The Grass is Greener (3 page)

Bronwyn had often been jealous of Claudia's ability to inspire a super-protective streak in Horace Franklin. Who wouldn't want a father who cared? But this sounded a little over the top, even for him. ‘That's insane,' she whispered.

‘Will you tell him that next time you see him? Because no one else thinks it's worth the mention.'

Bronwyn laughed.

‘I just feel like if I could get away from them, I could finally have a life.' Claudia threw up her hands. ‘And a career to boot. It's not like I haven't earned it.'

‘You have,' Bronwyn agreed.

‘I'm just sick of doing –'

‘What everybody else wants,' Bronwyn finished for her with a triumphant smile.

‘Okay,' Claudia conceded, reaching out and squeezing her hand briefly. ‘Maybe I do get where you're coming from.'

‘Hallelujah.'

‘You should have been a Franklin and I should have been an Eddings.'

Bronwyn grinned. ‘That would sure solve a lot of problems.'

‘So what are we going to do about this?'

‘What can we do? Book in for therapy?'

Claudia grinned. ‘Fake our own deaths?'

‘Swap places,' Bronwyn joked.

Claudia paused thoughtfully. ‘That's actually not a bad idea.'

‘If only we were twins.'

‘I'd be the evil one,' Claudia said with a wink.

Bronwyn laughed. ‘I sure have missed you, Claud. Don't leave it six months till you come visit me again. You don't know how lonely I am out here.'

‘Well, you could always visit me, you know. You haven't been to Oak Hills in over two years. What's up with that?'

There were a lot of reasons, none of which she wanted to go into. So instead she said, ‘You know they'd make me take work with me. It would ruin the experience for everyone.'

As if on cue, Bronwyn's mobile rang. Frankly, she was inclined to ignore it but Claudia indicated her bag.

‘It's okay, go ahead. Answer it. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble for taking a long lunch break.'

She pulled the phone from her bag and lifted it to her ear, immediately regretting taking the call.

It wasn't work. It was her mother, which was actually even worse.

‘Good afternoon, Bronwyn. Can you talk?'

‘I'm kinda in the middle of lunch.'

‘Excellent. How did your meeting go this morning?'

Bronwyn bit her lip, thinking about the dog proposal. ‘Not that great actually.'

‘Oh good. I also have some wonderful news.'

‘Okay.' Bronwyn blinked, not knowing whether to be relieved or insulted that her mother didn't actually care about her answers. ‘What is it?'

‘My colleague Francis Aldermon had a heart attack last week.'

Bronwyn gasped. ‘Mum, that's terrible. Is he all right?'

‘Absolutely fine,' Bianca returned airily. ‘But the mishap did give me a chance to visit him in hospital and talk to him in a less formal setting.'

Only her mother would find a hospital visit an opportunity to network.

‘I was able to direct the conversation in your direction …'

You mean, away from the fact that he almost died.

‘… and he said he would be very pleased to sponsor you to the bar.'

Bronwyn choked. ‘But I've had no thoughts about going to the bar. I'm fine where I am.'

Or should I say, less miserable.

‘Nonsense. There's no need to play coy with me, Bronwyn. I'm your mother. I know how stressed you must be getting about your situation.'

‘I have a situation?'

‘Well, we both know that Simon Bantam is not going to promote you for another year, Bronwyn. I went to uni with the man, he's a stickler for the trenches. He'll keep you there as long as he can, particularly because you're such a good little worker. Why not move across to the bar where all the movers and the shakers are? Including,' she gave a slight titter, ‘myself.'

‘I don't know, Mum.'

Her mother–daughter relationship with Bianca Hanks was not good at the best of times. She couldn't imagine working near her as well. Best not to tempt fate.

‘I'm happy where I am.'

‘Happiness, Bronwyn, is a commodity you know nothing about.'

Okay, you caught me.

‘When I was your age,' her mother continued, ‘I thought I was happy too. That's why I married your father. Look what that got me.'

A child neither of you wanted?

‘A very expensive divorce,' her mother rattled off.

Bronwyn's brow wrinkled. She knew that to speak her mind here would be a mistake. ‘Mum, can I talk about this with you later?'

‘All right,' said Bianca briskly, ‘we can park that opportunity for a minute and talk about the family firm.'

Bronwyn opened her mouth and then shut it again. ‘Huh?'

‘Hanks and Eddings. Your Uncle Cyril is always looking for good junior lawyers and I hear he's short at the moment. It might be a good opportunity to take your rightful place.'

‘Mum, I haven't worked at the family firm for a reason.'

‘Yes, yes, to avoid the stigma of nepotism,' her mother offered valiantly, like a trainer throwing fish to a seal. ‘To prove yourself on your own terms.'

Actually, that wasn't the reason.

‘Well, you are an Eddings. And if you're not going to the bar, then I think it's time you explored your birthright.'

As though I was ever allowed not to.

‘Then you can really spread your wings and soar.'

Or cut my tail feathers and crash.

‘Why don't I call your uncle and get an interview time for you next week?'

‘Mum, don't –'

‘It's no trouble.'

‘Mum!' Bronwyn cried, almost with relief, ‘I have to go. I have another call coming through.'

She actually wasn't lying about that. Before her mother could reply she hung up on her, mouthing ‘Sorry' to Claudia. Claudia dismissed her apology with a swat of her hand and a broad smile. Clearly, she was relishing eavesdropping far more than Bronwyn was enjoying active participation.

‘Hello?'

‘Bronwyn!' An abrasive voice barked down the line.

It was Simon, the stickler for the trenches. If she wasn't so surprised by his tone she might have laughed, because he did
sound like he was standing in the middle of a war zone. Was that a crash in the background or the thump of a rolling head? Did his secretary Lulu just scream?

‘Sir, are you okay?'

‘Where the hell are you?' he demanded, the volume making her pull the phone slightly from her ear.

‘Just finishing lunch, sir.'

‘Then get back to the office right now! We have a situation here.' With orders given, the phone went dead.

Great.

‘What the matter?' Claudia asked.

‘Everything, by the sound of it.' Bronwyn stood up. ‘I'm going to have to cut lunch short.'

‘No worries.' Claudia stood up too. ‘We can talk tonight or tomorrow.'

‘I assume you're staying at my place as usual.'

‘Is that all right?'

‘Of course.' Bronwyn tutted. She reached into her bag and removed a gold key from her car keys. ‘Here, take this. You'll probably get there before I do.'

Claudia's eyes lit up. ‘Thanks! I'll see you tonight. Dinner's on me.'

‘Perfect, cause there's absolutely nothing in the fridge.'

Bronwyn hurried out of the restaurant and up St Georges Terrace. It was a gorgeous day, blue skies with only the gentlest breeze. The sunlight winked off the windows of office towers and cars creeping past in the busy lunch-hour traffic. Luckily, her firm was not far away. All the same, she hitched her shoulder bag higher and increased the pace, her black shiny heels clicking like a train on the pavement. After walking one block she flew into the lobby of Bantam, Harvey and Grey, nearly bowling over the janitor as he was carrying out one of the bins.

‘Sorry, Henry.'

‘No worries, Bron. Simon losing his shit again?'

‘Hope not.' She jabbed quickly at the elevator button. ‘But I wouldn't place any bets on it.' The doors opened and she scuttled inside.

She watched Henry laugh as the doors slowly shut. Seriously, if she had to name one friend she worked with in this building, it would be him. The rest of them were all sharks.

The ride to the eighth floor seemed interminable. But pandemonium erupted as soon as the lift doors opened, along with some very loud, very raucous barking. There was a dog in reception – a large, angry bullmastiff with a squashed black snout and big sunken eyes surrounded by black fur. The rest of its body was that beautiful tawny brown, glossy and silken. Not that this was the sort of dog you would want to pat. In fact, Bronwyn started to move back into the lift.

‘Don't you dare!' A woman, as angry as the dog on her leash, slammed a palm on the lift buttons, causing the silver doors of freedom to glide shut. ‘Are you Bronwyn Eddings?'

‘Y-yes.'

‘At last!' She released the leash, allowing the dog to charge upon Bronwyn, who gave a startled yelp of terror. She backed away only enough to land on the waiting area couch when the bullmastiff leaped upon her person and pinned her there. Its front paws rested on her shoulders, its doggy breath on her face.

‘Meet your new dog.' The woman's satisfied voice came from her left as she sat frozen in fear. ‘Her name is Elsa.'

A meeting with Bronwyn Eddings always left Claudia with mixed emotions, which was probably why she'd been such a terrible friend to her this last year.
Honestly, you're just as bad as Jack!

She loved her friend. Bronwyn was one of the kindest, sweetest people on the planet. She didn't have one wicked bone in her body, but catching up with her always made Claudia feel just a little less.

A little less successful.

A little less rich.

A little less connected.

And even a little less pretty.

Bronwyn was so pristinely perfect in a Nicole Kidman kind of way. Her skin was like porcelain. It just glowed with an apricot radiance that was only enhanced by her blonde hair. It was pure gold uncompromised by any streaks or inconsistencies of tint that usually characterised the colour.

By contrast, Claudia's hair was fifty shades of brown and not in a sexy way. More like it couldn't make up its mind what it wanted to be, which was almost a metaphor for her life
really. Tall and thin, if Bronwyn ever wanted to give up law, she'd definitely have a career in modelling. Whereas Claudia was always trying to make up for her shortness by being extra feisty. Not that it had helped so far.

She was still running a business that was on its last legs.

Money was tight.

Work was tough.

And life … life was a truckload of crap she never wanted to do.

She kept telling herself if she could just pull Oak Hills out of the river and keep it on dry land for a while then maybe she could entrust the running of the place to someone else and move the hell on.

The problem with Oak Hills was that it had lost its reputation. And with wine, ratings were everything.

Who wanted to buy into a drop that had sadly seen better days? When her father had started to lose his eyesight, she had thought assuming the throne would be short term. However, it looked like for every disaster she managed to steer them around, another would crop up in its place, making it even harder for her to leave.

The latest, of course, was her father's retirement. She could hardly blame him. There was no way he could continue on as their winemaker if he was struggling to see. The new guy they'd hired hadn't done them or their clients any favours either. It had been the first time in two generations that someone who was not a Franklin was allowed to take the helm. Her father had descended into a depression no one had yet been able to pull him out of.

Claudia bit her lip.

She loved the man. She really did. And she hated seeing his life's work slowly withering away, but was it really her job to keep his dream alive at the expense of her own?

Damn you, Jack!

She wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for her brother's negligence. However, there was no use crying over spilt milk. She was in Perth to give a presentation at the Oceanic Hotel in the centre of town. Oak Hills was now targeting mid-level restaurants rather than the upmarket ones. She was hoping that branching into this new area of business might compensate for the clients they had lost. Fingers crossed, she could secure some contracts to supply the ‘house wine'. This was trading down on past reputation, but what other choice did they have? She had invited maître d's, front of house managers and sommeliers from all over town to attend her free presentation, involving tastings and gorgeous slides depicting images of Oak Hills vineyard and winery taken four years ago.

She felt like a fraud taking them through pictures that no longer portrayed current conditions. But how else was Oak Hills supposed to get their wine back out there and start making money again?

We need customers.

At the end of the presentation, she handed out samples from their best vintage. Cabernet Merlot 2011. Her father's pride and joy. He hadn't done it that good since. There were nods all round and she scored a few orders that would keep them ticking over for the next vintage at least.

Saved the day again, Claud.

Maybe if she just stopped trying so hard she wouldn't have this problem year after year. She immediately dismissed the defeatist thoughts.

If Mum and Dad lose Oak Hills, it'll kill them.

And the guilt will haunt you forever.

After all the chefs and restaurant owners had left the function room she packed up her things, taking her last three bottles of wine, one half-empty, into the Oceanic main restaurant and bar, Seashells.

‘Hey,' she said to the girl behind the front desk, ‘is Rinaldo about?'

Rinaldo was a friend of the family. He had worked at Oak Hills in his late twenties as their cellar-door manager. After he'd married and had two children he'd moved to the city for more pay as bar manager at Seashells. In a way, it had been a blessing for them, because he always ordered Oak Hills wine for their bar and he managed to get them thirty per cent off the Oceanic function room where Claudia liked to hold their presentations. In the financial situation her family was in, every saving counted.

‘I'm sorry,' the girl behind the counter said, ‘I think he's in a meeting with the hotel manager. Did you want to leave a message?'

Claudia held up the bottles. ‘I just had a few freebies for him and his family as a thank you.' She smiled.

The girl nodded just as an almighty crash sounded in the kitchens behind her. She glanced worriedly over her shoulder.

‘Look,' Claudia suggested, ‘how about I just put this behind the bar and you go deal with that. I'll leave him a note.'

‘Thanks,' the girl said gratefully and scurried off.

Claudia made her way across the room towards the bar, noticing that there were only two men sitting there. She knew straight away they were lawyers by the tailored cut of their suits, the square black document bags at their feet and the telltale yellow notepads sitting beside empty glasses.

A little recess in between court appointments, perhaps? She smiled wistfully.

Why is everyone having fun but me?

As she walked behind the bar holding the wine, one of them lifted his finger at her, clearly calling her over.

He thinks I work here.

He was a severely handsome man. Severe because his features were so well defined they were unforgettable. Dark black hair, dark brown eyes, an expressive, sensuous mouth and high cheekbones. His shoulders were broad and square, the perfect shape for the suit he was wearing, which was cut so
perfectly to his impressive form that it creased in all the right places. She pegged him at late thirties in age. His colleague, clearly the younger and less confident of the two, also wore a tailored suit, just not as well. And it was pinstriped instead of black.

An unfortunate choice
, Claudia noted absent-mindedly.
Trying much too hard.

Then again, he couldn't be that much older than her. Maybe a couple of years younger, even. His weak chin wobbled too eagerly, his fingers fidgeted with the pen on top of his yellow pad as though waiting for the next axe to fall. His jacket was off and on the back of his stool, and there were sweat patches at his armpits.

His companion, however, lounged beside him, cool as a cucumber. ‘Excuse me, miss,' the older man said, as she was about to walk past them. ‘We need a top-up.'

Not one to ever miss an opportunity to market her wine, Claudia decided that this was a chance to make another impression and prevent her open half-bottle from going to waste.

‘I'll do you one better,' she said with a smile, taking two fresh wine glasses off the rack and placing them on the counter in front of the men.

‘Oak Hills's best vintage. Cabernet Merlot 2011, classic dark fruit tones with a hint of vanilla, spice and nougat.' She poured them each a glass slowly so that they would enjoy the tinkling sound of the wine and appreciate the aroma of mulberries and cedar that immediately filled the air around them. She leaned in. ‘Best served with grilled pork, pistachios and green pepper sauce.'

The lawyer in the black suit raised an eyebrow and said in a baritone that was both low and silky, ‘We were drinking whisky.'

Claudia winked at him. ‘Oh, you'll like this much better and, don't worry, it's on me. No charge.' She waved her hand airily. ‘You'll be back for more, trust me.'

She pushed the drinks towards them and walked through the open staff door behind the counter. There was a large storeroom here full of bottles, glasses, cutlery, napkins and other supplies. There was an office in one corner that belonged to Rinaldo. She went in there, left the other two bottles on his desk, scribbling a quick note to leave with them.

Thanks for everything. Hope to catch you next time. C xo

As she came out of Rinaldo's office and walked back to the door she'd come in, she heard a bark of laughter.

‘I can't believe she just came on to you like that, Seb. Out of nowhere.'

The silky voice she recognised from before replied, ‘How do you know she wasn't coming on to you?'

‘Women never buy me drinks.'

‘Give it a couple of years.'

She stopped walking, and slowly backed up against the shelves so she was out of view of the doorway and the two men, who were clearly talking about her.

‘A couple of years? What do you mean?'

The older lawyer seemed amused. ‘I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Nelson, that will ensure your success in any bar of your choice.
Women want to marry lawyers.
The only man, in fact, more desirable than a lawyer is a surgeon.'

‘But –'

‘I know,' his tone seemed quite disappointed in the female sex, ‘it seems to be a useless ambition given both professions work such long hours. If they do indeed manage to pull off this amazing feat they spend the rest of their lives trying to entice their husbands away from their work.'

‘So what you're saying, Seb, is that I should pretend I want to get married,' Nelson asked carefully.

Seb chuckled. ‘There's no need for you to state your intentions true or otherwise, my friend. Take that waitress who just bought us both drinks, for example. I saw her walk in.'

‘You did?'

‘Immediately. She glanced first at our bags and then at our notepads. I saw her smile.'

Claudia covered her mouth.

‘So, she knew we were lawyers?' Nelson seemed stunned at the predatory fashion in which he had been hunted.

‘Of course.' Seb's tone was bland. ‘What she didn't know was that I had her number too.'

‘You did?'

‘Nelson,' Seb seemed disappointed by his lack of faith, ‘we are trained profilers and that witness was very easy to read.'

‘She was? I mean, of course she was.'

‘The white shirt, a little grey from over-washing, buttons not done up high enough to be modest …'

Claudia grasped her shirt at her chest, noticing for the first time that an extra one had indeed come undone.

Damn it!

She did it up.

‘She's fallen on hard times. That thin gold chain with a diamond pendant so small it might be a grain of sand indicates she has a taste for jewellery but she just can't afford it.'

Claudia fondled the chain around her neck.
My parents gave me that for my sixteenth birthday!

‘She's working in a bar, so clearly left high school when she was sixteen. Probably lives with friends in a unit housing three or more people. She's down on her rent so she's looking for a benefactor. And we both know what she's offering.'

Claudia gasped.

‘Are you saying one of us should take her up on her offer?' Nelson asked nervously.

‘Are you calling dibs?' Seb was faintly amused.

Okay, this has gone on long enough!

Claudia stepped away from the shelves and walked back through the open door, her face wreathed in a fake smile that was perhaps a little too bright.

‘So, gentleman, did you enjoy my cabernet merlot?'

Nelson reddened, clearly worried that she might have heard what they were talking about. Seb, however, appeared completely unfazed by her sudden reappearance. His lip curled slightly as his thumb and forefinger played with the stem of his glass.

‘Delicious.'

‘Thank you.' She tossed her head. ‘I'll be sure to tell the winemaker that he's doing a marvellous job, next time I'm on my estate down south.' She knew she sounded completely snooty but just couldn't help herself.

Nelson cleared his throat nervously. ‘You own a winery down south?'

‘My family does. But for me it's really just a hobby on the side.'

‘Is that so?' Seb's lips curled even more.

‘Yes.' Claudia glared at him. ‘When I finished high school I went to law school. Graduated top of my class.'

‘Really?'

‘And I supposed you passed the bar exam too?'

‘With flying colours,' she shot at him.

‘Let me guess,' Seb smirked, ‘you found law too boring to practise so you went home to play.'

She lifted her chin. ‘It's more complicated than that.'

‘Why? Because now you're back in town to work at a bar. Just not the one you qualified for.' He polished off his wine. ‘A plausible story.'

‘Oh, I don't work here.' She shook her head. ‘I just came to visit a friend.'

Seb stood up, dropping a fifty-dollar note on the counter. ‘Sweetheart, just keep the change.'

Claudia saw red. A vein near her temple began to throb as Nelson stood up quickly too, grabbing both document bags from the ground.

‘You really think you're a good judge of character, don't you?' she said quietly.

‘My attention to detail has often been remarked upon,' Sebastian admitted without modesty.

‘So has mine.' Claudia's eyes narrowed, indicating his person with flick of her hand. ‘The tailored suit, a little too expensive for the B-grade executive because you've had it specially made to show you're a cut above the rest. You need that because you've got no friends to tell you so, no free time to spend with them even if you did. And why black? It's the colour of your soul and your complete and utter loss of faith in humanity.'