Chapter 7 #2
Chelsea followed her into the office with dark blue carpets and a window overlooking the main street. A large jarrah desk sat in the middle with a computer monitor on it and several wooden bookshelves lined the walls. “Has the council done any business with Johann before?”
Lauren typed on her keyboard. “Let me check.”
Chelsea sat in the seat across from her.
Lauren frowned as she read whatever was on her computer screen. “The company was involved in the sports complex development about eighteen months ago. It was completed around the time Aunt Maggie died.”
Interesting. Chelsea would have to go through Aunt Maggie’s correspondence and check whether she had any dealings with the company. “Could someone on the council have implied it wouldn’t be difficult to get approval for the village?”
“Maybe,” she said. “Leyton was their contact. He shouldn’t have, but Honeybrook has been struggling for a while now.” Her shoulders sagged. “A retirement village would have attracted people to town.”
Chelsea squeezed her hand. “I noticed a lot of shops were closed on Main Street. Is that what you mean by Honeybrook struggling?”
Lauren nodded. “The only people moving to town are teachers getting posted here,” she said. “All our generation moved on the moment they hit adulthood. Josh and I are the only ones left. Do you remember him? He was a friend of Ethan’s.”
“Yeah. Did you two ever get together?”
Lauren laughed and waved her hand. “No, nothing like that. We both had our reason for staying.” A frown flickered on Lauren’s forehead. “If the annual fair doesn’t attract people back to town, I don’t know what to do.”
Chelsea perked up. “I used to love the Honeybrook fair,” she said. “Does it still get the crowds?”
“Not even half,” Lauren admitted. “People seem to have forgotten we’re here.”
Chelsea grinned. “Do you need help with publicity? When is it?”
“I would love help,” Lauren said. “But we don’t have the funds to pay anyone.”
“I’ll do it,” Chelsea said. “I’m… on holiday at the moment. Publicity is what I do.” She wanted to help this town, which had been a home to her. Aunt Maggie would want her to.
“Are you sure? Anything you could do would be amazing.”
A small part of her brain told her she was procrastinating, finding an excuse not to make decisions about her future and Lilydale, but she ignored it.
“All I need are the dates, any photos or video you have of past events, and a list of special events you’ve got planned for this year.
” Excitement shimmered at the thought of working on something worthwhile.
“It won’t take me more than a few hours to come up with some promotional pieces.
” She gave Lauren her email address. “Send them to me. I should have a plan within twenty-four hours.” They swapped phone numbers, and then Lauren stood.
“I have to get to a meeting. I can’t thank you enough.
” Her goodbye hug held a hint of desperation in it.
“Honeybrook has always had a special place in my heart. I want to help.”
Lauren grabbed her laptop. “We should catch up over dinner. I’ll call you later.”
“I’d like that.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone to dinner with a friend. In Sydney she’d had colleagues more than friends, and she hadn’t kept in touch with anyone from high school.
All she had were Lauren, and Libby from primary school, who now lived in Texas with her rock-star husband.
How sad was she?
By the time Chelsea arrived back at Lilydale, the weight on her chest had lessened. She had more information about Johann and his company, and she had a job. Sure, it wasn’t a paying job, but she could point to it to show others not everyone had lost their faith in her ability.
She entered the house, inhaling the scent of roses beneath the still musty scent from the house being locked up for so long.
She closed her eyes. Aunt Maggie’s scent.
She opened a couple of windows to draw the mustiness out and reviewed her list. The laundry could be next.
Another room which hopefully wouldn’t be too sentimental.
She stood at the entrance of the room and her gaze caught on the coats hanging on the hooks by the door; one was Aunt Maggie’s pink raincoat, one was her dark blue it’s-freezing-cold-outside gardening coat, and the last was her pale green it’s-hot-as-hell-but-I-need-to-cover-up coat.
Tears pricked her eyes. She could hear Aunt Maggie’s no-nonsense tone and remembered when Aunt Maggie had bought her a purple gardening coat of her own. She’d thought it was the best thing ever and had worn it until it fell apart.
Aunt Maggie would never wear these coats again.
Chelsea sniffed and swallowed hard. Her eyes roamed the room.
Maggie’s spare set of secateurs, one of half a dozen pairs Maggie kept spread around the house and garden in case she spotted something that needed pruning.
The garden had been Aunt Maggie’s life. Aside from the cabins she’d rented out as bed and breakfasts, she’d drawn income from the garden by charging a gold coin donation for people to wander through it and hosting weddings on the grounds.
She hadn’t been rich, but she’d always said she had enough for what she needed.
The last time she’d written to Chelsea, she’d mentioned she was considering converting the barn into a group space where people could hold workshops or meetings. Chelsea had offered to do the promotional material for her if she went ahead with the plan.
It would have brought people to the town.
Chelsea considered the idea. Could she bring Aunt Maggie’s idea to fruition?
She’d never loved Sydney the way her mother had. This had always been home to her, unlike all the rentals they’d lived in before Ezra. There was nothing stopping her from moving back to Western Australia permanently.
The thought was shocking and unexpected, but she didn’t shy away from it.
There was a hell of a lot of work ahead, and success wasn’t guaranteed but bringing Lilydale back to its former glory held a lot of appeal.
Her mother owned the property, so Chelsea wouldn’t be homeless, but it would take time to earn enough income to survive. She’d need to pay utilities and for food, and all the repairs.
Her heart raced as she remembered the nights when she’d gone to bed hungry and the times they couldn’t visit Aunt Maggie because there hadn’t been enough money for fuel.
She exhaled slowly as her phone dinged with an incoming message. Lauren.
Have sent you what I can find. Thanks for your help.
Chelsea glanced at the laundry and then down at her phone. The promotional work would be easier.
The laundry could wait.
And perhaps if she did a good enough job with the fair, she’d find more contract work to supplement her income.
It was something to think about.
She fetched her laptop and in minutes she was immersed in her new project.
Reviving Honeybrook.