Chapter 28
CHAPTER
Since when had Cruz become a pushover? One minute he’d been mulling ideas for his restaurant and organising relevant permits, the next El had bailed him up and said she’d be moving in.
Though he couldn’t fault her for caring about Bindi, especially as they barely knew each other.
He couldn’t believe the fiercely independent woman he knew in high school could be homeless.
What had happened to her? Maybe Kyle would know.
He wanted to ask but didn’t want to tip off his farm manager about why he was probing into Bindi’s past, so he’d have to ask her himself.
Not that he intended on betraying El’s confidence, but he could couch his questions in terms of an interview, the same as he’d ask anyone applying for a job.
Yeah, that would work, and as Bindi’s SUV pulled up near the homestead, Cruz hoped he wouldn’t make a hash of this.
In Melbourne, he’d instigated a policy at the restaurant that any leftover fresh produce would be donated to a food bank, because he hated seeing the waste when so many homeless could be fed.
He’d even caught a sous chef squirrelling away apples once but had let it go, because he knew those in need would benefit from the fresh fruit more than the customers who could afford his pricey cuisine.
Had Bindi ever been hungry? He hoped not, but had a foolproof plan to use her as his taste tester when she accepted the job.
She couldn’t argue with that, and it would make her feel useful rather than needy.
As she strode towards him, he took careful note of her clothes.
He’d barely glanced at her last night beyond exchanging pleasantries, and thought she’d been wearing a black top and faded denim.
Today, she had on the same outfit, and her scuffed tan boots had a white-socked big toe poking out on the right.
He’d add a standard uniform to be worn during training and in the restaurant to her employment conditions.
‘Hey, bozo,’ she said when she reached him, and beneath her forced smile he saw what El had seen—a hint of desperation.
‘Is that any way to greet your prospective employer?’
‘You do have a job available?’ Her smile faded as she donned a mask he assumed she’d practised to hide her need. ‘Because I’m willing to do anything. Pick or pack, clean the homestead, admin, whatever.’
If she needed a job so badly, she could probably do with a feed. ‘Let’s conduct this interview over coffee.’
As he led Bindi into the homestead, he noticed her glancing around, envy in her eyes.
Bindi, Kyle, Thommo and Robbo had only been to his home once, in Year Nine, when his mum had got it into her head to throw him a birthday party.
He’d tried to talk her out of it, but Ferne could be stubborn.
She’d realised he was lonely and had wanted to rectify it. She had her heart in the right place.
What his mother hadn’t understood was that no matter how many parties he had, kids didn’t want to hang out with him at school.
An introvert, he preferred reading at lunchtime than kicking the footy on the oval.
When kids mocked, he pretended like he didn’t care, and wore his loner status like a badge of honour.
Thank goodness for his height, otherwise he might’ve copped a beating or two.
Ferne had invited the whole class to that joke of a party, all twenty-two kids, but only those four turned up.
To their credit, they made an effort. They gave him a gift card to a local sports store, tried to engage him in conversation, included him in their Marco Polo game in the pool.
His mum had served sausage rolls, party pies and cupcakes from the bakery, and to his surprise, the gang had hung around rather than leave as soon as they’d eaten.
That day, he’d become a reluctant fifth member of their friendship group, and he went from ignoring everyone at school to at least saying hi and having the occasional chat with them.
And despite not keeping in contact after he left school, the way they’d welcomed him back last night had been magnanimous.
As they entered the kitchen, he asked, ‘You hungry?’
The quick shake of her head had to be rote, because he saw the way she eyed off the Ploughman’s Platter he’d prepared for a light dinner: cheddar cheese slices, pickled onions and gherkins, ham and prosciutto, hard-boiled eggs, tangy tomato relish, crusty bread, and apple slices.
‘Did you make that for me?’ Her lips thinned, as if sensing he’d offered her food out of pity, and he knew he’d have to tread carefully with the rest of his plan.
‘No. Believe it or not, when you cook for a living, you can’t be bothered making dinner for yourself sometimes, so I eat this. Easy peasy.’
She still appeared reluctant to eat so he took a plate and served himself a bit of everything.
‘It’s okay if you don’t want to have any, but I’m starving, so hope you don’t mind if I eat while we chat.’ He turned away to open the fridge, giving Bindi time to serve herself without the pressure of watching her. ‘I’m going to have an OJ rather than a coffee. Is that okay with you?’
‘Fine,’ she said, and when he turned back with the orange juice in hand, he hid his relief at seeing that she’d heaped her plate like he had. He poured juice into two glasses and placed one in front of her before taking a seat next to her at the island bench.
He held up his glass. ‘Cheers to old friends.’
‘I thought you didn’t like having friends,’ she said with a soft smile as she tapped her glass against his.
‘Maybe I’m getting mellow in my old age?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, because thirty is ancient.’
‘Feels it sometimes.’ He drank half his juice before placing the glass on the bench. ‘Being back here is a shock.’
‘Then why did you come back?’
He had to show her some semblance of trust in the hope she’d do the same. ‘Can I tell you something in confidence?’
She nodded.
‘My dad’s will stipulated I had to run the farm for a year after he died, otherwise Mum and I wouldn’t get a cent. So I’m stuck here for a year.’
‘Wow. That’s … weird.’
‘I can think of other words for it. Conniving, sly, controlling.’
‘You didn’t get on with your dad?’
‘No.’
‘I liked your mum. She used to volunteer at school athletics and the swimming carnival, and she always saved the biggest slice of banana bread for me.’
‘Yeah, Mum’s the best. About time she got to leave this place and spread her wings.’
‘Where is she?’
‘Melbourne. She wants to travel.’
‘Good for her.’
Their casual chatter had provided Cruz with the perfect segue into finding out more about Bindi’s situation.
‘What about you? Have you travelled much since I last saw you at high-school graduation?’
Shadows scudded across her eyes before she lowered them to stare at her plate.
‘I hit the road after high school. Packed my car and headed north, doing odd jobs all through New South Wales and Queensland. Fruit picking, cleaning, waitressing … You name it, I’ve probably done it.
Then a few years ago, I met Wayne. He had a place in Pambula, on the South Coast of New South Wales.
More of a shack, really, right on the beach, and it was idyllic.
We were in it for the long term, until he wasn’t. ’
Her pained expression made Cruz want to wrap his arms around her.
‘I ended up leaving the relationship with less than I started and moved back here last month.’
‘Your folks still around?’
She shook her head. ‘They sold up, bought a caravan and have been travelling the country for the last few years. Half their luck.’
‘You mentioned waitressing, and that’s what I’m after, but I need someone to also help run the restaurant. Has El told you much about it?’
‘Just that you’re opening a small restaurant here on the farm.’
He nodded. ‘It’s in one of the sheds, a low key, farm to table type thing, highlighting avocado in every dish. We’ll have about ten tables, catering to up to forty at a time.’
‘Sounds easy enough. When do I start?’
Her self-deprecating laugh didn’t fool him; she needed this job to begin ASAP.
‘Actually, that’s what I want to talk to you about.
Because I’ve been lumped with running the farm, I’ll need a lot of help with the restaurant, and I’m hoping that’s where you come in.
The person who gets the job will have to live onsite, in the self-contained studio attached to the homestead.
’ He grimaced. ‘Though you’ll have to use the shower in here, because there isn’t one in the studio.
But apart from that, it’s liveable. El is staying there at the moment, but she’ll move in here if you agree to take the job. ’
‘Wow, you’ll go to any lengths to get that girl to hang out with you.’
He grinned. ‘No ploy. I’m just desperate to get the restaurant happening because cooking is what grounds me, keeps me sane, and if I have to be stuck in this godforsaken place for the next twelve months, having the restaurant will make it palatable.’
She groaned at his pun, but he saw the glimmer of excitement. ‘Will I have to pay rent?’
‘Of course not. The job comes with a salary and accommodation.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘With the added bonus of you being my official taste tester for anything I whip up.’
Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Sounds too good to be true.’
‘If you want the job, it’s yours.’ He shrugged, feigning nonchalance.
‘I’d rather give it to someone I know and who can start now, than waste time I don’t have advertising and interviewing.
’ He picked up a piece of bread off his plate and slathered it with chutney before topping it with ham and cheese.
‘Anyway, have a think about it, but if you accept, I’ll want you to hit the ground running tomorrow. ’
‘I’d be moving in, then?’
‘Uh-huh.’ He popped the bread in his mouth and chewed, his chest constricting when he saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes.
She swallowed and cleared her throat. ‘I’ll be honest, Cruz, leaving Wayne wiped me out financially, so I’m desperate for work, and this opportunity sounds amazing. If you’ll have me, I’d love to take the job.’
‘Great.’
Before he could say anything else, Bindi launched herself at him, hugging him so fiercely that he felt like bawling too.
She released him quickly, her face crimson as she sat. ‘Thanks, Cruz. I won’t let you down.’
‘I’m a bit of a monster in the kitchen, but I’ll try not to take out my usual foul moods on you.’
‘I reckon we’ll get along just fine.’
With that, she started eating, and the speed with which she demolished her food made him glad he’d done this for her.
The grouch had a heart. Who knew?