After one party, Jess said, “Your twin’s such a killjoy. We always have way more fun without her.”
And that was the problem—they did.
It wasn’t that Libby wanted Alice to become best friends with Jess—she didn’t want to share her friend that much. But as they grew into their twenties, she wished Alice could see past “party-girl Jess” and glimpse the Jess Libby admired the most: the woman who’d worked hard to move herself up, out and away from her poverty-ridden childhood.
The clink of the childproof lock closing on the side gate brought Libby back to the present. Thankfully, the three of them had matured and all that drama had faded. Real life had made sure of that, giving them far more important things to worry about. Despite the unhappy circumstances that had propelled Alice’s return to Pelican House, Libby appreciated how much of an effort her twin was making with Jess. Leo helped. He was such a cute and engaging kid, and Alice was a sucker for babies.
Poor Alice. The Lawrence effect hadn’t only stolen her hopes that she’d soon be a mother, it had stripped her of her security—emotional and financial. Unlike Jess, Alice didn’t have a skill set Libby could employ at the medical practice. At least Nick had found Alice some work, but even so, her twin was still struggling to earn a decent wage.
“Daddy! Come for a swim.” Her daughters’ voices drifted through the open window. She couldn’t quite make out Nick’s rumbling reply, but it was probably something like, “Hang tight. I’ll be there in a minute.”
As she pressed a glass against the fridge’s iced water dispenser, filling it for their Wednesday joke, Nick’s shoes hit the boot box with a clunk and his keys dropped into the dish with a tinkle. Then he was walking up to her, his generous mouth creased in a familiar grin.
“Honey, I’m home,” he said laconically.
Most days, Nick arrived home from work before she did so he only had a limited number of opportunities to use the line. He never missed his chance.
She rolled her eyes and stepped into his embrace. He smelt reassuringly of sunshine, salt and teak oil along with a hint of engine grease.
“Good day?” Libby handed Nick the glass of cold water. This was her side of the joke—pretending to be the dutiful 1950’s housewife waiting to honor her man when he came home hot and tired after a long, hard day.
Nick kissed the top of her head. “Not bad. I had to rescue a tourist who’d gotten stuck on a sandbar, but it got me out of the office and onto the water, so that was a win.”
“I bet you had to fight your dad for that job.”
“Yeah. Lucky I took the call.”
“And let me guess, you didn’t rush straight back to base?”
“I might have thrown in a quick line.”
She laughed, knowing him as well as he knew himself.
Salt spray ran in the Pirellis’ veins. In 1923, Nick’s great-grandfather had arrived in Australia from Italy with a battered suitcase and a dream. Over three generations, the family had transformed from the physically rigorous life of professional fishing to the less demanding one of charter fishing and small boat rental. Five years earlier, they’d added luxury yachts and motor cruisers to the fleet. Tourists paid big bucks to sail them around the largest navigable inland waterway in Australia—the Gippsland Lakes. Nick ran the company with his father Rick, who was technically retired, although only during the off season. During the summer, he worked as many hours as his son and the rest of their staff.
Nick gave a contented sigh. “The water’s divine today and the breeze is just strong enough to make it fun. It’s been ages since we sailed together. Let’s go out for a couple of hours and kick back.”
Libby glanced through the glass doors, checking the girls, who were occupied with a water play set. “It sounds great but I’ve already defrosted some meat and invited Jess for dinner.”
Nick’s dark brows pulled down sharply, carving a furrow across the bridge of his nose. “Why?”
His question surprised her. Hospitality was Nick’s religion. Raised by two outgoing parents, he was always meeting people and inviting them round for a home-cooked meal or wood-fired pizza baked in the oven he’d built in the back yard. He regularly adopted the backpackers who worked for him, bringing them home and feeding them up before inviting them to lounge on the couch and use the laundry so they could pretend they were home for a night.
“Because it’s my half-day. I thought it was a good time to catch up.”
Nick drained the icy water, his Adam’s apple bobbing quickly. “Catch up? Jess comes to dinner every Thursday and Sunday. Plus, we saw her last night when she picked up Leo and stayed for a drink.”
“She moved down here to be close to us. We’re her family.”
“Yeah, but even with family, the fish goes off on the fourth visit in one week.”
“Your mother’s over more than that.”
“Yeah, but she’s babysitting.”
“You were the one who suggested at Christmas that Leo spend more time with the girls to offset the fact he’s an only child.”
A sulky look entered his eyes. “All I’m saying is you could have checked with me before you made plans.”
Irritation needled her—she hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. “And if you wanted to go sailing tonight, you could have given me a heads up and texted at lunchtime.”
“Jeez, I thought it would be a nice surprise, okay?” Nick jerked his hand through his sun-bleached chestnut hair. “Remember spontaneity?”
She did. But it had been such a long time since they’d been spontaneous. Kids and jobs did that to a couple. So did grief, loss and sadness. An ache that had never completely vanished throbbed its dull pain through her. “We can go sailing tomorrow night.”
“Since when are you home early enough on a Thursday? Besides, the weather’s changing tomorrow. There’s a big blow
