One Winter's Sunrise. Alison Roberts
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HAD FACED down some fears in his time. But the prospect of being paraded before Andie’s large family ranked as one of the most fearsome. As Andie pulled up her hatchback—old but in good condition and nothing to be ashamed of—in front of her parents’ home in the northern suburb of Willoughby, sweat prickled on his forehead and his hands felt clammy. How the hell had he got himself into this?
She turned off the engine, took out the keys, unclipped her seat belt and smoothed down the legs of her sleek, very sexy leather trousers. But she made no effort to get out of the car. She turned her head towards him. ‘Before we go inside to meet my family I... I need to tell you something first. Something...something about me.’
Why did she look so serious, sombre even? ‘Sure, fire away,’ he said.
‘I’ve told them you’re a client. That there is absolutely nothing personal between us.’
‘Of course,’ he said.
Strange how at the same time he could be relieved and yet offended by her categorical denial that there ever could be anything personal between them.
Now a hint of a smile crept to the corners of her mouth. ‘The thing is...they won’t believe me. You’re good-looking, you’re smart and you’re personable.’
‘That’s nice of you to say that,’ he said. He noticed she hadn’t added that he was rich to his list of attributes.
‘You know it’s true,’ she said. ‘My family are determined I should have a man in my life and have become the most inveterate of matchmakers. I expect they’ll pounce on you. It could get embarrassing.’
‘You’re single?’ He welcomed the excuse to ask.
‘Yes. I... I’ve been single for a long time. Oh, I date. But I haven’t found anyone special since...since...’ She twisted right around in the car seat to fully face him. She clasped her hands together on her lap, then started to twist them without seeming to realise she was doing it. ‘You need to know this before we go inside.’ The hint of a smile had completely dissipated.
‘If you think so,’ he said. She was twenty-eight and single. What was the big deal here?
‘I met Anthony on my first day of university. We were inseparable from the word go. There was no doubt we would spend our lives together.’
Dominic braced himself for the story of a nasty break-up. Infidelity? Betrayal? A jerk in disguise as a nice guy? He was prepared to make polite noises in response. He knew all about betrayal. But a quid pro quo exchange over relationships gone wrong was not something he ever wanted to waste time on with Andie or anyone else.
‘It ended?’ he said, making a terse contribution only because it was expected.
‘He died.’
Two words stated so baldly but with such a wealth of pain behind them. Dominic felt as if he’d been punched in the chest. Nothing he said could be an adequate response. ‘Andie, I’m sorry,’ was all he could manage.
‘It was five years ago. He was twenty-three. He...he went out for an early-morning surf and didn’t come back.’ He could hear the effort it took for her to keep her tone even.
He knew about people who didn’t come back. Goodbyes left unsaid. Personal tragedy. That particular kind of pain. ‘Did he...? Did you—?’
‘He...he washed up two days later.’ She closed her eyes as if against an unbearable image.
‘What happened?’ He didn’t want her to think he was interrogating her on something so sensitive, but he wanted to find out.
‘Head injury. An accident. The doctors couldn’t be sure exactly how it happened. A rock? His board? A sandbank? We’ll never know.’
‘Thank you for telling me.’ He felt unable to say anything else.
‘Better for you to know than not to know when you’re about to meet the family. Just in case someone says something that might put you on the spot.’
She heaved a sigh that seemed to signal she had said what she felt she had to say and that there would be no further confidences. Why should there be? He was just a client. Something prompted him to want to ask—was she over the loss? Had she moved on? But it was not his place. Client and contractor—that was all they could be to each other. Besides, could anyone ever get over loss like that?
‘You needed to be in the picture.’ She went to open her door. ‘Now, let’s go in—Hannah is looking forward to meeting you. As I predicted, she’s very excited about getting involved.’
Her family’s home was a comfortable older-style house set in a chaotic garden in a suburb where values had rocketed in recent years. In the car on the way over, Andie had told him she had lived in this house since she was a baby. All her siblings had. He envied her that certainty, that security.
‘Hellooo!’ she called ahead of her. ‘We’re here.’
He followed her down a wide hallway, the walls crammed with framed photographs. They ranged from old-fashioned sepia wedding photos, dating from pre-Second World War, to posed studio shots of cherubic babies. Again he found himself envying her—he had only a handful of family photos to cherish.
At a quick glance he found two of Andie—one in a green checked school uniform with her hair in plaits and that familiar grin showing off a gap in her front teeth; another as a teenager in a flowing pink formal dress. A third caught his eye—an older Andie in a bikini, arm in arm with a tall blond guy in board shorts who was looking down at her with open adoration. The same guy was with her in the next photo, only this time they were playing guitars and singing together. Dominic couldn’t bear to do more than glance at them, aware of the tragedy that had followed.
Just before they reached the end of the corridor, Andie stopped and took a step towards him. She stood so close he breathed in her scent—something vaguely oriental, warm and sensual. She leaned up to whisper into his ear and her hair tickled his neck. He had to close his eyes to force himself from reacting to her closeness.
‘The clan can be a bit overwhelming en masse,’ she said. ‘I won’t introduce you to everyone by name; it would be unfair to expect you to remember all of them. My mother is Jennifer, my father is Ray. Hannah’s husband is Paul.’
‘I appreciate that,’ he said, tugging at his collar that suddenly seemed too tight. As an only child, he’d always found meeting other people’s families intimidating.
Andie gave him a reassuring smile. ‘With the Newman family, what you see is what you get. They’re all good people who will take you as they find you. We might even get some volunteers to help on Christmas Day out of this.’
The corridor opened out into a spacious open-plan family room. At some time in the last twenty years the parents had obviously added a new extension. It looked dated now but solid—warm and comfortable and welcoming. Delicious aromas emanated from the farmhouse-style kitchen in the northern corner. He sniffed and Andie smiled. ‘My mother’s lasagne—wait until you taste it.’
She announced him with an encompassing wave of her arm. ‘Everyone, this is Dominic. He’s a very important new client so please make him welcome. And yes, I know he’s gorgeous but it’s strictly business between us.’
That was met with laughter and a chorus of ‘Hi, Dominic!’ and ‘Welcome!’ Andie then briefly explained to them about the party and Hannah’s likely role in it.
There were so many of them. Andie’s introduction had guaranteed all eyes were on him. About ten people, including kids, were ranged around the room, sitting in comfortable-looking sofas or around a large trestle table.
Each face came into focus as the adults greeted him with warm smiles. It wasn’t difficult to tell who was related—Andie’s smile was a strong family marker that originated with her father, a tall, thin man with a vigorous handshake. Her mother’s smile was different but equally welcoming