Chapter 4
I’d been so caught up with my dreaded trip back home to Mildura that I’d failed to foresee my other dilemma. It was Thursday night and my last shift before I took three nights off work. Come nine o’clock tomorrow morning, I’d be on a plane, and I wasn’t scheduled to return home until Sunday afternoon.
That meant, unless I found a man during tonight’s shift, I wouldn’t be able to complete my sexual challenge this week.
My brain flitted to the possibility of taking up my challenge in Mildura, but the very thought of it launched bile into my throat, and I quickly smacked that rotten idea away.
I walked to my kitchen in search of something to eat but after staring into my fridge for a while, I closed the door, uninspired. And that was when I saw Hunter’s phone number. It was written on the napkin from the Blue Haven Café still secured to my fridge by the surfboard magnet.
I lifted the magnet, and as I stared at the number, my fingers trembled. This could be my savior. He could be my savior.
My heart galloped at the prospect of calling him. Holding the napkin like it was a sheet of gold leaf, I placed it on my tiny dining table and plucked my phone from my bag. Before I changed my mind, I dialed his number.
“Hunter McCall here.”
“Hi, Hunter, it’s Memphis. Do you remember me? We met on the Gold?—”
“Memphis!” It was both a question and a statement. “Of course, I remember. How are you?”
“I’m good, how are you?”
“I’m bloody marvelous now that I’m talking to you.”
My heart fluttered. “Have you been busy?”
“Crazy busy. But that’s not unusual. How about you? How are the card sharks?”
I frowned, but then recalled lying to him about working at the casino as a croupier. I cringed at all my terrible lies. “Well, that’s why I’m calling. I’m on the Gold Coast again on Sunday night and, well . . .”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“I, ummm . . .”
“It sounds like you are.” His voice elevated a notch as if loaded with anticipation.
“I guess I am.”
“In that case, I’d love to.”
“You can come? This Sunday?”
“I need to change a few things around, but yes, sounds great.”
A smile curled on my lips. “Oh, that’s . . . that’s perfect.”
“Where shall I meet you?”
His question caught me off guard. “Oh, ummm . . .” I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“How about the bar at the Hot Horizon Hotel? Where we had drinks last time? Say seven o’clock?” He saved me.
“Okay, sounds great.” His timing was perfect to avoid Needledick’s prying eyes.
“Excellent. I’ll see you then.”
We said our goodbyes, and I grinned so hard my cheeks quivered by the time I’d ended the call. Hunter had just saved me. It was a delightful thought. From the very first moment I’d met him, he’d struck me as the type of guy who would come to rescue me should I be lost in the jungle or something.
A sense of calm embraced me as I headed downstairs to start work. Fortunately, my nightshift was busy and the hours flew by. Before I knew it, the rising sun signified the end of my shift and I was back in my room, painting my toenails, doing my hair, finalizing my packing, and preparing to return to the place that had been the setting for the first twenty-five years of my life.
Boarding the plane filled me with dread, and with every mile I traveled toward Mildura, anxiety ate at me like a hungry piranha. When I’d left my hometown nearly four years ago, I’d been filled with a torrent of emotions: hope, trepidation, and fear of the unknown, and now, as I headed back there, all those emotions came flooding back.
The flight was over before I’d settled my tormented reflections, and after we landed, I walked off the plane into the terminal and sought out my luggage. Once I tugged my case off the one and only carousel, I headed out the exit gate and spied Dad instantly. He hadn’t changed—his full mop of silver hair stood out like a beacon, contrasting dramatically with his sunburned face.
“Hey, Dad.” I stepped into his embrace and smelled his familiar Aramis cologne that he’d been wearing forever.
“How’s my favorite daughter?” Dad was known for his corny sayings. I’m his only daughter.
“I’m great, Dad. How are you?”
“I’m really good.” He stepped back, holding our arms apart to look me up and down. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you. Where’s Mom?”
He waved a hand as if swatting flies. “Oh, she’s busy preparing for the party. Sorry she couldn’t be here.”
“That’s okay.”
He led the way, and we crossed the tiny terminal and headed out to his parked car. “Is Tyler here?”
“No. His flight doesn’t come in until tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, okay.” I had hoped my brother would be here when I arrived. It was always easier to be around my parents when he was there too. Mainly because when he was here, the focus was off me—Mom and Dad were much more interested in their football-star son.
About thirty minutes later, we turned into our driveway, and as I stepped from the car, Mom came rushing out. A sliver of anxiety had me biting the inside of my lip as I adjusted my ponytail and ran my hands down my pantsuit to iron out the creases near my lap.
“Jane.” She greeted me with open arms. “Wow, you look incredible.”
The anxiety melted away as we embraced. “Thanks, Mom, you too.”
She stepped back and touched her hair. “Do you like my new hairstyle?”
“Yes, looks great.”
Mom had been going to the same hairdresser for decades. Martha was both the main instigator of town gossip and the reason why nearly every middle-aged woman in Mildura had short, curly hair.
“Roger, bring Jane’s luggage,” Mom barked at Dad, then grabbed my hand and led me up the path as if I had no idea where I was going.
We pushed through the front door, and she dragged me down the picture-lined hallway. “Everything’s just as you left it.” She entered my old bedroom first and swept her hand before her with great fanfare.
She was right; everything was exactly as I remembered. I’d just stepped into a surreal time warp, and it wasn’t pleasant. It crossed my mind that my distaste stemmed from having to move back into this room after I broke up with Alexander. At that time, my broken heart had sucked me into a black hole that dragged everything down with it.
“Take a few moments to freshen up.” Mom backed up to the door with a smile. “I’ll pop the kettle on. I’ve made a nice apple teacake for us.”
“Thanks, Mom. Sounds lovely.” Although I’d much prefer wine right now.
I sat on the bed and played my eyes across the bits and pieces cluttering the room. Time had stood still here, and it gave me an eerie sinking feeling. Horrid memories flooded back of me crying on this bed until I could barely breathe. I couldn’t believe how much time I’d wasted grieving over what Alexander had done.
With a sigh, I stood and strolled to the duchess decorated with dozens of tiny trinkets. Each one had a memory. Gifts from friends. Gifts from family. Items I’d bought at the show that rolled through town once a year.
None of them were precious to me. When I’d originally packed to leave Mildura, I’d taken everything of importance. My worldly belongings had filled just two suitcases.
All these remaining items could be tossed into a bin, and I wouldn’t be upset.
I unpacked my suitcase, hung up my clothes, and headed into the kitchen, where Mom stood, grinning over her teacake. She wore an apron decorated with pink frills and looked like the picture of homely bliss.
“Here you go, darling. Take a seat. How was your flight?”
“It was good, thanks Mom.”
“You must be exhausted.”
“No, not really.”
She poured tea into a fine china cup decorated with tiny purple and pink flowers. “Would you like a slice?”
“Yes, please, and cream.” Mom’s cakes were pretty special. One day, I’d learn to cook like that. I’d asked Mom to show me how to bake many times, but her teaching skills lacked patience, and she usually ended up taking over.
Maybe Hunter can teach me.
That thought tumbled from nowhere, and it was a timely reminder of how much my life had changed.
Mom cut a slice for each of us and then sat down opposite me.
I pushed my fork into the cake and dipped it into the cream. “So, tell me what’s been happening.”
“Oh, you know . . .” She waved her hand. “Not much changes around here.”
That was an understatement. The trip from the airport to the home I grew up in was enough to know everything was the same as it had been when I’d left. Even the kitchen I sat in was a blast from the past.
Silence consumed us as we sipped our tea. Except for the clock in the background—I’d forgotten all about the incessant ticking of that grandfather clock.
“Has Chelsea-Lea had her baby?” I couldn’t resist asking.
“Oh, yes, she had a baby boy. Riley. He’s adorable.”
“Oh . . . you’ve seen her?”
“Well, yes.” Mom looked about as uncomfortable as someone who’d sat on a cactus. “I saw her at the Milk Bar Café. She still goes there every Friday afternoon.”
“Oh, really?” If Aunty Ann’s description of the demise in Chelsea’s looks were even half true, then I wanted to see for myself. I glanced at the clock. “Would she be there now?”
Mom’s eyes lit up. “Yes, she probably would.”
“Maybe I should go see her?” My brain skipped to fast-forward as I tried to envisage meeting that bitch again.
Mom put her hands together. “That’s a lovely idea. It’s about time you two were friends again.”
I resisted poking Mom’s eyeballs out. She was still oblivious to how much Chelsea-Lea had hurt me. Either that or Mom was a complete fool.
“How about I drive you up there? I’ve got a bit of shopping to do.”
“Sounds perfect. Thanks, Mom.” She had no idea of the opportunity she’d just opened up for me.
Returning to my room, I changed into the red dress with the white spots that I’d worn for Billy last week. Except this time, I put on a bra. I wore all the same accessories too and as soon as I glanced in the mirror, I knew that an outfit like this was guaranteed to turn heads in the main street of Mildura. Which was exactly the reaction I was hoping for.
Mom talked nonstop during the drive uptown, mostly complaining about how much she still had to do for the party. One of Mom’s biggest faults had always been keeping up appearances. Which, I conceded, was probably why she’d maintained friendships with Alexander and Chelsea-Lea. She’d rather do that than cause a scene.
“I’m off to Foodmart, but I’ll be back in about an hour or so. Does that suit you?”
“Yes, that’ll be great.”
“You have fun, darling.”
“Oh, I will.” She had no idea.
The door to the Milk Bar Café jingled as I stepped through and crossed the wooden floor toward the red-and-white tiled bar. The décor would be trendy and retro if it wasn’t the original 1970s fit-out that the bar had opened with.
A high-pitched cackle at the back of the room confirmed Chelsea-Lea was indeed here. I’ll never forget that laugh. She’d mastered the ability to produce that fake cackle whenever it was required.
Resisting the urge to glance her way and see who else was there, I did something I’d never done before. I strode to the bar, slipped onto a barstool, and ordered an espresso martini.
A caffeine shot was exactly what I needed and a good dose of courage for what I was planning to do.