Chapter 9
NINE
“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.”
~ Maya Angelou
A wolf whistle greeted Miranda as she exited the staff bathroom and stepped into the hotel lobby, an elegant black dress clinging to her curves, hair secured loosely on top of her head with a diamanté studded clip.
‘Big night ahead?’ David enquired from the concierge desk, flashing his charming smile.
‘I’m going on a date, if you must know.’ Miranda grinned triumphantly.
‘Anyone I know?’
‘I wouldn’t think so, it’s with a he not a she.’
‘Look, I may be popular with the ladies but I do have mates too, you know,’ David assured.
Yeah, I wonder how many of their girlfriends you’ve hit on.
‘I hope you enjoy your date, Miranda, but if the guy turns out to be a loser, maybe you and I should get together sometime and see if there’s any leftover spark between us, huh?’
With an indignant toss of her head, Miranda marched past him and out the golden rimmed doors. He would not charm his way back into her life. During work hours he was her colleague, so she’d be polite and pleasant and professional, but when her shift at reception ended, she could ignore the cheating jerk.
With all thoughts of David firmly pushed from her mind, Miranda’s attention was now on enjoying her imminent date with the gorgeous Sam Maxwell, and moving her belongings into her new home in Hunter Street tomorrow. She sashayed with confidence, swaying her voluptuous hips, and smiling at strangers as they passed by. This would be a great weekend, she could feel it.
‘Well, thank you,’ Miranda said, as Sam pulled the chair out for her. He’d secured the best table at Lava Restaurant, with views of Sydney Harbour, and a floor to ceiling lava lamp behind them. Soft lighting and cruisy jazz music created an intimate ambience. Sam had obviously been here before, as he’d already nodded hello to four people, even the chef who popped his head out of the kitchen to acknowledge him.
‘The Thai fish curry with steamed rice looks good,’ Miranda said.
‘It is. Had it a couple of weeks ago. But, will that fit in with your keto diet?’ Sam smiled.
‘Oh, that.’ Miranda lowered her gaze, recalling her embarrassing bookstore visit. ‘You remembered?’
‘It came to me after you left the house. I knew I’d seen you somewhere before.’
‘I recognised you too, but...’
‘You were embarrassed to mention it. That’s okay.’ He took a casual swig of water. ‘Once, when I was starting out as a real estate agent, I was so nervous at my first open house I accidentally dropped the keys into a stormwater drain at the front of the property. They were on my personal key ring too, so I couldn’t even drive to the office to get the spare. My boss wasn’t impressed!’
‘Oh no! What happened?’
‘One of my colleagues drove out to give me the spare keys, but by then there were eight people waiting impatiently to see the house. After I’d finished the open house, I tried to find the keys, but they must have washed away. I waited on the side of the road for forty-five minutes for a locksmith.’ Sam shook his head, running a hand through his blonde-tinged hair. ‘I now keep the keys securely in my pocket until I’m at the front door.’
‘Good idea!’ They both chuckled.
The music from Mission Impossible sounded. ‘Excuse me, Miranda, I need to get this.’ He pointed to his phone.
A waiter approached, but on glancing at Sam he mouthed that he’d come back later. Sam flicked his fingers, letting him know it was okay to take their order. He lowered the phone. ‘I’ll have the New Zealand venison, and a bottle of Pepperjack Shiraz.’ He glanced quickly at Miranda with raised eyebrows and she nodded her approval on the wine choice, then he returned to his call.
‘And I’ll have the Thai fish curry, thanks.’ Miranda handed the menu to the waiter, and while Sam continued his phone conversation, she mentally reviewed her ideal man list: Lover of fine food and wine – check!
He ended his phone call. ‘Sorry about that, it was my brother. I’m in the process of selling his house.’
‘Do you have any other siblings?’ Miranda rested her elbows on the table and her chin on her entwined fingers as she began the ‘getting-to-know-you’ conversation.
‘No, just him. He’s a lawyer, and he’s pretty set on the price he wants, so I’ll keep negotiating until we get the best deal.’
‘Sounds like you’re good at your job.’
‘As I said to you earlier, I do what I need to do to make things happen.’ He winked.
The wine arrived and they clinked their glasses together, toasting Miranda’s move and Sam’s impending deal. Miranda told him about her job at Harbourside Towers, and how she’d be finishing her beauty therapy qualifications in the middle of the year.
‘Will you give up your hotel job to do beauty therapy full time?’ asked Sam.
‘Depends what jobs are available. I still like working in hotel reception, so I might try a part-time job first. I’m hoping the hotel’s salon might even have an opening.’
‘What about running your own business?’ He topped up her wine glass, then his. It was good to have a glass in her hand as it stopped her from over-gesticulating and swishing wine around the restaurant .
‘I’d like that eventually, but first I think it’s a good idea to – ’
He held up his hand as his phone rang again. ‘Excuse me again, Miranda.’ He held the phone to his ear.
Ignoring the little jolt of annoyance inside, Miranda sipped her wine, glancing around the room; couples with intertwined hands resting on tables, friends toasting each other, and business deals being finalised. She’d have to come here with Trisha sometime. They’d hardly seen each other since the wedding.
‘Now, where were we?’ Sam scratched his head. ‘Oh yes, you want to set up your own business eventually.’
‘Eventually. What about you, have you ever thought of opening your own real estate agency?’
‘I have, but things are really good for me right now, and as I like to say, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’ Sam guzzled more wine, and the waiter set the meals down on the table.
‘Do you get much time off from your job?’ asked Miranda, wondering if he ever let his phone out of his sight for more than a minute.
‘The odd day, but I need to be available all the time. Keeps the clients happy. Happy clients mean better deals.’
Sam spoke further about his job and how he came to live in Sydney, throwing in a few jokes for good measure, and an affectionate pat of her hand as he recounted another funny story from his thirteen-year history in the industry. Even though his ringtone was getting on Miranda’s nerves – his phone ringing another three times – Sam had ticked almost every item on her checklist. Miranda desperately wanted to tick off another, but thought it best not to bring up the topic of children just yet. She’d made that mistake on a previous date, not realising until her date didn’t return from the bathroom.
Sam paid for the meals, and by the time they left the restaurant, Miranda felt qualified enough to start selling houses tomorrow after the crash course she’d received. They strolled along the harbour, where teenagers dangled their legs over the boardwalk. Laughter and music blared from a party onboard a nearby boat. The city: just as alive now as during the day.
‘I never get sick of this.’ Sam waved his hand around, and they stopped near a tree embedded into a cut-out square of pavement.
‘Me neither.’ Miranda took in the many lights from skyscrapers, street lamps, and the moon, reflecting on the rippling water in the harbour like glistening jewels.
Sam turned to face her and slid his hands into hers. His eyes glistening too, she knew what was coming and her heart beat faster in anticipation. He leaned in and lightly pressed her lips with his. Miranda softened, and for some reason she imagined harp music in the background. She always had a strange habit of spontaneously conjuring up music to the memorable moments in her life, and was often surprised at what she heard. Sometimes it would be modern day pop songs, other times; eighties and nineties rock ballads. She’d told her first boyfriend, Malcolm, that every time she saw him at school, the song ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ played in her mind, so he made her a mixed CD with that song included. However, two weeks later, he gave a mixed CD to another girl, and ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ was replaced in Miranda’s mind by Alanis Morissette’s ‘You Oughta Know’.
As their kiss continued, the harp music morphed into a rhythmic acoustic guitar number, then rapidly switched to a familiar tune...
Wait, how did Mission Impossible make its way into my soundtrack of kissing music?
Sam broke the kiss and answered his phone.
You’ve gotta be kidding me!
‘Okay, mate, no worries.’ He pocketed the phone. ‘Sorry, Miranda, that was my brother’s nine-year-old son, he accidentally called my number. I don’t know how my brother does it; four kids and a full-time career, I won’t be following in his footsteps in a hurry!’
A wave of disappointment washed over Miranda and the high from the kiss plummeted to a familiar low. Hormones pulled her in one direction, while her heart and logic pulled her in another. She usually stuck it out for at least three dates before deciding a guy wasn’t worth her time, but thanks to her looming deadline and the accountability of The Club, she had to be pickier and more discerning from now on.
She would not settle for second best.
She wanted a relationship with someone who would be there for her, wanted a family as much as she did, and who gave her his full attention when they were together. Her attraction to Sam was strong, but she knew that having a fulfilling relationship with him would be without a doubt: Mission Impossible.
‘It’s so good to see you!’ Miranda collapsed into Trisha’s arms when she and her new hubby Shane arrived to help her move house. The loud screeching of packing tape being pulled from its roll indicated Sue Sheppard’s presence, and by the looks of it, she’d created a lot of work for later; the boxes almost completely covered with packing tape.
‘The last thing you want is a box breaking open, destroying all the glassware,’ Sue said. ‘Miranda, have you got any more bubble wrap?’
‘I think you used the last of it, Mum. Here, wrap the rest in these.’ Miranda handed her some bath towels. Sue would probably wrap Miranda in bubble wrap if she could.
An hour later, the removalist van had taken the furniture and large boxes, and they all drove over to unit four with the remaining items. Trisha pulled a Bluetooth speaker out of her handbag, set it on the kitchen countertop, and lively music exploded from it.
‘Oh, thanks, hun! You’re good to think of that.’ Miranda danced her way over to Trisha, giving her another hug.
‘So, tell me, how was last night?’ Trisha gripped Miranda’s hands.
‘Don’t ask. He was nice, but he took a million phone calls during dinner, and during our kiss.’
‘You kissed?’
‘Yes, but it was so quick I barely remember it, and he made a comment about not wanting kids anytime soon,’ Miranda explained.
‘Forget about him then, he’s not worth your time.’ They hugged again.
‘C’mon, you two, there’s work to do!’ Shane winked as he walked past carrying a large box labelled ‘bedroom stuff’.
Trisha edged towards Miranda’s ear. ‘Speaking of kids, don’t say anything, but...’
‘You’re pregnant?’ Miranda’s eyes widened.
‘No! Shhh, we’re going to start trying for a baby. ’
‘Oh, Trisha, that’s fantastic! Make sure you tell me as soon as it happens, okay?’
‘Of course I will. Now, let’s get this place glammed up a little, shall we?’
‘Yes!’ Miranda glanced around the room. ‘I was thinking of putting the sunset print I got from Target on that wall.’ She pointed to the side. ‘And a tray of candles over there under the window, on a side table, and – ’
‘And let’s just focus on the practical things first, shall we?’ Sue marched past with a box of kitchen items.
‘What’s wrong with planning the decorative things too? I like beautiful things.’ Miranda put her hands on her hips, but Sue didn’t appear to listen as she pulled utensils, pots, and pans out of a box and they clattered like an out of tune orchestra as she put them away. ‘Focusing on things that are beautiful and perfect takes my mind off things that...’
‘Aren’t?’ Trisha said.
‘Exactly.’ Miranda tilted her head and smiled at her friend. ‘See, at least someone understands.’ She slid an arm around Trisha’s waist and kissed her on the cheek.
Furniture was arranged, pictures were hung, and clothes put away. Miranda kept peeking in the wardrobe and giggling in awe at the shoe organiser that neatly housed her collection, well, some of it anyway. She probably had more shoes than clothes, and Miranda thought it might have been better to have a walk-in shoe organiser with a bonus wardrobe, rather than the other way around.
Sue made coffee and tea every hour and unveiled a plate of sandwiches at twelve on the dot, which were devoured appreciatively. By early afternoon the place looked more like a home.
Miranda retreated to her new bedroom to unpack the last of her personal items. Prying open the tightly secured bubble wrap, she removed her most cherished possession and placed it on her bedside table. Switching on the lamp next to it, the colours of the glass butterfly statue came to life, the glitter sparkling like fairy lights. It had been a gift from her dad on her eighth birthday. The last gift she ever received from him.