CHAPTER NINETEEN

      JESS’S HOME WAS bigger than Ben had expected, a two-storeyed, family-sized house in blond brick, with the biggest shed that Ben had ever seen sitting in a nearby paddock. A workshop, obviously, plus garaging for the hire cars. Two of the three massive roller doors were open and Ben could glimpse several cars within. The land around the house was bigger than he’d expected too, at least five acres. It was a lovely looking property with well-tended gardens, rolling lawns and enough trees to give privacy and shade.

      Jess drove her SUV off the driveway onto a large square of gravel by the side of the house, the clock on her dash showing five to four as Ben climbed out. Jess had explained on the way that the barbecue wouldn’t start till five-ish, so they had some time before her brothers and their families descended upon them.

      ‘What a lovely place,’ he said straight away.

      Jess smiled. ‘We like it. Mum will be in the kitchen, preparing the salads. You can meet her first. This way…’

      ‘I presume that’s the office,’ he said as he walked past a converted double garage which had sliding glass doors at the front with ‘Murphy’s Hire Car’ in big, black letters engraved on it.

      ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s mostly Mum’s domain. I help out when Mum’s shopping or plays bowls or just needs a break. Mum, we’re here,’ Jess called out as she opened the front door.

      A woman appeared at the end of the hallway, light behind her forming the silhouette of someone much shorter than Jess, and somewhat plumper.

      ‘Goodness, but you made good time. I didn’t expect you till four-thirty at least.’

      When she came forward, Ben saw her more clearly. She looked nothing like Jess, being short, with ash-blonde hair and blue eyes. Attractive for her age, though.

      ‘Hello, there,’ she said, smiling as she looked him up and down. ‘You must be Ben.’

      ‘And you must be Mrs Murphy,’ he replied, stepping forward to give her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Lovely to meet you.’

      Jess could not believe the look on her mother’s face. It was the kind of look you saw on the face of a female fan of a rock star. Truly!

      ‘Oh, don’t call me that.’ Her mother fairly simpered at him. ‘Call me Ruth.’

      Jess gained some satisfaction in the thought that he wouldn’t charm her father so easily. Joe Murphy was a tough nut to crack. He wasn’t going to be impressed by a New Yorker who’d never had dirt under his fingernails in his life.