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
He shook his head. “Nothing. Look, I’m helping Jack out because he’s interested in a couple of things we do differently but you’re the future of our property, not Jack.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
He reached for her hand, gave it a squeeze. “I know I can be a bit short when we’re working together.”
“You think?” She raised an eyebrow.
“I really am going to try to do better.”
His look was earnest but she knew it still wouldn’t be easy. “It’s not a one-way street. I know I can be a bit prickly too.”
“You think?” he mimicked and they both laughed.
“You two sound happy.” Kate climbed into the back seat. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing much,’ Bree said. “Just chewing the fat.”
“What’s Laura been up to?” Kate said.
Bree and Milt both turned to look back as Laura clambered in beside Kate carrying a large paper bag.
“What have you been buying now?” Bree said.
“Something I’ve had my eye on,” Laura said as she stowed the bag at her feet.
Milt started the car.
“What is it?” Kate prodded.
“Boots.”
“If there was something you didn’t need it was more footwear,” Bree said. “Have you seen how many pairs she has, Kate?”
“They were on sale at that new place,” Laura said before her sister could answer. “Dad said we should shop locally.”
“Hell, Laura,” Bree said.
There was silence from the back seat then a chuckle from Kate.
“What?” Bree said, turning to look at her sister.
“You and Dad are peas in a pod.”
Bree turned back, bristling at the suggestion, but she caught a glimpse of her dad’s face as he checked the rear-view mirror and she relaxed against her seat. He was smiling and she realised suddenly that she could do far worse in life than to be like her dad.
The aquamarine water of the Indian Ocean rolled onto the long wide curve of beach, edging forward then slipping away. The late-afternoon tide was low, exposing shells and small clumps of weed that wobbled and swayed with each gentle wash of water. Natalie sat in the shade of the only shelter, a rustic structure of wooden posts partly thatched with ragged palm leaves, as she had done after every swim, but today her visit was tinged with sadness. Even though she’d made up her mind to go home, she was finding it hard to leave this patch of paradise and the friends she’d made.