“Oh God.” Her heart ached for Hunter and Holly. “I’m sorry. Cancer’s such an invasion.”
“You’re not wrong.”
Alice waited for Harry to expand but he didn’t offer anything else. She was about to ask him how long he’d lived in the bay when she noticed he was staring straight ahead, his body rigid. Grief was a bastard. Alice knew that despite the awkwardness, sometimes it was better to ride out a silence.
As they entered the straight, Harry shoved his hands under his armpits. “H loved this coast. Every opportunity she could, she’d drag us down here from Melbourne to walk and sail. We spent a crazy amount of time daydreaming about buying a yacht or a beach shack somewhere between Golden Beach and Lake Tyers. A year to the day she died, the house we used to rent down here came on the market.”
“You took it as a sign?”
“Thought the move might help the kids.”
“And?”
“Too early to tell. Some days it’s all good …”
Alice thought about what had precipitated her return to the bay and the difficult early months. “And others are crap.”
“I see you’re familiar with my life.” He gave her a half-smile and it softened his face, stripping away years. “Some days, like that day on the pier, we take a sick day from this new routine we’re still trying to fit into. Holly draws and Hunter gets a day off from having to sit still.”
“We all need a day off now and then. My mother’s all about routine but Dad’s a bit more flexible. We sneak off together sometimes. He fishes and I draw.”
“Holly’s always drawing, but she’s getting frustrated with herself. She’s started saying she’s useless at it.”
“She’s not,” Alice said emphatically.
“I know. Thing is, I’m useless at it and I don’t know how to help her.”
Alice thought about her father. “Take an interest and encourage her.”
“I’ve always done that, but it’s not enough anymore. Now when I compliment her, she rolls her eyes and says, ‘You’re just saying that, Dad.’ I talked to the art teacher at the school. She’s good, but she’s got nineteen other students in the class so she suggested I get Holly a tutor.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“It would be if there was someone in town.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “That day on the pier, you helped her get the line of the pelican’s beak. Are you an art teacher?”
“God, no. It’s just a hobby.”
“I doubt that.”
“Why? You don’t even know me.”
“True, but Holly’s mentioned you more than once since then and this afternoon at the fundraiser, I was the successful bidder for the pen and wash sketch of the old Clarendon homestead. Nothing about the drawing says hobby and the signature says ‘Alice Hunter.’”
She wanted to fully bask in his compliment but she couldn’t. “Thanks, but I drew it four years ago. I haven’t done much art since and I’m pretty rusty.”
“You’d still know more than my twelve-year-old.” His mouth tweaked again into a half-smile. “I’m only asking for an hour a week. What do you say?”
“An hour? Art isn’t like a piano lesson, Harry.”
“Two sessions a week then? I dunno. I really want to give Hol this opportunity. Whatever works for you and we’ll work it in around your commitments.”
As much as Alice admired his commitment to his daughter, drawing was her sanctuary. She didn’t want to formalize it into yet another job. “I don’t know …”
Harry looked straight at her then and in place of the grieving man, she clearly saw the steely determination of a father who wanted the best for his child. “What if I played the motherless child card?”
Alice railed at the pressure. “I think you just did.”
“Did it work?”
“Does it often?”
He glanced at his feet, suddenly sheepish. “I dunno. It’s the first time I’ve ever tried it.”
Vague memories of Lawrence working to get his own way flittered through her mind, along with the way it had made her feel. Months earlier, in the midst of her shock and grief when she was glorifying in what she’d thought was a perfect relationship, she’d forgotten these instances. Now they hissed and spat like hot oil, bolstering her newly developed determination to live life her way.
“Don’t ever try it on me again, okay?”
“Fair enough.” He looked up, chastened. “I’m sorry, Alice. I was completely out of line. Thing is, I’m desperate. I don’t know if it’s hormones or missing her mom or what, but Holly’s struggling. I’m terrified she’s about to give up on something that gives her pleasure.”
He sighed. “I get you’re not keen and I’ve just made things worse. Sorry. Forget about the tutoring, but if you can suggest anyone who might be interested, I’d be grateful. I promise I won’t guilt them into it.”
His love and concern for his daughter got tangled up with Alice’s own memories of a time when hormones had thrown her into a confusing and bewildering place full of dark and scary corners. Combined, they took the edge off Alice’s displeasure at Harry’s ham-fisted attempt to convince her to help Holly. “I’m not making any promises, but how about Holly and I draw together one afternoon this week? If we click, then you and I can discuss terms.”
His entire body relaxed and he shot out his hand. “Thanks, Alice.”
She slid hers into his and returned the firm shake. “Don’t thank me too soon. You might not be able to afford me.”
His smile reached his eyes. “I’ll give up top shelf red wine if I have to, Alice. Now, before you change your mind, can we swap numbers?”
“Sure.”
She pulled out her phone for him to type in his digits but as she handed it over she saw a photo that Tim had sent for her eyes only. Flashing hot and cold, her fingers fumbled, trying to shut down the screen and in her panic, she increased the size of the photo. And the size of Tim’s penis.
“I can see why you were distracted
