The Maxwell Sisters (5 page)

‘What's that?'

‘How do you feel about having forty strangers at our wedding?'

Spider wasn't particularly happy about it but given her parents were providing the venue, food and wine, he supposed he could concede the imposition. Phoebe was relieved. At least that was one worry off her hands. Organising a wedding, she was beginning to realise, was all about juggling.

While hopping on one foot. And patting your head.

She smiled to herself as she went to cook their dinner for the evening. Just as she was setting some pasta on the stove, her phone rang again.

‘Hello?'

‘Hi, Phee, it's Heath.'

‘Oh, hi! How are you?' Her eyes widened in pleasure. ‘It's been a while.'

‘Yes, it has. You sound well. I know it's late but congratulations on your engagement.'

She laughed. ‘Thanks. Look I'm sorry I made you call back. I did end up getting hold of Tash and she said you were very busy with a big project on.'

‘Oh, she told you that, did she? Did she say anything else?'

Phoebe frowned at the weird inflection in his tone and that earlier feeling of unease gripped her again. ‘Like what? Is something going on between you two?'

‘No.' He gave a ghost of a laugh. ‘Absolutely nothing.'

Phoebe bit her lip at this inadequate reply. ‘She did sound really depressed.'

‘Well, you said you knew she lost her job.'

That had to be it. There was no other explanation. ‘Yeah. What she needs is some cheering up and that's exactly what I'm going to give her when she comes down to Tawny Brooks in a few months. It's a real bummer you can't make it to the winery early too, Heath. I could have used the extra set of hands.'

He coughed, cleared his throat and then said slowly, ‘Well actually, Phee, turns out that project I'm on is winding down.'

She blinked. ‘What! Really?'

‘Yep, the government's run out of money. So they're dropping phase two.'

‘Oh, well that's a shame.'

‘Not if you consider that I'm free now to come and help out at Tawny Brooks.'

Phoebe grinned. ‘Of course. But are you sure? Tash seemed pretty adamant that your boss wouldn't let you go.'

‘Tash doesn't know anything,' Heath offered with a cheerfully conspiratorial tone. ‘Let me surprise her with this, won't you?'

‘Sure,' Phoebe smiled. ‘I won't say a word.'

Three months later.

Phoebe was excited.

Today was the day everyone was due to arrive at Tawny Brooks for the start of wedding preparations and Operation: Fixing a Broken Family. In keeping with her plan, she and Spider had also decided to move into her parents' home in the month leading up to the big day. She couldn't see why she shouldn't participate in and perhaps guide her sisters' reunion and reconciliation. Plus, with Spider's parents staying there too, she knew her fiancé would want to keep an eye on them. His mother, in particular, was a loose cannon who needed to be handled with care.

They arrived Saturday morning and unpacked their things in one of the guest bedrooms. While Spider was catching up with her parents, she went down to the restaurant to do a little more reconnaissance. She wanted to make sure there wasn't any further damage she had not taken into account.

The restaurant could be reached via a single-lane dirt track that ran from her parents' home to the back of a public car park that serviced the restaurant, the garden and the Tawny Brooks cellar door. The cellar door was a large building of stone and timber made in the same style as the residence. Two large dark wooden frames with huge jarrah rafters formed apexes above a generous double glass entrance. A couple of old oak barrels cut in half made great pots for some deep red proteas. Behind the cellar door was the restaurant, which could be accessed by patrons who followed the limestone path through the surrounding gardens. These were tended lovingly by her mother and a fulltime gardener.

The garden was definitely one of Tawny Brooks' visitor attractions. All organically grown, it was literally buzzing with bees and birds of all varieties. Tall karri trees provided shade and that element of secrecy to lure in the curious traveller. By the tree roots, strategically planted along the limestone path, was a delicate mix of native and foreign flora. The main colours were red and orange, which was not unsurprising, given her mother always said, ‘Gardens are about creating warmth.'

The gardener, Eric, usually kept a set of keys on his belt so she went looking for him first. She'd nearly forgotten how pretty it was in there. Different varieties of kangaroo paw, bottle brush bushes and proteas surrounded the rocky path that cut through. Rosebushes grew here too. They were not uncommon in vineyards as they were disease indicators when planted at the end of vineyard rows. In this garden, however, they were added for beauty only. Eric was clearing weeds beneath them when she found him. He was a young man, only nineteen, who had started working at Tawny Brooks about a year ago. She'd known him since he was a kid though because his father, Frank Matheson, had worked there before him. His dad had now retired. The Mathesons had always been good friends with her family and Eric was as familiar a fixture on the estate as her father's fermentation tanks. Being six years her junior, though, she had always regarded him as the shy, skinny kid who helped out his dad a lot. He'd matured of course, filled out a little, but still hadn't gained much worldly confidence. And when she stepped into the clearing he proved this by dropping his tools and reddening nervously. It was not a good colour on him given his ginger hair and freckles to match – a rather unfortunate complexion for a gardener.

‘Er … hi, Phee.' He tipped his broad-brimmed hat at her from where he was standing in a rosebush garden bed. ‘Long time no see.'

She stopped along the rocky path and smiled. ‘It has been a while, hasn't it? How have you been, Eric?'

‘Good, I suppose.' He hesitated. ‘I hear you're getting married.'

‘Yeah, the whole family's in town for it.' She jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

‘We should organise a game of bung cricket sometime,' he suggested.

Her eyes widened with nostalgic pleasure. ‘Man! I haven't done that for years. I remember when we used to play all the time.'

The bung was the silicon barrel cork that fitted into the side of her father's wine barrels. It made for an interesting cricket ball due to its odd shape, which made it bounce unpredictably. She remembered bung cricket had given her and her sisters many hours of fun on sunny afternoons after school or on return trips from uni. Often, any free cellar rats, vineyard workers or Eric and his father had joined in too. The memories made her sigh.

‘It was good times, wasn't it?' Eric returned shyly.

‘Sure was,' she said with a certain wistfulness and then added on a giggle, ‘I'd love to see my future mother-in-law having a go. That would definitely be a sight. Anyway,' she sobered, ‘I've come to check out the restaurant. We're going to fix it up, you know. Do you still keep the keys on your belt?'

‘Yep.' He nodded. ‘Here, I'll let you in myself.' He took off his gloves and joined her on the path, the keys on his belt jangling as they walked. ‘I've always wondered why your father didn't fix the restaurant before now,' he said slowly. ‘I mean, the kitchen is okay. He could have returned it to working order in no time at all.'

‘No money, I expect,' she shrugged, making out that she had no idea. The truth was she really didn't want to talk about what had been the source of contention between Tash and Eve for over a year now. Her father's actions and the family business was quite simply
their
business, and while Eric was a valued employee and family friend, she didn't really want to share intimate family decisions with him.

‘Really?' Eric cleared his throat. ‘I find that hard to believe. Tawny Brooks seems to do great every year. The brand is untouchable. I have friends overseas who drink our wine.'

‘Our wine, Eric?' she teased.

He laughed self-consciously, scratching the back of his neck. ‘Tawny Brooks has been good to me. I consider it home almost as much as you do.'

By this stage they had reached the restaurant. It wasn't an overly large building, more quaint than auspicious, and built entirely of timber. Rectangular in shape and built on short stumps, there was an alfresco section that hung partially over the edge of ‘Crazy Man's Lake', providing diners with a peaceful view of the water.

Phoebe climbed the steps to the wooden deck currently empty of tables. It was dirty and full of cobwebs – definitely in need of a good sweep and a paint. But the majority of the damage, she knew, was inside. Eric was already at the double doors and had inserted the key. He rattled the handle a bit as the keyhole appeared to be rusty and jammed. Finally the door swung open and Phoebe followed him inside.

Similar to the alfresco area, most of the furniture had been removed. There was a rustle in one corner and Phoebe jumped as a grey rabbit leapt out from behind some stacked chairs, bounded across the room and then disappeared through one of the blackened holes in the floor. There were three of these openings, at least a metre by a metre in size. The rest of the place was mostly intact. Walls and windows were grey with dirt and soot but were not unsalvageable. The floor was littered with twigs and leaves and other bits and pieces that had blown in. The gable roof was visible and she could see several birds' nests sitting on the giant wooden rafters above their heads. But otherwise, they were in good nick. Nothing a good clean-up couldn't fix.

‘The new floorboards and beams are arriving tomorrow,' she told Eric. ‘I ordered them myself.'

‘Really?' Eric seemed surprised.

Phoebe blushed. ‘I got Heath's advice first, of course. I'm no builder after all. But once I found the drawings Spider and Eve had done when they built the place, it was quite easy. We're just replacing the beams with the same timber sizes they used originally.'

‘Nice.' Eric smiled.

‘All right then,' she nodded, ‘let's have a look at the kitchen.' She turned and walked to another set of doors on her left. They were locked as well. But Eric followed her with his keys. A second later, he'd swung the doors wide and she strode in behind him, immediately overwhelmed by memories. On her left was the wash area and on her right the pass – the stainless steel bench upon which food was delivered to waiters. She could remember busy nights when this was crowded with dishes and she'd been asked to come in to help run them out. It seemed so strange to be looking at this place now – bare, empty and silent, with a layer of dust upon every surface.

It was definitely still a modern and functional kitchen. Beyond the pass were two eight-coil stoves standing opposite each other, one with a grill on top and the other positioned between a hot plate and a deep fryer. Around the corner was a layout bench she used to be able to see her face in but which was now in need of a good scrub. The room had bench to ceiling windows on two sides, overlooking the lake or the garden. There were a few country touches here and there, such as a large timber plaque on the wall that had the words ‘A family kitchen is where memories are homemade and seasoned with love' burned into its surface.

In her opinion, it would have been a wonderful place to work. It had such a large airy feel with beautiful views practically all round. With a sigh, she walked over to one of the counters and leaned across it to peer out the window. Sunshine sparkled on the lake; the branches of a large gum not far from her swayed gently with the play of the breeze.

‘How could Eve not want to work here?' she wondered out loud.

‘Do you want a cup of tea?' Eric enquired. ‘There's a kettle here that wasn't packed away.'

She wrinkled her brow. ‘Is the power on?'

He nodded. ‘Since your father's new winemaker started using the back offices and storerooms for himself, your father's switched it back on.'

‘Mmm,' she hesitated. ‘I don't know. I should probably get back to the house. Spider is waiting for me there. All the family is due home for dinner tonight.'

‘Oh,' Eric replied, running his hands over a couple of large earthenware jars sitting against the window. He hesitated. ‘Your fiancé's name, Spider … It's such a weird name, isn't it? I mean, a spider is after all an insect, sometimes poisonous, fast on its feet, a web-spinning lurer of prey.'

The way his voice changed caught Phoebe by surprise and made her stop.

What a strange angle to see it from.

‘Spider is called Spider,' she smiled brightly, ‘because he's all arms and legs. His family has been calling him that since he was a kid.'

‘Okay.' Eric seemed to accept her explanation. ‘I guess that makes sense.'

But the conversation had been enough to make her pause and look out the window again. ‘Actually, maybe I will have that cup of tea.'

‘Sure.' He took the lid off the jar and held it out to her.

It was full of tea bags and something else.

She blinked. ‘No, I … hang on a minute, what's that in there?' She reached in and drew out an envelope. It was unaddressed but looked like it had already been opened so she didn't feel there was any reason not to see what was inside.

She took out the typed sheet, her eyes flying over the words.

Phoebe tore her eyes from the page to eyeball Eric. ‘Where did this come from?'

Eric looked blankly at her. ‘I don't know. I thought there was nothing but tea in there. What is it?'

She scanned down the page for the sender's name but there wasn't one. The fact that the note was typed made it even more cryptic. She folded the letter up and put it in her pocket. ‘An important document. I'll take it back to the house.'

Eric closed the jar. ‘Okay.'

Her thoughts in disarray, she quickly wrapped up her visit to the restaurant and left Eric to lock up. As soon as he was out of view, she whipped the note out of her pocket again and read the rest of it.

Her first instinct was to take the note to Spider and immediately demand answers. But who was to say he would have seen this before and know who it was from. In fact, it was more likely that he hadn't.

Your husband-to-be is not a cheater.

Nor does he lead women on.

Even as the thought surfaced, she glanced back at the note, chewing on her lower lip. She read the sentence ‘And I know you feel the same way' at least three times.

The eternal optimist in her wanted to throw it out. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Who had put this note in the kitchen? Had they known Spider would be working there tomorrow morning?

And will they be at the Wildwood Bakery Sunday at three o'clock, waiting for my fiancé?

She folded the note carefully, placed it back in its envelope and then back into her pocket. This wasn't the only secret she had now. If there was one thing keeping secrets had taught her, it was that anything was possible. And nothing should ever be taken for granted.

When she got back to the house, Spider was in the sitting room catching up with Eve.

‘Eve! I'm so glad you're here.'

‘Me too.' Her sister stood up to hug her. Eve looked tired and frankly just a little fed up.

Phoebe pulled back, holding her at arm's length. ‘Everything all right?'

Eve nodded. ‘Fine. Fine.'

Spider grinned. ‘Your mum's already been on her case about eating right.'

‘Really?' Phoebe winked. ‘Was the theme pineapples or water?'