Hold On to Me (8 page)

Two hours later, Stella had finished dinner, cleaned up and poured herself a glass of wine to see the day out.

It was eight thirty and the sun had almost set on summertime Port Elliot. A few local people sauntered by on their way to the pub, but there were no cars, only the whisper of the sea breeze in the street trees. And a demanding cat staring at her from the front window ledge.

Stella set her wine glass on the coffee table and opened the front door. Mouse sauntered inside with a meow, languidly rubbing himself against Stella's leg.

‘Why come in. Do sit down.'

Mouse obediently obliged by jumping onto the sofa. Stella sat next to the fluff ball with a deep sigh. While she was still sore, Summer's massage had done wonders and she felt, miraculously, loose and relaxed. Which was truly a miracle after the week she'd had. And it was still Monday.

She rubbed Mouse's ears and the rumbling purr told Stella that the cat was in heaven. In her left hand, she held her phone. She checked the time again. Eight thirty-two.

She could have simply replied to Luca's email, but she hadn't yet. She craved the secret thrill of hearing his voice again and anyway, she rationalised, he might not see an email until the morning and she needed to move things along. Immediately.

Stella pressed his name and waited. She'd saved it into her contacts list when he'd called her the day of the fire. It rang twice and then connected. She began stroking Mouse's tummy with a little too much force and the cat nipped her finger.

‘Hey, Stella.' The familiarity of his greeting caught her off guard. She'd been expecting an official ‘Luca Morelli speaking' or perhaps even ‘Morelli Constructions'. It was supposed to be a business call, after all.

‘Oh, hi, Luca. I got your email.'

‘Sorry?' he shouted down the line and she could barely hear him above the voices laughing and glasses tinkling in the background.

‘I got your email. With your references.' Stella looked around her living room as she spoke. Her house, like the town itself, was peaceful. Quiet. Sleepy, even. Just her and her cat. She was completely alone with a glass of wine for company and he was out doing young people things in the city. She suddenly felt like a grandma.

‘Right. So are we a thing?'

‘Yes. I'd like you to hire you for the job.'

There was silence down the line. More laughter. A woman's.

‘Really? Hold on for a minute.' And then the background noise slowly faded. ‘Don't you want to see my quote? And what about your insurance? Have they given you the go-ahead?'

‘Yes, that's all sorted.' Thank god for her insurance agent. On the strength of the police report, she'd been given the go-ahead to begin the structural repairs, as they assessed the damage would only get worse if the building continued to be exposed to the elements. Stella took a deep breath and bit back a comment about it being none of his business. It was his business now that she was hiring him. And no matter how much she enjoyed the flirting and his handsomeness, she wasn't hiring him for that. It was about him being capable and just starting out in a business of his own. It was about his loyalty to his sister. And it was about the spark she'd seen in his eyes when he'd looked around her shop.

‘So we're in business.'

‘Your references told me everything I need to know. I'll need to check things with my insurance as we go along, but I need to get cracking. And frankly, if I don't give you the job I think Anna will boycott my shop, and then I'll be in real trouble.'

When he laughed, his rich voice was like honey. And she found herself laughing too.

‘Gotta love my sis. I'm looking forward to working with you, Stella.'

‘Thanks.' Stella hesitated before saying anything more. She had to remind herself that this was different from what had happened with Sully. Everything would be checked off by her insurance agent and she knew enough now that she would keep track of every invoice and dollar with a fervour bordering on the religious. Luca was a means to an end: that was all. And then he would be gone.

‘Listen. Sorry about this. Can I call you tomorrow morning? I'm waiting to confirm the glazier to come and fix your window.'

‘Sure.'

‘Hey, one more thing.'

‘What's that?'

‘There better be good coffee in Port Elliot, that's all I'm saying.'

‘We're one coffee shop down but there are other places. I can definitely guarantee good coffee.'

‘Good. G'night then.'

‘Good night.' Stella ended the call. Put the phone down on the coffee table. Closed her eyes and let her pounding pulse settle.

Okay. It was done. She was one step closer to getting on with her life.

Luca checked the clock in the dashboard of his truck, which told him it was seven in the morning. He'd been up since five thirty and there was a takeaway coffee sloshing next to him in the centre console of his HiLux as he drove through the city on his way to the south coast. His call connected and he looked around with a grin as he anticipated Anna's reaction to his early call.

‘What do you want?'

‘Hey, Anna. You awake yet?'

‘Very funny. I have a six-month-old baby. What do you think?' Anna's laugh echoed around the cabin.

‘And how is my gorgeous niece? Is she there? Ciao, Francesca.'

The distinct sound of a gurgling baby split Luca's face with a smile. That kid was the light of his life. The first Morelli grandchild was loved impossibly by her grandparents, Paolo and Sonia, her Auntie Grace and by Luca himself. He'd been surprised at how she'd found her way into his heart so quickly. From the minute she was born, Luca knew she would have his unconditional love and, in the best Italian uncle tradition, he would watch over her like a ninja when boys started hovering. Not that she'd need it if she'd inherited her mother's smarts, which he was sure she had. But he knew what teenage boys were like. He'd been one, once. Still felt like one half the time.

‘Look what you've done, Luca. I put my phone to Francesca's mouth and now there's dribble on it.'

‘Hey, Luca.' The man who was not his brother-in-law. Joe Blake.

‘Hey, Joe. Don't let my sister boss you round.'

Luca heard Joe's hearty laugh. ‘You're kidding, right? Between Anna and Francesca, I'm totally P-U-S-S-Y whipped: you know that.'

‘Why are you spelling that out? Francesca's still a baby.'

‘But she's smart, Luca. Just like her mother.'

There was silence down the line and Luca rolled his eyes. ‘Seriously? Are you guys kissing? In front of the baby? Get a room.' He checked his rear-view mirror and turned onto the Southern Expressway, which would lead him out of Adelaide's southern suburbs to the McLaren Vale wine district and then on to the coast. He was already halfway to Stella, he thought with a smile. Then he pulled himself up. Halfway to the site. Yeah, the job.

‘So, what are you doing so bright and early, little brother?'

‘I'm on my way to the beach.'

Anna gasped. ‘Does that mean you agreed to work on Stella's shop?'

Luca shook his head. ‘More like she agreed to let me work on her shop. I had to practically audition for the woman. She's tough.'

‘And what's wrong with that?'

‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But hey, I need a favour.' Luca looked over into the back seat, where he'd stashed a sports bag and his laptop. ‘Can I crash at your place down there this week? I can't keep doing all this driving up and down from home. There's too much work to do and we've got a tight timeline, so …'

‘Of course you can. Go see Lizzie at the Middle Point pub. She has a spare key.'

‘Thanks. I'm hanging up now, sis. Bye, Francesca.'

‘Wave bye-bye. She's waving. Look at that! See you, Luca. Love you.'

‘Yeah yeah.'

When Stella arrived at her shop just after breakfast on Tuesday, the glazier was already on site. She'd made a slight detour to grab a takeaway coffee first so she could at least face the morning. The loaded skip was still positioned on the street, and next to it was a ute with a large A-frame on the back, with glass in various shapes and sizes fastened on it.

Morelli Constructions sure moved fast.

She realised there was already a window on her shop. She had a flashback to the way it had looked just four days before. It was her annual Christmas display and she'd loved this one most of all. In early November, when she'd been driving to Goolwa, she'd found a gum-tree branch on the side of the road, dragged it into her car and taken it home. She'd painted it white and then positioned it in quick-set concrete in an old wooden bucket. It had sat in the middle of the window and she'd hung pretty things from it instead of Christmas baubles. There were blue beaded earrings and other chunky costume jewellery. Silk scarves tied into bows. Wooden necklaces were strung from branch to branch like tinsel and, among the very top twigs, where someone else might have placed a sweet angel or a silver star, she'd nestled a pair of bright red patent-leather stilettos. Stella had adored creating that display, had loved the way that people walking by would stop, smile at each other and say, ‘Christmas isn't far away, is it?'

Stella loved this time of year. The heat and the season brought so many new people to the beach, and she loved going home at the end of each day knowing that a customer had walked into her shop and, no matter how much or how little they'd had to spend, had left with something special.

‘G'day, love.' A middle-aged man in overalls, with thinning hair and olive skin, was pulling tape off the window glass, which had been used to mark it with a big X. He balled it up and tossed it over his shoulder into the skip.

‘Good morning. I can't believe this is done already. Where did you come from?' Stella smiled at the man.

He laughed. ‘When Luca calls and says I should come, I come.'

Stella sighed. She could hear the accent and guessed the community connection. ‘I'm Stella Ryan. This is my shop.'

She held out a hand but instead of shaking it the man lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. ‘Tony.'

Stella said under her breath, ‘Of course you are.' She sipped her coffee, trying not to get mad. ‘Thank you again for coming to do this so quickly. Do you have an account?'

Tony looked confused. ‘A what?'

‘Your account. An invoice.'

Tony lifted his chin. ‘You talk to Luca about that.'

‘Talk to me about what?'

Luca's voice was teasing, slow and right behind her.
Zing
. It was like molten lava in her veins. She turned. There he was, in the flesh, wearing his work uniform of black polo shirt and khaki shorts, accompanied by a charming grin.

‘Good morning.' She was glad she was wearing her sunglasses so he didn't see her wide-eyed stare or the involuntary flicker of her gaze up and down his body. How was it possible that he'd improved overnight?

‘G'morning,' he said with a nod in her direction. ‘Is that coffee?'

Stella looked at her cup. ‘Double espresso.'

He grinned. ‘Man, I need one of those. One in the morning is never enough.'

She handed it to him. ‘I've barely had a sip. Take it.'

Luca looked at the coffee, then her, then the coffee again. He took it, lifted the takeaway lid off the cup and drank the black liquid down in one swallow. ‘Thanks. I owe you,' he said.

‘Yes, you do,' she replied.

‘Uncle Tony.' He kissed his uncle right on his bald spot before engulfing him in a bear hug. ‘Thanks for this. You're the best.'

‘Stop it.' Tony cocked his head at Stella when he was free again. ‘This lady, she wants the bill.'

Luca laughed. ‘Of course she does.' He regarded Stella over the tops of his aviator shades. ‘Remember? I said I'd pay it now and you can fix me up at the end of the job. Or with a progress payment. We haven't really got around to discussing that, have we?'

‘What? Wait a minute.' Stella held up a hand.

‘What is it now?'

Stella tried not to react. He slowly took off his sunglasses and stared at her. She reminded herself that she was immune to a charming smile from a handsome man and she was especially allergic to a handsome man who was trying to exert control over her. She felt a long-familiar tightening in her chest and she fought it off. ‘I'm the boss here, remember?'

Uncle Tony snorted as he leant down to pick up his tool bag. He shook his head as he walked to his ute. ‘Ciao, Luca. Ciao, bella.'

‘Thanks, Uncle Tony.'

‘Thank you,' she called out with a wave and then they watched in silence as he drove off down the street.

‘He did a nice job. Always does.' Luca twirled his sunglasses by the arm, around and around like a whip.

Stella crossed her arms and looked down the street, up the street, across the street—anything to avoid meeting his eye.

‘What's the matter?' he asked.

‘Why didn't I see a quote before you agreed to employ your uncle? You going to keep this whole thing in the family, are you?'

Luca looked at her like she'd turned purple. ‘Yeah, of course. I'm Italian. You name a trade and I'm related to someone in it. You expect me to trust someone I don't know?'

His words were like a stab in her heart. The people she'd known—the people she'd loved—had betrayed her the most. The unbidden memory of that started to rise in her throat and she tried to keep breathing. ‘Why should
I
trust them just because they're related to you? How do I know I'm getting a good price or the best workmanship, huh?'

Luca straightened his back, crossed his arms and set his feet apart. He glared down at her, his eyes suddenly dark, and for a long moment they bored into her. She didn't want to be the one to blink first so she stared right back at him, anger and frustration knotting her stomach.