Tangled up in Blue

By E E Montgomery, Danielle Birch and Fiona Greene

When the estranged Sinclair sisters meet in ailing Blue Ridge after the death of their grandmother, only one of them wants to stay. But Blythe Sinclair's dying wish - for them to work together to run the Satin Bowerbird Inn - throws their lives into chaos.

 

Out of the Blue - Fiona Greene

Commitment-phobe Katherine Sinclair started running after her parents' death and she's never stopped. But returning to Blue Ridge, and her teenage crush, Rhett, awakens something deep inside her. Can she put down roots and use her time in town to make a difference: for the community, for the family and for herself? And if she does, will Rhett be a part of her future?

 

Little Bird - Danielle Birch

Corporate lawyer Edie Sinclair's personal and professional life implode just as she returns to Blue Ridge to mourn her beloved grandmother. Suffocated by the misplaced blame over her parents' death, Edie has to choose between staying to resolve the estate or returning to the city to straighten out her life. When Edie meets Will, a local sculptor, she's instantly attracted to him, but a misunderstanding between them makes her question whether she can build a new life for herself in Blue Ridge.

 

The Satin Bowerbird - E E Montgomery

Holly Sinclair has finally found peace and security, living and working with her grandmother at the Satin Bowerbird Inn. Her grandmother's unexpected death and the invasion of her estranged sisters rock Holly to her core. There's only one person she can still trust, her best friend since high school. Turning to Morgan ignites Holly's long-suppressed passion and she's torn. Pursuing a relationship with Morgan puts their friendship at risk. Can she have it all? Or will she lose it all?

 

As the sisters face unexpected challenges and expose long-buried family secrets, their grandmother's legacy could force them apart forever. Or can Katherine, Edie and Holly learn to forgive each other and become a family once more?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Three Birds Publishing
• Release date: Nov 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9780987631633

E E Montgomery

For E E Montgomery, writing is the thread that stitches the fragments of a curious mind into myriad imaginary worlds.  A dedicated people-watcher, E E finds stories everywhere. In a cafe, a cemetery, a book on space exploration or on the news: there’ll be a story of personal growth, love, and unconditional acceptance there somewhere. E E Montgomery has published short stories, novellas and novels across genres (contemporary, historical, romance, science fiction and fantasy) since 2011. You can contact E E Montgomery at [e-mail]; on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ewynelaine.montgomery; on Twitter: @EEMontgomery1; on Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+EEMontgomery; or at her web site: http://www.eemontgomery.com/ and blog: http://www.eemontgomery.com/blog.

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Copyright Information

Published by

Three Birds Publishing

www.threebirdspublishing.com

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Tangled up in Blue

Out of the Blue

© 2020 Fiona Greene

Little Bird

© 2020 Danielle Birch

The Satin Bowerbird

© 2020 E E Montgomery

Cover Art

© 2020 Elaine Cobb

Cover Design

© 2020 Cover Art Design

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

Editors

Desi Chapman and Andrea Zimmerman, Blue Ink Editing (www.blueinkediting.com)

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other enquiries, contact [e-mail].

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9876316-0-2

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9876316-3-3

Dedications

Out of the Blue

For sisters...

Actual sisters, sisters-in-law, writing sisters, work sisters and shared experience sisters.

I couldn’t have done it without you.

Little Bird

For Cameron and Madeleine. My loves.

The Satin Bowerbird

Small-town Australia – the towns, and their people, that have endured through fire, flood and drought, and every harsh challenge thrown at them, yet still manage to welcome new faces to town. I’m honoured to have grown up in such a place.

Out of the Blue

Fiona Greene

Of Funerals and Flasks

20th March

Katherine Sinclair scanned the mourners gathered in the guest lounge and main dining rooms of the Satin Bowerbird Inn to remember her grandmother, Blythe Sinclair, and a chill lifted the hair on the back of her neck.

The last funeral she’d attended in Blue Ridge’s hundred-year-old church, with its white cladding and rich interior timbers, had been her parents’ joint service. Back then, the entire district had stood shoulder to shoulder, filling the polished wooden pews and spilling out onto the lawn. Every door had been pushed open so the people outside could hear. Crammed into a pew with Nanny and her sisters, the silence had crashed in on her, oppressive and somehow final.

Up until that point, she’d never realised a crowd of people could be silent for so long. She’d been able to hear Nanny breathing. And she’d felt, rather than heard, the sobs her grandmother had tried to stifle as Nanny prepared to bury her only child, Katherine’s father, Max.

Today, Katherine had followed Nanny’s coffin out into the sunshine, past empty pews and more tellingly, past a large stack of unused funeral booklets.

Now, Nanny’s bed and breakfast echoed with whispered conversations and the clink of teacups on saucers as the mourners remembered Blythe.

An older gentleman, who looked vaguely familiar, stopped and peered at her. ‘It’s Katherine, isn’t it? I was sorry to hear about Blythe’s passing.’ He used a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and she got a faint whiff of alcohol. ‘We’ve lost one of our town treasures.’

‘Yes, Mr...’ Katherine stumbled, trying to place him.

‘Ray. Ray Harrison.’

That sounded familiar. ‘From?’

‘From the post office. Retired now.’ He laughed. ‘I remember when you and your sisters were tiny and your Nanny would give you a dollar and you’d come in and buy those sherbet cones with the marshmallow and sprinkles on top. It was always your job to make sure the littlest one didn’t spill her sherbet on the way home.’

A distant memory, long forgotten, pushed its way to the surface. ‘I remember.’ She smiled. ‘Edie would nibble the sprinkles off, then eat the marshmallow, but Holly used to bite a hole in the tip of the cone to get straight to the sherbet, spill it everywhere, and cry until someone bought her another one.’ The smile faded. ‘Nanny used to give me extra money, just in case.’

Her eyes started to burn.

Not once during the service or the trip to the cemetery had she even felt like tearing up. No, it had taken a long-forgotten memory, unearthed by an equally long-forgotten local shopkeeper. She blinked rapidly, determined not to give in.

‘It’s been a while, hasn’t it?’

Immediately she stiffened, but it seemed Ray was simply stating a fact. She nodded.

‘What are you doing now?’

Once, when it seemed like everyone she knew was chasing an exciting career, she’d dreaded that question. Now, she embraced it. ‘I work in a supermarket.’

A broad grin split his face. ‘You don’t say? Retail’s the backbone of the community. I ran the post office for forty years, and you know, you’ll never work a day in your life if you love what you do.’

‘I know.’ Katherine smiled again. Funny how she’d never found anyone in Brisbane who understood that. ‘How are you keeping busy now you’ve retired?’

Ray’s face fell, and his cup wobbled in his saucer. ‘Well, my eyes aren’t what they once were. I’ve got macular degeneration. That’s why I had to give it up. Couldn’t read the fine print anymore. Haven’t found anything to take its place yet.’

Katherine put her cup on the table and touched his arm. ‘Oh, how frustrating for you.’ Working retail meant hundreds of interactions a day, with people from all walks of life. That’s what made it great. She couldn’t imagine it being ripped away from her.

‘My son, Rhett, is running the show now, and most days I pop over and have a chat with the customers. Keeps me going’ – he tapped his temple – ‘up here.’

Rhett?

Katherine’s heart stopped. Rhett was back in Blue Ridge? She cast a hasty glance over the remaining mourners, looking for the man she’d spent her teenage years crushing on.

Another distant memory surfaced, this time of Rhett the teenager, long and lanky, with thick dark hair. Soulful brown eyes. Dealing with teasing about his slightly unusual name by quoting Gone with the Wind in a fake American accent, drawling, ‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.’

Her heart raced.

Calm down.

Rhett Harrison was old news.

Very old news.

The last time she’d seen Rhett was the night of her parents’ funeral, fourteen years ago, when she’d escaped the cloying concern being liberally applied at the Bowerbird – as they all called the bed and breakfast – and headed up to the lookout on the ridge.

The heavy eucalypt cover on the ridge with its distinctive navy tinge gave the town of Blue Ridge its name. In the early 1800s, the falsely named Gold Nugget Creek had brought prospectors to the area in the thousands, but most didn’t stay. Those who settled ended up farming, and the town proper was built on the strip of flat ground between the ridge and the gently burbling creek. The lookout, with its television repeater station and picnic tables, was as much a part of the town as the main street.

Her ten-minute hike up the fire trail that night had been fuelled by anger and despair. Her only companion on the way up was a bottle of whisky from her long-since deceased grandfather’s off-limits drinks cabinet.

She’d thought she’d be alone, but the town’s bored twenty-somethings had arrived long before her. The out-of-towner with the expensive whisky was welcomed with open arms.

Some memories from that night were hazy, at best. Others, as clear as if it had been yesterday.

A bit like her long-buried memories of her time visiting Nanny in Blue Ridge. She had known Rhett’s dad ran the post office. Hadn’t she always pestered Nanny to be the one to post the letters and collect the parcels on the off-chance she might run into her crush, Rhett? Yet she’d tucked that away in the back of her mind, forgotten until now. Heck, she hadn’t even recognised Ray as Rhett’s dad. She glanced around, not able to keep her focus on Ray. ‘Is Rhett here?’

Ray shook his head. ‘He closed up for the service but went straight back afterwards. Won’t do any business because everyone’s here, but he needs to be there for deliveries and such.’

‘Everyone’s here?’ Her stomach dropped. So the rumours she’d heard were true. Blue Ridge was dying. No wonder there were so many funeral books left over.

‘Well, I don’t rightly know.’ Ray shook his head. ‘Everything’s a bit blurry, so don’t rely on me for a head count, but we don’t number up the way we used to. A lot of families have moved on. We’ve had some newcomers, but they mostly commute to Brisbane or Toowoomba for work. And, of course, we’ve got a fair few of my generation out at the cemetery now.’

Katherine glanced around the lounge of the bed and breakfast. ‘This old girl’s in pretty good condition though.’ Nanny’s Bowerbird was a sprawling Victorian mansion built on the land that backed onto the creek. It had housed boarders during Blue Ridge’s gold rush and seen duty after the war as a convalescent home for returned soldiers. Now, it catered to the tourist trade who enjoyed the rich ambience of its flower-themed guest rooms. It didn’t need the townsfolk to stay afloat. But how on earth had the Blue Ridge Mercantile stayed viable if this – she glanced around again – was the population they serviced?

All those boarded-up shopfronts, their paintwork fading, the empty parking spaces along the main street. Back in the day, they’d walked everywhere in town because it was quicker to walk than try to find a street park over in the shopping precinct. Today, she would have had her choice of parks. The unease that had been building since she’d first driven back to town, that had hovered over her at the church, threatened again. Blue Ridge had aged.

She was seeing its frailty. She glanced past Ray to the remaining mourners, trying to decide if frail was the word she wanted.

‘Lovely service,’ Judith Kitchener, Nanny’s long-time friend and housekeeper at the Bowerbird, said as she joined their conversation. ‘And the CWA scones were divine.’ Mrs Kitchener was the chalk to Nanny’s cheese – tall and slim, with her white hair in a sleek bob. Never one to fuss, today she was wearing a royal blue suit with a white rosebud in her buttonhole. Patent nude heels added to her height, and she towered over Ray.

‘Judith.’ Ray’s voice was husky as they hugged. ‘I still can’t believe she’s gone.’

‘I know.’ Mrs Kitchener swallowed hard. ‘But it was quick and painless, and that’s all we can hope for.’

Mrs Kitchener took hold of Ray’s hand and squeezed it, held it.

Katherine’s eyes burned again. Ever since Mrs Kitchener had rung her to tell her the news, she’d been numb, but every one of these interactions with people who loved Nanny was chipping away at the nothingness, and she wasn’t sure what would happen when it finally disintegrated. She excused herself and made a beeline for the refreshments.

She filled an exquisite china plate with sweet treats she didn’t intend to eat and tried to stay out of everyone’s way. It was impossible. Most of the older generation remembered her from her visits as a child, and they wanted to talk. But as more of the townsfolk gave their condolences and said goodbye, she was facing the real possibility that soon it would be her and her two sisters circling the buffet, with Mrs Kitchener the reluctant referee. For that, she was going to need coffee.

She ditched the plate, grabbed a cup, and spooned in a generous amount of instant coffee. She added water from the urn, apologised to her taste buds, then took a sip.

Yep, it was truly as bad as she remembered.

She added a dollop of milk and tried again.

Better, but not much.

She made a mental note to check what the hell brand of coffee the grocer was selling. And if the yard at the back of the Bowerbird still had an incinerator.

Katherine smiled, imagined sending the entire instant coffee holding of Blue Ridge to a fiery end and replacing it with pods. Or even better still, an espresso machine.

She scanned the room and homed in on the woman with long blond hair almost identical to her own.

Edie.

Her sister, who was thirty-five and two years younger than Katherine, had toned down the corporate wear today, choosing black stiletto heels and a slim-fitting dress that skimmed her knees. Edie was paler than Katherine remembered, as though she never went in the sun. Now she was talking to a family Katherine didn’t recognise, her fine features drawn into what seemed a perpetual frown.

‘I bet that’s what she looks like when she’s in court,’ Katherine muttered into her coffee. Judging by the faces of the family, they thought so too.

Such a lawyer.

‘Oh, my friends,’ she whispered, ‘we have all been there.’

Her gaze landed on Holly, her youngest sister. There was seven years between them, but Holly seemed determined to make Katherine feel old. Today she was floating around in a silky dress with one of those ridiculous handkerchief hems and low strappy sandals, talking up a storm with another of the locals Katherine was having trouble placing. She pressed her lips together and looked away.

The youngest Sinclair had the advantage over her and Edie. Holly was a local, having lived and worked with Nanny on and off since their parents’ death when Holly was only sixteen. Once, raven-haired Holly had followed her and Edie everywhere. Now, it felt like she was trailing along in her youngest sister’s wake.

And she didn’t like it.

You are only here for Nanny.

She closed her eyes, willing away the tears.

She could lie to herself all she liked, but on the drive up from Brisbane, she’d faced a nasty truth.

She’d never been here for Nanny.

Most of her adult life, ever since the accident fourteen years ago, she’d refused to return to Blue Ridge and resisted every effort Nanny had made to get her and her sisters together. Until last week they hadn’t even spoken, let alone been in the same room. If that was family, she didn’t need it. Even with the deep respect she’d had for Nanny, she hadn’t been able to come back to the Bowerbird.

So why was she here now?

It wasn’t for a cosy reunion. Not like when ‘Catherine with a C’ from work’s grandmother died, and the extended family returned to the homestead, camped out in the home paddock, and spent almost a week celebrating her life.

She looked from Edie to Holly and back.

Conversation, hopefully civil, was the best she could hope for.

If she was honest, all she wanted was for today to be over. Because once it was over, she could escape back to her life and her job in Brisbane.

Away from her sisters.

Her glass-beaded necklace weighed heavily around her neck. She’d picked it up yesterday from one of the themed rooms in the Mercantile because the blue would go so well with her dress. Once the supplier of all things to the hopeful goldminers, the Mercantile was now equal parts general store, hardware store, and antique store. Katherine had been more than happy to part with a twenty to score the art deco piece, but she only wanted it for the larger beads. The smaller round spacers did nothing for her, and she knew if she could liberate those multifaceted larger pieces, she could give them new life.

She ditched her coffee, pulled the strand from around her neck and ran it across her hand. The clasp was exceptional, and her fingers itched to start working on it.

‘Put that away,’ Edie hissed. ‘It’s not the time for crafting.’

‘Ah, there it is.’ Katherine tried for a bland smile. ‘Family supporting family.’ Ever since she’d first mentioned her jewellery making, Edie’s eye-rolls had gone into overdrive. It was only this year Katherine had moved it from being a sometimes hobby to a fledgling business. A big step, but one that made her happy. No matter what anyone else thought.

‘You have more important things to be worrying about.’ Edie turned on one excessively high heel and marched over to the volunteer who was helping Holly to pack up the buffet.

Katherine bit her lip and tucked the necklace into the pocket of the fitted dark blue dress she was wearing. Her interview-cum-function-cum-funeral dress that she was an expert at morphing into different looks with accessories. ‘And that would be?’

She considered marching after Edie and asking the question, but it wasn’t worth the argument. Being dismissed as irrelevant by Holly every time she came into contact with her was bad enough. But from Edie, it hurt more.

Probably because they’d been close as children. Much closer than she and Holly.

Instead, she parked herself in the corner and watched Edie, who always seemed to know exactly what to do, collecting used plates from the buffet table.

Should she go and help? Perhaps move the floral arrangements or collect the trays of leftovers? Ferry things back to the farmhouse kitchen at the rear of the Bowerbird?

No, they looked under control. And if Mrs Kitchener didn’t organise everything, Edie and Holly would sort it out with the Ladies Auxiliary.

Probably Edie, most of all.

She strolled towards the kitchen. Once she was out of view of the guest lounge, she picked up the pace and was almost running by the time she escaped down the back stairs and into the garden.

Freedom.

As kids they’d loved this space, playing cubbyhouses in the shade of the evergreens and hunting for the magical four-leaf clover in the lawn. She lifted her face to the sun and sniffed. Ah, Blue Ridge. Clear country air, spiced with the scent of eucalypts and wildflowers.

The theme song from an old war movie where escaped Allied troops were attempting to flee Germany popped into her head, and she hummed it as she headed for her car, feeling freer than she had all week.

Then she ground to a halt just past the mandarin tree. Damn. Someone had parked her in. No way was she going back inside to find whoever it was. She looked down at the delicately beaded ballet flats that had taken her nearly a month to construct and wondered if they were up for a walk. She could go back to her room and get changed, but...

She looked from her car to her feet and back again.

Escape won, hands down.

There was nothing else for it. She was walking.

Humming her newly adopted theme song, she made a beeline around the bedroom side of the Bowerbird, where she was less likely to run into anyone.

She was picking her way between the grevillea and the passionfruit vine on the fence when she heard sobbing.

Her stomach dropped.

She could pretend she hadn’t heard, not get involved, and make good her escape.

Or she could find whoever it was and give them a tissue and a hug.

She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, trying to remember who was still in the guest lounge. Definitely Edie and Holly. Most likely Mrs Kitchener. Those were the three she had to worry about. Everyone else she could touch base with, then leave.

A two-minute delay versus spending the next twenty-four hours feeling guilty for not doing the ‘right thing’.

She didn’t need any more of that sort of guilt.

Katherine tilted her head and listened, then picked her way along the informal path past the woodpile, already stacked for the upcoming winter.

There, she almost tripped over Ray Harrison, down on his hands and knees, sweeping the spindly grass with an outstretched hand.

‘Ray? It’s Katherine. What’s happened?’

He raised his head towards her, but his eyes didn’t focus. ‘I loved her, you know.’

She stepped closer, and the unmistakable smell of rum hit her. ‘We all loved Nanny, um, Blythe.’ She spotted a silver hip flask, partially obscured in the grass.

Ah, it all made sense. He’d slipped away for a quiet tipple, dropped it, and couldn’t find it in the grass. ‘Let me help you with that.’

He tried to sit back on his heels and failed, rolling into a sideways sit. ‘Not Blythe. Merry.’

Merry?

She made sure he wasn’t going to fall. ‘I’ll get your flask for you.’ She found the lid and screwed it on tight.

She wasn’t an expert, but the flask looked, and felt, antique. Maybe solid silver? The front was engraved with what looked to be one continuous line that swirled and doubled back on itself, in a geometric design she’d not seen before. She traced the outer edge with her fingertip, then flipped it over to read the spidery inscription.

To Raymond, now and forever, love always, Merril.

Merril.

Merry?

Her mother.

Her mother had gifted this to Ray? She squinted to read the date.

Two years before she was born.

Weren’t her mum and dad dating by then?

She stared at the flask, then at Ray, then back at the flask.

The tiny vault of family history she held in her head split open, a chasm filled with questions and doubts. Her stomach churned as she tried to remember what she knew of her parents’ life before she was born. The photo tribute from today showcasing Nanny’s life from her very first photo through to her last birthday had piqued her interest. Now she knew she had to go back and learn more about her parents and their life here.

‘Help me up?’ Ray’s voice was shaky.

‘Of course.’ She put the flask down, guided one of his hands to the woodpile, and gripped the other. ‘You hold my hand, put your other hand here, and that should help you to push yourself up. Do you think you can do it?’

He nodded.

It took a couple of attempts, but finally Ray was on his feet. Katherine felt in her pocket and pressed one of the carefully folded tissues she hadn’t used into his hand. ‘Here, wipe your face with this. I’ve got your flask. I’ll walk you home, if you like.’ The post office, like everything in Blue Ridge, was close by.

‘You’re a good girl. Like your mum,’ Ray slurred.

‘And Nanny.’ Katherine glanced up the street. ‘Come on, it’s not far. Are you okay to walk?’

Ray nodded. ‘My central vision is gone. That’s why I can’t read. I can see some detail around the edge. I’m fine to walk, just need to be careful.’

‘Okay.’

Katherine slowed her pace to match Ray’s. They crossed the street and passed the barn-like wooden shopfront that housed the Mercantile, with its hastily written sign saying it was closed for the funeral. Once the haberdashery and hardware had been next door, but now all that remained were two boarded-up shops, their paint peeling.

The bakery survived. Since she’d last been in town, they’d painted it a buttercup yellow and added planter boxes filled with marigolds and cute native animals made from scrap metal. There were a few benches on the footpath. Down the side, they’d added picnic tables.

Ray sniffed the air. ‘Best jam donuts in the whole of Queensland at the Blue Ridge Bakery.’

‘I remember that,’ Katherine said, thinking back to the local radio ad from her teenage years with its catchy jingle. She’d have bought them both a donut, but she didn’t have her purse with her.

‘Did you see the lizard? Peeking out from behind the marigolds?’

‘Yes.’ She eyed Ray curiously. ‘Can you see the lizard?’

‘No, but I know it’s there.’ He laughed. ‘You’ll have to visit the old saddlery while you’re in town,’ Ray said. ‘Young bloke named Will has turned it into an art studio. He made the animals. He took me over there a while ago and let me feel some of his work. Uses all sorts of metal and old car parts and makes it into beautiful things. The other night, at the pub, someone suggested he might do a piece. Something to pay tribute to Blythe.’

‘I hadn’t heard about that.’ She made a mental note to ask Mrs Kitchener.

Blue Ridge had a mix of wide tree-lined streets with narrow laneways in between. When the town was settled, the ‘dunny lanes’ were used by the night-soil man to collect the waste from the outdoor toilets. Now, they were used by walkers and kids on bikes to cut through between the art deco shop fronts with their stained-glass panels above the doors.

They crossed the final laneway without incident, and Katherine breathed a sigh of relief. She’d managed to get Ray back to the post office. She stopped under the awning that housed the telephone booth, post boxes, and a seat. The sandwich board outside promised stationery, bill paying and parcel services, and invited her to enter. She sat Ray down on the bench outside and handed him his flask. ‘I’ll get Rhett.’

As she turned for the door, her heart pounded.

Rhett Harrison was in there.

Despite the welcoming ambience, she didn’t want to go in.

Not even for her new friend Ray.

Chicken.

A crystal-clear memory of that night up at the lookout – skin on skin – had heat flooding into her cheeks.

Rhett Harrison.

Rhett of the molten-chocolate eyes and the ever-so-confident drawl.

Rhett, who she thought she’d never lay eyes on again.

Katherine put her hand on the door. ‘Nobody ever died from awkward,’ she whispered, wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt. She glanced up and down deserted Brisbane Road, and at Ray, who sat, eyes closed, his face turned to the sun, clasping his flask.

She took a deep breath and pushed open the post office door.

Of Heartthrobs and History

AN OLD-FASHIONED BELL announced Katherine’s arrival as she stepped inside the post office. Her memories flooded back. It wasn’t the pale mauve walls that soared up to the pressed metal ceiling or the grey carpet, so much as the smell.

Ink. Paper. Books.

Business.

Instantly, she was ten years old and standing in the queue, waiting for them to use the big old-fashioned stamp on Nanny’s letters. Or Pop’s letters? She wrinkled her brow, trying to remember. It was a long time ago.

There were more electronics, more signs about phone plans and passports, and clear security screens atop the old wooden counter. But the smell was unchanged.

She stepped forward and Rhett looked up.

Katherine tried to smile. There was no hiding from him now.

She straightened her shoulders, and as the seconds passed, his expression went from welcoming, to confusion, then to recognition. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Had she thought it would?

She couldn’t look away. Those eyes – deep sumptuous pools of chocolate you wanted to lose yourself in. They captured her gaze, just as they’d done when she’d been a blushing teen and he was the local football star. The same way they’d captured her gaze all those years later up at the Ridge.

Rhett stood and any chance of coherent speech disappeared, along with all rational thought.

He was still gorgeous. He’d filled out. His hair was way shorter, and even wearing a cheap knit uniform shirt that declared ‘we deliver’ he stopped her in her tracks. Or was it her memory of that night when he did deliver that froze her to the spot?

‘Katherine.’

‘Rhett,’ she whispered his name. ‘It’s nice to see you.’

He lifted the walk-through of the old-fashioned counter and came out onto the shop floor. ‘I didn’t get to pass my condolences on earlier. I’m so sorry about Blythe.’

The weak smile she’d attempted wavered, and her head dropped.

He lifted his arms and walked towards her.

So not what she’d expected after the last time they saw each other. But she’d take it. She stepped closer, and Rhett didn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around her. ‘She was a great lady. We’re all going to miss her,’ he whispered.

She nodded, closed her eyes, and held on to him a little tighter. ‘Thanks, Rhett,’ she choked out. ‘For me, she is Blue Ridge. She’s never not been in town when I’ve been here. I’m lost being here without her, but I’m happy she didn’t suffer or lose her independence. She would’ve hated that.’

‘She would have.’ He let her go and stepped back. ‘Everyone in town is feeling it.’

Katherine nodded. Her thoughts exactly. Mrs Kitchener’s message for Katherine to call her had morphed into a roller-coaster of emotions in the days since. A chill settled deep in her bones, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his arms. ‘I’m still having trouble believing it.’

‘Me too. Everyone here, I think. Blythe Sinclair was Blue Ridge, as you said.’ He swallowed hard and looked away, then dragged his gaze back to her. ‘It was a nice service.’

‘Yes.’

Katherine stared deep into those soulful eyes, but the shutters had come down. She’d never before second-guessed her decision to leave town the day after her parents’ funeral, but looking at Rhett, she wondered what might have happened if she’d stayed. Explored the connection she’d found with him.

That would never happen now.

‘How long are you in town? Guessing you’ll have to get back to... wherever.’

Subtle. She pushed down her need to defend herself, to defend her actions. ‘I don’t know yet.’

‘Well, everything’s changed. There’s bound to be a bit of uncertainty.’

A bit of uncertainty. Rhett Harrison, teenage heartthrob of Blue Ridge, now master of the understatement.

‘Yes.’ She tried to sound like she had a clear picture of what happened next. But she didn’t, and it made her stomach hurt to think about it. She hated not having a clear plan, and it was making her want to burn rubber, all the way back to Brisbane.

She tried to focus.

It wasn’t just about her. Sure, she’d lost Nanny, but the town had lost its unofficial matriarch – the driving force for the business owners’ association, the show society, Ladies Auxiliary president, even the local birdwatching group. Everyone kept reminding her.

Then the rehashing history began. How, since the dam went in and the direct road was cut, Nanny had ensured that the businesses and organisations in town stayed afloat.

How she was the key that connected this community.

Katherine pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Everything’s up in the air right now. We won’t know anything until we have the death certificate, then I think we see the lawyer.’

‘I heard that’s tomorrow,’ Rhett said, driving home the reality of life in a small town. Everyone knew everyone else’s business.

How could she have forgotten?

‘Definitely not tomorrow.’ She tried to smile.

And that was a problem too. She had shifts next week, appointments she’d need to cancel. Short-term, she and her sisters could probably limp the Bowerbird and the Mercantile along, but they needed to know what was in the will. What Nanny wanted for her businesses.

Best-case scenario would be offloading them while they were still viable.

She tried not to think about it. ‘These are nice.’ Katherine stopped in front of the postcard display. ‘Bit better than the old ones over at the Mercantile, although I think they’re a display of historic postcards.’

‘You like those?’

‘Yeah, especially this one.’ She pointed to one showing a close-up of a satin bowerbird, standing in front of his elaborately constructed bower, with its decoration of found blue trinkets. ‘It’s like he’s looking at the camera and you can almost see how proud he is of his work.’

‘Yes. He was.’ Rhett paused. ‘That’s one of my photos.’

‘No way.’ She trawled through her memory. ‘I knew you were travelling. Sometimes Nanny showed me your photos. I had no idea you were a professional.’

‘Semi-professional.’

‘Freelancing?’

He nodded. ‘It paid my way when I was travelling. For now, I’m back and running the post office. Working on my photos gives me that creative outlet, you know.’

Katherine nodded enthusiastically. At last, a connection. Or should she say reconnection. ‘Yeah, I work in a supermarket, and outside of work I make jewellery, beaded necklaces and bracelets, for the exact same reason.’

Rhett stared at her. ‘A fellow artist. And here I was thinking you and I couldn’t possibly have anything in common now.’ He smiled. ‘Turns out I was wrong.’

Her heart raced. So he did remember that night. She wasn’t sure, given how much whisky they’d drunk. Suddenly, it was important to apologise.

‘I’m sorry about that night, that morning. About leaving without saying goodbye,’ she blurted.

Rhett’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. ‘The past is the past. It should stay in the past. Better that way.’

His words snuffed out the tiny bit of joy that had lifted her heart, and she came back to earth with a thud.

They stared at each other for the longest time.

She wanted to run, but instead, she tried to adult, to recover the situation.

‘Sorry.’ She dropped her gaze and focused on the postcards. ‘These photos are awesome. I bet your dad is proud of you.’

Rhett shook his head. ‘Dad’s not seen them. He’s...’

‘Aaargghhhh.’ Katherine slapped her forehead, spun around, and headed for the door. ‘Your dad.’ She’d been so busy trying not to win ‘the world’s most awkward meet-up’, she’d forgotten why she was there.

‘Dad? What happened with Dad?’

‘Nothing,’ Katherine hastened to reassure him. ‘Nothing catastrophic. He’s outside.’ She paused. ‘I hope.’ The bell shrieked as she almost tore the door off its hinges. ‘At least, that’s where I left him.’

Rhett followed Katherine out onto the sidewalk, where Ray sat on the bench, eyes closed, enjoying the sunshine.

Stand down panic stations. ‘Oh, thank goodness,’ she breathed.

She watched as Rhett laid a gentle hand on his father’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. ‘Dad?’

Ray jumped and his eyes flew open. He turned his head side to side, desperate to see, to orient himself.

Katherine’s hand went to her mouth. Blind panic. Now she knew why it was called that.

‘Hey, Dad, it’s me. Rhett.’

‘And Katherine,’ she added.

‘Dad, do you want to come in for a cuppa? Your favourite sunbeam is just about done. You can keep me company while I try and figure out that spreadsheet I was telling you about.’ His tone was light, but Katherine could see Rhett was worried.

Ray stood and stretched, and the alcohol fumes washed over her.

‘I think I might have a nap,’ Ray mumbled as he stepped over to the entry, felt for the door handle, and pushed. Rhett and Katherine followed him in.

Back in a familiar environment, Ray navigated his way through the post office and into the corridor that connected the postmaster’s house to the shopfront.

Rhett watched him go, then turned back to Katherine. ‘Thanks for dropping Dad home. I appreciate it.’

‘No worries.’

She stood for a second. It was getting awkward. She needed to enact her exit strategy. Right now. Before this silence stretched any further.

He glanced towards the corridor to the house, then back at her. ‘I can’t leave, but would you like a coffee?’

An olive branch?

Her feet burned, urging her to run, but she ignored it. Maybe she