The Patterson Girls (34 page)

‘You haven't thought about taking on the place yourself? I'm sure Brian's only selling it because none of you girls have ever shown any interest.'

Charlie spluttered. ‘Me? Run the motel on my own?'

‘What's so ridiculous about that?'

‘Well …' Where should she start?

But Mags didn't give her a chance to list any of the reasons. ‘You should have more confidence in yourself, Charlie-girl. You can do anything you put your mind to. You're more like your sisters than you think.'

Then, again before Charlie could reply, Mags asked in an ominous tone, ‘Have you spoken to Lucinda much lately? She called me a month or so ago asking all sorts of questions about the Patterson curse and she didn't sound in a good way. I can't stop thinking about her, worrying that something isn't quite right with her and Joe. I'm thinking maybe I should pay her a visit.'

‘To Western Australia?'

Aunt Mags snorted. ‘It's not on the other side of the planet, you know. It's barely more than a bus ride in comparison to some of the places I've been. But I can't go until July when my seniors' board games group has our winter break.'

‘I'm sure she'd love a visit,' Charlie said. Truthfully she was worried about Lucinda as well. She'd been sending weird emails at all hours of the night, suggesting she wasn't sleeping too well. Charlie had meant to talk to Abigail and Madeleine about it, but she never seemed to have the time. ‘She did tell us she'd spoken to you about the curse and about your old boyfriend. Bruce, was it?'

Mags snorted. ‘I wish I'd kept my trap shut about that damn curse. I think your father was right, and your mother. I'd never have said anything if I'd known Lucinda was having trouble conceiving.'

‘I guess we can only hope she gets pregnant soon. That'll put a stop to all the speculation. She and Joe would make such wonderful parents.'

‘Hmm … that they would.' Mags was quiet a moment but Charlie could tell she was contemplating something. ‘There is something else that would work.'

‘Oh?'

‘You or one of your other sisters could get pregnant.'

Charlie snorted, knowing that if she'd been drinking at that moment, she'd have spat her mouthful out in a most unladylike manner. Had Aunt Mags finally lost her mind? As far as she could recall, neither Abigail nor Madeleine had ever even mentioned the prospect of one day having children. And as for herself? Well …

‘Last time I checked, it takes two to make a baby,' she said. ‘Abigail and Madeleine are way too busy making music and delivering babies for that kind of commitment. And anyway, Abigail is the only one of us in any kind of relationship.'

‘That's not the word on the bush telegraph,' Mags said, her tone amused. ‘Janie Lee came down to visit her mother-in-law at the entertainment centre last week and she said you and Mitch make quite an item. She said she'd seen you in the café together and that word about town is he's also been spotted leaving the motel in the early hours of the morning.'

‘He's been helping me paint the rooms. And I think Janie Lee's news is dated as he hasn't done so for a couple of weeks.'

‘More's the pity.' Mags sighed. ‘You can't tell me you don't think the boy is hot?'

‘Who? Mitch?' Charlie felt her hands sweating on the steering wheel. Of course he was hot, but it didn't matter what she thought as he'd never see
her
as anything more than a friend.

‘No, bloody Father Christmas. Of course Mitch. He's a strapping young lad and you are a gorgeous girl. You're both delightful people and the best of friends. It doesn't take a genius to see you'd be perfect for each other.'

‘Maybe you should tell Mitch that,' Charlie snapped, before she could think better of it.

Mags smiled and folded her arms over her ample bosom. ‘Maybe I will.'

A cold flush crept over Charlie as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice over her head. ‘No, Aunt Mags, you can't. I didn't mean that.' Panic caused her heartbeat to accelerate. ‘Please don't say anything.'

‘Do you like him, Charlie-girl?'

Charlie rubbed her lips together. Everyone liked Mitch—he was that type of guy—but she knew Aunt Mags didn't mean like that. And she'd never been much of a liar. ‘Yes,' she confessed, her heart clenching at the thought.

‘Then you have to tell him.'

‘No.' Charlie shook her head. ‘I can't. You don't understand. He doesn't see me that way. He's made that clear a couple of times and I don't want to ruin our friendship by putting my feelings on him. Maybe if I hang around longer, maybe if we keep spending time together, maybe he'll see me as more than a friend, but I can't confess and I beg you, please, don't say anything either.'

‘Oh dear girl, don't get yourself in such a tizz.' Mags reached across and patted Charlie's knee. ‘I won't say anything if you really don't want me to, but you young folks are such scaredy-cats. In my day, if we liked a boy, we told them.'

Maybe if Charlie simply liked a boy, she would just tell him. But Mitch wasn't any old boy, he was her best friend and she didn't want to ruin that. Vowing to keep a close eye on Aunt Mags throughout the night, she continued on along the Eyre Highway without saying much else. Mags, happy to natter about the goings on of her neighbours at the ‘entertainment centre', didn't appear to notice and before long they were pulling up in front of the motel.

‘Wow,' Mags marvelled as she glanced out the window at the garden beds Charlie had only just started working on. When she wanted a break from painting she'd been getting outside and weeding. ‘You have been working hard.'

‘Thanks,' Charlie said, climbing out of the van and going round to assist her aunt. ‘I'll show you to your room to get freshened up. Head over to the bar when you're ready. Dad and Mrs Sampson will be there and I'll be along soon.'

Charlie led her to one of the newly renovated rooms, basking in the compliments Mags offered. ‘Charlie-girl, you've done an amazing job. It looks like a totally new place.' And then Charlie snuck off to the house to have a quick shower and put on her St Patrick's Day outfit.

She gasped at her reflection in the mirror, wondering if the green miniskirt she'd found amongst some of Abigail's old things was too short, but she didn't have anything else green so she'd have to suck up the embarrassment. Next came the green eye shadow, the hair ribbons and the pair of vintage green stilettos that were her mother's.

Almost as an afterthought, she picked up her mobile phone and snapped a selfie. She cringed at the image looking back at her and decided if she was going to make a habit of this, she'd need to practise her smile, but sent it off to her sisters anyway. Their lives were so busy that they rarely made the time to chat, but Aunt Mags's conversation in the car had made her think about them. Mum's sudden death had proved life could be short and unexpected—they should make more of an effort.

All good here. Dad doing much better. Think there might be something happening with Mrs Sampson, although I could be totally off the mark. St Pat's party in the motel tonight. Hope you are all well. xo Charlie

She attached the ghastly selfie and pressed Send. Then she headed down the hallway and through the door that led into the motel. It wasn't even six o'clock but already she could hear the music coming from the local band set up in the corner. Humming along to an old tune by The Corrs, Charlie stepped into the bar and restaurant area and froze.

It took her all of five seconds to work out what was different and she reached out to steady herself on the bar.

‘Who …? How …? Why …?' She stumbled on her words, glancing from the new handcrafted tables in the restaurant that had replaced the ancient formica ones to the faces of Dad, Mrs Sampson, Rob, Aunt Mags and … Mitch. And of course she knew the answer. There was only one person who could make furniture like that and he was standing in between Dad and Rob, looking half pleased with himself, half embarrassed. And totally gorgeous in black trousers, a green shirt and a tie with shamrocks all over it.

Her heart swelled with love for him. So that's why he'd been so absent these last few weeks. She'd thought maybe he'd simply become bored of hanging out with her, tired of painting wall after wall, maybe even found the company of someone else … But it looked as if he'd been spending every spare minute in his workshop, crafting these magnificent tables.

She was in total awe. She was speechless. They still had a heck of a lot of work to bring the motel into the twenty-first century but Mitch's gorgeous new tables went a long way towards this goal. She thought back to Australia Day on the farm when she'd joked about needing him to make furniture for the motel and he'd quipped back that she couldn't afford him. She didn't know how she'd ever repay him.

‘Don't just stand there, love,' Dad said, gesturing to the furniture around him. ‘Thank the boy. He's been working on these tables for weeks—got chairs coming soon too, apparently. He made me promise not to tell you what he was doing and to somehow get you out of the way this afternoon so we could arrange them all. You like it?'

‘I …' So the headache had been a ruse. ‘Yes, of course. They are amazing. Mitch … I don't know what to say.'

‘Thank you would be a great start,' Mrs Sampson suggested, grinning warmly. ‘And then maybe get him a drink. He's pretty much brought all these tables in on his own this afternoon. Brian tried to help but Mitch and I put paid to that pretty fast.'

‘Thank you.' Charlie gave her dad a look of reproof before meeting Mitch's gaze. His dark brown eyes were full of warmth. ‘You are very, very sneaky.'

He shrugged as if it were nothing.

Before she could say any more, the door of the motel opened and she turned to see Macca striding through, pushing their father in a wheelchair. Kate followed closely behind with the children and the pram. The tables were forgotten as Mitch and Mrs Sampson rushed over. Not wanting to overwhelm Mr McDonald, Charlie stepped towards the nearest table and admired Mitch's handiwork. Was there anything he wasn't good at? And how the hell was she supposed to curb her feelings for him if he kept doing things like this?

As Rob headed back into the kitchen to work on his special St Pat's menu, Charlie helped her dad pouring drinks. More people started arriving and Mrs Sampson, always one to lend a hand, joined them behind the bar even though she wasn't on duty tonight.

‘This was a great idea of yours,' Mrs Sampson whispered, nodding towards the growing crowd as she pulled a beer. ‘The band is awesome and it's good to see your father smiling again.'

Dad, busy at the other end of the bar, didn't hear but Charlie paused and raised one eyebrow. ‘I think Dad's smile has as much to do with you as it has with me or anyone else.'

Mrs Sampson's cheeks flushed a sweet pink.

‘You know,' Charlie said, pausing in her task a moment, ‘if something should happen between you and Dad, you'd have my blessing. I know he loved Mum, but he's still got a lot of life in him and I want him to be happy. And you too.'

Mrs Sampson looked as if she were about to cry. ‘We're just good friends, Charlie, but thank you. Your words mean a lot to me.' Before Charlie could say any more, Mrs Sampson turned to a local couple who'd approached the bar. ‘Evening, Alice, evening, Pete. What can I get for you both?'

Charlie left her mixing a green cocktail—their special for the evening—and took a tray of Kilkennys over to where Mitch and his family had gathered around a table. ‘On the house,' she said, putting a glass in front of everyone.

‘Not for me.' Kate shook her head. ‘I'm breastfeeding, driving and on kid duty.'

Charlie laughed. ‘No worries, can I get you a soft drink?'

‘I'll get something in a moment. Logan!' Kate hissed her oldest son's name and chased him across the other side of the restaurant. ‘Come and do some colouring in with your brother and sister.'

‘We don't want to draw,' Leo sulked, slumping on a chair.

‘Yeah, we wanna play on the iPad,' piped up his twin sister, Laura.

Kate, already halfway across the restaurant, didn't hear their pleas and if Macca did, he pretended otherwise, leaned back in his chair, picked up his pint of Kilkenny and took a long, loud sip.

‘Charlie, how are you?' Mr McDonald asked from his wheelchair, which Macca had parked near the window.

Smiling, she walked around the table and leant down to hug Mitch's dad. He looked so much frailer than she remembered and it broke her heart that this disease was eating him up. ‘Hey, Mr McDonald, so good to see you. I'm sorry I haven't visited yet.' She felt guilty about that but life had been so busy and if she were honest, she didn't want to face more heartache so soon after losing her mother.

‘Don't be silly. And how many times have I told you to call me Rick?' He patted her on the back. ‘Mitch has been filling me in on all you two have been doing here but it's great to finally see it for myself.'

‘Thanks. I'll take you to have a look in the rooms later.' She plonked herself down on a chair between Mitch and his dad.

‘What else has been happening in Meadow Brook lately?' Rick boomed, proving that although his body was slowly failing him, his voice still carried strength.

Kate, who'd returned with Logan in tow, started telling her father-in-law about a dispute between Irene the hairdresser and the Shire council, who'd put up a tourism sign in front of her shop. Apparently the local birdlife liked their new perch and had showed their appreciation by pooping all over the footpath beneath it. Already several of Irene's customers had been splattered after stopping to admire their new dos in the shop window, and she was threatening to sue if they didn't remove the sign immediately.