Star Promise (44 page)

Even after two months of planning, we weren’t ready for them, which was unfortunate because they were due to arrive the next day.

Charli stood on the veranda, gazing at the lawn. “We could pitch a tent,” she suggested. “Can you imagine your mother in a tent?”

I was having trouble imagining my mother in Pipers Cove. The lack of hotel accommodation was going to be the least of her gripes. “We’ll just have to sort the spare room out,” I replied. “Or they can bunk in with Bridget.”

Her sly giggle wasn’t so sly any more. It was more like a sinister cackle, which quickly gained the attention of one of our neighbours.

“G’day, Charli,” crowed a voice from the fence line. Tyler was the eldest of Flynn Davis’s stepsons. At ten years old, he was crooked, mouthy and completely and utterly in love with my wife.

“Hi Ty,” Charli waved. “What are you up to today?”

He shrugged. “Just hanging out.”

“How about you hang out on your side of the fence?” That suggestion earned me a stiff elbow to the ribs.

“Well, have fun,” called Charli, ignoring my pained groan. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

Predictably, Tyler missed his cue to leave. I took Charli by the hand and led her toward the door instead. “Jealous, Adam?” she mumbled.

As soon as we were inside, I kissed her for all I was worth. “I can never compete with what he can give you,” I announced, breaking the embrace. “Perhaps you should go. If you love him, be free.”

“Well, he does have a kick-arse mountain bike,” she giggled. “All you have is a shed full of bits of broken boats.”

My shed
was
full of boat pieces, but they only belonged to one boat. Within a week of being home, I had snagged my next project from a salvage yard in Hobart; after a long hiatus I was back in business. It was probably going to take me the best part of a year to restore, and I didn’t care. I had the rest of my life to get it done.

“It’s going to be an awesome vessel, Charlotte,” I gloated. “Perhaps then you’ll realise what a good catch I am.”

“Maybe,” she casually agreed. “No promises, though.”

Bridget and Alex had been making up for lost time. He’d cut back his hours at the café significantly since Jack was born, and the time he did spend there almost always included his little blonde sidekick. When I arrived to pick her up that afternoon, she was less than pleased to see me. “I haven’t finished working yet,” she complained. “I need to stay.”

Somewhere along the line, my daughter’s aversion to a hard day’s work had given way to playing the part of barista extraordinaire. I wasn’t sure how Alex occupied her while she was there, but was certain brewing coffee wasn’t in her job description.

“Pull up a chair,” said Alex. “Bridget hasn’t clocked off yet.”

I sat at the counter, eye-to-eye with my kid. “What’s the pay like?” I asked, making Alex smile.

Bridget leaned towards me. “Very bad,” she whispered loudly. “But I get cake sometimes.”

After a few minutes of banter while he brewed coffee, Alex slid a cup across the counter. Bridget went to work, grabbing a napkin and placing it beside my coffee.

“
Monsieur, une serviette pour vous
,” she announced, hamming it up.

“French waitresses now?” I asked, glancing at Alex. “This place is becoming a really classy joint.”

“Mamie will like it,” said Bridget.

“Your parents arrive tomorrow, right?” asked Alex. “Gabi’s looking forward to seeing them.”

I had to admit that I was too, and it was good to know that if drama took hold, I could send them Gabrielle’s way for a while. “They’re coming in on the four o’clock flight,” I replied. “It’s going to be an interesting few weeks.”

“I’m sure they’ll adjust.”

“You’re not supposed to smirk when you say that.”

Alex laughed. “Come on Boy Wonder, how bad could it be?”

Pipers Cove was never going to be Fiona Décarie’s scene. When we heard their car pull onto the driveway, we stepped out on to the veranda to greet them. Adam’s arm slipped around my waist, and he held Bridget’s hand. Suddenly we were models for a Hallmark card.

The king and queen weren’t quite so well put together. Jean-Luc looked tired, but still managed to catch Bridget when she broke free of Adam and bolted across the lawn to leap at him. I couldn’t understand the French that passed between them, but could tell the reunion was a happy one.

Fiona looked like she’d jogged all the way from Hobart. “Oh, darlings,” she cried, arms outstretched as she staggered up the cobbled path in four-inch heels. “Travelling is such an ordeal.”

“Maybe they ran out of champagne in first class,” I muttered to Adam from the corner of my mouth. “She should try flying on an domestic African airline with caged chickens in the aisle.”

He tried shushing me, but it got caught in a laugh. He covered by stepping down to greet her. I followed, and it was double cheek kisses all round.

“This is lovely, darling,” she carolled, looking in every direction.

She could only have been telling the truth. It was perfect for a royal visit. The day was bright and reasonably warm, and the afternoon sun glinted off the ocean below the cliffs, highlighting the beautiful coastline we called home.

“You’ll love it here,” I assured her. “It’ll be the perfect break for you.”

“Are there snakes, Charli?” she asked, looking down at the ground. “Ryan told me there are snakes.”

“Only little ones,” I replied, making Jean-Luc laugh. “Tiny bites – more annoying than painful.”

Fiona suddenly looked terrified, and when something hard pinged off the shed behind her, she ducked as if we were under attack.

Unfortunately we were, and I knew exactly who’d declared war on our visitors. I marched over to the centre of the yard and demanded that The Lost Boys come out of hiding.

“Right now!” I yelled.

Too young to know that staying put was the better option, five-year-old Mason appeared first, scrambling out of a bush near the fence. Sean and Tyler took a bit longer, but eventually surrendered.

“Who’s got the slingshot?” I barked. Sean waved it half-heartedly. “Hand it over.”

Tyler took it from his brother, opting to take the walk of shame himself. I stayed put and waited for him to reach me.

“We weren’t trying to hit anyone,” he muttered, dropping the slingshot into my hand. “Honest.”

“Way to make a good impression, Ty,” I scolded quietly. “Do you know who these people are?” I glanced over my shoulder at them. “French diplomats,” I lied. “You should be protecting them, not waging war.”

Tyler leaned past to get a closer look. “You’re lying.”

“I am not.”

“Prove it.”

“Mate,” I scoffed with an upward nod, “check out the car. French Secret Service.”

The Décarie’s decision to opt for a chauffeured car at the airport helped me immensely. Combined with the power of a ten-year-old’s imagination, the black sedan with tinted windows totally looked legitimate. Even better, the driver chose that moment to get out of the car and collect the luggage from the boot. His dark suit was a little on the cheap side, but he wore sunglasses and a surly frown – the perfect look for a French Secret Serviceman.

Chauffeured cars were a touch of grandeur that Tyler Davis had never been exposed to before. From that point, selling the lie was a breeze.

“Whoa,” he mumbled, eyes wide.

I thrust the slingshot back at him. “No more weaponry while they’re here,” I ordered. “They’ve got men all over the place. Hostile acts like that will get you killed.”

Glancing around in search of hidden agents, he nodded rapidly. “Understood.”

“Good.”

“We’ll help protect them too,” he offered.

“You do that, Ty,” I agreed. “But keep your distance.”

The Davis boys were mildly annoying and constantly intrusive. I smiled to myself as I walked back to my family. As long as the royals were in town, the miniature warriors next door would be keeping a safe distance.

That Christmas was one of the best I ever remembered having. Two families from totally different walks of life managed to gel enough to make a wonderful day.

It was give and take on both sides. It was fair to assume that Fiona wasn’t being truthful when she described Floss’s vegan Christmas menu as ‘delightfully non-traditional’. And poor Alex looked flummoxed when he unwrapped his gift from the queen.

“It’s a letter opener,” she explained, noticing his confusion.

“Oh,” he replied, examining it closely. “I thought it was a dagger. A nice silver dagger.”

The queen sat on Floss’s big red recliner, gently bouncing Jack on her knee. She looked mortified, but Gabrielle smoothed things over. “He’s joking, tante Fiona,” she explained, giving my father a hard elbow. “He knows what it is.”

“Of course I do.” Alex grinned at Fiona. “I’ll keep it on my desk … in my shed.”

Jean-Luc was the first to crack, laughing loud enough to match Floss’s wild guffaw. He’d chilled out a lot in the two weeks since he’d arrived. All it took for him to soften up and pull his son back into the fold was to see the work Adam had abandoned his law career for.

The first place Adam took him to was the bank building. I’d been slowly getting the gallery back in order, but wasn’t in a hurry to open for business. As a result it probably wasn’t looking its best, but Jean-Luc was in awe. After years of complaining about Adam’s useless hobby, he was now claiming bragging rights. “It’s a fine example of Décarie craftsmanship,” he declared to anyone who’d listen.

The refurbished boats were just as captivating, particularly
La Dénouement.
It had been dry-docked for as long as we’d owned it, but Jean-Luc demanded that they test it on water. Father and son were the only crew on the maiden voyage, and that was exactly how it was supposed to play out. They’d both felt an unexplainable attachment to the old sloop, and now that it was restored to its former glory, their attachment was to each other and to the memories it reminded them both of.

I’d had no idea Jean-Luc was an accomplished sailor. On a cloudy morning with very little wind, he successfully manoeuvred the boat out to sea, chasing the light breeze. Fiona and I sat on the beach and watched until it turned and disappeared around the jutting cliffs, and then her interest waned.

“Take me home, darling,” she said, hooking her arm through mine. “All this sand is ruining my pedicure.”

My kid had an uncanny knack for biding her time and picking her moment. It was a talent inherited from me. Picking my moments
and
my battles was my forte, but the problem I had faced since returning the Cove was that they were one and the same.

In the two months since we’d been home, I still hadn’t raised the topic of Olivia with my father, which meant I was no longer biding my time – I was procrastinating. Adam never pushed me. The mere mention of Olivia’s name still riled him. In the end Jean-Luc was the one who mentioned it.

I was on the veranda at the time, enjoying a few minutes of cool night air and peace.

“Are you in need of an escape, Charli?” He came and stood beside me.

I leaned both hands on the railing. “Is it that obvious?” I asked. “Whose bright idea was it to get Bridget a piano for Christmas?”

He chuckled. “It’s a pretend one.”

The sound that came out of it wasn’t pretend, and I’d had a constant headache since Christmas morning because of it.

“Treasure plays too, you know.” I grinned. “She’s her support act.”

Jean-Luc laughed. “That child is my joy.” Perhaps realising his formal vernacular grated on me, he amended his comment with a smile. “
Bridget
is my joy.”

In a sense the village was raising Bridget, and I’d realised only lately that it was for the best. Adam constantly bucked against his father’s rigid style of parenting, but even he had to concede that he wasn’t always wrong. We were always going to encourage her whimsical and imaginative side, but she’d recently shown us a new side that needed nurturing too. As dreadful as her ballet experience was, she’d thrived with direction and discipline, just as her grandfather predicted she would.

In turn, Jean-Luc finally opened his mind enough to realise that ambition and drive wasn’t the be-all and end-all. You have to save some room for bliss, whether it’s bashing away on a toy piano or tearing up boats.

I looked out at the night sky. “It’s funny how things work out, don’t you think?”

“Nothing surprises me any more,” he replied.

Lots of things surprised me, namely the way he went on to thank me for suggesting they make the trip out here. “I feel like I’m back on sturdy ground with my son,” he explained. “You’re responsible for that.”

My heart nearly burst out of my chest, which wasn’t easy to hide. Somehow, I kept my cool. “You would’ve gotten there in the end.”

Jean-Luc pulled in a long breath. “A fine
dénouement
, wouldn’t you say?”

I glanced across. “Yes, I think so.”

The king leaned forward, resting his elbows on the railing. “Do you still have the book I gave you?”

“Of course.”

“If you could read French, you’d see that there is lots of inspiration in there. Plenty of tying of loose ends.”

I frowned at him. “Are you having a dig at me?” I asked. “If I haven’t learned your language after seven years of knowing your son, it’s safe to say I’m never going to.”

He laughed. “No, I’m past trying to broaden your mind with language. I’m trying something new.”

“Well, I’m not getting it. You’ll have to spell it out for me.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t right. “Give me the definition of
dénouement
,” he ordered, putting extra French spin on the word.

“A final act of a book or a play where all loose ends are tied,” I recited. “All puzzle pieces fit together.”

“Correct,” he announced.

It only took a second to work out where he was headed. “You’re talking about the Olivia thing, aren’t you?”

“It troubles me that you haven’t spoken with your father about it,” he replied. “Alex seems like a forthcoming and reasonable man.”