Chapter 39
39
Ruth
Bryan Chalmers popped in for a second coffee on Friday afternoon, not long before closing time. Business had been slow, the day overcast, cool and miserable, and the cafe was empty. Mia had messaged saying she couldn’t come after school and I was debating whether to mop the floor today or leave it until tomorrow. Or never.
‘Wishing you’d kept the nine-to-five paying job?’ Bryan said—smugly, I thought.
I handed him his coffee: two shots, white and one. ‘Am I that easy to read?’
‘Not at all, Ruth. But you have the look of someone who’s had enough. You didn’t return my call. Have you changed your mind about selling?’
‘Sorry. I meant to ring you again but I’m afraid so many other things have been demanding my attention.’
‘I heard Allie Thomas quit and Erin Saunders is working here a couple days a week. How’s she going?’
‘Early days. How do you know all of this?’
‘The wife. She’s born and bred Cutlers Bay and knows everyone and everything. So, what have you decided?’
‘Have you got a minute now?’
‘Yep.’
I went to the front door and locked it, flipping the sign around to closed. The cleaning up could wait. ‘Come through to the office, that way we can avoid any prying eyes.’
‘Good thinking,’ Bryan said. We both knew that if we were seen in here together having a cosy little tete-a-tete when the cafe was closed it’d be around the town in a flash.
I took the seat behind the desk and Bryan the visitor’s chair. He sipped his coffee but I didn’t miss his covert scan of the cluttered room.
‘I want to sell everything,’ I said. ‘The sooner the better.’
‘You sound as if you’ve made up your mind.’
‘I have, and not without considering your suggestion of only selling the business and leasing the building to whoever bought it. The thing is, Bryan, I’ll need the money from the sale of the business and the building to set myself up somewhere else.’
‘You won’t stay in Cutlers Bay?’
‘Honest answer? I don’t really know. My older brother is the only immediate family I have left and he lives in Adelaide. He’s on his own now.’
‘You do realise that if we manage to sell it all, which I wouldn’t count on, what you’ll end up with will seriously limit where you buy in the city?’
‘Yes, unfortunately, I’d worked that out for myself.’
‘You could always stay here. There are worse places to retire. In fact, folk move here to retire.’
The beginnings of a headache punched at the backs of my eyes. ‘You know what? Let’s get it on the market and let me worry about where I’ll live if and when it sells.’
Bryan crossed his legs and rested the coffee mug on his knee. ‘All right, I’ll draw up an agency agreement for you to sign. What you’ll need to do is get on to your accountant and have them prepare a Form 2. When I have that, I can value the business. We sign off when you’re happy and that’s when the real fun starts.’
‘Will you advertise?’
‘I’ll ask around locally first, off-market and confidentially. There are several folk in the district who’ve indicated an interest in small business, if ever anything came up. If that goes nowhere, then we advertise.’
‘I won’t have to have a for-sale sign in the window, will I?’
‘Not if you don’t want to. But folk will talk, no matter how we go about it, and that’s not always a bad thing. But you need to be prepared because there are some who’ll ask you questions that are none of their business.’
‘Like what?’
‘How much you make, what you’re asking for it, why you’re selling, that kind of thing. Up to you how you answer but my advice is the less said the better. If you think they are genuinely interested, refer them to me.’
‘And the building and flat are advertised separately, on different internet sites?’
‘That’s correct. Who’s your accountant?’
I named a firm in Kadina. ‘And Selina Martin does my books.’
Bryan nodded. ‘Expect them to take at least two to four weeks to prepare the Form 2. Ring them Monday and ask what documentation they’ll need from Selina.’
We talked for a few minutes more about timeframes and when and what I’d tell the staff. I felt nauseated when I let him out the kitchen door and my head was pounding. I swallowed painkillers with a glass of water. My GP was right: the headaches were stress related. By six I’d cleaned up and done the prep needed for Saturday. Twice I’d picked up my phone ready to ring Bryan and tell him I’d changed my mind. To forget all about it. I’d keep plodding on here until I couldn’t plod any longer. But how ridiculous was that? I wanted out and this was the only way it was going to happen. If not now, it’d be in a year or two when I was older and even more over it than I was now.
Too late, I realised that, with everything else going on, I’d forgotten to ring Gordon about my dead car. Tomorrow was Saturday and his workshop closed at midday. I swore and felt better after venting.
I went through to the flat and hopped straight into the shower, washed my hair and put on a pair of comfortable track pants and a T-shirt. When I thought about food and what I might eat for my evening meal, it struck me that tonight was the night I’d invited Hamish to dinner. Tomorrow it’d be a week since I’d spoken to him and he’d sort of hung up on me because I’d been preoccupied and thoughtless along with it. Although we hadn’t discussed it, I knew Allie would let me know if he came home. She probably wondered what was going on between us, but like me with her and Brett, no matter how interested she was, she’d never ask. If anyone did ever ask, what answer would I give them? As far as I could see, there wasn’t anything going on between Hamish and I. Not anymore.
* * *
Lana rang right in the middle of my pre-bed preparation when I had a mouthful of toothpaste.
‘Hang on,’ I said. I put the phone down, spat out the toothpaste and wiped my mouth.
‘Is this a bad time?’ she said when I picked up again.
‘As good a time as any.’ Lana didn’t ring me, ever. Unease raised the hairs on the back of my neck. ‘What’s up?’
I heard her breathing and then she gave a ladylike little cough, into the back of her hand, I’m sure. ‘I don’t know exactly how to say this,’ she said, ‘and I wish with all my heart that I didn’t have to—’
‘Just tell me, Lana.’ Do like I’ve just done with the toothpaste and spit it out .
‘I didn’t want to worry you, Ruth.’
‘A bit late for that, given it’s ten pm and you’ve never called me before. Is this about Elliot?’
‘I thought I was doing the right thing, meeting him for coffee and then having him around for a meal, but now he won’t leave me alone. Every day he rings or texts, wants me to go out for lunch … dinner … a drink. I’ve asked him not to ring me anymore but he keeps doing it. If I don’t answer, he drives to my house, allegedly to see if I’m all right.’
‘He’s lonely. Doesn’t know what to do with himself since Robert died.’
‘I understand that, Ruth. You think I’m not lonely too? But when he showed up earlier this evening, he’d been drinking and I was afraid of him. I don’t want to go to the police, but I will if he doesn’t stop bothering me.’
‘I’ll talk to him. Tomorrow. I promise. I’m so sorry, Lana.’
‘It’s not for you to apologise, Ruth. He’s a grown man, responsible for his own actions. But who else was there for me to call? I’m sorry it had to be you.’
‘I was there on the weekend, but I didn’t spend much time with him. He seemed okay. I mainly went to catch up with Stacey and I know she’s worried what’ll happen to him long term.’
‘Please don’t mention this to her. She is a lovely girl and doesn’t need this problem dumped in her lap.’
And I did? ‘Leave it with me then, and feel free to ring if he bothers you again. My only caveats are I’m two-and-a-half hours away and he doesn’t listen to much of what I say anyway. Calling the police might be the most expedient option, if it ever happens again.’