Chapter 3
The cheerful tune of You Are My Sunshine jolted Chelsea awake, and she almost fell off her couch. She brushed her hair back and fumbled for her phone, which was on the coffee table. She answered the call, willing her brain to work. “Hi, Mum.” Why had she been asleep on her couch?
“Chelsea, I just saw all the furore about Aria Simpson. Weren’t you working on something with her?”
Everything rushed back; the uproar, being fired, spending several hours that afternoon searching for a new job, but none of her contacts wanted anything to do with her. Not after Aria. She’d hung up from her last option and cried until she’d fallen asleep. “Yeah.”
“Are you all right?”
Chelsea closed her eyes at the concern in her mother’s voice.
They’d always been a team of two until Ezra came along.
Since then Sabine’s attention had been divided and Chelsea had worked hard not to be upset about it.
But whenever Chelsea needed her, her mother was always there.
She took a deep breath. “No. I’ve been fired. ”
“What for?” Her mother’s outrage soothed some of Chelsea’s hurt.
“Because I was responsible for Aria. The entire campaign had to be reworked, and our client wanted someone to blame.”
It still burned that despite her redoing the campaign so it would require little extra cost, she was the fall guy.
“I’m so sorry, baby. What are you going to do?”
That was the million-dollar question. “I don’t know.
” She wandered into the kitchen to pour a glass of water.
The mail caught her eye. Not much considering she hadn’t been home in over a month, but all of her bills came electronically.
She’d dumped the mail on the bench when she arrived home but hadn’t opened any of it.
Now she flicked through the envelopes. Some advertising for the upcoming election, a letter from a charity she usually supported and a letter from her real estate agent.
She slid her finger under the fold to open it.
“No one is hiring.” Her eyes scanned the letter and her stomach swirled with nausea.
No. This couldn’t be happening. “Shit.” She sank into the nearest chair.
“Don’t swear, Chelsea. You’ll find something.”
“No, it’s not that.” But it was partially.
She breathed slowly three times to make the nausea disappear, but it didn’t.
This was her worst nightmare. Unemployed and, “I just got notice on my apartment. The owners are selling and I have four weeks to vacate.” After a childhood watching her mother scramble to make ends meet and moving from house to house when the lease was up, she’d thought she’d found stability for herself.
She rubbed at her hot skin and her fingers curled around the letter. No, screwing it up wouldn’t make the problem go away.
Finding somewhere to rent in Sydney was difficult at the best of times, but if she was unemployed, it would be impossible.
“Oh, no. Can they do that?”
She blinked, bringing her attention back to her mother. “The lease is due to be renewed, so I guess they can.” Jobless and homeless in one fell swoop.
“When it rains, it pours. You can always come home for a while if you can’t find somewhere.”
Some of the tension decreased even as Chelsea winced.
“Thanks, Mum.” It was the last place she wanted to go.
Her stepfather wouldn’t like it, and as much as she loved her much younger brother and sister, she didn’t want to live with them.
The house overlooking the ocean had never felt like home, despite its luxury.
But it was a backup plan, and she was lucky to have that.
The photo she’d removed from her office caught her eye.
Lilydale Cottage had been her only real home.
She sighed and reread the letter. The date at the top caught her eye. It had been sent three and a half weeks ago.
No, no, no. She had three days to pack and vacate. Surely the real estate agent should have called, or emailed, or something.
She gazed around her apartment. She didn’t have a lot, but it would still be difficult to get it done.
“I know!” her mother cried. “It’s perfect and the other reason I called. You could go to Lilydale Cottage for a couple of weeks. Take a break and let all the fuss die down before you look for work.”
Chelsea frowned. Odd that her mother should mention Lilydale when Chelsea had been thinking about it.
“I’d love to, but I can’t afford to go.” Not when she had to spend all her time searching for work and an apartment.
The cottage was across the other side of the country, and it still hurt that Aunt Maggie was gone.
She wasn’t sure she could face going through all her things.
“I’ll pay for your flight and costs, of course. I had a call from a property developer who is interested in buying the land. I rang to ask your opinion. I know the place meant a lot to you.”
Her mouth dropped open but before she said anything, her mother continued, “If we sell, we’ll need to clear out the house. You could fly over, talk to the developer and pack Aunt Maggie’s things. By the time you return, no one will remember Aria Simpson.”
Lilydale Cottage.
The desire to return was almost overwhelming. It was her safe place. Spending time in the gardens would give her space to relax and plan what to do next. Hopefully they wouldn’t remind her too much of the boy who’d broken her heart.
“Chelsea?”
“Sorry, Mum. I was thinking about it.” She glanced around the house.
“How long will it take to pack Aunt Maggie’s things?
” Excitement warred with anxiety. She could get away, escape Sydney and its stress, and take some time for herself, but her employment status and living situation wouldn’t be fixed by ignoring it. She couldn’t be so irresponsible.
“She was a bit of a hoarder, so two or three weeks I’d guess.”
“I’d like to go, but without a job, I can’t get a new apartment.” Her words came faster as the panic threatened to take control.
“Oh, baby. Take a breath and calm down,” her mother soothed. “I will always be here to support you. I understand you like your independence, but you’re not alone.”
Chelsea took another three breaths and tried to calm her thoughts. Her mother might always be there, but Ezra would make her feel like an imposition. It wasn’t anything overt, but little subtle comments when her mother wasn’t around.
She wouldn’t let that happen. Her brain clicked over into problem-solving mode.
Perhaps she could stay at Lilydale until she found a job. Sure, it was an entire continent away from where she was looking for work, but she could do video interviews. At least she’d have her own space.
And she could always search for a job on the west coast. She didn’t have as many contacts there, but perhaps they wouldn’t care about the Aria Simpson fiasco.
“I need to pack up my apartment.” She couldn’t leave before she did. “Can I store some things at your place?” Their large shed should have room for her bed and couch until she found somewhere else to live.
“I’ll get you a storage unit. Ezra won’t mind paying for it.”
She heard the underlying implication Ezra wouldn’t want her things cluttering up his shed and ignored the stab of disappointment.
“How about I come over tomorrow while Miles and Amelia are at school to help you?” her mother continued.
Chelsea smiled. “I’d like that, Mum.” They had little time together, just the two of them. “I’ll see you then.”
A little mother-daughter time would settle her.
She glanced around her house and then checked her watch.
If she was quick, she could make it to the hardware store before it closed and buy packing materials.
Relieved she had a short-term goal to focus on, she grabbed her keys and headed out the door.
Three days later, Chelsea picked up her hire car at Perth airport and drove an hour and a half south to the small town of Honeybrook, nestled at the base of the Darling Scarp.
She smiled as she passed the wooden welcome sign, and the stress of losing her job, packing and moving all her belongings into a pathetically small storage unit released.
This had always been home to her. The place both she and her mother could get away and forget about their troubles.
A safe place away from the mountains of bills.
She drove down the main street and her smile faded. So many shop fronts were vacant, stores closed, and there was little movement even though it was the middle of the day.
Her favourite lolly shop was still there, but it looked as if it had halved in size.
Was Honeybrook suffering the fate of so many small towns in Australia? Was it dying?
Aunt Maggie hadn’t mentioned anything in her letters and the last time she’d been here was for the funeral and she hadn’t been paying attention to anything but her grief.
Chelsea turned down the street which led to Lilydale Cottage. She had the number of the groundskeeper her mother had hired but hadn’t got a hold of him to tell him she was coming. She’d see him soon enough.
She rounded a bend and the house appeared in front of her.
The quaint two-storey building with its wrap-around verandah and balcony had always appealed to her.
It was old, built in the early nineteen hundreds back when Honeybrook had been a milling town and the start of the push south to find more farming land.
She parked next to the house and got out, stretching and twisting to view the beautiful garden.
She froze, her mouth dropping open.
Chelsea sucked in a breath, the inhale painful as she scanned the grounds.
What had happened? Where were the manicured lawns and tidy paths which tempted you to explore further? Where were the flowers and the bushes and the plants?
She stumbled towards the wooden fence and leaned against it as she took in the yellow weeds choking the grounds, the unpruned hedges and the vines which spread as far as they could reach. Her throat closed over. This couldn’t be real. Her mother had someone maintaining the garden.