Making Memories (A Mindalby Outback Romance, #6)

By Kerrie Paterson

Callie has been the IT manager at the Mindalby cotton mill for all of her adult working life, and when it closes down, she realises that she has let everything else slide – including her own dreams. Seizing on the closure as a sign, she decides to open up a craft and quilting shop in town, pursuing her own interests and hobbies and taking a risk for the first time since her husband ran off with her best friend.

Helping her every step of the way is Nathan, her best friend's ex–husband and the man that Callie could never have. Suddenly, Nate seems to be everywhere, sharing this adventure, offering her a hand. But Callie has been burned before. Is she able to learn to trust her heart again?

Mindalby, a small town, a community, a home. But when the mill that supports the local cotton farmers and employs many of the town's residents closes unexpectedly, old tensions are exposed and new rifts develop. Everyone is affected and some react better than others, but one thing is certain: living on the edge of the outback means they have to survive together, or let their town die.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Aug 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781489263650

Kerrie Paterson

Kerrie Paterson writes contemporary women's fiction and small town romance-stories about women in their 40s and above who have reached a crossroads in their life. She loves to write about women's relationships with their friends and family, as well as their romances. When she's not writing, she's a Scout leader, crew for a local drama theatre, taxi driver for her teenage son and keeper of the family knowledge (aka 'Mum, have you seen my camera / phone / cable etc?'). In her spare time (ha!), she's a yoga student, keen photographer and avid reader. Kerrie lives in the Hunter Valley, Australia.

Book preview

Chapter 1

In the furthest parking spot of the employees’ carpark, Callie sat motionless in her vehicle, staring at her former place of employment. Where did she belong now? With her job gone and her future uncertain thanks to the mill closure, she wasn’t even sure who she was anymore.

Outside the tall wire gates of Mindalby Cotton Company, a group of fellow workers milled around the locked entrance. Three men walked back and forth holding signs protesting the closure, while others sprawled in camp chairs along the chain-link fence. All were rugged up against the cold morning chill. So many faces she recognised. So many jobs lost.

A heavy weight pressed on her chest, making each breath a struggle. On any normal Monday she would have been inside those gates, at her desk, ready to start her weekly tasks. But not since everyone had turned up for work last week to find the gates padlocked and the company closed down overnight. Bankrupt. Administrators called in. And no sign of the owner, Don Carter. The coward hadn’t even had the guts to give an explanation in person.

Almost thirty years she’d given to the company, secure in her role as head of IT. But that security had turned out to be a mirage. Her thumbs dug into the leather of the steering wheel. The last week had been tough. She wasn’t cut out to be idle. What was she supposed to do with her life now? Since her divorce, she’d defined herself by being Patrick’s mother and Mindalby Cotton’s IT manager. Once her son moved out, she’d thrown herself into her job. This had been her life.

And now, without her job? The thing that defined her had been ripped away and she felt like a hollow shell. How on earth would she fill it back up?

A dragonfly flew past the windscreen and landed on her side mirror. The dragonfly means change is coming, her grandmother’s voice echoed in her head. Grandma Mary had been a big believer in omens.

Callie shot daggers at the dragonfly, its translucent wings shining in the pale sun. Bit late to show up now. Couldn’t you have warned us a week ago? The change wasn’t affecting only her. It was already having a massive impact throughout the town.

She straightened in her seat and took a last look at the picket line. Better get started on the grocery shopping. She still had to eat while she worked out what to do with her life. For some reason, she’d felt driving past her old place of work would be beneficial, but she was just torturing herself further. With a sigh, she went to start the car just as her mobile rang. She reached into her handbag on the passenger seat, and pulled her phone from the inner pocket. ‘Hello?’

‘Hi, Mum.’

Her son’s voice sent a spear of guilt as well as pleasure through her. She hadn’t told him about the job loss yet. He had enough on his plate. ‘Patrick! How are you, sweetheart? How’s the new house?’

That might be one good thing about not being employed. She’d been wanting to make the trip to Newcastle to see the house her son and his girlfriend Hayley had recently bought. From the photos she’d seen, the house was tiny and needed a lot of work, but they were so pleased with themselves about being home-owners. Now Callie would have all the time in the world to see it for herself.

‘Loving it so far. I was ringing to say thanks for the housewarming present. The quilt looks fantastic in our bedroom. It reminds me of home.’

‘Not a problem, sweetheart. You know how much I enjoy making them.’ And even better if it reminded him of home. She was happy to have her baby bird fly the nest, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to forget all about her. And she missed Hayley as well. She and Patrick had been a couple for four years and she’d been at the house so often she was like a daughter to Callie.

‘Hayley reckons you should open a shop and sell your quilts—she showed a few of her friends the one you gave us and they want to know if they can buy one. Apparently they go for hundreds of dollars in the craft markets here.’

Hayley wasn’t the first to suggest selling her quilts, but Callie had never seen the need. Until now. Her quilts were a labour of love, and while sometimes she’d make one on commission, she preferred to gift them. But it was an option that had been worming its way into her mind over the last week. She wasn’t sure what else she could do. There were no IT jobs in Mindalby, in fact there were lucky to be any jobs at all—even if she could find someone to employ a fifty-year-old woman with limited skills. And she didn’t want to move further away from her elderly parents.

‘You’re welcome, love. And tell Hayley it’s not a bad idea. I could do with a change of scenery.’ She kept her voice light, hoping he wouldn’t guess what was going through her mind.

Would anyone buy her quilts, especially in Mindalby? She’d maintained a low profile in the town since the whole Sharon-and-Tony debacle. Her own behaviour after her ex had left hadn’t been one of her most memorable moments.

‘Let me know if you decide to and I’ll spread the word. Anyway, I’ve got to go, Mum. My lecture’s about to start. I’ll ring you on Sunday, okay?’

‘Okay. Have fun. Love you. Say hi to Hayley.’

‘Love you too and will do. Bye.’

She stowed her phone back in her handbag and started the car. At least the hour-and-a-half drive to Bourke’s shopping centre would give her plenty of thinking time.

***

Nathan parked his ute out the front of Mindalby’s Ace in the Hole pub and climbed out, arching his back to stretch out muscles stiff from the long drive back from Bourke. His eyes burned from staring at the road as dusk fell, nerves stretched, ready to react if a roo was brainless enough to jump out in front of him. He’d helped pull too many people from the wrecks of cars caused by colliding with the enormous red buggers. Being the next statistic wasn’t high on his list.

Yawning, he reached back into the cab for his jacket, shrugged into it then strode around to the trailer to make sure the load of timber tied to the top was still secure. God, he was so tired. With luck, a meal and a cold beer would revive him.

Judging by the number of cars out the front of the pub, there was a bigger than normal crowd for a Monday night. He pushed open the heavy wooden door, immediately enveloped in a comforting blanket of warmth and noise. Voices were raised over the jukebox blasting out an old AC/DC song. The distraction was what he needed. He’d had too much time to think on the long drive. Raising his hand in greeting to a few mates, he made his way through the crowd to the bar.

Nathan had barely settled his bum on the patched bar stool when Cole Mitchell, a welder he’d worked with a few times, strolled over to him and clapped his hand on his back. ‘Haven’t seen you around for a while. Did you hear the news?’

‘Haven’t heard a thing. I’ve been in Brissie visiting my mum. What’s up?’

Cole rested his elbow on the bar and turned to face him. ‘Mindalby Cotton—it’s gone broke.’

‘What the—?’ Nathan checked his words, conscious of a group of women at a nearby table. ‘What do you mean?’ He signalled to old Max behind the bar for his usual beer. He had a feeling he’d need it after hearing this news.

‘The administrators have been called in. Don’s run the company into the ground. Everyone turned up for work last week and the gates were shut.’

Now that he took notice, all the faces in the pub looked either angry or desolate. He shook his head and reached for the beer Max slid across the bar to him. ‘Shit, really?’ Mindalby Cotton Company employed something like half the town in some way or other. Including his own building business.

His mate, Dave, wandered over from his table to join them, his forehead creased in a scowl. Nathan knew the electrician had been working on the new cotton gin expansion for the last few months. ‘All our bloody tools are locked behind the gate and they won’t let us in to get them. They reckon they’re the property of Mindalby Cotton now.’

Thank Christ he’d finished his part of the job a couple of weeks ago. They’d left their gear on site while they’d been working there, and if it had happened any earlier, his equipment might be stuck there too. No tools, no work. No work, no money.

‘Bloody mongrels.’ Cody’s Nossiter’s raised belligerent voice gathered a crowd of equally disgruntled workers around him. ‘They’ve left us flat on our arses—I need the money I’m owed.’

Speaking of money, Nathan hadn’t been paid for the work his company had done yet. Shit. The ins and outs of a company being sent into administration was a mystery to him but he was damned sure about one thing: he wouldn’t be seeing any cash landing in his bank account any time soon. If ever. At least he had his tools, so he was better off than some of the poor bastards.

Dave pounded the bar with his fist. ‘I’m stuck. Can’t do any other jobs because my gear’s in there. I even left my work trailer there so he’s got the frigging lot. Don Carter’s an arsehole.’

‘Why can’t we just walk in there and get our tools? We own them!’ A voice behind Cole piped up. Nathan couldn’t see who spoke.

In one quick movement, Cody sculled his rum and Coke and gestured to Max for a refill. ‘We should get Cole to knock the bloody gate down with his bulldozer.’

‘Derek Johnson would have you arrested before you left the road.’ Nathan tried to ease the growing anger with a light comment. It wasn’t likely to make much difference though.

‘Yeah, right.’ Cole made a tipping motion towards his mouth with his hand. ‘Sergeant Johnson would have to pull himself out of his bottle to notice.’

Nathan shredded his beer coaster and tuned out of the conversation. He knew they were all letting off steam and wouldn’t carry through with their threats—or at least he hoped so. His mind was busy trying to remember how much money he had in each of his accounts, and what other invoices were outstanding. He had money in reserve—cash flow was always an issue in a freelance business like carpentry. But without that substantial injection of income from the Mindalby Cotton job, how long would it last? How long would he be able to pay his crew?

‘Pool table’s free. Anyone for a game?’ A woman’s voice cut through the discussion and caught Cody’s attention.

The crowd and noise drifted away, eager for a distraction from their woes, and left Nathan staring into his beer, watching the bubbles rise to the top.

‘Hi, Natty.’ Fingers danced along his neck before he was deluged in a cloud of floral perfume. ‘You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.’

Jesus, did she shower in the stuff? He forced himself to take shallow breaths so he didn’t suffocate from her scent. In his peripheral vision, a tall, leggy blonde slid onto the seat beside him, her red dress hiking up her thighs. Her name was on the tip of his tongue. They’d dated a few times a couple of years ago. Sally? Sylvia? Susan?

‘Hi, gorgeous, how are you? Long time, no see!’ He raised his finger at the barman who gave him a knowing grin. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

‘Hi, Sophie.’ Max’s use of her name was subtle but Nathan caught the sly smile playing across his grizzled face. ‘What can I get you?’

‘A cosmo, thanks.’ She leaned close to him, brushing his thighs with her knees in the confined quarters of the bar stools. ‘Why don’t you let me cheer you up, sexy?’

The offer was tempting. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken up a proposition from a willing woman to distract himself from his troubles. Something he laid squarely at the feet of his ex-wife.

The fact he had to think twice about the offer was troubling. Maybe turning fifty last month had turned him into a respectable, boring old fart. Maybe after five years, he was coming full circle.

His volunteer Rural Fire Service pager beeped and he tilted it to read the words on the screen. Damn. House fire at a property out of town. So much for a meal and a relaxing drink.

But at least it gave him an escape from Sophie.

Chapter 2

By the time his crew arrived at the job site the next morning, Nathan had already downed half a travel mug of coffee and measured up the next lot of timber ready for cutting once the seven am noise curfew lifted. Hands numb from the cold, he tucked his carpenter’s pencil behind his ear and lifted another stack of wood onto the sawhorses.

He loved the smaller jobs like this kitchen renovation, the bread and butter of his business. They kept the money flowing in between the bigger contracts like new house builds, extensions and the very rare big jobs like the Mindalby Cotton Company expansion. Not that there’d be another one of those now.

Cupping his hands together, he puffed to warm them with his breath and sank onto the pile of timber. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the impact of the closure of Carter’s business. There hadn’t been much in the way of sleep last night. He’d been pumped on adrenaline for hours after he’d arrived home from fighting the fire, so he’d buried his head in his accounting software. That was usually enough to put him to sleep. But pulling up reports of money owed and money owing wasn’t the sedative he’d hoped for.

A kookaburra landed on the metal fence beside him and let loose with its unique cackle. Probably laughing at how we complicate our lives so much. He’d spent hours trying to work out how far up shit creek they were going to be if Mindalby Cotton didn’t pay their bills, which, if he were a betting man, he’d lay money on. With so much of the town affected, many of the smaller jobs would most likely dry up as well. He had some income from the rental properties his accountant had talked him into, as long as people could keep paying their rent. It would have helped if he’d had tenants for the shop in Locker Street and the house in Hills Close, but the chances of that now were slim.

If he didn’t draw a wage for himself, he had enough cash reserve to pay his crew their wages for a couple of months. After that … well, with luck he wouldn’t find out what happened after that. Something had to happen or the whole town was screwed.

Ute doors slammed shut out the front of the property. Time to stop sitting on his arse contemplating his navel. There was work to do.

‘Morning, boss.’ Steve and Thanh, his two full-time employees, rounded the corner of the house, the silver high-visibility stripes on their trousers reflecting in the powerful work light. He stood and reached out to switch it off. The sky had brightened to an orange glow with the rise of the sun.

‘Mischa with you?’ He peered around behind the men looking for his apprentice.

‘Yeah, she stopped to pat the neighbour’s dog.’ Thanh shrugged his broad shoulders and shook his head with a grin. ‘You know what she’s like. Adopts every pup—stray or otherwise—for miles around.’

Nathan laughed. ‘Sure do.’ He’d given her a lift to work a few times. As soon as he’d stopped his ute in the driveway, he’d been surrounded by dogs of all shapes, sizes and colours. He hadn’t been game to set foot outside the cab for fear he’d be licked to death. Mischa—the town’s unofficial RSPCA, adopting every unwanted dog in Mindalby.

Phil O’Brien sauntered out of his house wearing bright red trousers and a checked shirt, a golf bag over his shoulder. ‘Good morning, gentleman.’ He pushed up his garage door and placed his clubs in the boot of the small sports car. ‘The kitchen is free whenever you want to start work in there, chaps. I’m off to golf. Taa-ra.’

‘Thanks, mate. Have a good game.’ Nathan couldn’t think of any more boring way to spend his time than chasing a little white ball around a paddock, but then he liked to dangle a line over the side of his dinghy and feed the fish. Some people had the audacity to say fishing was boring, so who was he to sit in judgement?

They waited until Phil had backed his BMW out of the garage and set off down the road with a cheery toot of his horn. ‘Righto, Steve, can you and Mischa cut the pieces I’ve marked? Thanh, we’ve got some cupboards to dismantle.’

Steve hesitated, opened his mouth as if to say something and then shrugged. He settled his eye and ear protection in place and switched on the power saw. The whine stopped any further conversation, but Nathan had the feeling the guys would be asking him the hard questions first chance they got. If only he had some answers.

A man of few words, Thanh followed him inside in silence. The next few hours were filled with the satisfactorily distracting tasks of moving appliances and knocking out the existing cupboards. Nothing like hard work to take your mind off your troubles.

Just before they stopped for a tea break about ten, Nathan took his phone out onto the back verandah and dialled the number for the accounts department at Mindalby Cotton.

As he’d expected, the phone rang out. Looked like he wasn’t going to get any answers that way.

His crew wandered out onto the back verandah to sit around him with their lunch bags, pulling out their morning tea. Hopefully they wouldn’t ask him about the inevitable.

‘It’s pretty crook about the mill closing. What are we going to do?’ Around a mouth full of sandwich, Thanh voiced what they were no doubt all thinking.

No such luck. ‘Did any of you happen to make it to the town meeting they had about it?’

They all shook their heads.

Mischa took a swig of her juice and screwed the cap back on. ‘Didn’t even hear about it until after. Mum told me when I got home from work.’

‘Well then I probably know much the same as you lot do. I only know what I heard in the pub last night so you can take it with a grain of salt.’ He gestured with his phone. ‘I just tried to ring Mindalby Cotton but got no answer. I’ll give it to you straight. They still owe us for the job we did there and without that … I’ve got a couple of months of wages saved up so if the work keeps coming in we should be okay.’

‘And if it doesn’t?’ Steve stared at his bottle of Coke as if it had all the answers.

Nathan shrugged. ‘I wish I knew, mate.’ He stood and shook sawdust and splinters off his work pants. ‘I’ve got to head in to the hardware shop. You guys right to keep working?’

Thanh stood and folded his arms over his slight gut. ‘What if the work doesn’t keep coming in, boss?’

This was the part of being a boss that sucked—people dependent on him for their wages. It was made even tougher with the future looking so uncertain. There was no way he could let them down. He’d failed at enough in his life—he didn’t want to add that to the list.

Nathan spread his hands. ‘All I can promise is to do everything I can to keep you all employed. So honestly, let’s just hope Don Carter pays up.’

Although the possibility of that looked increasingly unlikely.

***

Seated at her kitchen table, Callie’s deep sigh turned into a half sob as she closed down the job-seeking website and pushed her laptop away. She didn’t have a snowflake’s chance in hell of getting a new job, especially not nearby. Who wanted to hire a middle-aged woman with out of date specialist IT skills?

She’d added her name and resume to the site anyway, and applied for an entry-level admin position and ‘retail team member’ in the department store in Bourke. It wasn’t ideal if she had to travel that far every day, but neither was having no income.

Despite tossing and turning all night, she was no closer to knowing what she was going to do. While she still