Rejected?
Could he be using it to get out of being in her close company for the next week?
I knew I should never have married him, she thought. I knew I was beyond the pale…
‘Maisie, how would you like to live?’
They were alone in the apartment on the river; it was the same evening. His doctor had checked her out meticulously in an evening house call, something she’d thought was unheard of these days. He’d pronounced that the baby appeared to be fine and she’d probably just been a bit stiff from a night of sleeping virtually on the ground.
‘Well, at least we know,’ Rafe said, and added his question.
‘How would I like to live?’ she echoed. ‘I’m not sure what you mean.’
They’d had dinner, sent up from the restaurant on the ground floor, causing her to marvel how easy life was for the rich. She’d also been drawn like a magnet to his magnificent sound system and asked if she could play some music. He’d told her she didn’t have to ask so she chose a CD of classical piano pieces.
‘We have a couple of options: this apartment, or I have a house at Raby Bay.’
‘Oh, look, whatever is best for you! I-don’t mind.’
He came to sit down on the settee set corner-wise opposite her.
There was a single lamp lit on the end table between the settees and its soft golden glow bathed them before receding into the coral shadows of the lounge.
Through the terrace doors, the lights of Brisbane twinkled against a midnight-blue backdrop although it was only about eight o’clock.
Maisie had changed into her heather outfit and, although her feet were bare, she was sitting rather primly upright with her hands in her lap, as if she didn’t feel particularly at home, which she didn’t.
Rafe also had bare feet but he looked much more relaxed in cargo shorts and a white knit shirt. In fact he had his feet propped on the coffee-table and one arm stretched along the back of the settee.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I can base myself anywhere within reason. You’re another matter. You’re going to need to feel at home, perhaps a bit involved with that home, and comfortable. This,’ he gestured towards the view, ‘may be a fabulous setting but I don’t know if it’s going to do that for you.’
Maisie took a startled breath. ‘How did you know?’
He raised an eyebrow at her.
‘That, well, a little while ago I was looking around and wondering what on earth I was going to do with myself here for the next five months.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m not entirely insensitive.’
‘I didn’t say you were.’ She shook her head.
He watched her curls settle. ‘So would you like to look at Raby Bay? There’s a garden; it’s right on the water with a jetty, so I could move the
‘Yes, please. It’s also closer to my stamping ground, the bay-side suburbs of Wynnum, Cleveland and so on, so-I would feel more at home, I guess.’
‘All right, we’ll do it tomorrow. Tell me something else. Were you serious about wanting to get your Master’s Degree in music?’
She sat forward eagerly. ‘Yes!’
‘How would you go about it?’
‘I’d have to enroll as an external student, I’d have to get a tutor, I’d have to practise,’ she looked comical, ‘day and night. And it could take years.’
‘I gather you’d also need a piano?’
‘No, my piano is fine. I’d just have to get it tuned after it’s moved. Am I dreaming or is this all possible?’ she asked.
He studied the excited little glint in her eyes as he thought, all? It didn’t take much to please Maisie Wallis.
‘It’s all possible. Now, Miss Mozart, it’s been a long day, you need to get to bed. Incidentally, I checked with the Flying Doctor. They operated on the ringer at Charleville Hospital and he’s regained movement in his legs.’
‘That’s wonderful!’ Maisie brightened, and discovered for some strange reason that the news made her feel better about being dismissed to bed like a child, despite the fact that she’d started to feel weary. ‘OK. Goodnight! And thanks!’ she called over her shoulder.
‘Goodnight,’ he murmured, and watched her all the way out of the lounge.
Then he rubbed his jaw, set his teeth for a moment but finally congratulated himself on his executive abilities even when it came to his home life…
Maisie fell in love with the two-storey Raby Bay house as soon as she saw the stone walls and blue shutters.
It stood on two blocks in the prestigious canal-side estate-the canals opened on to Moreton Bay. From the street side it was enclosed by a high stone wall and it was surrounded by trees, some carrying a light cloak of new spring green.
The path to the front door was covered by a thatched pergola.
Inside, on the ground floor, the walls were the same uneven stone as outside, the floors were tiled and the water views-views she loved-were seen through arched, wood-framed, floor-to-ceiling windows.
And everywhere in the living rooms lovely wood was blended with the stone and other natural elements like terracotta and pottery; there were paintings and exquisite pieces of furniture in an uncluttered, spacious interior.
The patio that led off the main lounge was tiled with grey slate and had a grapevine trained to shelter one end from the sun.
Leading off the kitchen was a small walled courtyard Rafe called the “orangery” because of the lemon, lime and orange trees in tubs. There was also a number of herbs growing in a variety of unusual containers like a pot-bellied little black stove.
Upstairs was different, more conventional. The walls were lined, plastered and painted, the floors covered with thick wall-to-wall carpet, but lovely and luxurious all the same.
Maisie came down the curved staircase with its wrought-iron bowed banister and stood in the middle of the lounge.
Rafe followed her and came to stand beside her. ‘Well?’
She turned to him and tilted her chin imperiously. ‘I’ll take it,’ she murmured grandly, then burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Rafe, it’s wonderful! Why don’t you live here?’
He grimaced. ‘It’s-somehow it’s not the kind of place you enjoy rattling around in on your own.’
‘Someone does, though, by the looks of it. It’s all spotless and the garden’s well cared-for.’
‘A cleaner comes in once a week, ditto a gardener.’
‘So whose idea was it?’
‘My mother’s.’ For a moment she thought she saw a shadow cross his eyes, but it was gone before she could be sure. ‘It was her favourite home. Right. How soon do you think you’d like to move in, ma’am?’
‘As soon as possible, Mr Sanderson. As soon as possible.’
It took a week, but before they moved to Raby Bay Maisie had to endure a rather taxing event, a meet-the- family soiree organized by Sonia but a strategy agreed upon by Rafe as well.
He said, with a wry twist of his lips, ‘Of course they’re all wildly curious, I can’t keep you under wraps from them for ever so we might as well get it over and done with.’
‘But a soiree! And how many?’ Maisie asked a little faintly. ‘Do they know I’m pregnant?’ She put her hands to her head in a gesture that was extremely expressive of dazed disbelief or as if she was contemplating being thrust into a den of lions.
Rafe grinned. ‘They’re not going to eat you. Yes, some of them can be a bit daunting but just be yourself. And, since you still don’t look pregnant at times, particularly to anyone who doesn’t know you, we may just let that bit of news filter through in due course.’
She coloured a little.
If he noticed it, he gave no sign as he went on, ‘Sonia does that kind of thing really well. In fact she’s a genius
