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How To Trap a Parent
Joan Kilby


Enjoy the dreams, explore the emotions, experience the relationships.Two determined children, two single parents…and a spark! She’d left town twelve years ago, but she hadn’t left alone. Jane Linden had taken away a lasting reminder of her first love…her daughter. Now Jane is back in Australia in order to sell her inherited property. To do so, she’ll have to spend time with Cole Roberts, once the love of her life and still her little girl’s father.Cole is also dealing with the challenges of being a single parent. Neither Jane nor he intend to rekindle their relationship. But it seems like their naughty kids might have another idea…




“You need to at least pretend to like me in public. For our daughter’s sake.”



Like a splash of cold water, she realised the old days were truly gone. Cole had zero interest in her except as Mary Kate’s mother.



“We have a child together,” he said. “I don’t want us to be enemies.”



“Given our past, I don’t see how we can be friends,” she said stiffly. “Our relationship has to be strictly business.”



His jaw tightened. “Business it is.”



Even though she was pushing him away as hard as she could, deep inside a tiny piece of Jane’s heart chipped.



Which was odd, because she hadn’t thought there was anything left to break.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR



When Joan Kilby isn’t working on her next romance novel, she can often be found sipping a latte at a pavement café and indulging in her favorite pastime of people watching. Originally from Vancouver, Canada, she now lives in Australia with her husband and three children. She enjoys cooking as a creative outlet and gets some of her best story ideas while watching her Jack Russell terrier chase waves at the beach.



Dear Reader,



Teenage pregnancy seems to keep cropping up in my books in one form or another. I think that’s because the conflict is inbuilt. Having a baby can be the most joyous experience in a woman’s life, but if you’re young, without money, a job or a life partner, you’re bound to have a few worries. If you’re ambitious like Jane, the heroine in How To Trap a Parent, you have to work out your priorities early on.



We hardly ever consider the boy’s role or feelings. My hero, Cole, fathered not one but two babies to different girls when he was a teenager. Talk about anxiety! He married one girl out of duty, lost the one he loved and missed out on a daughter’s early years.



This book is about a lot of things – family, home, vineyards, horses, daughters and sisters, thwarted ambitions and dreams fulfilled. But mostly it’s about a love affair that blossoms again after years apart.



I hope you enjoy Jane and Cole’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love to hear from readers. You can e-mail me at www. joankilby. com or write to me at PO Box 234, Point Roberts, WA 9828-0234, Australia.



Joan Kilby




How To Trap

a Parent


JOAN KILBY




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


CHAPTER ONE

JANE LINDEN PARKED her black Mazda in front of Red Hill Real Estate and checked her hair in the visor mirror. Just her luck! The only person in this small rural town who could sell her late aunt’s farm for her was Cole Roberts, the man who’d broken her heart thirteen years ago. Cole wasn’t a bad man; in fact, she’d never known anyone as loyal to his family. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t made her suffer.

Hitching her red leather tote higher on her shoulder, Jane climbed out of the car. Seeing him again would not be a problem. She was over him; him and his green eyes and killer grin. She’d be in and out of Red Hill faster than she could snap her fingers. And he would never know she’d cried herself to sleep for three years because he’d married Leslie Stanwyck instead of her.

All that had happened a long time ago. Jane was a different person, older and wiser. She might not have made a name for herself in Hollywood, but those acting lessons Rafe had given her way back when were finally going to pay off. Bright and breezy, that’s the way she’d play it. Ignore the pain, hide the anger; Cole no longer meant a thing to her. How could he? Thirteen years was way too long to carry a torch.

A bell tinkled as she entered through the glass door of the real estate agency. A small seating area was to her right, reception to her left. The young woman behind the curved desk wore black rectangular glasses and had fine dark hair swept into a ponytail.

Leslie’s little sister. The last time Jane had seen this girl she’d worn pigtails and Bratz T-shirts. Jane pushed her sunglasses up into her hair. “Millie?”

Millie glanced up with a bright smile. “Hi, um… Do I know you?”

“Jane Linden. I went to high school with Leslie.” She glanced past reception to the narrow hall and the private offices. “Is Cole in?”

“I’ll see if he’s available.” Millie reached for the phone.

“He and I are old friends. I’ll surprise him.” Jane hurried past before Millie could stop her. Old friends, indeed. They’d been far more to each other than friends; and in the end, far less.

Through the glass wall of his office she could see Cole working on something at his desk, his brow creased in concentration as he chewed on the end of a pencil. In spite of her pep talk, her heart turned over at the sight of his face, still familiar even though she hadn’t seen him in three years, the time he’d come to L.A. to visit Mary Kate.

Steeling herself, she knocked once and opened the door. “Well, just look at you! All dressed up in a suit and tie behind a big fancy desk. You’re quite the successful businessman.”

Cole started at her voice, his eyebrows lifting as he set aside his pencil and newspaper. He smoothed a hand lightly over his neatly combed dark brown hair. “Jane! I’m surprised to see you back in Red Hill so soon.” He glanced past her eagerly. “Did you bring Mary Kate this time?”

Jane had come alone four weeks earlier to arrange her aunt Esther’s funeral. Mary Kate had stayed in L.A. with friends. She’d had the lead in the classroom concert as well as end-of-term exams.

“She’s at the farmhouse.” Jane’s grip on her tote strap tightened. As the girl’s father, Cole had rights whether she liked it or not. Bright and breezy, she reminded herself and pasted on a smile. “We arrived yesterday. We’re both still jet-lagged so I let Mary Kate stay home.”

“Have a seat,” Cole said. “I’m sorry about your aunt Esther. She was so young.”

“Thanks.” Jane sat stiffly on the edge of the visitor’s chair. “Her heart attack was unexpected.”

“I’m sorry I missed the funeral,” Cole continued formally. “I was closing a deal on a house that afternoon or I would’ve come. I called you the next day but you must have already left.”

“I was only in town a few days,” Jane explained, shifting in her chair. It was hard to be bright when the subject was so sad, hard to be breezy when the conversation was this stilted. “I had work commitments and wanted to be back for Christmas.”

“How long are you in Australia?”

Jane forced herself to relax and sink back into the chair. Her short white skirt slid halfway up her thigh. She saw his gaze drop before he quickly glanced away. She tugged the fabric down. “We’re back for good. Goodbye, L.A., hello, Melbourne. I’ve got a job as a publicist with Moonray Productions. In fact, I’ve hit the ground running, publicizing the premiere of a movie called Swept Away.”

“You mean it?” he said. “You’re back?”

She nodded. “A moving company is packing up my house in Pasadena and shipping everything down here.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Cole said, smiling for the first time. “I’ll be able to get to know Mary Kate properly. Stephanie will be excited.”

“How is Stephanie?” Jane asked politely. “Does she live with you?”

“She’s great. She stays with me on the weekends and during the summer holidays and with Leslie during the week when school’s in.” He angled a framed photo on his desk so Jane could see the picture of a young girl with Cole’s open grin and Leslie’s straight blond hair. “She’s turning twelve next month. Loves horses.”

“Mary Kate, too,” Jane said, softening.

“Yeah?” Cole’s face lit.

Something like warmth flashed between them, a shared moment over their daughter. Then Cole leaned back in his chair, his face carefully neutral.

“Leslie’s married to Fergus Palmer now,” Cole went on. “They have two little boys from his first marriage.”

“So I heard.” Cole’s divorce from Leslie had gone through before his trip to L.A. At first Jane had wondered if he’d been hoping to get back together with her, but his interest had proved to be solely in Mary Kate.

Cole glanced at her bare left hand. “What about you? Are you still seeing that producer you introduced me to in L.A.?”

“That was a long time ago. Anyway, I don’t have time for a relationship,” Jane said. “Mary Kate and I are a self-contained unit. We don’t need anyone else.”

Cole came upright with a thump of his chair legs on the mat. “You can’t decide that for Mary Kate. She has family here. Me, Stephanie, her grandmother and her uncle Joey—”

Jane held up a hand, shifting back to the edge of her seat. Any hint of warmth had vanished and the time for polite chitchat was definitely over. “She’ll see you all, don’t worry.”

They glared at each other, unmoving.

Then Cole let out a breath and flexed his shoulders. Unexpectedly, he gave her the grin that used to twist her heart into knots. “Doesn’t take much to set us off, does it?”

Jane smiled stiffly, keeping a tight grip on herself, refusing to respond to that grin. So much for bright and breezy.

Cole cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Have you come home to live at Cockatoo Ridge?”

“No,” Jane said. “That’s why I’m here. Esther’s will has gone through probate and her estate has been settled. I want you to sell Cockatoo Ridge for me.”

“You’re selling the farm?”

She supposed she could hardly blame him if his surprise was mingled with a touch of resentment—if not outrage. She could hardly blame him if it was. Cockatoo Ridge had been built by his great-grandfather and had belonged to his family for generations until Cole’s father had been forced to sell it to pay gambling debts. No doubt Cole would love to have it back, but she couldn’t afford to be sentimental. Cole was unlikely to be able to meet the high price the property would rightfully command.

“I have no use for the land,” she explained. “The house is old and needs work. I’ve got my eye on a high-rise apartment in the city. It’s right on the waterfront, a corner apartment with fabulous views of the bay. There are theaters and restaurants nearby and it’s close to work.”

“Sounds expensive.”

“It costs a bomb. That’s why I need to sell the farm straightaway. For the highest possible price.”

“Those are mutually exclusive criteria,” Cole informed her, suddenly businesslike. “You can sell quickly for a lower price or wait for a decent offer. Midsummer isn’t the best time to sell. Why not enjoy the warm months in Red Hill and put the property on the market in autumn?”

And give her horse-crazy daughter a chance to settle into a country home and not want to leave? No way. “If I wait, I could lose the apartment.”

Cole tapped his pen on the blotter, frowning at her in silence. Then, with a sigh, he pulled out his appointment book and turned the pages. “I’ll come out and value the farm and we can settle on an asking price.”

“It hasn’t changed since your family lived there—a rambling Victorian house and barn on ten acres with a creek running through it. Do you really need to see it?” The less she saw of him, the better.

“It’s been years since I was at Cockatoo Ridge,” Cole said. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t inspect the property in person.”

Jane nodded, resigning herself. “How about tomorrow? I’m heading back to Melbourne on Sunday night.”

“You always were in a desperate hurry to leave town.”

She eyed him steadily. “I still am.”

“I wish I could get you to reconsider,” he said, his gaze hardening. “This is an opportunity for me to get to know Mary Kate. I’ve had precious little contact with her over the years.”

Jane took a deep breath and counted to ten. Mary Kate talked to Cole on the phone on birthdays and at Christmas. She replied to his e-mails. Was it Jane’s fault the time difference made communication difficult? Or that an almost-twelve-year-old had little interest in a faraway father she’d never known and rarely saw?

“It’s not easy finding the time and money to make overseas trips,” she said. “I came back when she was five. You’ve been over a couple of times.”

“The last time I was only in L.A. for a week before you whisked her off to Canada on a trip you’d neglected to mention before I flew all the way over there.”

Jane jiggled a sandal-clad foot impatiently. “It was a last-minute thing. She’d been invited to the Calgary Stampede by a classmate and begged me to let her go.”

“There were other times I asked to visit, but there was always some reason it wasn’t convenient.”

“And there were times when I suggested you come and you had other plans,” Jane reminded him. “It’s not that I don’t want you to see her—” She broke off abruptly, unable to speak her real fears aloud—that Cole would try to take Mary Kate away from her.

“I hope not. She’s my daughter, too.” Cole’s voice took on an edge, sounding to Jane almost like a threat.

Her chin rose. “I bore her, I gave birth to her, I raised her. She’s mine. You have Stephanie. Isn’t that enough?”

“If I had ten children, I would still want Mary Kate,” Cole insisted. “Kids aren’t stuffed toys. When you’ve got enough you don’t mind giving one away. I wish you’d never left Red Hill with my child.”

“Did you really imagine Mary Kate and I could have lived in this small town and played second fiddle to Leslie and Stephanie?” Jane demanded. She’d known he’d been going out with Leslie but the couple had broken up before Leslie had gone on holiday with her parents. Then Leslie had come home pregnant. Cole’s future had been stitched up within a week, long before Jane had had any inkling that she was also pregnant.

Cole was silent, his jaw tightening. Throwing her an unreadable glance, he pulled out an appointment card and began to write on it.

Jane tilted her head, studying him. Who wore ties nowadays or combed their hair with a part? He was like Clark Kent, the handsome nerd who doesn’t make the most of his sex appeal. “You haven’t changed.”

“You’re wrong,” he said flatly. “As you frequently are, but there’s no telling you that.”

He rose and came around the desk. Jane got to her feet, trapped between Cole and the wall. He held out the card. She tried to take it but he wouldn’t let it go.

“Well?” he asked. “Am I going to see Mary Kate?”

“Of course you’re going to see Mary Kate,” she said, tugging at the card. “Are you going to help me out, or should I go hire an agent in Dromana?”

Cole released the card. “Ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Jane spun on her heel and strode to the door, her red tote bumping against her hip, her hands shaking. She breezed past Millie, throwing her the brightest smile she could manage. All she could think of now was getting to her car.



COLE LET OUT a deep breath and tugged on his collar as Jane hurried away. It felt two sizes too small, as if he’d somehow swelled with frustration at having to deal with Jane. She was as elusive as ever, slipping out of his grasp before he could close his fist. He’d thought he’d cared for her once, but now she was just an obstacle to his being with his daughter.

“You haven’t changed either,” he said softly, moving to the corridor to watch through the window of the outer office as she crossed the road. “Still have to have the upper hand.”

He’d been unbelievably careless, getting both Leslie and Jane pregnant back when he was eighteen. He and they had been paying the price for it ever since. A failed marriage, a single mum raising a daughter he barely knew. The opportunity had now arisen for him to rectify at least one of those wrongs. He didn’t know why Jane was so possessive of Mary Kate but he would spend time with the girl, whether Jane liked it or not.

His younger brother, Joey, came out of his office across the hall, munching on an apple. He was tieless and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. A lock of near-black hair hung over his forehead. “Was that Jane Linden? Has she got the kid with her?”

Cole nodded. “At the farm.”

“I forget, who’s older, Mary Kate or Stephanie?”

“They’re both nearly twelve. Mary Kate’s six weeks younger than Stephanie.” Cole couldn’t believe how quickly the girls were growing up. As annoying as Jane was, he was pleased she was back in the country. It was time he asserted his rights as a father.

Joey lounged in Cole’s doorway, still gnawing on his apple. “You gonna see her?”

“Mary Kate? Of course I’m going to see her. As much and as often as Jane’ll let me.”

“No, I mean Jane. As in see her.”

Cole stared at his brother. “Why on earth would I want to do that?”

“You used to be in love with her,” Joey stated matter-of-factly. “Maybe you’ll get back together.”

“I doubt it. She’s only in town to sell Cockatoo Ridge.”

Joey took a huge bite and gestured with the core. “You should buy it.”

“Using what for money?” Cole said bitterly. He should have inherited the farm and be living there now. Checking his watch, he added, “Aren’t you supposed to at the Terpstra open house in five minutes?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going. Nobody ever shows up to these things on time.” Joey tossed his apple core into the rubbish bin and pushed himself off the door frame.

“Actually, they do. As the agent, you’re expected to take care of certain things beforehand.” Jeez, he’d gone over this repeatedly. “Speak to the vendors, set out the signs—”

“Dude, if you weren’t cranking away at me, I’d be there by now.” Joey sauntered toward the exit that led to the employees’ car park. He paused on the threshold and some of the cockiness went out of his face. “Listen, Cole, I need a favor.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I need to borrow some money.”

“How much?” Cole asked, reaching for his wallet.

“Two hundred dollars. Three would be better.” Joey picked a piece of apple skin out of his teeth with his fingernail.

“Three hundred dollars.” Frowning, Cole made no move to take out the money. “You just got paid last week.”

“I know but… Crystal and I went to the casino last night and well, we dropped a wad at the blackjack table.”

“Joey!” Cole began then lowered his voice, mindful of Millie in the outer office. “Remember what happened to Dad? You don’t want to go down the same path.”

“It’s not like I’m addicted,” Joey said. “We had a bit of a flutter. Small potatoes.”

“You’ll just have to tighten your belt until the next paycheck,” Cole replied.

“I’ve got bills due,” Joey argued. “They eat up most of my wages. Not that I don’t appreciate you giving me a job, but if I was allowed to show the more expensive listings I’d make better commissions.”

“You’ve only been qualified as an agent for six months,” Cole reminded him. “You’ve got to earn the right, learn the ropes, before you get access to the top houses.”

“Come on, dude. It’s just a loan. If I don’t make a car payment soon I’ll lose my wheels,” Joey added. “Then how will I pay you back?”

This argument always landed Cole in a catch-22 situation and Joey knew it. His little brother was nearly twenty-two but in many ways still a child. At his age Cole had been married with a young daughter and supporting his mother and Joey as well. Would his brother ever grow up and take responsibility for himself?

“Here.” He handed over a cluster of fifty-dollar bills. “But I won’t be forking out money every time you lose at the casino.”

“Thanks, mate.” Joey gave Cole the thumbs-up. “You’re the best. I’ll call Crystal and tell her not to pawn her grandmother’s wedding ring.” Joey whipped out his cell phone as he strode toward the exit door.

Cole went back to his office and shut the door. He closed his eyes, took slow deep breaths and willed his blood pressure to drop. He fell into a familiar daydream, visualizing himself walking between rows of grapevines, running a hand over the fluttering leaves, admiring the thick twisting stems and the clusters of ripe grapes. Clods of red dirt crunched beneath his boots.

He’d had his eye on Cockatoo Ridge for years, saving everything he could while he watched helplessly as land prices rose steadily, keeping the farm always just out of reach. Now the property was for sale…

What was he thinking? He still wasn’t ready.



JANE LIFTED a beautiful jade-green vase with a delicate black design made by her aunt off the mantelpiece and put it in a safe spot in the china cabinet. Then she swept knickknacks off the marble surface into an empty cardboard box. It was hard clearing out her aunt’s things but keeping busy helped her cope with her grief. Besides, there was no one else to do it.

Jane, an only child, had lived with her parents in Sydney until they’d both died in a scuba diving accident when she was eight. Esther had raised her after that, first in a tiny terrace house in inner Melbourne, then at Cockatoo Ridge Farm where they’d moved when Jane started high school, so Esther could have her own pottery studio. Since Jane’s abrupt departure from Red Hill thirteen years ago, she’d seen Esther mainly in L.A. where her aunt had connections with gallery owners. In the interim, her aunt had gradually filled the farmhouse with furniture, dishes and ornaments from secondhand stores.

Jane carried the box out to the garage where she was collecting things to be disposed of. Back in the living room, she gazed in dismay at the remaining clutter and groaned.

“What’s the matter, Mom?” Mary Kate came into the room eating a piece of toast smeared with jam. With her beads and bangles, bare midriff and miniskirt, she looked more like fifteen than eleven-going-on-twelve.

“Nothing that a few gallons of petrol and a lit match wouldn’t fix,” Jane muttered.

“I heard you groan,” Mary Kate insisted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you got sick here. The water tastes funny.”

“It’s bore water,” Jane told her. “Perfectly good. In fact it’s purer than town water. What you’re tasting is an absence of chemicals.”

Mary Kate brushed invisible dirt off the seat of an ancient green brocade armchair and perched on the edge. She held her elbows in close to her sides so they wouldn’t touch the stained fabric and nibbled her toast. “How could Aunt Esther live like this?”

Jane picked up a framed photo of her aunt at her potter’s wheel. Esther’s dark hair was streaked lightly with gray and pulled back in a long ponytail. Her jeans and plaid shirt were spattered, her thin face set in concentration as her long fingers shaped the spinning cylinder of clay. “She focused more on her work than on housekeeping, that’s for sure. But she was an important potter. One of her pieces is in the National Gallery.”

“I just don’t get why she collected so much stuff.”

“Tell me about it,” Jane sighed. “I hardly know where to start.” She glanced at her watch. “Are you almost finished? Your father will arrive any minute.”

“I’m still eating. I just put an egg on to boil.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Mary Kate bit her lip. “Do I have to see him?”

“I thought you wanted to.” Jane pushed her daughter’s fringe back to peer into Mary Kate’s eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine.” Mary Kate turned her face away. “But I—”

The cell phone clipped to Jane’s hip pocket chimed, and she reached for it. “Excuse me, honey.

“Otto.” He was a Melbourne journalist she’d contacted to publicize the premiere. Jane went into her aunt’s study and sat at the rolltop desk where she’d temporarily set up her office. “I’m scheduling interviews with the leads of Swept Away—Rafe Baldwyn and Mia MacDonald. Let me find my diary and I’ll tell you what times are available.”

A doorbell sounded.

“Otto, I’ll call you back.” Jane hurried out to open the door and passed through the lounge room in time to see Mary Kate hurrying toward the kitchen. “Hey, where are you going? He’s not going to bite you. Come back here.”

“In a minute.” Mary Kate ducked through the door.

What was wrong with that girl? Jane walked the dark red carpet runner covering the scratched floorboards of the hall. She brushed back her hair, smoothed down her skirt and opened the door. Cole stood on the veranda, a folded clipboard in hand. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his light brown suit immaculate, his expression politely neutral. He appeared so smooth and composed that Jane couldn’t contain the impulse to ruffle his feathers.

“You look like a real estate agent from central casting.” She jammed her hands on her hips and eyed him up and down. “If I was a director, I’d be looking for the flaw that shows you’re human.”

“If I have flaws, I take care to hide them,” Cole said evenly.

“Isn’t that just like a man?” And what aman. Squashing that thought, Jane said, “Come in.”


CHAPTER TWO

COLE FOLLOWED Jane down the hall to the lounge room. He could almost smell his mother’s Sunday roast cooking and hear his dog Toby’s tail thump in greeting.

His family had kept chickens, a few sheep and a couple of horses. His father had worked at the real estate agency; his mother had stayed home and looked after the animals and the vegetable garden. He and Joey had roamed freely for miles around through woods and fields on horseback. With the nostalgia came an acute sense of loss, for those long-ago days and for what he might have done with the farm as an adult.

“You can hardly see the house for the contents, but I’m gradually clearing it out,” Jane said.

On closer inspection Cole observed the dingy paintwork and chipped plaster. On the high ceiling a water stain ran from one corner to the pressed-tin rose in the center. It made him sad and angry to see the house his great-grandfather had built in such poor condition. Keeping his expression impassive, he made a note on his clipboard.

“Esther allowed the house to get rundown.” Jane seemed to know what he was thinking.

“It just needs a little TLC,” Cole said, running a hand along the polished marble mantelpiece covered in patches of dust. “You haven’t changed your mind about selling? You might like Red Hill. It’s more sophisticated than it was in the old days.”

“My work is in the city,” Jane said. “And Mary Kate is looking forward to starting high school there next month and making new friends.”

Cole glanced toward the kitchen where he could smell toast. “Where is Mary Kate?”

“She went to check on her egg. She’s still having breakfast.” Jane led the way into the large country kitchen filled with half-packed boxes of Esther’s dishes. The back door was open and Mary Kate was gone. “I guess she stepped out for a minute. I suggested earlier that she take a walk down to the creek. She probably decided to do it before you rang the doorbell.”

“Of course.” Cole studied Jane’s averted face. Why did he have the feeling she was hiding something? Why would Mary Kate go out and leave a pot bubbling away on the stove? Unless she didn’t want to see him? He didn’t like to think Jane would try to turn his daughter against him and yet…where was the girl? “Did she know I was coming?”

“Yes.” Jane moved past him toward the staircase that rose from the junction of the lounge room and the study. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon. Come, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

Cole climbed the narrow staircase to the second floor. The worn carpet, the light falling across the banister from the window at the end of the hall, flashed him back to a winter afternoon thirteen years ago. Esther had gone to Melbourne to pick up supplies for her glazes. Jane and Cole had been out riding and had come home wet and muddy. Jane had run upstairs to change.

She was waiting for him now, at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed over her stomach. Their eyes met and hers skittered away, as if she knew the direction his thoughts had taken. Cole pushed his memories to the back of his mind where they belonged.

“This is the main bedroom, as you know.” She opened the door on a room crammed with more of Esther’s bric-a-brac. Jane’s suitcase sat atop a cedar chest at the foot of the bed and spilled clothes onto a dark red coverlet. Hastily she stuffed bras and panties inside the case and shut the lid.

Cole left the bedroom after a brief inspection and headed next door to the bathroom. “How’s the plumbing holding up?” As if on cue, the hot-water pipe started knocking.

“It’s a bit dodgy,” Jane admitted. “There’s an ominous gurgle when you flush the toilet as if it’s deciding whether to go down or up.” She paused. “Do you have to mention all this to prospective buyers?”

Cole didn’t answer right away; he was looking around. The avocado-green sink, toilet and bathtub, as well as the pink curtains and bath mat, had never been updated. Cole remembered peering into that speckled mirror to see if his amazing experience with Jane had changed him visibly. The wonder had been there in his eyes, but years later the scars were all on the inside.

“It’s against the code of conduct for real estate agents to cover up faults in a house,” Cole said, making a note on his clipboard.

He stopped in the doorway of the next bedroom and went silent. His room. Later, Jane’s room. Now their daughter’s things were scattered everywhere. Faded floral curtains moved in the breeze from the open window. An ancient rag rug in pink, yellow and pale blue softened the wooden floor, and a chipped white-painted dresser sat to one side. Movie posters—a decade old— still decorated the pale lavender walls. Casablanca, Flashdance, Mad Max .

There was the bed. High, single, virginal in white paint and a floral coverlet that matched the curtains.

Well, not quite virginal.

That afternoon he’d gone upstairs to see what was taking Jane so long. And come upon her half-dressed. There’d been a long frozen moment when their eyes met. Then her arms had dropped away from her bare breasts. He’d stepped inside the room. And shut the door. He remembered how his hands trembled and how her mouth had tasted of hot chocolate—

“There’s nothing in here you haven’t seen before,” Jane said abruptly, moving past him out of the room.

“Mom!” a girl called. Footsteps thudded on the stairs. “The stove’s broken. The egg pot boiled over, the element went pffft and the electricity cut out.”

Mary Kate burst into the hallway. Cole dragged his mind out of the past as he looked upon the daughter he’d seen only a handful of times in his life. His heart raced as eyes uncannily similar to his own stared back at him. “Hello, Mary Kate.”

“Hi.” She came forward hesitantly, glancing at her mother as if for reassurance.

Cole opened his arms and took her into a hug. Her shoulders were stiff and tense, so he kept it brief, covering his disappointment. “You’ve grown,” he said, feeling foolishly hearty. “How tall are you now?”

Mary Kate shrugged and again looked to her mother.

“She’s five feet four inches.” Jane moved over to Mary Kate and put an arm around her shoulder. “She’s really shot up in the past year.”

Everything Cole had imagined saying to Mary Kate when they met flew out of his brain. This wasn’t the warm loving reunion he’d imagined. In the face of her tepid response his own excitement fizzled. He dragged a hand through his hair and felt his scalp hot and damp. “Right, well, let’s have a look at the fuse box.”

The breaker was on the front veranda, so they all trooped downstairs and out into the shade of the overhanging roof. Jane peered at the faded labels above the switches until Cole edged her out of the way and flipped a switch on the top row. “That ought to do it.”

“Mary Kate, go see if the stove is working,” Jane said.

Mary Kate ran inside, her pink thongs flapping.

Cole waited a moment then grabbed Jane’s arm and turned her to face him. “What have you been saying to her about me?”

Jane yanked her arm away. “I’ve never said a word against you.”

“Then why won’t she look at me?”

“I don’t know,” Jane said, pacing. “You can’t expect her to be instantly affectionate. She barely knows you. A few stilted phone calls a year are no substitute for a real relationship.”

“Exactly.” Cole followed her along the veranda, miffed to be speaking to her back. “Whose fault is that?”

Jane spun. “Are we going to hash through this again? I never tried to stop you from seeing her.”

“No, but you made it bloody difficult. I can understand you leaving Red Hill, but did you have to move to the other side of the ocean?”

Mary Kate ran back outside, breathless. “It’s still not on. The toaster is, though, and the lights.”

Cole yanked his tie loose, trying to get some breathing room. “The stove runs off a higher voltage than the toaster and kettle. You’ll have to get an electrician to look at it. The house is old, it needs rewiring.”

Inside, a cell phone rang. “That’s mine,” Jane said, and hurried away.

Alone with Mary Kate, Cole felt perspiration prickling his hairline. “So,” he said. “How do you like Red Hill?”

Mary Kate twined a lock of hair around her finger and gazed at the veranda roof. “It sucks.”

Unlike Jane, who only had traces of an accent, Mary Kate sounded American. She might resemble him in appearance but in all other respects she was as foreign as any stranger in the street.

“I’m really happy you’re here,” he plowed on. “Stephanie can’t wait to see you, too. Do you remember when you were five years old and your mum brought you to Red Hill for a visit? You girls were inseparable.”

Mary Kate gave him an unnerving stare. “Then why did you separate us?”

Frowning, Cole started to say, “That wasn’t my decision,” then stopped. He blamed Jane, but it wasn’t right to badmouth her to Mary Kate. All at once he couldn’t handle the situation. If he stayed a moment longer his anger toward Jane would spill out and that wouldn’t endear him to Mary Kate.

Stepping off the veranda, he reached into his pocket for his car keys. “Tell your mother I’ll give her a call when I’ve worked out an asking price. I’ll be in touch about you getting together with Stephanie.”



JANE CAME BACK onto the veranda in time to see Cole’s older-model Porsche bumping down the rutted driveway. His hasty retreat sparked a pain that hardened her resolve to get out of this town as fast as possible. He’d left their daughter standing alone on the porch looking ready to cry.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Jane asked, giving her a hug.

“He said he’d call you later.” Mary Kate dragged a hand across her sniffly nose. “I think he’s mad at me.”

“No, he’s not. He’s mad at me.” But that was no reason for him to hurt Mary Kate by taking off so abruptly.

“Come on, let’s see if we can figure out what to do with that stove.”

Glaring at the appliance accomplished nothing. So Jane kicked it. And immediately regretted it. Hobbling to a chair, she sat down. Cole was undoubtedly right; she needed an electrician to fix the wiring and possibly a new stove. Should she bother when she was selling? The headaches associated with disposing of her aunt’s house were multiplying.

Mary Kate fished her egg out of the pot and peered at it. “This is probably as hard as a rock.” She put it in a ceramic Easter-bunny egg cup. Then she got out a spoon and held the tip to the side of the shell. “He wants me to hang out with Stephanie.”

“She was your best friend when you were five. For the month we were here, at least.” Jane sat down again and checked her toenail. Broken. Served her right.

“What if she doesn’t want to hang out with me?”

Jane shrugged helplessly, wishing she could take Mary Kate far away from these difficult encounters. It wasn’t like her confident daughter to be worried about whether someone liked her. “All you can do is be yourself. I’m sure she’ll love you.”

Mary Kate stabbed the spoon through the shell and made a face. “Yuck. It’s like rubber.” Pushing it away, she sat back and asked Jane point-blank, “Why did you and Cole break up?”

“We didn’t really have a choice,” Jane said. “Cole asked Leslie to marry him when he found out she was pregnant. He could hardly go back on his word when he found out I was pregnant, too.” Even if he’d wanted to, which he hadn’t, Jane reminded herself grimly.

“But that was awful for you,” Mary Kate said.

“I had big plans,” Jane said briskly, refusing to tell a tale of woe. “I was going to be an actor. I couldn’t do that by getting stuck in a small town. I went to Sydney and stayed with a friend of Esther’s. Cole offered to send money but I refused it since he had too many people to provide for already. Esther’s friend gave me free room and board in exchange for housekeeping. I was fine .”

“So Cole stayed here and married Stephanie’s mom.”

“That’s right.” Jane sucked in a breath. She couldn’t believe how much that rankled even after all these years. She’d loved Cole with all her heart and soul. He’d told her he loved her, then he’d told her he didn’t. Sure, she’d wanted to be an actor but that wasn’t why she’d left Red Hill; it was because Cole had chosen Leslie. The humiliation and pain had taught her a lesson—never forget, never forgive. But she kept her shoulders square and her smile bright for Mary Kate.

“That’s ancient history,” Jane said. “Now, are you going to eat that egg?”

“Do I have to?”

“I guess not. Put it in the fridge and we’ll get something to eat in town. It’s almost lunchtime, anyway. But first we’ll buy a microwave. I don’t know how Esther managed all these years without one.”

Wonder of wonders, there was a small appliance store in Red Hill. Jane bought a microwave and a new electric kettle to replace the one with the frayed cord. It was a miracle Esther hadn’t electrocuted herself instead of dying of a heart attack.

She and Mary Kate carried their purchases back to her Mazda and stowed them in the trunk. Then they went across the street to a café with a small outdoor courtyard, its tables sheltered by market umbrellas. Jane picked up a menu and handed one to Mary Kate.

Here, in the center of town, two main roads came together in a T-junction lined by shops that made way for houses after a couple of blocks in any direction. Beyond the sparse habitation were woods broken up by rolling countryside planted with grapevines or pastureland dotted with placidly grazing sheep and cows. To the east the land rose to the promontory known as Arthur’s Seat.

A comfortably round dark-haired woman in her late fifties came out of the café and stood over the table. “What can I get you ladies today?”

Jane glanced up. “Mrs. Roberts!”

“Jane Linden?” Valerie Roberts said. “Is that you?”

Jane’s heart sank. She’d always believed Cole’s mother didn’t like her. Jane had been the outsider, the would-be usurper of Leslie’s rightful place as Cole’s wife.

“I’m so sorry about your aunt,” Valerie went on. “Leslie and I came to the funeral but we missed paying our respects to you afterward.”

“I had to rush off. My flight back to L.A. left early the next morning.” And being polite to Leslie and Valerie in that difficult time would have been too much. Even now Jane’s smile grew stiff. “Thank you for the flowers. They were lovely.” She turned to her daughter. “This is Mary Kate. Mary Kate, this is Cole’s mother. Your grandmother.”

“Hi.” Mary Kate eyed Valerie curiously as if trying to associate this woman with the cards she’d received like clockwork every birthday.

“It’s so lovely to see you again,” Valerie gushed. “My, how you’ve grown.”

Mary Kate grimaced. “Everybody says that.”

“You weren’t at the funeral, were you?” Valerie asked.

“I didn’t come. I had a solo in the school concert,” Mary Kate explained.

“I wish I could have heard you sing.” Valerie continued to study Mary Kate with embarrassing intensity. “It’s been so long. Photos don’t really do her justice. She’s the spitting image of Cole. There’s no doubt she’s her father’s daughter.”

“Not a particle,” Jane said tightly. How many boys did Valerie think she’d slept with at age seventeen? “I’d like the Thai beef salad and a latte. What do you want, Mary Kate?”

“I’ll have the ham and Swiss cheese on focaccia. And a chocolate milk shake. And a piece of almond-and-orange cake for dessert.”

Chuckling, Valerie jotted down their order. “A sweet tooth, just like Cole. I have to say I’m glad you’re out of Los Angeles and away from that terrible smog. I worried about you and asthma.”

Jane started. “How did you know she had asthma?” She’d never mentioned it to Cole for fear he’d be critical of her for staying in L.A., even though the doctors had said smog hadn’t caused Mary Kate’s condition.

“I didn’t,” Valerie said. “I was concerned because Cole had it as a child.”

“I’m over it now,” Mary Kate volunteered.

“Well, that’s a relief.” Valerie beamed at them. “I’ll get your drinks right away.” She glanced over Jane’s shoulder. “Excuse me, someone’s signaling me.”

“Don’t you like her?” Mary Kate asked when Valerie had hurried away. “You weren’t very friendly.”

“She’s a nice woman. She’s just so…” Jane trailed off, not wanting to taint her daughter’s relationship with her grandmother. But when Jane had turned out to be pregnant, Valerie had come to Esther, and the two women had had a long discussion over what to do with her. Jane had never known anything so humiliating. As if she’d want help from the Roberts family after Cole had rejected her. “You know small towns,” she finished vaguely.

Valerie came back in a few minutes with the latte and Mary Kate’s milk shake. Mercifully she was busy and couldn’t stop to talk.

“Mmm, this is good.” Mary Kate happily slurped her milk shake through a straw.

“The coffee’s not bad, either,” Jane had to admit. It was as good as any in Melbourne.

A clip-clop sounded on the pavement and half a block up the road a pair of horses ridden by young girls in riding boots and hard hats walked out of the bush, crossed the road and disappeared down another trail.

Mary Kate leaned out from the table to follow their progress. “Wow! Did you see that? If we stay in Red Hill, can I get a horse?”

“What happened to your separation anxiety from the mall?” Jane asked wryly.

“That was before I knew there were horses.”

“Your father has horses. You probably don’t remember sitting on one when you were five.” Jane added, “But we’re not staying. You know that.”

Valerie returned with their salad and focaccia and set the plates of food on the table. Apparently the same question was on her mind. “Will you be in Red Hill long?”

“Only as long as it takes to deal with Esther’s effects and sell the farm,” Jane replied.

“You’re selling Cockatoo Ridge?” Hope lifted Valerie’s voice. “Is Cole going to make an offer on it?”

“He’s said nothing to me about that,” Jane replied.

Silently, Valerie took cutlery rolled in napkins from her apron pocket and laid them beside the plates. When she spoke again she changed the subject. “I suppose you know Cole and Leslie are divorced. He has primary custody of Stephanie but he still pays Leslie a monthly sum for expenses. He helps me out occasionally and Joey’s always borrowing money.”

Jane spread her napkin on her lap, quietly fuming. Did Valerie think she intended to shake Cole down for child support in arrears? She’d raised Mary Kate for twelve years without asking for a cent and she had no intention of taking money from him now. Determined to put a halt to Valerie’s innuendos, she said to Mary Kate, “Go wash your hands before you eat.”

“But—” Mary Kate started to object.

“The washrooms are inside the café at the back,” Valerie told her. Mary Kate had no choice but to leave.

Jane put down her knife and fork and looked Valerie straight in the eye. “My dealings with Cole are strictly business. He’s selling the farm for me. Once that’s done, Mary Kate and I are leaving and not coming back. You don’t need to worry. He has no obligation to me and Mary Kate, financial or otherwise. I want nothing from him.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Valerie’s face fell in dismay. “I’m so sorry if you thought that.”

“Then what are you trying to say?” Jane asked.

“Only to assure you that Cole lives up to his responsibilities. That despite his other financial obligations, he’ll want Mary Kate to feel like a full-fledged part of his family.” Valerie worried at the tie on her black apron. “Of course I don’t mean she’s an obligation. He’s thrilled to have her back in his life. All of us—Cole, Stephanie, me, Joey, Crystal, welcome Mary Kate.”

“I see,” Jane said, relaxing. “That’s nice.”

“And you never know what will happen now that Cole and Leslie aren’t together,” Valerie went on, her smile returning. “You and he were fond of one another once.”

Jane laughed in sheer surprise. “I can guarantee nothing will happen in that direction.”

Mary Kate came back and clattered into her seat. “I’m starving.”

“We’ll see,” Valerie said knowingly to Jane. “At any rate, I’m thrilled my grandchild has come home.” She moved away, touching Mary Kate’s shoulder as she went. “I’ll see you very soon.”

Jane sighed and picked up her cutlery to eat. Feeling someone’s gaze on her, she glanced across the street. Cole stood in the doorway of Red Hill Real Estate, watching her.


CHAPTER THREE

WHAT THE HECK was his mother saying to Jane? Valerie meant well but she had a tendency to interfere. Cole could hardly fault her since her greatest joy was her family. He only hoped she wouldn’t come across too strongly and scare Jane out of town…taking his daughter with her.

Millie summoned him to take a phone call. When he got back to the doorway, Jane was nowhere in sight; she must have gone into the café to pay. Mary Kate was about to cross the street to where Jane’s Mazda was parked. She had a confident stride and seemed more grown-up than Stephanie, who was still a tomboy in many ways. It wouldn’t be long before both of them were young women.

The thought tugged at him, making him aware of how much he’d already missed. Jane clearly didn’t want him to have a place in Mary Kate’s life. But that was too bad. He’d spent his whole life accommodating other people. It was time to put his needs and desires first for a change. And Mary Kate was top of his priority list.

The downside was that getting to know Mary Kate would mean more contact with Jane. When she’d come into his office yesterday he’d felt the old attraction surge to the surface. It hadn’t taken long before annoyance and frustration kicked in. And there was no doubt how she felt about him. Yet somehow they had to work together for Mary Kate’s sake.

A car rounded the corner just as Mary Kate stepped off the curb, looking in the wrong direction for oncoming traffic.

Cole ran outside onto the footpath. “Mary Kate!”

She leaped out of the way and stumbled, falling to her knees on the pavement. The car swerved, narrowly missing her, and drove past, its horn blaring.

Cole ran across the road. He helped Mary Kate to her feet and checked her over. Her knees were grazed and she was wide-eyed with the sudden fright, but that seemed the extent of her injuries. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Mary Kate shivered and clutched her purse. “I’m not used to cars driving on the wrong side of the road.”

“Here, the left side is the right side,” Cole reminded her. “You’ve got to watch out.”

Mary Kate flicked her hair behind her ears. She gave him a tentative smile. “Thanks for warning me.”

“Can’t let you get mowed down.” Cole glanced back at the café. Jane must still be inside. “What are you and your mum up to this afternoon?”

“I guess we’ll go home and sort through more of Aunt Esther’s stuff. We’ve already got about fifty boxes of junk to throw out.” Mary Kate made a face. “Not that there’s much I can do since Mom has to look at everything first.”

Cole stroked his jaw. “Do you like horseback riding?”

“Are you kidding?” Her eyes sparkled. “I love it. When we were eating lunch we saw some girls ride across the street and into the woods.”

“We have a couple of horses. You and Stephanie could go riding.” Cole gestured toward Jane who was just coming out of the café down the street. “Go ask.”

“Mom!” Mary Kate shouted, completely losing her preteen cool. “Can I go horseback riding?”

Cole waited on the corner, watching Mary Kate and Jane approach. Mary Kate was practically skipping in circles around Jane as she pleaded. Jane looked straight ahead, frowning and shaking her head.

“Please, can I go riding?” Mary Kate glanced toward Cole. “He said I could.”

“That’s right,” Cole confirmed as Jane came to a halt in front of him. “My horse doesn’t get enough exercise. Stephanie’s always looking for someone to ride with.”

“We have so much to do at the house,” Jane objected. “And Mary Kate doesn’t know how to ride.”

“I went riding at that dude ranch in Wyoming, remember?” Mary Kate said.

“Only twice,” Jane reminded her. “It’s dangerous.”

“We have hard hats,” Cole replied. “Stephanie can ride my horse and Mary Kate can take hers. Cherry is a ten-year-old mare. She’s got a smooth gait and she’s very gentle.” When Jane continued to hesitate, he added, “You’re not going to get the house cleared out in a single weekend.”

“She doesn’t have the proper clothes,” Jane said. “Or boots or anything.”

“All she needs is a pair of long pants and sturdy running shoes,” Cole countered. “We might even have a pair of Leslie’s old boots that would fit her.”

“Please, Mom?” Mary Kate begged.

Jane threw up her hands. “Oh, all right.”

Mary Kate let out a whoop. “Let’s go home right now so I can get changed.” This time she looked right, then left, then right again before crossing the road.

“Why are you doing this?” Jane demanded of Cole.

“Do you have to ask?” He faced her square on. “She’s my daughter. Stephanie’s dying to see her. Besides, Mary Kate’s bored silly at the farm. I want her to be happy.”

“She’s happy with the way things are,” Jane argued. “I don’t want to complicate her life.”

“There’s nothing complicated about me and Stephanie. Don’t you think she has a right to spend time with us?”

“She hasn’t expressed much interest so far.”

Cole’s molars ground together. Was she deliberately goading him? Well, he wasn’t going to take the bait. Taking out another business card, he scribbled his home address and phone number on the back. “Drop her off at the house. I’ll call Stephanie and let her know to expect her. You can come back for her around six.”

Jane slipped the card into her purse.

“Whatever my mother said to you, she means well,” Cole told Jane before she could move away.

“It wasn’t important.”

“If it was about Mary Kate then it is important.” Cole took a check from his breast pocket and tucked it into Jane’s purse. “I know you’ve refused help in the past, but this is to let you know that from now on I intend to be very much in the picture when it comes to Mary Kate.”

Jane pulled out the folded slip of paper, calmly ripped it in two and handed it back to him. “Do you think you can buy your way into her life? You made a choice thirteen years ago. You have to live with it. I didn’t come to hit you up for child support. I don’t want a cent from you.”

Choice? Did she really think he’d had a choice which girl he would marry? Once he’d asked Leslie he couldn’t very well have changed his mind when Jane had gotten pregnant. Especially with Leslie’s family pressuring them to tie the knot. He had to live with the consequences of his actions; he accepted that. One of those consequences was that Jane distrusted him. He couldn’t blame her, but…

“Does it not occur to you that it’s Mary Kate you’re hurting by refusing to accept money from me?” Cole said angrily. “If you think that means I don’t have rights, think again. She and I are connected by blood. Nothing can break that.”

Jane glared at him. “It doesn’t mean you can do whatever you like with her.”

Cole crumpled the torn pieces of paper in his fist. “For years I’ve been putting money into a trust account for her. When she’s old enough, she won’t need your permission to have it.”

“For now, she’s my responsibility and you go through me.” Jane walked stiffly back to her car, head high. She got in and roared off in a spurt of gravel.

Valerie bustled across the road, still in her black apron. “She’s very prickly. Are you being nice to her?”

“Yes, Mother,” Cole sighed. “As nice as I can be under the circumstances. As nice as she’ll allow me to be.”

“We don’t want to lose Mary Kate again. What are you doing about that?”

“I’m going to claim my rights to my child. Whether Jane likes it or not.” He had a fleeting pang, a wish that Jane would like it, would like him. Then his mouth turned down. Yeah, that was going to happen. When pigs flew.

“Well, I’ll leave that to you, but there’s more to this situation than the child. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Never mind that, Mother. The farmhouse is hers to do with as she pleases.”

“I’m going to talk to her,” Valerie said stubbornly. “If you won’t put your own interests forward, I will.” She set off across the street.

“Don’t interfere. Let me deal with this,” he called after her. But it was too late; Valerie was already halfway back to the café.

Cole dragged a finger around the inside of his collar. Bloody hell.



“MY HORSE KEEPS TRYING to run,” Mary Kate said nervously as Cherry, the bay mare, danced along the dirt trail through the bush. She hauled on the reins with both hands and the horse’s head jerked up until her neck almost touched Mary Kate’s nose.

Stephanie, dressed in a pale blue T-shirt and tan jodhpurs, twisted her slender frame in her saddle to study Mary Kate’s form. “Don’t squeeze with your legs so hard. Cherry thinks you want her to go faster.”

“But I have to hold on somehow,” Mary Kate complained. “The stirrups are a lot longer than I had in Wyoming.”

“Just relax,” Stephanie said. “Hold on to the saddle if you have to. If you sit more loosely you’ll kind of settle into the horse.”

Mary Kate checked out the way the other girl sat on her horse, holding the reins in one hand and letting her legs hang in the stirrups. Taking a slow breath, Mary Kate dropped her shoulders and forced herself to relax. To her surprise and delight, Cherry immediately calmed down and fell into line behind Cole’s horse, a dapple gray gelding. His name was Mr. Magoo but Stephanie said that was too long so they just called him Magoo.

They rode in silence for a while. Mary Kate snapped a sickle-shaped silver-green leaf off a branch in passing. “Pretty weird, huh, that your dad is my father, too.”

Stephanie twisted around in the saddle, planting a hand on Magoo’s broad silver rump. “It is kinda. I probably shouldn’t tell you this but…sometimes he and my mum used to fight about him going out with your mum so soon after they’d broken up. She wasn’t too happy about Dad having another daughter out there.”

“I guess it would have been awkward,” Mary Kate said uncomfortably.

“When it turned out that both our mothers were pregnant it was a huge mess at the time. Grammy Stanwyck tried to hush it up. She had fights with Nana Roberts, who wanted you to stay in Red Hill. Mum went along with whatever Grammy Stanwyck said. Dad was caught in the middle, just trying to do the right thing. Then your mum took off.”

“How do you know all this?” Mary Kate asked, feeling sick to her stomach.

“They used to talk about it sometimes, usually at Christmas when everyone would drink too much,” Stephanie said. “They didn’t think I was listening, but I was.”

Mary Kate fell silent, her cheeks burning with shame and rage. Everyone must hate her and her mom. Well, let them. She couldn’t wait to get out of here. No wonder Mom wanted to sell up fast.

“Hey.” Stephanie pulled on her horse’s reins and circled around to ride side by side with Mary Kate. “Don’t worry about what the grown-ups think,” she said earnestly. “None of it’s your fault. I think it’s so cool that I’ve got a sister.”

Mary Kate hesitated, mollified but still uncertain.

“No one mentions it nowadays, especially now that Mum and Dad are divorced,” Stephanie added.

“Was that because of my mom?” Mary Kate asked.

“How could it be? She wasn’t even around.” Stephanie bit her lip. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m really glad you’re here.”

Mary Kate laughed nervously. “I always wanted a sister, too,” she said, not quite able to control the tremor in her voice. “Heck, I would have been happy with a brother.”

Stephanie rolled her eyes. “That’s because you don’t know what they’re like. Little brothers are so annoying.” She watched Mary Kate ride for a moment then added approvingly, “You know, you have ridden before Wyoming. Here, when you were five.”

“That’s what Mom said,” Mary Kate replied. “But I don’t remember.”

“I have a photo Dad took of both of us on the horse he owned before Magoo. We’re just sitting up there bareback. I’m holding the mane, you’re holding on to me.”

“I’ve got a picture of you and me with ice cream cones,” Mary Kate said excitedly. “The stuff is dripping all down our fronts.”

“Dad has some school photos of you,” Stephanie added.

“My mom doesn’t have any of you,” Mary Kate replied. “I wonder why.”

Stephanie shrugged. “I’m not her daughter.”

“But you’re my sister.” Half sister. Mom had drilled that into her. Mary Kate liked to make-believe she and Stephanie were real sisters.

Mary Kate took another deep breath, which brought with it a whiff of eucalyptus. The trees were, like, massively tall, and reminded Mary Kate of California.

“Do you miss Los Angeles?” Stephanie asked. It was almost as though she’d picked up on Mary Kate’s thoughts.

“I miss my friends and going to the mall,” Mary Kate said. “But Mom says there are cool boutiques in Melbourne. And now I’ve got you. You’re lucky to have horses and be able to go riding wherever you want.”

“I think you’re lucky living in Hollywood. Did you meet heaps of celebrities?” Stephanie asked.

“We lived in Pasadena, not Hollywood. But once I went with Mom to a studio party and we saw Orlando Bloom. I got his autograph. He is so hot!”

“Wow,” Stephanie breathed, her reverential tone directed as much at Mary Kate as it was at the movie star. She glanced at Mary Kate enviously. “I love your top.”

“Thanks.” Mary Kate glanced down at the pink T-shirt with the latest fashion logo printed across the front. She was jealous of Stephanie’s cool black riding boots and tan jodhpurs.

“Wouldn’t it be neat if you stayed in Red Hill and we could go riding all the time?” Stephanie went on.

“I’d like that,” Mary Kate said, completely ignoring the fact that a few minutes ago she couldn’t wait to leave. “But Mom wants to buy an apartment in the city.”

“Maybe Dad can talk her into changing her mind,” Stephanie said. “He told me he wanted us to spend time with you.”

“Really? Cool. It’s so weird to see my father again. I mean, I’ve met him before but I don’t know what he’s like.”

Stephanie glanced over her shoulder. “Didn’t your mum tell you anything about him?”

“Not much,” Mary Kate admitted. “I tried to ask her a few times over the years but she got so upset—even though she pretended not to be—that I gave up.”

“Doesn’t she like him?”

“She acts like she doesn’t. But before we left L.A., when she was packing and everything was out in the open, I just happened to see in her underwear drawer…” Mary Kate hesitated to tell her mother’s secrets. Then again, Stephanie was her sister.

“Go on,” Stephanie prompted. “What did you see?”

“A photo of Cole on a horse. He was young. The light was coming through the trees and shining on his face. He looked really handsome.” Mary Kate paused thoughtfully. “I thought maybe she was keeping it to give to me someday, but when I tried to look at it, she pushed it out of sight and sent me off to finish packing my stuff.”

“Wow,” Stephanie said. “That’s so romantic.”

“It is kind of, isn’t it?” Mary Kate hadn’t thought of it that way before.

Stephanie glanced ahead as they emerged from bush into a meadow. “Want to race to the end of the field?”

A race? Mary Kate gulped. She didn’t want to tell Stephanie she’d only cantered once before. “Sure, why not?”

With a whoop, Stephanie dug her heels into Magoo’s belly. The dapple gray tore off at a gallop. Cherry leaped forward, almost jolting Mary Kate out of the saddle. She clung on, trying not to drop the reins. The wind whistled in her ears and the pounding hooves seemed to vibrate clear through to her chest. She leaned forward, low on Cherry’s neck, and forgot to breathe. Magoo’s gray rump was mere inches in front of Cherry’s outstretched nose.

The trees on the far side of the meadow rushed closer at an alarming rate. Mary Kate started to pull back on the reins but she needn’t have worried. As Stephanie slowed Magoo, Cherry automatically dropped to a canter then a trot. Mary Kate bounced lopsidedly in the saddle, then, grinning from ear to ear, she righted herself.

“Wow! That was better than the roller coaster at Six Flags,” she exclaimed.

Stephanie laughed. “Don’t tell Dad we galloped. I was supposed to take it easy with you the first time.”

“Can we do it again?” Mary Kate asked eagerly.

“No, we’d better walk the rest of the way,” Stephanie said. “It’s not far and the horses need to cool down.”

Mary Kate fell in behind Stephanie as they entered a thinly wooded section where grass grew between widely spaced trees. Beyond the trees was the paddock at the back of Stephanie’s house.

They came to the fence, and Stephanie leaned over and unlatched the gate, skillfully maneuvering her horse so that the gate swung open and Mary Kate could pass through on Cherry. Stephanie closed it again and they rode across the paddock to the stable. Cherry quickened her pace to a trot as she neared home. Mary Kate gripped with her thighs this time and tried to lift herself off the saddle with every step the way Stephanie did.

They came to a halt and Mary Kate flung her leg over the back of the saddle and dropped to the ground. Her legs felt all wobbly as she staggered around to the front of her horse.

“You’ll be sore tomorrow, but a few more rides and you’ll be fine.” Stephanie looped Magoo’s reins over the fence and showed Mary Kate how to remove the saddle.

They groomed the horses and put their halters back on. Mary Kate helped carry buckets of water to fill the old bathtub that served as a water trough. Then she and Stephanie put away the saddles and bridles.

The heavy hollow clump of hooves sounded on the wooden stable floor strewn with straw as Cherry and Magoo came into their stalls looking for food. Stephanie peeled off two flakes of hay from an open bale and handed one to Mary Kate to throw into the manger for Cherry. Cherry whickered softly and bobbed her head before getting down to serious munching.

“I wish I had a horse,” Mary Kate sighed, running her hand over Cherry’s glossy reddish-brown neck.

“You can ride with me anytime,” Stephanie offered. “Dad only rides on Sundays and even then he doesn’t have time every weekend.”

“Cool.” Mary Kate touched Stephanie’s arm as they turned to leave the stable. “Remember what I said about that photo Mom kept in her underwear drawer? Don’t say anything to your dad. Mom would have a fit if she knew I’d told you.”


CHAPTER FOUR

JANE TURNED into Cole’s driveway and motored slowly between rows of vines heavy with clusters of ripening grapes. Finally the house appeared; single-story cream-colored brick with a wraparound veranda and pale green roof.

She parked behind Cole’s car, the older-model convertible Porsche. Interesting, the solid family man had a rakish streak. She grabbed her tote and knocked on the front door. When there was no answer she walked through the carport to the back of the house. A stable stood off to the right and beyond it was a fenced paddock. In the other corner of the yard was a concrete shed shaded by a gum tree. The door to the shed stood open.

“Hello?” Jane called, shielding her eyes from the slanting afternoon sun. “Anyone home?”

Cole appeared in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the space. He’d changed out of his suit into casual pants and a forest-green polo shirt that brought out the color of his eyes and showed a vee of tanned skin. “I see you found the place.”

Jane walked across the short dry grass. “Where’s Mary Kate? Is she ready to go?”

“They’re back from their ride. But I don’t know if she’s ready to leave.” He glanced over to the stable just as the door opened and a pair of giggling girls tumbled out. “They’re getting along like a house on fire.”

Mary Kate saw Jane and bounded over, beaming from ear to ear. “Mom, I had the best time. Riding is, like, brilliant! This is Stephanie.”

“Hi, Stephanie. We’ve met but it was a long time ago.”

Despite her misgivings Jane had to smile at Mary Kate’s enthusiasm. With her tangled hair and grubby jeans, she looked less like a would-be Paris Hilton and more like a happy, healthy young girl. Which was wonderful, as long as she didn’t get too attached to Red Hill.

“We’re going to listen to music on Mary Kate’s MP3 player,” Stephanie said. Before either Jane or Cole could object, the girls ran toward the house.

Jane turned to Cole, one eyebrow raised. “Brilliant? What have you, like, done to my daughter?”

“Hey, don’t blame me. I just live here.” He motioned inside the shed. “I was about to open a bottle of wine. Would you care to join me for a drink?”

“I just came to pick up Mary Kate but okay, thanks,” Jane said. “We do need to talk about the farm.”

“Among other things.” Cole led the way into the shed.

Once she was out of the sun, the temperature dropped about ten degrees. The pleasantly cool air was filled with the sweet musky scent of fermenting grapes. Shelves stacked with bottles of wine on their sides lined the back wall. A covered stainless-steel vat stood waist-high off to one side, and near it, an oval oak barrel rested on blocks. A heavy wood table held wine-making paraphernalia—beakers and thermometers and other items she didn’t know the names of. Another barrel, on which two wineglasses sat upside down on a tray, provided a makeshift tasting counter.

“This is quite the hobby you have here.”

“I like to experiment.” He turned over the glasses and went to the fridge for a bottle of white wine. “I’ve got a hectare of Chardonnay and Shiraz grapes. Two years ago I put in Pinot Grigio.”

There was a wistful note in his voice and he ran his hand lovingly over a row of wine-making books.

“You planned to study viticulture and own a commercial vineyard. What happened?”

Cole unscrewed the Stelvin closure and poured the wine. “I counted on taking over the farm someday. But then Dad had the car accident and died, leaving a lot of debts. My mother had no training and Joey was only a kid. When Dad’s partner offered me a job at the real estate agency, I considered myself lucky.”

“It’s too bad. If anyone should have gotten out of Red Hill and made something out of himself, it was you,” she said. “You had talent and ambition.”

“What makes you think I don’t still?” He handed Jane a glass. “What shall we drink to?”

“World peace?” she suggested.

He met her gaze with a wry smile. “I’d settle for détente in Red Hill.”

Jane touched glasses, her glance shifting. His eyes, his smile, still had the power to make her stomach take a tumble. She held her wine up to the light coming through the doorway. It was a clear straw-yellow.

“The color will deepen to gold with age.” Cole swirled the wine, put his nose inside the glass and breathed deeply.

Jane took a sip and rolled the perfumed liquid around on her tongue. “I love that buttery nutty flavor.”

“That’s the malolactic fermentation,” Cole said. “It’s out of fashion these days but I like it.”

“There’s fashion in wine?” Jane took another sip. “I don’t know much about it but this is seriously good.”

Cole tasted the wine, rolling it around in his mouth. “It’s getting there.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Jane picked up the wine bottle and studied the plain white sticker on which the year, the variety of grape and a catalog number was handwritten. “You could flog this at the Red Hill market. Day-tripping Melbournites would buy it by the caseload.”

“Who has time for that?” he asked, leaning against the table. “Real estate agents are on the job 24-7.”

“Maybe you’re in the wrong job.” Her cell phone rang. “Excuse me,” she said, unclipping it from the side pocket of her purse. “Jane Linden speaking. Rafe, hello! Thanks for returning my call.” She smiled with pleasure at hearing the gravelly two-packs-a-day voice of her old friend. “The movie premiere is in a few weeks,” she told him. “Red-carpet walk at the theater. After party at the Botanical Restaurant. You put in an appearance for a couple of hours and then you can disappear. Mia will be there. Oh, don’t be like that. In public you have to at least pretend to like her. Thank you, darling. Ciao!”

Jane folded her cell phone and tucked it into her bag. “It wouldn’t do to have our male lead not show up at the Australian premiere.”

“Rafe Baldwyn? Was that who you were talking to?” Cole said. “He’s one of the hottest actors in Australia. I just read somewhere that he’s going to be the next big thing in Hollywood.”

“He already is,” Jane said. “Swept Away was a smash hit in the U.S.”

“Is that what your job entails, chatting with the stars?”

“Mostly I deal with the media, putting out press releases. When I arrange interviews or appearances I usually speak with agents or personal assistants. But I met Rafe years ago when he was an acting student in Sydney. We’ve been friends ever since.”

Cole’s eyebrows rose at that. “Just friends?”

“Just friends,” Jane confirmed. “I was five months pregnant, for God’s sake. We met at an improv theater in Sydney. Esther’s friend, the woman I was staying with, knew him, and he and I hit it off. Later, when he headed to Hollywood, I tagged along to try my luck.”

“A couple of Aussies, far from home,” Cole commented sardonically.

“That’s right,” Jane said, refusing to rise to his jibe. “Rafe’s risen steadily from small parts to the top of the A-list.”

“Whatever happened to your acting career?” Cole demanded. “You wanted to be a star, as I recall.”

Jane twirled her glass by the stem, avoiding his gaze. “I got a couple of decent roles but in the end, nothing came of it.”

“I don’t understand,” Cole persisted. “You were very talented. The hit of the high school play.”

“I was a big fish in a small pond.”

“But you wanted it so badly.”

“What do you care? It’s ancient history.” Changing the subject, she asked, “Have you had a chance to put a value on the farm?”

“That depends.” Cole sipped his wine. “If you’re willing to hold out for what the land is worth, you could probably get a million for it. But if you’re after a quick sale I’d suggest asking eight hundred, maybe eight hundred and fifty thousand. If you fix the plumbing and wiring it might sell faster.”

“Fixing things takes time,” Jane objected. “I don’t want to wait for major repairs. List the property as is for one million.”

“Okay. You can always come down if it’s not selling.” Cole swirled the last of his wine and drained it. Then he set his glass on the barrel and straightened as if getting down to the real business at hand. “Now, about Mary Kate.”

Jane stiffened, her fingers curling tightly around the stem. “What about her?”

“I want a definite arrangement between us, something binding, about when I can see her.”

Jane felt herself go cold all over. “Are you talking about a legal arrangement?”

“Yes. Joint custody. How do I know you won’t up and disappear across the Pacific again?”

“I didn’t return to Australia because Esther died,” Jane said. “I was planning on coming home anyway. Mary Kate’s at a transitional age and I think Melbourne is a saner and safer environment than where we lived in L.A.”

Red Hill was even better in that respect than Melbourne, but she’d be crazy to put herself through the anguish of seeing Cole on a regular basis. Not that she cared, but he was a constant reminder of the unhappiness he’d caused her in the past. And though she hated to admit it, he still had something that attracted her.

“It’s going to be difficult—” Jane began.

“Even so, I want something binding,” Cole said, cutting her off. “The girls are fast friends already. If you discourage Mary Kate from seeing Stephanie it could set off consequences you may not like.”

“Consequences?” she repeated, alarm bells ringing. “Is that a threat?”

“Just a suggestion to consider everyone’s feelings,” he said with a grim smile. “I got the feeling you expected to blow into town and out again without causing a ripple in any of our lives.”

That was exactly what she’d hoped to do. Clearly it wasn’t going to work. Stalling, she said, “Why don’t we ad-lib while I’m in Red Hill? When I move back to the city we can hammer out something more concrete.”

“As long as you understand I’m not going away. I’ve had a chat with my lawyer about my custody rights.”

The phrase pushed Jane close to panic. She wasn’t a clinging mother, but Mary Kate was all she had. Already her daughter was growing up, growing away from her. Add a father, a new sister, horses—and a lawyer—how could she compete? “I suppose she could come out occasionally on weekends,” Jane said reluctantly. “But I’m not sure she would like being away from me.”

“I’ve got room here for guests,” Cole replied.

The thought of staying overnight in his house brought heat surging to her cheeks. “Oh, sure, like that would work,” she scoffed. “You and I under one roof?”

“I’m willing to do anything for my daughter.”

Was he suggesting she wouldn’t? “While I appreciate the offer, no thank you.” She set her empty glass on the wine barrel and started toward the door. “It’s getting close to dinnertime and I don’t want to hold you up. Mary Kate and I need to get going.”

Cole stopped her with a hand on her forearm. “You told your friend Rafe he had to pretend to like Mia. We need to at least pretend to like each other. For our daughter’s sake.”

Though his hand burned her skin, his words were like a wash of cold water. The old days truly were gone. She was nothing more to him than an annoying impediment to his relationship with his daughter.

“We have a daughter together,” Cole said, his voice softening fractionally. “I don’t want us to be enemies.”

How could they be friends when he was trying to take her baby away from her? “I’m sure we can work things out,” she said stiffly, adding, “Our relationship has to be strictly business.”

“Fine,” he said, his voice tight. “Business, it is.”

Even though she was pushing him away as hard as she could, deep inside, a tiny piece of Jane’s heart chipped. Funny, she hadn’t thought there was anything left to break. “Excellent. I’m glad we understand each other.”



SHOWING PROSPECTIVE customers around Cockatoo Ridge filled Cole with a peculiar mixture of pride, longing and bitterness. He knew exactly where the daffodils his grandmother had planted around the grassy lawn would peek through in early spring. He knew where the veranda deck had been repaired after he’d backed the utility truck into it while learning to drive. If he was very quiet he could almost hear the lambs bleating. Except that they’d been gone for fifteen years now.

The farm was in his bones and in his blood. As a ten-year-old he’d imagined he would always live here. Now, as a thirty-one-year-old, it was still where he wanted to put down roots. Gazing out over the valley he could picture grapevines growing in long neat rows, down to the creek, then up the other side of the hill. But he would plant around the massive old gum tree where the sulfur crested cockatoos that gave the farm its name nested in the hollow trunk.

“Cole, dear?” Audrey O’Keefe appeared at his elbow, resplendent in a fuchsia blouse worn over emerald pants. She and her husband, Bert, had followed him from the office in their car. “How many acres did you say were here?”

Cole emerged from his reverie to focus on the woman who captained his mother’s lawn-bowling team. Audrey wore chunky rings on every finger, and a pair of oversize sunglasses perched in a nest of bright orange hair. As if to compensate for her gaudiness, her husband, Bert, wore plain brown shorts and a beige shirt. His thinning hair was a nondescript shade somewhere between pale blond and gray.

“Five hectares or about ten acres in the old measure,” Cole said as he led the couple to the house. “The house was built by my grandfather in the 1800s. But you know that.”

The O’Keefes were the fifth couple he’d shown the house to that week. So far he hadn’t gotten even a nibble and he wasn’t expecting one today. Audrey and Bert were so different it was hard to please both.

“It’s gorgeous,” Audrey said as Cole rang the doorbell. “I’ve always loved the Victorian trim on the veranda.”

“Are the plumbing and wiring up to code?” Bert asked.

Jane opened the door. In a pale pink top over a white denim skirt she looked as cool and sweet as peppermint ice cream. His impulse as a man was to try to charm her. But that was not on. If she wanted a business relationship, that’s exactly what she was going to get.

He nodded to her formally then answered Bert’s question. “There was no code when this place was built, and the plumbing and wiring are original. They’ll need complete redoing before the place is livable.”




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