Her mother’s garden was mostly natives these days and although Alice knew that was best for the local fauna and water consumption, she missed the bulbs. “Thank you! I’d love to. I’ll pick them up when I drop Holly back at 6:00.”
“Do you have a hot date tonight?”
“No, that’s Thursdays,” she said absently.
Harry’s brows rose. “Lucky for us it’s Wednesday then. When you get back from the jetties, why don’t you stay for dinner?”
The invitation was as unexpected as Harry’s cheerful and upbeat manner. What about Tim? Even if she’d replied to his text, they wouldn’t be meeting for dinner. And Harry was suggesting family dinner on a school night. She’d be home by 9:00 at the latest, which left plenty of time for a long conversation with Tim.
“Sure, why not? Sounds great.”
“Excellent. The kids have been pestering me for ages to invite you. So, how are things?”
The last time she’d said more than “hi” and “bye” to Harry had been at the coffee shop. “Things with Libby are still a bit rocky, but otherwise, all good.”
Judging by Harry’s face, he didn’t believe her. “What?”
“I’ve been following your Dear Alice column. If those scenarios are what you’re dealing with, I’m surprised dating hasn’t reduced you to a dribbling mess.”
“Those questions are from readers!”
“I wouldn’t have thought the bay was big enough.”
He sounded just like Dan. “Okay, fine. You got me. There’s been the occasional quiet week when I’ve mined my own experience to create a question.”
“Please tell me the one about dating the separated guy who’s still living with his wife wasn’t one of yours.”
Her irritation spiked. “I’m not an idiot, Harry. How about you stick to fathering your own kids, not me, okay?”
“I didn’t mean—” His hands rose in supplication. “Sorry. How about a peace offering? A cuppa?”
Alice’s surprise spurt of anger had faded as fast as it had arrived, leaving her feeling foolish. “Sounds great. And I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was quite so sensitive about that particular Q&A. I got hate mail.”
“Why? Your answer was spot on. That woman’s deluding herself if she thinks he’s separated and putting her first.”
“She didn’t agree. And she told me using a lot of four-letter words.”
“Ouch. That’s never pleasant, but it says more about her than you.”
“Thanks.” Alice sat down and realized the house was far too quiet. “Where are the kids?”
“Hunter’s got Bike Ed so we’ve been riding to and from school all week. This morning, my children announced I was not to come and pick them up.”
“A strike at independence?”
“It’s terrifying. I’ve spent the afternoon trying not to think about it.” He indicated the tidy house, the crockpot and the cooling brownies on the rack. “I haven’t been able to concentrate on work and if you weren’t here, I’d be waiting at the end of the road.”
“You can still do that if it makes you feel better.”
“And bring the wrath of my kids down upon my head?” His mouth tweaked up on one side and she caught a hint of a dimple. “No, thanks. I did get them to promise on pain of never being allowed to leave the house again that they meet up and ride home together. I also got a blood pact from Hunter that he’ll do what his sister tells him.”
Alice thought about Hunter’s impetuous enthusiasm and suppressed a shudder. “Do you want me to go and follow them home?”
“Good to know my terror’s not completely unfounded. Then again, you’re not exactly reassuring me.”
“Sorry.”
“No need. I appreciate your perspective. I keep telling myself that apart from the last hundred yards, they’re using the bike trail.”
“They’d be lucky to see a car.”
“Now you’re getting the hang of it.”
“Hang of what?”
“Reassuring a neurotic father.”
She laughed and he gave a wry smile. For the first time in all the months she’d known him, his face looked less careworn. The rest of him did not. Harry struck her as one of those blokes who had little interest in fashion and had let his wife buy his clothes. Alice’s artistic eye scanned his generalized scruffy state and detected in the faded chinos and the worn collar on his shirt that Helene had been a fan of the designer casual look. Alice bet she’d bought those clothes before she’d gotten sick and that Harry hadn’t bought any since.
“How do you take your tea?”
“White, no sugar.” Her gaze landed on the stunning life-size bronze pelican that commanded the room. With its long beak facing the window and its wings slightly extended, it looked ready to commence a sea bound flight. It awed her every time she saw it.
“Your Helene was incredibly talented. Each time I look at the pelican I see some new detail.”
“Yeah.” Harry set down mugs of tea along with a plate of enormous chocolate brownies. “That pelican was her best work. I’m surprised she’s not haunting me for keeping it.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was negotiating to sell it to an art collector in Western Australia, but they hadn’t agreed on a price. When she died, I pulled the pin on the sale. I think the kids need its presence in the house.”
“Just the kids?”
“Mostly. I’ve got a lot more years of H memories to draw on than they have.” He pointed to the pot-bellied statue. “See the gold on the wing? That’s from them stroking it whenever they pass.”
“Polished with love.” Sorrow jabbed her and was instantly overtaken by delight. Granted, art had the ability to shock and question, but the art that gave Alice the most were works that filled her and other people with joy and love. “Surely, Helene would be thrilled her pelican’s in the heart of your home and working hard?”
“She’d prefer it to be working for cold, hard cash. H was what you’d call a creative capitalist. She loved the process, but once the work was complete, she didn’t attach any sentimentality to it. She expected it to find its way in the world and earn her a decent amount
