Chapter 10
It was funny how one could simultaneously hope but also live in dread.
Hope that Ethan would still come on Saturday as he’d promised, while the practical, sensible side of her said if he was going to visit, surely he’d have contacted her by now to set up a time.
She’d messaged him on Instagram again, all the time wishing she had found the guts to give him her phone number back at the Hydro Grand.
To be bold, like Katie had been with Jason.
Then she could know for sure, rather than be in this purgatory of anxious waiting.
Ethan didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who did spontaneous. Would he even know where to come? Had that ever actually been mentioned? She couldn’t remember. And showing up unannounced didn’t seem to be his style.
But what would she know? Here she’d been warning Katie about Jason, that she’d be wise to brace herself for his rejection, when Jason had messaged or called every day. Meanwhile, Ethan had sent nothing.
Her heart squirmed. Why had he not even bothered to reply to her last messages?
A girl didn’t want to appear desperate, and maybe sending a couple of messages had been too much.
But still, why hadn’t he gotten in touch?
Ethan was supposed to be the reliable one.
Yet his actions had proved anything but.
Which left her foolishly hoping that he’d show up and surprise them all on Saturday and prove Katie and her smug superiority wrong.
“So, how was your day?” Mum asked Ellie that night at dinner. “Anything to report?”
“No.”
“Nothing interesting?”
She shook her head. Why hadn’t Ethan contacted her?
“Did Ethan contact you?” Katie asked.
How it grated to have to admit, “No.”
“Aw, I’m sorry.” The delight dancing in Katie’s eyes suggested that was a lie. “I’m sure he will.”
She shrugged. It’d be good to change the subject about now.
“Jason wants to take me to a gothic movie festival this weekend,” Katie announced.
“I thought you’d already arranged something.”
“Well, yes, but this is playing in the Northern Beaches, so it’s really far away, so he suggested I could avoid a long trip home and go stay with him.”
“I hope you told him no,” Dad said sternly.
“Of course I did. But he’s always hoping I’ll say yes.”
“And you seriously think this man might be the one?” Ellie snapped. “Can you even hear yourself?”
“Hey, he’s a nice guy who gets misunderstood.”
Right, Ellie mouthed, catching Dad’s frown.
“I don’t think I like the sound of this,” Mum said worriedly.
“Oh, come on. There’s nothing to be worried about, I promise.”
That was not true. But to continue to listen to Katie assert her conviction in “my own truth” was more than she could cope with. Especially when she refused to be reasoned with.
Ellie placed her knife and fork on the side of her plate, next to the gravy remains of her chicken and vegetable pie.
“Actually, I did have something happen today. We have a new client. A Francine Dashwood. She’s married to some rich dude from Sydney and wants work done on her country ‘estate,’ as she calls it. ”
Mum smiled, clearly relieved to have the subject changed. “These people who think five acres entitles them to ‘estate’ status should go to England. A property like Hartbury Hall, now that’s an estate.” She smiled complacently.
Ellie swapped glances with Katie. They all knew who Mum’s favourite child was. The one with the soon-to-be husband who owned Hartbury Hall. It was a surprise that the conversation had lasted this long without any mention of the wedding.
“So, have you heard anything more from Liv?” Katie asked.
“You mean about where she wants to hold the wedding? Oh, it has to be at the Hall, doesn’t it?” Mum sighed dreamily. “Can’t you just imagine it? All bedecked in glorious silk and candles and flowers.”
Ellie sipped her water. “If she’s still talking about having it at Christmas, it’s going to be the middle of winter, Mum. I’m not sure how many flowers are out at that time of year.”
“Oh, I don’t mean they’ll be out in the garden. But the Hall itself could be spectacular.”
“I didn’t think that Liam was keen on too much fuss.”
“But it’s not about him, now is it? Family comes first, after all.”
“It is his wedding, Mum.”
“Yes, but he’s been married before.”
Something rarely mentioned. The poor man didn’t need anyone focused on his dead wife and her wayward, er, ways.
“And a woman only gets married once—or should, if both parties can possibly help it—so it should be done right.”
Ellie had a strong suspicion that Mum’s and Liv’s ideas on what was right would be very different. “Well, we all know that Liv isn’t showy either.”
Mum sighed. “I don’t know why you’ve decided to be contrary tonight, Ellie. It’s not helpful.”
Ellie rolled her lips together and eyed her sister, who was smirking at her. No doubt Katie was one hundred percent as committed to an amazing spectacle as Mum was. Who cared about the expense? Although, now that she thought about it … “Isn’t the bride’s family supposed to pay for the wedding?”
Mum blinked. Then waved her hand. “Oh, that’s such an outdated rule. I’m sure Liam would be very happy to have the wedding there with no cost to us.”
“Mm, it might be worth checking that.” Ellie glanced at Dad. “Don’t you think?”
He inclined his head. “It’s good you’re here to keep us grounded.”
Huh. She knew he meant it as a compliment, not a criticism, yet couldn’t help but feel a sting.
So, she was sensible, practical, and thought through the options rather than diving straight in.
It didn’t mean she was bad. And obviously in this family somebody had to keep a level head about things, rather than get caught up in foolishness and fancies.
She pressed her lips together. Proof of just how fanciful she could be would be seen in whether Ethan appeared on Saturday or not.
“And Francine, I’d like you to meet one of our up-and-coming talents, Elinor Bennett.”
Ellie smiled past her nerves as the woman studied her. Why was the woman looking at her so intensely? She looked like she was trying to memorise every detail of her face. “Good to meet you, Francine.”
She sniffed. “It’s Mrs. Dashwood.”
Oh. Okay. “My apologies.” Wow. Ellie’s smile faded as she lifted her chin, her own gaze narrowing as she stared back.
The woman definitely had tickets on herself.
She couldn’t remember the last client she’d come across who’d insisted on such formality.
Had she intended to make Ellie feel like a helpless schoolgirl?
“Hmm. I’m not sure this will do, after all.”
What would do? There were undertones here that she didn’t know about.
Why was Nicola looking at her with what seemed to be pleading eyes?
She wasn’t used to Nicola feeling intimidated.
There was a reason she was known as the best in the business in the Highlands.
Ellie glanced at Jackson, who had his own wide eyes.
“Well, let’s go look at the drawings Ellie has done for us. We can go to the consulting room.” Nicola held open the glass door to the office. “Just through here.”
Ellie caught Nicola’s eye and pointed to herself and raised her eyebrows. Nicola shook her head. No, she didn’t want Ellie to join as she might usually. Weirder and weirder.
She shrugged and went back to the computer drawing she’d been tasked to do.
Another rich person’s house, complete with a hot tub in a gazebo.
Why people thought they’d want to be using a hot tub that would require them to exit their house and run across cold concrete, she didn’t know.
But such were the whims of the rich. They had cash to splash and didn’t mind changing their minds a dozen times.
Not when they could afford to pay those who charged by the hour.
And while she wasn’t jealous of Liv, going to live in a big house one day, she knew it wasn’t all as easy as Mum made out.
Both Liam and Liv worked incredibly hard to make sure the Hall generated a self-sustaining income.
Things were definitely easier now than when Liv had first moved to England and helped reopen Hartbury Hall, but it was still a huge responsibility. One Ellie wouldn’t want to have.
Most of the country properties owned by rich city dwellers around here would have their own staff—or at least cleaners—to help maintain things, but those kinds of properties always seemed too large to her.
If she had to live in the country, she’d prefer something like a small cottage on about an acre, with gardens and a tranquil view.
Or in the city, something like Great-Aunt Marion’s flat with its art deco style would be nice.
But large houses for the sake of impressing the neighbours seemed a waste to her.
Why have so many bedrooms and so much space that needed to be cleaned?
Unless one planned on having seven children.
Or having house parties every weekend. Houses that sat empty for weeks on end seemed problematic.
Surely people knew that ordinary people couldn’t afford to buy houses here anymore, thanks to all the Airbnb owners.
As for first homeowners wanting to get a toehold in the market, well, good luck.
Her only hope for ever buying a house was probably in a smudge of a town ten hours west. If any of the latest batch of job applications she’d sent out ever found success.
“You sound like a whinger,” she muttered to herself, and refocused on the task she’d been given.
Getting the plans drawn up. Making the correct measurements.
Joining the dots and dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s.
At least it was work. She had some uni friends who pulled pints at pubs or worked at other jobs that had nothing to do with their degree.
Her phone flashed with a notification, and her heart thudded as she glanced at the name. But no. Only Emma-Jane. Not the E-named person she was getting desperate to hear from.