Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Jack
I hand my menu to the server with a murmured thanks and smile across the table at Seb.
I’m a little nervous.
I really want Seb to like his birthday present.
I also really want him to have a good time at lunch…
with me. Even if it’s just an employer-employee thing.
Which means I have to get over being nervous and be good company, and the best way to stop being nervous is to eliminate the source of nerves…
so I should give Seb his present now.
Get it done. Then we can enjoy lunch.
And hopefully Seb will be pleased.
Or thrilled. Excited.
Happy.
Not appalled.
Swallowing hard, I keep my smile fixed in place and lift my glass in a toast. It’s only soda—as is Seb’s, even though I encouraged him to get whatever he wanted—but it serves the purpose.
“Happy birthday,” I declare.
Seb smiles, a lot more naturally than I feel like I am, and clinks his glass against mine.
“Thank you.”
We drink, then I put down my glass and reach into my jacket pocket.
The envelope I pass across the table is fat, and Seb’s expression is an odd combination of curious, relieved, and apprehensive.
The relief confuses me—what did he think I was going to give him?
Seb opens the envelope, slides out the papers, and glances at the first page.
He blinks. Then blinks again, this time scrunching his eyes closed like he’s trying to clear his vision.
He looks up at me, and his mouth is agape.
“Did you…?” He shakes his head.
“Are you giving me a horse ?”
I smile nervously.
“Happy birthday.”
Seb shakes his head again.
“I can’t… Jack, this is so generous of you. So nice. But I?—”
“Don’t say you can’t accept,” I cut in, suddenly on firmer ground.
“You’ve worked tirelessly for me this past year. The estate is in great shape, and the business has never run better. I know a lot of the improvements over the past couple years have been your initiatives, and the increased profit reflects that. If you’re uncomfortable thinking of this as a birthday gift, then consider it a merit-based bonus. Although, gotta say, you need to get used to the idea of birthday gifts, because I like giving them.”
Huffing out a breath, Seb shakes his head a third time, although this time it seems resigned.
“I guess all I can say is thank you.” He pulls a face.
“That sounds so ungracious. I am grateful. It’s an amazing gift, and I love it—love Stark. Thank you.”
I smile, relieved.
“You’re welcome.” I gesture to the paperwork.
“You don’t have to use it, but if you want to rent Stark back to the school for select students to use, the form for that is included. If you don’t…”
“If I don’t, I need to go shopping for another horse for the school.” Seb laughs.
“It seems like a win-win no matter what I decide.” He glances at the papers in his hand, then folds them and puts them back in the envelope.
“I’ll read through these and make a decision later. I assume the agistment agreement is in here too?”
“Yeah, because liability. But the fees are waived.” I say it really fast, because I have a feeling Seb isn’t going to go for that.
From the look on his face, I guessed right.
“No,” Seb declares. “I’ll take a discount, because we give all employees discounts on boarding, but I’m not letting the business absorb the cost of keeping my horse.”
I don’t say that I would have covered the expense personally.
Some battles are just not going to be won, and I’ll make sure the discount is generous.
Besides, I’m more interested in the happy way Seb said “my horse.”
“Do you mind me asking why you haven’t bought a horse before now? I mean, you worked for Uncle Warwick for years, so it’s not like you would have had high overheads for boarding. I’m pretty sure he would have given it to you free, and you probably wouldn’t have won an argument with him.” I wink to show that I’m joking, then instantly regret it.
Seriously? A wink ? What the hell is wrong with me?
Seb shrugs. “When I finished uni and started working full-time, I thought about it, even though I was living here then and would have had to pay board at a local stable.” He shoots me a sly look that tells me the wink didn’t go unnoticed.
“But I was putting as much money as possible into savings, and I decided it was more important to focus on that, since once I had enough, I’d be surrounded by horses all the time anyway. Then I went to work for Warwick again and was initially distracted by getting things the way I wanted them… and by the time I had that sorted, I couldn’t imagine being unfaithful to Stark. So…” He shrugs, chuckling, and I grin.
“You were saving for your own stable?” I ask.
It seems like a logical conclusion, based on what he said.
I’m rewarded with a nod.
“Yeah. Warwick and I worked out a plan when I was in high school. I got a bit off track in some ways, but in others, it’s worked out better than we planned.”
“Does this mean we’re going to lose you?” Panic wars with pleasure—while it would solve the whole he-works-for-me issue, it also means going back to a time when Seb didn’t run my life.
I’d have to find someone else to manage the Vale and the stables—possibly two people, since I’m not likely to be so lucky as to find another person as uniquely qualified and skilled as Seb.
Don’t be selfish, I chide myself, even as a heavy feeling settles in my chest. Besides, there are positives to both outcomes.
Whether Seb stays or goes, it’ll have an impact—both good and bad—on me.
So I need to just deal with it and let Seb make the best decision for him.
He rubs the back of his neck and grimaces.
“Maybe. Probably not, at least not for a while. I have enough saved—and enough experience—that the bank would at least take me seriously now if I applied for a loan, but I like it at the Vale. I pretty much have free rein—no pun intended—in running the stable, but even though I’m in charge, it’s not my business to worry about. That’s really liberating, in a way. Plus… it’s the stable I grew up in, you know?” He meets my gaze, and I sink into those brown eyes.
“Yeah,” I manage to say.
“I rode a horse for the first time there. Learned almost everything I know about horses and riding. And Warwick…” He stops and takes a deep breath.
“He was more than just a mentor to me. Running the stables he loved so much feels right—like a tribute to him.” He looks down at the table.
“Sorry. I sound like an idiot.”
“No!”
He jumps, and I lower my voice but speak with no less vehemence.
“No, you don’t sound like an idiot. Uncle Warwick would love that you’re still looking after his place. I— Right after he… After, my dad and my brother tried to convince me to sell the stables. Not the house, but the business. They wanted me to subdivide the property, keep an acre or two around the house, and sell the rest. They said if I really wanted to, I could try to sell the stables and riding school as a going concern, but that the land itself was where the value was, and I’d do better to sell to a developer.” I shake my head, still feeling tightness in my chest at the very thought.
“I couldn’t believe it,” I continue.
“I mean… my grandfather grew up on that property. So did my great-grandfather. Did Uncle Warwick ever show you my great-great-grandfather Anthony’s estate journals?”
Seb shakes his head, looking intrigued.
“It’s mostly boring stuff about running the estate, but occasionally he would write something, and you could just tell how much he loved every inch of that land. His father made a fortune outfitting miners in Ballarat during the Gold Rush, then was smart enough to diversify into general goods and open stores in other towns before the boom ended. There was a lot of pressure on Anthony to work in the family business, but all he ever wanted was to farm. He had a huge falling out with the rest of the family, took all the money he had, and left. He basically just wandered around for a few years, working odd jobs and wondering if he should have stayed home, worked for the family, or at least looked at farming opportunities in the region.” Seb still seems interested, so I plunge into the rest of the story.
“He took a one-off job delivering stock from Heathcote down to a farm near Hastings. He liked the area, was riding around one day and saw the Vale up for sale. It wasn’t much then—just the land and a basic cabin. The man who owned it had just lost his wife and baby—it’s not clear how, but I’ve always thought sickness. He was the one who named it, and when his life fell apart and it wasn’t blissful there for him anymore, he just wanted out, to go back to his family in Gippsland. He was willing to sell for a rock-bottom price. Anthony still didn’t have the money, but he fell in love with that land at first sight, and…” I shrug.
“He and the man—I can’t remember his name—worked out a payment plan. And then three years later, flu swept through the family in Ballarat, and somehow, even though he was down the list to inherit, Anthony owned it all. He paid off the property, made sure what was left of the family was looked after, installed a manager to run the goods businesses, and settled down to farming his land.”
“That’s amazing,” Seb says.
“How did the farm end up the way it is now?” He’s genuinely fascinated, probably because he lives at the Vale and knows how awesome it is.
“My grandfather sold off most of the land when my dad was a little kid. He had no interest in farming, had taken over running the goods business and building it. When my great-grandfather died, Granddad didn’t see any point in keeping the farm. Farming is hard work and risky, and he’d basically put it into the hands of a manager anyway, so… he sold everything but the land on the existing property, and he only kept that much out of sentiment. He left it and the company fifty-fifty to Dad and Uncle Warwick, and Dad wasn’t interested in the estate, so Uncle Warwick bought out his half when I was a kid.” I shake my head.
“I still can’t believe Dad could just sell like that. I mean… I don’t think I could ever let the place go. Uncle Warwick never told me he’d left it to me, and when he died—” My voice hitches, but I forge on.
“I was so afraid we’d lost it for good. Even if he’d left it to Dad… I couldn’t be sure Dad would sell it to me.”
Our meal arrives just then, and I lean back to give the server room.
It’s good to have a moment to collect myself.
Seb thanks the server, then picks up his fork and looks across the table at me.
“Do you mind me asking why your dad might not have sold the Vale to you? If he was going to sell it anyway, why not to you?”
I force a laugh, because this is a sore spot, and pick up my own cutlery.
“Dad… He values practical thinking over emotion. There’s more money to be made by selling to a developer than to anyone else, including his son, right? So, to his way of thinking, he’d be better off selling to a developer. If I’d offered the same amount he’d have gotten from a developer, he probably would have refused to sell to me because I was making the offer out of sentimentality. He’d have considered it a learning experience for me.”
Seb stares.
“Really? He wouldn’t really have done that, right? Maybe he just says he would.”
I wish.
“No, he would. I speak from experience. If he’s got nothing to lose by teaching us these object lessons, he does.”
Setting down his fork with a bite of steak still on it, Seb says, “I’m sorry. That’s… not right. But at least you didn’t have to go through that for the Vale. For what it’s worth, Warwick never intended to leave it to your dad. He told me years ago that it would go to you. Said you were the only one who would truly appreciate it.” He smiles warmly.
“I think he was right.”
Something flutters in my stomach.
I push it down and smile back at Seb.
“Thank you. I think Mal was a bit pissed, to be honest, but he got more of Uncle Warwick’s company shares than I did, and we all know he would have just sold the Vale anyway, so…” I shrug.
“He probably would have sold to a developer, right? And then I and all the others would have been out of a job, and the horses would have been homeless, and the gardens would probably have been bulldozed.” Seb shudders, while I cringe back from the very thought.
Most of those gardens were designed and planted by my great-grandmother.
They’re a stunning blend of traditional and native-inspired.
“Speaking of the gardens,” Seb ventures hesitantly, and I raise an eyebrow, interest piqued.
“What? Do you want to bulldoze them yourself? I know they’re a lot of work, but I kind of like them,” I tease, and thankfully he laughs.
“Nah, I like them too. Everyone who sees them does. That’s what I wanted to talk about. I’ve had several horticultural societies contact me and ask if they can visit. Apparently your grandmother used to have an open day a few times a year, so some of them have been before and would like to see it again. I looked into it a bit, and while I think opening to the public isn’t a great idea, having by-appointment visits with gardening clubs and the like might be workable without upsetting the horses. We could charge a nominal fee.”
I sit back, thinking it over.
“I don’t see why not,” I say slowly.
“The fee doesn’t particularly worry me. If these people are genuinely interested in the gardens, let them come.”
Surprisingly, Seb shakes his head firmly.
“No. It’s great that you want to do this for free, and if it’s a community club or a group that has a limited budget, I’ll do discounts or waive the fee, but you need to think of the estate as a business.” He looks a lot more sure of himself now, determined, and I study him in amusement.
“You’ve put some thought into this. Why didn’t you mention it last weekend?”
The confidence vanishes, and Seb sighs.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested. Well, I was worried you’d be too interested.”
Come again?
My confusion must show on my face, because Seb explains.
“A property like that eats money for upkeep. More so because the house has the heritage overlay, so we have to be careful with maintenance and repairs. The agistment and riding school bring in some income and are profitable, but when you weigh that against how much the property costs to run overall… I was worried that if you started thinking about it too much, you might decide to sell. Especially since it was the first time you’d come down in years.” He pulls a face.
“It was easier to just keep showing you that the stables were profitable and not dwell on the rest.”
That causes a pang, but I can see Seb’s logic.
We didn’t know each other.
How could Seb have been sure I’d care about the estate?
But now that he knows better, he’s reaching out.
And that’s great.
“What other ideas do you have?”
Seb lights up.
“I haven’t done all the research,” he begins, “but the tennis court has been closed for a decade. If we opened it, I think we could rent it out for lessons. One of our instructors has a friend who’s a tennis pro, and he says the lessons at the tennis clubs are pretty steep. Some of the kids taking lessons don’t want to compete, so they don’t need to be club members. They just need a court and an instructor, and I reckon I can find an instructor who’ll lease the court from us, so we don’t even have to be involved.”
I remember playing tennis on that court, and all the tennis parties my grandmother used to throw in the summer.
Has it really been closed for over a decade?
That’s no good—it needs to be used.
“Do it,” I say decisively.
“Make sure whoever you lease it to is reputable, though. Anything else?”
Our server comes then to clear, distracting us with offers of dessert.
Seb looks like he might refuse, so I jump in and agree.
“It’s your birthday lunch,” I remind him when our server brings the menus.
“I don’t have a cake for you, so you gotta order dessert.”
“Twist my arm,” Seb concedes cheerfully, looking at the menu.
“What’s good here?”
“I like the caramel pear tart, but most people swear by the cheesecake.” Which is pretty damn good.
I can just never pass by anything with caramel.
“Hmmm. Decisions, decisions.”
Despite my efforts to cling to every moment of our time together, the rest of lunch flies by.
Seb lays out some of the other plans for the Vale, which include by-appointment viewings of some of the public rooms in the house, and we indulge in our dessert.
Seb’s manner is equal parts friendly and professional, and I have to make myself respond in kind.
Friends is a good idea, I remind myself later, after Seb’s thanked me for lunch, promised to send information about the new estate ventures, and said goodbye.
We’ll start as friends, and if I still want more once we know each other better…
well, who knows what could happen?