If Wishes Were Horses
Nina pulled up in the spot near the old barn, but this time Blair met her with a friendly wave, introducing her to another worker, Lily, who would show her to the cottage and where to park her car.
Barely maintaining her composure, Nina thanked Lily and assured her she could find her way back to the main house. First she wanted to savour the surroundings. The one-room cabin, with its weather-beaten planks for walls, would have changed a lot since her mother’s day, but when she ran a hand over the bedspread, looked around the compact kitchen and surveyed the small porch, she pictured Ava.
*
Blair hadn’t been kidding yesterday when he’d told Nina he could manage the mise en place prior to service. If only all the kitchen hands she’d worked with had been as quick, conscientious and clean. He had already chopped, sliced and diced enough salad greens to feed the twenty expected diners and made sourdough buns. During service, Lily helped by running meals and keeping up with the dishes. When the time came for her to collect her daughter from a party on the outskirts of town, Nina and Blair took over the tidying up until he announced: ‘Beer o’clock.’
Nina switched off the extractor fans over the grill. ‘I won’t say no this time, thanks.’ Having admired the commercial-quality appliances throughout service, she gave the stainless steel benches a final buff. It was some kitchen.
Blair raised his beer. ‘Remind me to book more events where the birthday girl calls it quits by eight thirty. Cheers!’
Nina took two short swigs of the cool, carbonated brew, then untied her apron, which Blair took. Then she grabbed her lightweight jacket from the coat hook, fashioned from the old wooden property sign. She stopped to run her hand over the carved and blackened design of dots and swirling lines.
‘What a few old rail spikes and a nice slab of ironbark can do, eh?’ Blair said. ‘A massive tree came down in a storm one year. My great-great-granddad made that.’
‘There must be a lovely sense of place in having such history and a strong connection to the land. I know so little about my ancestors.’
‘Believe me,’ Blair said, ‘sometimes I think I’d prefer to know a little less about my family history. You enjoying that beer? Can I get you another?’
‘Oh, no, thanks. Any second now I’ll get – hic – hiccups. It’s the car-hic-bonation. Besides, I’m kind of beat.’ One more mouthful drained her stubby bottle. ‘But I had a blast tonight and you seriously are the best kitchen hand. It was fun being back behind the grill.’ Like Hero Man in the yards yesterday, she had fallen into a relaxed rhythm with Blair. ‘Thank you so much for allowing me the opportunity. Tonight was great. I discovered how much I’ve missed cooking. I know it was only twenty covers and cake but I’m so buzzed right now I could do it again.’
‘You are something else, Nina. When Charlie does his next shift I’m going to have a chat with him about the lack of gratitude he demonstrates after slaving over a stove and a sink.’
‘Ha!’ She gathered both empty bottles, discarding them in the crate by the back door. ‘So, Tess and her guests really enjoyed the meal?’
‘Several compliments to the chef, with tips, and not the be-good-to-your-mother kind either, actual cash in the jar.’ He reached through the kitchen door and his hand came back with a balloon glass spilling with coins and notes.
‘Oh, gosh, no, I’m not expecting anything. I’m making up for yesterday. Put it into the staff Christmas fund.’
‘I’m paying you. You found your way around the kitchen pretty good. I would have been in trouble without your help.’
‘Kitchens can be a bit like riding a horse, I expect. Each one is different, with their own peculiarities. Other than that they’re much the same and a confident approach makes the difference.’
‘Well, Nina, if wishes were horses…’ Blair smiled. ‘We galloped through that service, thanks to you.’
‘This kitchen of yours is something else.’
‘Good, because I had to mortgage the property to afford the renovation.’
‘Then you can definitely put that tip money to better use. Or maybe put it towards my accommodation for tonight.’
‘And tomorrow night?’ Blair asked, attending to the message beep on his phone. ‘It’s Charlie. Cindy’s not handling motherhood well.’
‘He’s not coming in tomorrow, either?’
‘No, he can come in,’ Blair clarified, ‘but I’d like to be able to tell him to stay home. His mind won’t be on the job and I have my first tourist bus in for afternoon tea.’
‘What’s on the menu tomorrow that I can help with?’
‘I was joking. I’ll nip into the bakery in town and make do. You didn’t come here to work.’
‘Mum did, though, and as I’m staying in her old digs it’ll be like walking in her footsteps.’
‘Yes, except that she would have worked in Ivy-May’s kitchen.’
‘Details, schmetails!’ Nina flapped a hand. ‘I’d much rather be busy. Sitting around all day is what I do at work.’
‘Then in the morning I insist on showing you Ivy-May’s kitchen where she did work.’
A silent, victorious yessssss sat behind Nina’s smile. A very successful night indeed.
‘I’ll come by the cottage around nine?’ Blair was suggesting.
‘Perfect. Will your dad be home?’ When he eyed her, Nina was quick to explain. ‘Because I wouldn’t want to disturb him.’
‘My father never strays far these days. He’s on hand whenever I need help and he’s always up for a cuppa.’
‘Me too.’
With Blair’s attention on his reply to Charlie, Nina studied the smile lines she’d seen a lot more of tonight and his physique honed by hard work rather than the unnatural gym-junkie results Conrad achieved. Nina’s idea of the perfect workout was a big night in a pumping commercial kitchen, but there were fewer of those these days. The combination of long hours at a desk with a nightly diet of wine and toasted sandwiches meant she sometimes skipped a proper evening meal. She simply wasn’t motivated to cook for one, and with Conrad going all caveman a few months back, his paleo diet meant they ate together even less.
‘What are you thinking, Nina?’
‘I, ah, I’m thinking about what to cook with fifteen for afternoon tea.’ She could hardly admit to comparing him to Conrad. While they might share solid biceps, Conrad’s expensive all-over solarium tan was truly all over, while Blair’s farmer’s arms had distracted Nina from yesterday’s prairie-oyster nightmare when he’d stopped briefly to strip down to a sweat-stained singlet. ‘Who are we feeding?’
‘It’s a regional CWA committee meeting held in Candlebark Creek each year. The Moo-tel in town is booked out – a wild night, no doubt – and the ladies will be stopping in here tomorrow after touring local attractions.’
Nina was curious as to how many tourist attractions existed in a small town. She couldn’t imagine many, but she didn’t want to offend. ‘You can’t serve any old food to a delegation from the Country Women’s Association, Blair.’
‘Exactly, and time got away with me today. I’ve still got work to do in the yards that can’t wait. Dingoes got to a few of the calves. That means bringing the lot in first thing for a shot of penicillin.’
‘I’d offer to help out, but needles… Brrrr!’ She shuddered. ‘I’m not afraid of CWA ladies, though. I can whip up cakes and maybe some sandwiches?’
For a moment Nina thought he was going to refuse. His brow creased, knitting bushy eyebrows together, and the chin cleft with a dark stripe of stubble turned chasm-like.
‘Are you a dream?’ Blair’s hand was hot were it came to rest on her shoulder. ‘Am I going to wake up tomorrow and be disappointed to discover you were a figment of my imagination? A very nice figment,’ he added. ‘What is a figment? There’s another word you don’t hear a lot, like “calamity”.’
Nina laughed. ‘A figment is kind of like a fantasy.’
‘So, better than a calamity, then?’ His wink took Nina by surprise.
She puffed a strand of hair out of her eyes, only to find it glued tight to the sweaty slick of melted make-up. Hot grills tended to do that; so did hot guys. ‘Let’s hope so,’ she said.
‘I can offer jam to go with scones,’ Blair said. ‘I put down a fresh batch of persimmon yesterday. Better check it’s set. And while I think of it, I promised Dad a jar. Give me a second.’
Where was the obnoxious grouch from the yards? If she hadn’t bumped into him in the pub, she might have driven away from Candlebark Creek with a very different opinion. The encounter had Nina even more curious about what his father might be like and who else Blair had in his life. Men like him didn’t get to his age and stay single. A girlfriend was bound to pop her gorgeous face around the corner any minute and claim him as hers, leaving Nina to fall into bed, feeling as flat as the man’s six-pack.
‘Are you okay, Nina? What were you thinking just now? You looked kind of sad.’
‘Did I? Gosh, no idea why. It’s been an interesting twenty-four hours and tomorrow shows no sign of slowing down.’
‘You’re lovely for offering to help, so I’m not going to say no.’
‘Good, because I rarely take no for an answer.’
‘Why does that not surprise me?’ He grinned. ‘We serve afternoon tea on the deck. Nothing fancy. Someone told me recently to keep it simple. Tiny sweet treats with big flavour and lots of texture is the goal, and I make tea and coffee with an urn in the communal kitchen that joins the lodge accommodation wings. A decent coffee machine’s on my wish list, but that’s all it is for a while yet – a wish.’
‘No worries. Can I take five minutes now to check out your cool room and dry store?’
‘Make yourself at home and feel free to check out whatever you like. No secrets here.’
‘Just looking for my favourite pantry essentials,’ she called, en route to the room at the back of the kitchen.
‘We keep loads of stuff on hand, especially when we move into storm season, like now. We’ve had our share of weather events around here, which can mean isolation and power interruptions that last for days, if not weeks. All part and parcel of life on the land. And since I made you work without a break tonight, let me whip up a late-night thank-you snack.’
‘Sure thing, thanks.’
‘Pick a wine while you’re in there,’ Blair added. ‘On the floor to your right. We have our own label. It’s good.’
*
The wine was exceptional, the snack substantial, the conversation amusing, and Nina should have been exhausted. Instead, she was totally buzzed. Blair seemed genuinely modest, very natural and open, his conversation unguarded. She hoped to find him the same tomorrow so she might factor in some essential Project Portrait questions. After all, she reminded herself, she was here to learn about John Tate, not his son.
‘Like I said yesterday,’ Blair wiped the last of their snack plates and draped the tea towel over a dishwasher rack to dry overnight, ‘you’re not what I expected and I mean that in a good way.’
Nina returned his smile. ‘Likewise, and despite the castrating I’m having a really good time.’ She screwed up her nose. ‘Hmm, that sounded weird.’
Blair chuckled. ‘Just let me know how I can pay you back for helping.’
‘That tour tomorrow will see you debt-free,’ Nina said.
‘And that is another phrase I haven’t heard much since taking on this business. Come on.’ He did a final check of the appliances and went to switch off the lights. ‘I’ll drive you over to the cottage.’
‘It’s not far. I’d prefer to stretch my legs and walk. You see more of a place when you walk.’
‘In the city, yes, but out here at night you won’t see much without a torch. I’ll grab one and we’ll be off.’