Chapters (48)
- Cover
- Praise
- About the Author
- Also by Tricia Stringer
- Title Page
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgements
- Excerpt
- One
Natalie turned and his steady gaze met hers. Bree had been on about redoing the overgrown tennis court ever since she’d met Owen and had taken up tennis. Natalie felt a chill at the thought of it. “It’d be a waste of time and money now.” The tennis court had been left unloved since the two older girls were babies and that’s how it would stay. That decision had been made before Laura had been born.
“I said I’d think about it.”
She took a deep breath. “But you won’t.” There weren’t many things Natalie stood her ground over but this was one of them.
Milt’s brow was furrowed, his look determined as he watched her. “I said I’d think about it,” he repeated.
Natalie pursed her lips, turned back to the vegetables and began to chop. Tennis had nearly ruined her life once; she wasn’t about to let that happen again.
Two
Two
An hour later Bree King parked her ute on a side road in town, halfway between the sports club and the pub. She would be late for the meeting if she ate first but she was starving. Hunger churned in her belly along with the annoyance she still felt with her father and his pig-headedness. They would have got the job done in half the time today if he hadn’t been so insistent on doing it his way. She loved her dad but she was doubting her ability to work with him even more. She knew he’d felt that way about Pa but somehow they’d managed. Pa had been a different personality. Still determined but more mellow in nature. She and her dad were too much alike, according to her mother. They struck sparks off each other.
She got out of her ute, hunched her shoulders against the cold and strode to the end of the quiet street. She passed old Mrs Bell’s place with its arches of roses and wind chimes tinkling softly in the breeze and then two original cottages with a skip bin piled high with rubbish out the front. She’d heard someone from Adelaide had bought them to do up for holiday accommodation. They’d been empty and run-down for years so a new lease of life for them had to be a positive for the town. Across the corner, the front door of the pub burst open, and a couple of out-of-towners stepped out into the chilly autumn night accompanied by voices and laughter. Sounded like a crowd inside. Unusual for a Tuesday night. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her clean jeans and crossed the road.
“Hey, Bree.” Luke Thomas was the first to notice her. “Lucky you came here first. We’ve just decided to hold the meeting over a meal.”
She took in the rest of the faces turned her way, smiling and waving drinks. They were all from the basketball club.