, her pants felt a little looser.

She wondered if Brett had noticed. Not that she cared what he thought. How dare he suggest she’d withheld the loan as payback for him rejecting her in high school. Her revenge would be more subtle. And much more personal. She was going to look so hot that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her. She wanted him to want her the way she’d once wanted him.

A tiny part of her still wanted him, if she was honest.

But Brett was just as out-of-bounds as the bacon and eggs she could smell frying in one of the houses that backed onto the creek.

Jack stopped suddenly, his head tilted, a hand cupped behind his ear. “Did you hear that? It sounded like Smedley growling.”

Renita came to a halt, listening. Birds twittered among the gum leaves. Children’s voices called from backyards. Somewhere, a lawn mower disturbed the Saturday morning calm.

“I don’t hear anything.” She breathed in deeply. Onions—there were onions frying, too.

“There it goes again,” Jack said.

“That’s my stomach.”

Jack groaned. “Didn’t you eat breakfast?”

“Hours ago!”

He pulled an energy bar out of his shirt pocket. “Here.”

Renita salivated over the fruit-and-nut bar. But she knew exactly how many calories it contained—the equivalent of a whole meal under her new regime. “Thanks, but no.”

“I’ll have it,” Lexie said, catching up with them. She tore open the wrapper. “Renita’s on a diet.”

“Way to go, Lexie. I was keeping it a secret in case I don’t lose any weight.”

“It’s only Jack.” Her sister bit into the bar.

“What’s only Jack?” Sienna had retraced her steps to see what the family confab was about.

With a sigh, Renita explained. Sienna was a doctor, after all. Probably she should have consulted her before starting her extreme diet and exercise program.

“I thought you looked thinner.” Sienna’s green eyes studied her in the light filtered through the gum trees.

“It’s since you joined the gym,” Jack said to Renita. “I’ve always told you exercise was the key.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled. “You’ve been waiting for years to say I told you so.”

They resumed walking, Jack moving ahead to catch up to Steve and Oliver. Lexie waded into the bushes to pick a drooping white peony from a plant that was growing wild.

Sienna fell in beside Renita. “What prompted the lifestyle change?”

“I’m trying to help Dad get fit,” Renita explained. Sienna was Steve’s doctor. “We joined the gym together and we’ve signed up for the Fun Run.”

“Jack and I have tried to get Steve to run with us,” Sienna said. “He always makes an excuse.”

“He knows you two would outstrip him,” Renita said. “Whereas I’ll slog along at a snail’s pace without making him look bad.” She paused while they navigated in single file around a fallen tree. “I also want to be healthier.”

She’d tried dieting before, but every time, she’d lost a few pounds, then gone back to her old habits of eating too much and exercising too little.

“And you’re doing it to get Brett,” Lexie said, tucking the peony into her bouquet.

“Lexie!” Renita glared at her sister over her shoulder. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. How are the wedding plans going, Sienna?”

“Since Jack and I have both been married before, we didn’t want a white wedding. We’re going to have the ceremony in Bali, just us and Oliver. It’ll be romantic, in a tropical garden with a waterfall.” At Renita’s clear disappointment, she added, “But first we’ll have a party here so everyone can celebrate with us.”

After they’d talked about Bali and the wedding, Lexie tried to turn the conversation back to Brett. Renita cut her off. “Where’s Hetty today? When I asked Dad where she was, he just muttered and turned away.”

“She told me she’s fed up looking for the dog,” Lexie said above a double armful of flowers. “She thinks Dad should accept that Smedley’s gone, and try to find peace.”

“He’ll never give up hope unless—” Renita broke off.
Unless they found a body.

Her thought seemed to hang in the still warm air, killing conversation. They’d walked a few minutes in silence when a shout came from down by the creek.

“That’s Oliver,” Sienna said, quickening her steps.

The teenager burst out of the bushes. “I found him!”

Renita hurried after Sienna. Steve broke into a lumbering jog. Lexie threw down her flowers and hiked up her long skirt to run.

“Where is he?” Steve peered through the bushes and the tangle of trees overgrown with vines. “Is Smedley all right?”

“H-he’s having a fit.” Oliver bent at the waist, panting, his curly blond hair falling over his forehead. “I tried to pick him up, but I couldn’t hold him. His legs are going crazy. Like he’s trying to run but can’t. He’s lying on his side, shaking and twitching.”

A bloodcurdling sound, half crazed bark, half canine scream, pierced the still air.

“Smedley!” Steve’s face contorted and his hands clenched.

The tortured bark was followed by another. Renita felt the blood drain from her face. Jack took off down the path through the bush, Sienna and Lexie close on his heels.

Renita put an arm around her father, supporting him as he staggered, holding him back when he would have lurched down the ravine after the others. “Wait here, Dad. Jack will bring Smedley out. He’ll be all right.”

Her heart clutched as the sound of Smedley’s agony rang out. She prayed she was right.