Chapter 3
CHAPTER
Ferne had a talent for reading people. So when her son’s face paled and Elora’s eyes widened in recognition, she knew these two had history. But before she could ask if they knew each other, Elora stuck out her hand.
‘Pleased to meet you, Cruz. Elora Curtis, the social media marketer your mother has hired to revamp your image.’
Cruz’s lips compressed into a thin line and Ferne suppressed a laugh, because if she wasn’t mistaken, Elora’s gaze had flicked over Cruz from head to foot when she’d said ‘revamp your image’, implying Cruz needed it more than the farm. Interesting.
‘I thought our image was just fine,’ Cruz said, shooting Ferne a comical WTF look, eyebrows raised, as he briefly shook Elora’s hand then released it as if she’d zapped him.
‘The farm needs an image overhaul,’ Ferne said, wishing her son had arrived earlier so she could’ve had time to warn him of Elora’s impending visit and what she had planned for the farm.
She may have been desperate to escape this place after being tethered here for too long, but she didn’t want to hand her son a failing business.
Not when he resented this farm as much as she did.
‘We need to talk, Mum.’ A deep frown furrowed Cruz’s brow. ‘Now, preferably.’
‘But our guest just arrived.’
‘She’s not a guest if she’s working for us.’
‘Don’t mind me,’ Elora said with a cheery smile. ‘Go have your chat. I could do with a bit of relaxation after that long drive. It took me over six hours to get here from Melbourne and that’s with a quick stop halfway at Charlton.’
Ferne could see Cruz wanting to roll his eyes at Elora’s cheeriness. Her son rarely smiled, and she shouldered the blame for that. She’d tried her best to fake happiness for him growing up, but her son wasn’t a fool. He’d been privy to her loveless marriage and Mac’s moods.
Thankfully, Cruz didn’t know the half of it and Ferne intended to keep it that way.
No use speaking ill of the dead, no matter how much she wanted to dance on Mac’s grave for all he’d put her through.
Her people reading skills had developed far too late, after she’d been swept off her feet by Mac Wardlow and into an empty marriage that should’ve ended decades ago.
‘Please help yourself to iced tea,’ Ferne said to Elora. ‘And I baked those Anzac bikkies.’
‘Yum.’ Elora sat and poured herself a tea, and Ferne bit back another laugh. Cruz couldn’t take his eyes off the young woman in the sunny yellow, A-line dress.
That’s what had first caught Ferne’s eye when she’d been researching social marketers online: Elora’s vibrant website, with its clear-cut information and links highlighted in vivid slashes of emerald and chartreuse; bright yet classy.
Elora’s social media accounts carried the same theme, making for a pleasing and professional aesthetic.
When her son continued to stare at Elora, Ferne cleared her throat. ‘I’m ready to have that chat when you are, Cruz.’
Wrenching his attention away from the beautiful young woman, Cruz’s frown deepened. ‘Let’s go.’
Ferne waited until they stepped through the back door and into the kitchen before saying, ‘How do you know Elora?’
‘How do you know Elora and why the hell is she here?’
‘I found her online after many hours of research. The farm’s image needs a revamp and after I interviewed her over the phone, she seemed perfect for the job.’
‘She needs to leave.’
A mutinous glint appeared in her son’s eyes.
Ferne knew that look. It was the same one he’d had every day for the first two years after he finished high school and Mac had forced him to work on the farm.
Cruz had never showed any interest in the farm, apart from devouring the avocados it produced.
He loved experimenting with them, using them in everything from pasta sauces to chocolate mousse.
Mac had eaten everything his son cooked without saying a word, not wanting to indulge Cruz’s ‘frivolous waste of time’, as he considered their son’s love of cooking.
It had taken a promise from Ferne to take on Cruz’s duties before Mac would allow their son the freedom to leave the farm and travel to Melbourne to pursue his dream.
And while she’d hated every minute working side by side with Mac, she’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant Cruz could live the life he wanted.
‘Did you two date?’ Ferne asked. ‘Is that what has you in a tizz?’
‘No. I’ve only met her once, when she came into the restaurant.’
‘Must’ve been some meeting for you to be so uptight.’
‘Leave it alone, Mum.’
His rigid shoulders and clenched jaw indicated Ferne wouldn’t get much out of him with badgering, so she changed the subject.
‘I would’ve told you this if you’d arrived earlier, but the farm is in a bad way. If you’re planning to sell it like I assume you want to, business needs to improve to attract genuine buyers and get top dollar.’
He frowned and folded his arms. ‘How bad is it?’
‘We’re barely breaking even.’
He cursed under his breath. ‘So why are you leaving me with this mess? You couldn’t have got Elora on board to ramp up publicity and sold it yourself?’
‘No.’ Ferne had sheltered Cruz from many harsh truths, but it was time she came clean about a few so she could start living her life. ‘Your father had a stipulation in his will that, after his death, you have to run the farm for twelve months.’
‘That conniving old prick,’ Cruz muttered, shaking his head. ‘Still trying to control us even after he’s gone.’
‘It’s taken several months for probate to come through, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be lumbered with the thought of returning before you had to. If you hadn’t agreed to this, the farm would’ve reverted to the state and we would get nothing.’
If only she’d discovered Mac’s secrets earlier, she could’ve carved out a different life for herself and Cruz.
‘I don’t blame you for wanting to escape this place,’ Cruz said, with a shrug. ‘Leaving here and living in Melbourne for the last ten years has been great. But I felt guilty for leaving you here with him.’
‘I made my choices.’
He hesitated. ‘Why did you stay, Mum?’
A question he’d asked a few times over the years when she’d travelled to Melbourne for the occasional weekend with him. Now, like then, she gave the same answer—a lie.
‘I built a life here. Became part of a community. I didn’t want to be in my fifties or sixties and having to start over, so I hung around.’
‘But Dad was a bastard.’
She agreed, but said, ‘Don’t speak ill of the dead.’
Cruz rolled his eyes. ‘Why? He spoke ill of us all the time. I can’t believe I have to stay here for a year before I sell.’
She wanted to say, How do you think I feel?
She’d been forced to live in this house for the last four months waiting for probate, with reminders of Mac’s treachery around every corner.
She hadn’t cared about his frequent trips to the city for conferences and meetings, because she’d loved those peaceful times when it would be just her and Cruz, and later, just her.
But she’d found evidence of Mac’s secrets while cleaning out his desk and wardrobe a few weeks after he died that made her wonder if she’d been deliberately blind to his betrayals because she didn’t want to know the truth.
She supposed she should be thankful for one of his secrets—an apartment in North Melbourne that he’d purchased on the sly.
It would become the city base from which she could travel.
She hadn’t seen the apartment yet but, with a little luck, she’d be on the road in thirty minutes and in Melbourne by nightfall.
Once Cruz calmed down and accepted his fate for the upcoming year.
‘So that’s it? You’re leaving me to deal with all this?’ Cruz swept his arm wide, encompassing the kitchen and beyond.
She nodded. ‘Like how I’ve dealt with it for years.’
Chastised, he said, ‘Sorry. I know I’ve been a crap son, totally self-absorbed.’
‘Yeah, you have been, but that’s okay, because I wanted you to have a better life.
’ The kind of life she’d never had after she married Mac.
‘The financials are up to date. Baz the accountant will run through everything with you, and Enid is still the family lawyer, so she’ll guide you too.
I’ll be staying in Melbourne for a week before hitting the road if you have questions they can’t answer. ’
‘You’re travelling?’
‘About bloody time, don’t you think?’
A smile softened his resigned expression. ‘I’m being a selfish, resentful prick when it’s not your fault I’m stuck here for the next year.’
‘You’ll have plenty of time to get back to being a fancy chef in the city, and with Elora’s help putting this place on the map, we’ll have a healthy nest egg to rely on after we sell.’
‘I’ve always wanted to run my own restaurant,’ he said, a faraway look in his eyes. ‘I guess I can put in the hard yards with that as an incentive.’
She’d used the same motivation, but for her it had been the thought of travelling that had kept her sane during the last few gruelling months. She could hardly believe her long overdue adventure was about to start.
‘I’m always a phone call away. Or text. Or DM via an app, depending where I am.’ She winked. ‘With a little luck, there’ll be no phone coverage where I’m going.’
‘Which is?’
‘Anywhere but here,’ she said, relieved when her son laughed before enveloping her in a hug.
Her escape from Rosevale Grove couldn’t come quick enough.