Meant To Be Page 8

  ‘Thanks so much. I really appreciate it. I’m happy to pay everyone for their time, just let me know…’ At that she looked up to find Jake shaking his head.

  ‘I can’t speak for Jake, but there’s no need to pay me or the other guys. Grant and Steve are on annual leave, and Bob owed me a favour. They’re all happy to help you out. They thought you got a rough deal with John and wanted to go some way to evening the score. Steve and Grant feel bad about snubbing you that day just after you’d split up from him too. You’ve got a lot of friends around here, Em. Just you remember that.’

  Emily felt her throat suddenly tightening and tears gathering behind her eyes.

  ‘Thanks David,’ she managed with a croak. ‘Can you put Barb back on?’

  ‘Yeah, she wants to speak to you again too. Here she is.’

  ‘I hope to hell you’re not crying!’ Barbara said, causing Emily to laugh.

  ‘Maybe just a little,’ she said.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it. See you soon.’

  ‘Okay. See ya. Thanks so much, again, both of you.’

  ‘It’s our pleasure. See ya.’

  Grace stood beside them with her head cocked to one side, showing obvious concern for her mistress. Emily pulled a crumpled tissue from her sleeve, blew her nose hard, wiped away the couple of tears that had escaped, and took a deep breath.

  ‘Shall we continue?’ she said, giving Jake a weak smile.

  ‘Yes, let’s,’ he said, offering a bent elbow for her to slip her hand through.

  Grace, sensing all was well again, bounded off ahead of them.

  Just as they started to pick up speed again, Jake said, ‘Or would you rather go the other way now?’

  ‘No, the rubble is still there – unless you guys moved that too,’ she added, sounding hopeful.

  ‘No, but I’ve been thinking about that.’

  ‘Yes? And?’

  ‘Why don’t we rebuild it?’

  ‘How much would it cost? I remember you saying it would be a pretty big job.’

  ‘Well, it won’t be cheap, but the stone is there, and I’ll happily throw in my labour.’

  ‘You can’t do that.’

  ‘Of course I can.’

  ‘You’re meant to be taking a break. Resting.’

  ‘I’m fine. And maybe a bit of manual labour is just what I need. As I said, I’ve been thinking about it anyway. It could be a win for both of us. I could use it as a sample of my work – like an advertisement – and you could have your B&B.’

  ‘I think I’ve gone off the B&B idea,’ she said, a little apologetically.

  ‘Well you could have your cottage, for whatever you want to do with it. You could rent it out for extra income, set up a shop, or a café. The options are pretty endless.’

  She thought about it. ‘So you were serious the other day when you talked about setting up an agency for your business here?’ Emily said.

  ‘Yeah. It’s certainly worth crunching a few numbers. It’s a pretty low-risk proposition for me because my main business is so well established. I’m not talking about taking over the world or anything, just the odd project here and there to keep my hand in. The cellar door market might appreciate stone buildings if there was someone local to keep costs down. If I’m going to stick around I’d like to keep doing something I love – but without the pressure of dealing with big corporations and government departments. So what do you say?’

  ‘Are you trying to make me cry again?’

  ‘It’s nothing to cry about,’ he said. Jake stopped walking. He turned to face Emily and grasped her by the shoulders. ‘I love you. I want to be here for the long haul if that’s what you want too. I know I said we wouldn’t rush things, but I want you to know that I’m serious about us, serious about staying.’

  ‘But what about Melbourne?’

  ‘Hmm, big city, lots of cars, squealing trams, a strange road rule called a hook turn,’ he said, grinning at her. ‘What about Melbourne?’

  ‘Er, you have a thriving business there.’

  ‘There are plenty of good project managers around. It’s a well-run business, but I’m not arrogant enough to think I’m indispensable. And it’s not as if I’m totally walking away. I’ll keep an eye on things, but from a distance, and not so often.’

  ‘Won’t you miss the hustle and bustle of city life?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe. But then a trip back now and then would probably be enough.’

  ‘But what about your gorgeous apartment?’

  ‘Rent it out, sell it if I need the money. It’s only a building, Em,’ he said with a shrug.

  Only a building.

  ‘Different things mean different things to different people,’ he said, as if sensing her thought. He took her face in his hands. ‘I know how much the cottage means to you – and how much your husband hurt you when he pulled it down. I can make that better for you. And I want to. Please let me. You’ll never know how much it meant that you dropped everything to come to Melbourne for me when it was so out of your comfort zone. I’d like to repay the favour. And you’d be doing me another favour by letting me use it as a display, remember?’

  ‘But what about your adrenal fatigue? You’re meant to be taking time off…’

  ‘I think this will be okay, it’ll be a scaled back version of work. Besides, I’ll be bored in a few months if I don’t do something. This will all take time to get up and running; I’ve only just started to think about it…’

  ‘I’m just concerned you’re taking on too much too quickly.’

  ‘Unless, you don’t want all this, us,’ he said suddenly, looking at her. ‘It’s just that you’re finding a lot of reasons for me not to do this.’

  Emily rushed to reassure him. ‘It all sounds perfect to me,’ she said wistfully. ‘As long as you’re sure.’ She felt all warm and cosy inside.

  ‘There’s still a lot of research to do, planning, decisions to make, figures to go through…’

  ‘Well, if you’re in, I’m in,’ she said decisively, with a nod of her head. How good would it be to have her cottage back, an even better version? And what could be more romantic than building a house with the man you loved? Emily felt excited to be embarking on a major project together.

  There would probably be a considerable financial cost, of course, but this certainly was true love. She was just thinking she couldn’t walk – she was so deliriously happy – when Jake grasped her hand and gently pulled her forward.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s earn ourselves a big breakfast and a day inside making plans.’

  ‘Hmm, actually, I’ve got another form of exercise in mind,’ Emily replied, leading him back towards the house.

  Chapter Eight

  After a big bacon-and-eggs breakfast, they walked over to the mound of rubble that had once been Emily’s dream. Her stomach flip-flopped. Could they really do it?

  Again she found herself wondering about the family that might have lived there over a hundred years ago. It didn’t matter that she was no relation. The feeling that she wanted – no, needed – to do this for them engulfed her. Her heart rate rose. Maybe simply putting up a little weatherboard place would make more sense financially. But it just wouldn’t be right. This was absolutely the place for a limestone cottage.

  Not to mention Emily’s desire to right John’s wrong. She felt as strongly about that as she did about anything else.

  As hard as this will be, it will be worth it. If it wasn’t meant to be, the universe would have sent a sign.

  She couldn’t wait to get started. She knew it was all a little silly, melodramatic, overly romantic – whatever you wanted to call it – but she just could not shake the feeling.

  And she had Jake to thank. She looked up at him and smiled warmly, and forced her romantic notions aside to focus on what he was saying.

  ‘I think building just in front would be a good idea. That way we won’t have to move everything twice.’

  Emily star
ed at the rubble pile. In the months since John had knocked it down, the mishmash of bricks, timber, corrugated iron, stone and other unidentifiable building debris had become overgrown with weeds. As the scale of it struck her, she started to feel a dose of reality seeping in.

  ‘Jesus, where do we start?’

  ‘First we’ll have to go through it all to sort the rubbish from what is reusable.’ Jake was getting more animated. He went to the edge of the pile and picked out a few rocks.

  ‘See,’ he said, holding up two for Emily to examine. ‘We’d need to chip off the old mortar and get the stone clean. It’s not hard, just time-consuming. You could do it – I can teach you, if you’re interested. We could do it together.’

  Emily closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Ah, bliss. She could imagine them spending whole days working side by side; taking rocks from one pile, chipping away to clean them up, adding them to a new pile, stopping to eat and sip on water, taking the occasional rest together. At the end of each day they’d walk back to the house, exhausted but happy and fulfilled. Hopefully not too worn out to make love…

  The next morning they’d return – hand in hand – and start all over again. Maybe it was a bit pathetic, but it was totally romantic too. Not unlike men in her grandparents’ era building their future brides a house as a wedding gift.

  Oh, Jake, could you be more perfect?

  Standing there in the partial shade of the large gum trees with the sun gently drumming on her back, Emily literally felt warm and fuzzy right through to her bones. Her negative voice tried to tell her he wasn’t actually building her a house – she was paying for it – but her positive voice wasn’t having a bar of it. This is going to be great.

  ‘It won’t be easy, but it can be done,’ Jake added, as he put the rocks back down onto the pile. Emily suddenly had the feeling Jake was losing enthusiasm. Perhaps because she was just standing there looking all weird and vacant.

  ‘If you think it can be done, it can be,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘And I’m willing to get my hands dirty,’ she added, linking her arm through his. Wasn’t this what she’d dreamt of with John? Back then she’d hoped they would run the farm shoulder to shoulder, but what did the project matter? What mattered was a mutual goal to work towards.

  Suddenly Emily could see how Gran could have given up her posh home life with all its trappings to become the wife of a mere farmer – no disrespect to Grandpa. She had loved her man, and had known they could do anything as long as they were together. Their goal had been the farm and raising a family. Emily’s was a little different, but she felt sure the feelings were the same. At that moment she felt on top of the world; like she could achieve whatever she put her mind to.

  ‘Come on, I want to start making some notes and calculations,’ Jake said, leading her back towards the main house.

  Part of her wanted to stay and start sorting through the rocks, but there was no point going at it like a bull at a gate, as Gran would say. As a professional, Jake would want to formulate a sound, workable plan. Slow and steady wins the race. If it was meant to be, it would be.

  Back inside, Jake strode up the long enclosed verandah to the room he was using as his office before returning to the kitchen. He dumped his laptop and a few pads of paper, loose sheets, pens, pencils, and erasers on the table. Emily stood by, feeling a little dazed and a lot useless.

  ‘It might help to have your photos of the cottage,’ Jake suggested.

  Emily went to the bedroom and got her folder out from under the bed; the scrapbook of ideas she’d put together for the original cottage, which contained notes, photos, fabric samples and paint charts, and old magazine clippings of furniture, interiors, exteriors, and landscaping ideas. On the way out, she also grabbed her selection of glossy new house magazines, despite knowing it was way too early in the process for interior decorating. She added her contribution to the now cluttered kitchen table.

  ‘You look over all this while I make your coffee,’ Jake said.

  Looking at the rough sketches he had laid out for her, Emily was impressed at how much work Jake had already put into the project. Clearly he’d been thinking about it for a while. No wonder he’d been spending more and more time up in the office.

  ‘It’s more cost-effective to go bigger to start with than having to add on later,’ Jake explained, as he put down their mugs. ‘I’ve done what I think will give the most options,’ he added.

  ‘Hmm, looks great,’ Emily said, nodding in agreement. Not knowing what all the little symbols and abbreviations meant, she struggled to follow the plans beyond where the doors, window, fireplaces and other features were. She turned to a list of projected figures.

  ‘Without knowing exactly how you want to fit out the interior of the cottage, they’re pretty rubbery’ Jake explained. ‘And they’re just my suggestions; it’s your project.’

  ‘It’s our project.’

  The figures were mainly rounded to the nearest five thousand, and when she looked at the total at the bottom she was neither shocked nor disappointed. When John’s estate was settled she would have plenty of money to play with. Not that she wanted to be silly about it; that just wasn’t in her nature. Emily Oliphant was conservative through and through, and proud of it.

  The lease on the farm would pay for most of her living expenses for the year, considering there was no rent or mortgage. David had assured her that the troughs, fences, and sheds looked pretty good and that she shouldn’t be up for any major maintenance bills for the next few years. Though there was always the chance of the unforeseen cropping up, he’d hastened to add. Emily had experienced plenty of unforeseen events in recent times, but she chose to trust that all would be okay.

  Anyway, if she was smart about the cottage she could make money from it. She’d have to do something with it or else in twelve months – or however long it would all take; they hadn’t got to that bit yet – she’d have an empty cottage instead of a pile of debris and still be wondering what to do with her life.

  She was sure she didn’t want to run a B&B. After spending ages thinking about it, she’d concluded that she didn’t want to cook and clean for other people and have to deal with potential complaints, mucked-up bookings, and non-payers and no-shows.

  Emily loved to cook. It was a release and a great form of relaxation, but she suspected that that would all change when she had to do it, and under pressure. She’d always coped okay with the pressure of feeding the masses during shearing, but that was only for a week or so each year. If the business was successful – which, obviously, she hoped it would be – she’d be under that sort of pressure every weekend.

  Maybe she could open a shop? Selling jam was a totally different proposition to running a B&B, because she could cook at her leisure. But she wasn’t convinced a viable business could be made, despite all Barbara’s protestations and encouragement that she could be the next Maggie Beer. It was sweet that her friend believed in her, but there was no getting around the fact that there was no fruit in season during certain times of the year. And even if she planted an orchard, it would be years before the new trees fruited.

  No, what she needed was something simple where she could make some money without actually making the product herself. Of course she’d sell jam when she had it; it would be a nice country touch for city visitors travelling through.

  Emily was startled when Jake spoke. ‘Where were you just now?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You were lost in thought,’ Jake said.

  ‘I’m just wondering what to do with the cottage when it’s done. What does the district need? We’ve got enough cafés and small restaurants with the new wineries, and I think there are plenty of shops selling furniture and homewares,’ she said, thinking aloud.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll come up with something. You’ve got plenty of time to think about it. Maybe Simone might have an idea?’ he offered, as he went back to scrutinising his plan and making notes.

  ‘Yes, she’s
bound to have some great ideas,’ she mused.

  And then it came to her. Of course! She’d been thinking about Simone from totally the wrong angle.

  ‘I’ve got it!’

  Jake looked up at her in surprise. ‘Sorry, what’s that?’

  Emily shook her head and opened her mouth to speak. I know what I want the cottage to be! But no words came out. She closed her mouth and then opened it again. Stop it, Emily, you look like a bloody goldfish!

  ‘Are you okay? Do you need water or something?’ Jake said, starting to get up.

  ‘No, I’m fine,’ she finally said with a laugh, her voice suddenly working again. ‘I’ve just realised what I want the cottage to be. Of course it’s just an idea. I’ll have to make sure it can be viable and…’

  ‘Well? Come on. I thought you were having some sort of seizure. Just tell me! What is the cottage going to be?’

  ‘A gallery! To exhibit Simone’s paintings, and your photos, and sell my jam, and whatever else I like. It’ll be called The Button Jar, because what’s inside will be an eclectic mix. Obviously I wouldn’t sell buttons; that would be silly.’ She chuckled. ‘And, anyway, there are plenty of places to buy buttons. No one would want to by buttons from me. But no one’s selling good-quality art around here, are they? Ooh, I can see it so clearly…’

  Emily was suddenly aware that she was becoming a little out of breath. And Jake hadn’t said a word. Well, she hadn’t exactly given the poor bloke a chance.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ She said almost inaudibly, afraid that saying it all out loud might mean it sounded ridiculous.

  ‘Well, I do feel very flattered, but I’m not sure I’m good enough to exhibit,’ Jake said, blushing slightly. ‘Simone certainly is, though.’ Emily was surprised at how shy Jake had become. Staring down at his almost empty plate, he was like a little boy.

  Not good enough to exhibit! Are you mad? The shots she’d seen – especially the photos of specific architectural features taken from unusual angles – were incredible. She’d put money on people lining up to buy them. Well, she would be, literally, if she went ahead. She almost giggled, but managed to turn it into a gasp.