“I love the idea, but I’m already at work and making a hundred calls trying to find healthy pickers on short notice.”
Alice heard voices and machinery in the background. She refused to be one of those women who pouted when things didn’t go her way so she tried hard to cover her dismay with relaxed acceptance. “Oh, well. These things happen.”
“I’m gutted we’re missing dinner.”
“Me too.”
“I promise I’ll make it up to you as soon as this craziness is over, Alice is wonderful.”
Ten seconds after he rang off, a gif of Tom Hiddleston saying “sorry” and blowing a kiss pinged onto her phone. A cartoon of broccoli followed, accompanied by #greatbroccolinidisaster. But as she laughed, the excitement that had buoyed her all week flattened like day-old lemonade and the colors in the world that had glowed so brightly faded to monochrome. She reluctantly hung Calypso’s keys back on their hook, closed the office door and locked it behind her.
A few weekend tourists wandered past hand in hand, looking at the boats. One couple were animatedly discussing plans for their mini-break, which included renting a paddleboat and walking in the coastal park. Alice glanced down and her glossy, raspberry-red painted toes winked at her from her strappy sandals. She suddenly heard Meatloaf in her head—the soundtrack of her childhood courtesy of Peter playing it loud and often—all revved up and no place to go.
The thought of going straight home and enduring her parents’ sympathy and concern, not to mention her mother’s action plan—Karen’s lifelong response to every situation that challenged Alice—made her head spin. She walked straight to the restaurant. Five minutes after taking her seat, her error of judgement hit her in a wave of heat. Dan van den Berg and his current squeeze were at the next table. Nick’s second cousin was the sommelier. The wife of Libby’s gardener was her waitress. Whoever the kitchen hand was, they were guaranteed to be no more than three handshakes away from Alice. It would take less than an hour for the erroneous news that she’d been stood up to flash around town.
Karen’s text arrived fifteen minutes later.
On Monday morning, Alice hummed along to Ed Sheeran in her head phones, drowning out the noise of the upholstery cleaner as she removed dubious stains from the cruiser’s seat cushions. She really didn’t want to know what the weekenders had gotten up to but going by the number of bottles she’d hauled out to the recycling bin, it had been fueled by an unhealthy amount of alcohol. Had they had fun or had it led to a fracturing of friendships? Take ten people plus alcohol and the diminishing of inhibitions that scenario provided, add in the confines of a boat, and any simmering resentments generally surfaced. Some things could never be unsaid and Alice always knew when that had happened by the demeanor of the disembarking patrons.
Her phone buzzed as she propped the wet cushions in the sun to dry. She fished it out of her pocket, loving the zip of delight when she saw a message from Tim. It was a cartoon of an ear of corn asking, “Hot outside?” as an ear of popped corn walked into the picture. Tim had added, Stinking today. Feel sorry for me and enjoy your sea breeze, Alice is wonderful.
It was his first communication since the great broccolini disaster. She hadn’t contacted him over the weekend, not wanting to add to his stress. Instead, she’d driven to Bairnsdale and bought new art supplies before inviting her father fishing. After her week hyped up on adrenaline, sketching Peter sitting beside the straight and smooth Tambo River had soothed the jangles. It had been almost three years since she’d drawn anything and she was woefully out of practice. It wasn’t even close to her best work, but that hadn’t stopped Karen from sticking it on the fridge next to Indi’s finger painting. Alice had wanted to enjoy her mother’s delight in the sketch, but she knew it was a mark of Karen’s relief that she was back drawing again. Sometimes, the weight of her parents’ concern for her made it hard to breathe.
Alice reclined on the boat’s railing and took a photo of herself with the beauty of the creek behind her. She captioned it, Not just a sea breeze; no broccolini in sight and snapchatted it to Tim. As she slid the phone back into her pocket, movement caught her eye. She saw Nick standing on the jetty holding a cardboard tray with four bright blue travel coffee cups and a white bakery bag. It was a Monday morning tradition for the boss to buy coffee, although Alice had passed on an order this morning. Tim’s texts were making her jittery enough without adding artificial stimulants. Nick was talking to someone who had their back to Alice, and while his face was in shadow, the tense square of his shoulders showed he wasn’t the relaxed man who’d greeted her earlier.
At first, Alice assumed the woman must be a disgruntled customer. But when she turned and her profile came into view, Alice realized it was Jess. Libby’s friend had her arms crossed tightly and was radiating taut displeasure. Alice was familiar with that look—back in the day it had been leveled at her often. Alice knew Libby was disappointed that Nick had hired Enza’s niece, but Alice was secretly relieved. Having Jess in the office would have taken the shine off working for the Pirellis. Had Jess come down to berate Nick about the job? Alice wouldn’t put it past her.
Miaow! Alice knew her catty thought was unjustified. As much as it pained her that she’d failed at being her twin’s best friend, she couldn’t fault Jess’s loyalty to Libby or the support she’d given her since Dom’s unexpected death. And Libby had told Alice that Jess
