“You’re wasting your time, Mr Baker. As I’ve explained toothers who have shown up uninvited at my door, I have no intention of returning to Paris at thistime, or in the near future, and no intention of sellingmy home. My family haslived here for over fifty years. It just needs a bit of elbowgrease, fresh paint, and some TLC, which I intend to provide. Ifthat’s all, I would like to get back to my painting now. Come on,Truffle. Mr Baker is leaving.”
She bent down, scooped upthe cat, and tucked him under her arm. Without a backward glance,she turned on her heel and walked down the hall.
He noticed she walkedwith a slight limp. “I’ll leave my card here on the hallstand ifyou change your mind.”
Walking back to the car,he contemplated her feisty tone. He was not totally surprised bythe first rejection. It didn’t put him off. He would be back.Relentless didn’t come close when he wanted something. And hewanted this beachfront property.
CHAPTERTWO
Chloe decided to breakfor lunch. She rinsed off her roller, and the scene on the frontstep replayed in her mind.
“What a nerve!Who the hell does Todd Baker think he is?”
Truffle wove his sleekbody in and around her ankles, immune to her sudden vocaloutbursts.
“I bet he’s used to getting his own way. He had that air ofself-assurance about him. He was dressed to impress in hisexpensive suit. He didn’t impress me with his cocky attitude and hissmarmy smile.”
Truffle hopped up on akitchen stool, his head cocked to one side.
“Did he thinkI’d fall for the Armani suit and his charm and sign the paperworkon the spot? His condolences my arse. What kind of an idiot does hethink I am?” She opened the fridge door to select her lunch,enjoying the blast of cold air hitting her heated skin.
She pulled outa prepared sandwich, an apple, and a glass of fresh orange juice,and headed out to sit on the front step. It was the best place toenjoy the fresh air away from the paint fumes, and admire the boatsand colourful kite surfers out in the bay.
She leanedback against the doorpost and tried to relax. Every muscle in herbody ached. Exhaustion engulfed her at the end of the day. Themoment her head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep sleep.Thankfully, the nightmares haunting her since her accident wereless frequent since returning to Melbourne.
She took a bigbite of her sandwich and closed her eyes, enjoying the simple meal.Her stomach had been growling for over an hour. It felt good to behome, although bittersweet. Her father’s smiling face popped intoher mind, his eyes shining with pride. If only she had retunedsooner. They’d had so little time in the end. She stared off intothe distance as she drank her juice. Truffle padded her lap, turnedtwice, and settled down for his midday snooze in the warmsun.
She strokedTruffle’s head, and then rubbed her hand down her aching thighmuscles. The puckered scar, running down the outside of her thighto her knee, appeared to be fading. It was a slow process. A mentalpicture of the way it had looked in the hospital caused her toshudder. She sensed the metal plate that held her together. Like asentinel, its presence hovered at the back of her mind.I won’t let this injury define me.She had a purpose now. After discovering a lovefor this old house, she refused to give it up. Until she returned,she never knew the love existed, never felt the need to protectbricks and mortar. Unbelievably, she discovered she had a talentfor turning the old well-worn pieces of furniture into somethingresembling their formal glory, albeit with a modern twist. Thepressed tin roof in the formal lounge and dining room had beenrestored and painted, and brass light fittings had been installedto showcase the unique pattern.
Her parents, both intheir forties, had been surprised and delighted to welcome adaughter into their busy lives. Until that point, they had given upbelieving they would ever have a child. They had loved and adoredher and given her every advantage in life. She owed them, andfixing up the house brought them closer somehow. Each nook andcranny she restored brought back cherished memories.
She had no oneto help her now. However, being the sole beneficiary of herfather’s substantial estate, her parents’ careful planning had lefther enough to live on, for a short time anyway.
The following morning, asthe new day dawned she slowly stretched and yawned, happy to beawake before her alarm shrilly announced the hour. Truffle’s warmbody snuggled against her as he edged closer on the bed. The sunshone brightly through the thin bedroom curtains, heralding anotherbeautiful day. She rose and opened the windows, allowing the coolmorning sea breeze to fill the room. No clouds marred the pristineblue sky.
Discarding herPJs, she stepped into the shower and hummed along with the radio asshe let the warm water cascade over her body. By the time shepulled on a pair of well-worn denim shorts and a cotton singlet,she had worked out her plan of attack for the day.
She gatheredup her damp curls into a ponytail. With a quick flick of her wrist,she twisted it into a coil and tucked the ends into a messy bun ontop of her head, securing it with hair clips. Her walking stick satpropped by the door. Hello oldfriend, I’m goingto need you today. She grabbed it inpassing as she made her way downstairs, the dull ache in her legmore noticeable after a busy week of painting.
Truffle hopped lightlyoff the bed and followed her down the stairs, tail up as ifanticipating an early breakfast treat.
“Coffee, Ineed coffee.” She tucked an errant strand of blonde hair behind herear, then propped the cane against the table, pulled out a mug andall the essentials from the overhead cupboards and plugged in thecoffee maker.
She walked gingerly tothe front door, Truffle two steps behind, to check if the morningpaper had been delivered. The rolled-up plastic-encased newspaperwas sitting on the top step. The paperboy’s throwing skills hadimproved. She bent
