Nobody Knows (3 page)

Taking a deep breath, so I exhaled, trying to compose myself, “My parents recently died. They left everything to me.” It came out faster than I had ever spoken before, but at least it was out.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he offered sincerely, reaching out and squeezing my hand supportively.

Straightening myself in the chair, I pulled my hand out from under his and pretended to wipe stray strands of hair from my forehead. “So, what do I need to do next?”

A wave of relief passed over Joel and I could see the life return to his mesmerizing eyes; he was obviously as glad as I was for the change of subject. “If you are one hundred percent sure this is what you want to do, we need to fill out some paperwork, then I will get in touch with the property managers, let them know the properties are being sold, and see if we can get some access. How hard this whole process is really depends on the tenants, unfortunately. If they don’t allow access to the photographer, for exhibitions, or valuer when it is sold, it can cause huge issues. Do you know when the leases expire?”

“Not sure, but yesterday I ordered the eviction of the tenants in the house. They are nine weeks behind in the rent, so I want them out. Also, I don’t know what sort of condition the property is going to be in once they have been evicted. From what I heard, they aren’t exactly what you would describe as ‘ideal’ tenants,” I admitted. By this point I figured that he was going to find out anyway, so there was no point in lying.

“Don’t look so worried.” Joel laughed easily. “It's no fun if it’s all straightforward. Okay, if you’re happy with everything you and I have discussed, I’ll just need you to sign a couple of pages and we can get to work.” He slid the papers towards me and I noticed for the first time he had been taking notes. They were already almost completely filled in. He smiled, my heart sped up, and I signed whatever he asked me to.

“Great! Now here’s my card with all my contact details on it. Feel free to contact me with any questions or queries you might have. I’ll get all this started and I’ll give you a call about lunchtime tomorrow, if that’s okay, and let you know how we’re going and a rough time of when you can expect to see the properties on the market,” he summarized.

“Oh,” I said, disappointed.

“Is something the matter?” His mood instantly turned to concern.

“No…no, it’s nothing,” I mumbled.

“Gillian?” he asked again. I liked the way my name rolled off his tongue. It was so natural and comfortable, as if he had been saying it his whole life. I stole a glance at his left hand. No ring. And no sign of a tan line where a ring had once been.

“I just thought it was on the market now. I don’t really understand what all this means.” Admitting it felt horrible. I felt stupid and naïve, but he smiled and instantly the fear of looking like a fool in front of this perfect man evaporated.

Joel spent the next ten minutes patiently explaining to me all the steps that would have to happen before they appeared in the real estate guide. He didn’t seem annoyed about having to go over this with me, and I was grateful for his patience.

“Anything I forgot?” He grinned again. Not trusting myself to speak, I just nodded half-heartedly. “Well then, I better let you get back to it, so I can go and do some work. I will call you tomorrow and let you know how we are looking. But in the meantime, if you need anything else, you have my details.” He smiled again before reaching out and shaking my clammy hand.

“Thanks again,” I managed to say, as he opened the door for me and walked me to the front of the office.

“Talk soon.” He waved, then disappeared back into the deep, dark depths of the office. I stepped outside, grateful for the cool breeze blowing against my warm, embarrassed cheeks. Sitting in the conference room, I could feel myself sweating, but hoped it wasn’t noticeable. I glanced down at the business card I held tightly in my hand. Taking up most of the card was the perfect picture of Joel—wide, warm, white smile, tie lying perfectly straight down his chest. Suddenly realizing I was standing outside this man’s office, staring stupidly at the photo of him held tight in my hand. I quickly walked away.

Sliding behind the steering wheel, I could hear the phone ringing. Digging desperately through my handbag, I couldn’t find it. Irritated, I tipped the contents onto the passenger seat beside me. Not recognizing the number, I flipped open my phone. “Hello?”

“Gillian, its Joel.”

My heart missed a beat. “Did I forget something?” I asked nervously.

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I just needed to know if it was going to just be your name on the title deed.”

Relieved I hadn’t done or said anything stupid, I allowed myself a smug smile. I didn’t know if this was his roundabout way of asking if I was single, but that’s what I convinced myself anyway. “Yep, just me.” I smiled to myself, almost overflowing with happiness.

“Oh, I guess that’s good…” he trailed off under his breath and I couldn’t quite catch the last few words.

“Okay then…” I tried to end the call. Always leave them wanting more, one of my best friends had always told me. “I have to run, so unless there is anything else…”

“Nope, that’s it. Have a lovely day, Gillian.” He sounded pleased. I clicked the phone shut and burst out laughing. Even I was impressed by my performance.

When Friday night arrived I joined some girlfriends I hadn’t seen in six months, since they had made the move to the big city. In high school the four of us had been inseparable, but the other three had enrolled at University to study, while I remained on the coast trying to figure things out. I took my time getting ready, paying particular attention to my makeup and hair. I chose my outfit, a knee-length orange and pink dress, with knee-high black boots, a black jacket, and white scarf wrapped around my neck.

All I could think about for the entire fifteen minute drive were those aqua blue eyes. I began wondering if I should sell the house first and then sell the unit once that was settled so I could draw out the time I would spend associating with Joel. Shaking my head, I realized how completely and utterly infatuated with him I was.

By the time I arrived at the restaurant, a delicious Middle Eastern style restaurant, the girls were already waiting. Squealing with delight, Rhiannon jumped up and hugged me tightly. “Hey!” she shrieked. The whole restaurant turned and glared at us—a sure sign of a good night.

“Hi,” Cora sang, standing up and kissing my cheek across the table.

Heidi waved enthusiastically before filling my wine glass. “Sorry, we couldn’t wait, so we ordered drinks.”

Taking a long gulp, I realized that this was what I had been missing. Not the support and the condolences, but the carefree, happy friends who, even though they knew what happened, didn’t dwell on it. It helped lift me up rather than bringing me down.

We sat and ate for hours, picking at the platters of food delivered to us by a waiter with the cutest bum I had seen in years. We ordered more wine and laughed over old times, and caught up on recent events. Rhiannon was kind of seeing her university mentor, but it was only a casual thing, she assured us repeatedly. Heidi was too involved with her studies and her volunteering as a Girl Guide leader to have time for anything—she was one hundred and ten percent focused on finishing her teaching degree and getting into a school to help mould young minds—while Cora was madly studying at CIT to be a chef. She had these incredible dreams to travel the world, cooking and eating. Within three years her master plan was to be living somewhere in Europe, working in a Michelin star restaurant cooking up a storm for celebrities and royalty.

They didn’t ask how I was doing directly, but asked a lot of questions about my plans. I told them I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to do but until I figured it out I was going to try everything. They invited me to join them the following week to try a new Ethiopian restaurant that had just opened its doors, which I immediately agreed to. It was good having them back in my life. Everything was so easy. We already knew each other’s pet peeves and bad habits, so there was no tiptoeing around pretending not to notice them.

After the fourth bottle of wine was finished, they needed to head off. Rhiannon claimed she had a “study” session early the next morning, but I would have put money on a late night rendezvous with a professor. Heidi was off on camp the next night and needed to get some rest before she became responsible for a dozen screaming twelve-year-olds. I decided that I had just a little too many glasses of Cloudy Bay to drive just yet, so I was going to go for a walk and find a coffee. We said our goodbyes and promised to see each other the following week. I secretly couldn’t wait for the next installment of Rhiannon’s deranged sex life.

It was only ten o’clock as I walked along the BMW-lined street, and despite the cold, the cafes and restaurants were still buzzing with life. Tables were full to capacity and the laughter reverberated from the buildings. As I approached the corner, I noticed a velvet rope and a man dressed immaculately, all in black, complete with a top hat and white cotton gloves. “Miss, can I interest you in a cocktail?” He smiled warmly.

For a moment I just stared blankly at him before I noticed the name tag on his shirt. Julian worked at the bar upstairs. “It’s warm up there,” he suggested, looking at how I was hugging my chest. “Take this up.” He handed me a half price voucher for the first cocktail purchase of the evening.

I took it as a sign. A half price drink on a Friday night was a pretty good start. “Thanks,” I replied gratefully, accepting the voucher and walking quickly up the stairs. By the time I reached the landing halfway up, I could feel the wine haze hovering over me, but more than that I could feel the temperature rising. I started to undo my jacket as I climbed the final ten steps.

It was like visiting an antique store, or a really old aunt. It had velvet covered cushions, high backed wooden chairs, none of which matched any of the others, dim chandelier lighting, and floral wallpaper. In the far corner a jazz band played quietly, and people hushed over their cocktails. Bartenders in bow ties buzzed about, clearing glasses silently. Some people’s heads were nodding along in time with the beat, and the sound of the saxophone drowned out the sound of chatter.

As I looked for somewhere to sit, I looked at the patrons. Most were middle age, in couples or groups of four, all immaculately dressed and with diamonds dripping from everywhere. Unsure I actually belonged in this sort of establishment, I turned to leave.

“Excuse me, Miss, can I get you a drink?” a handsome waiter asked.

Remembering my half price drink voucher, and the infectious rhythm of the jazz band, I decided that one drink wouldn’t kill me. “Sure, I would like a…a…”

“Can I suggest you try the kiwi and basil mojito? It’s the perfect blend of lime juice, fresh basil, kiwifruit, white rum and syrup,” he offered.

I had to admit it sounded refreshing, and unlike anything I had ever tried before. Since I was starting off on a clean slate, this seemed like the sort of thing that I should try. “Sounds fabulous.” I snorted, embarrassed. After watching way too many episodes of
Sex and the City
, the language had even taken over mine.

“I’ll be right back. And if you’re looking for somewhere to sit, there are a few available seats towards the back,” he pointed out.

“Thanks.” I made my way through the crowd, starting to relax and enjoy the music. It would have been so easy to just sit there for hours and get carried away by it all. I found an old Victorian style, red velvet chaise towards the back of the room and dropped my coat haphazardly onto the end before sitting down next to it. I was fiddling with the zipper on my boots when the waiter returned with an ice-cold tumbler filled with chunky green liquid. Despite the rather off-putting appearance, the taste was magical. Usually, I wasn’t a big rum drinker, but the other flavors in this were unbelievably refreshing.

“They’re quite good, aren’t they?” a deep masculine voice asked from behind me.

Almost spitting mojito across the room and covering the Dior clad lady in front of me in the process, I looked up to see Joel grinning cheekily at me. Although Joel and I had already met, there was something about him that was completely captivating. I’m not sure if it was the mischief that danced in his eyes or the adorable dimple on his left cheek. I felt myself blush as I forced down another mouthful, which was pretty much entirely rum and no lime juice.

Coughing, I tried to speak. “Are you stalking me or something?” I asked incredulously. I thought if I went on the attack I wouldn’t look like a freak, and I would also avoid saying the wrong thing.

Laughing, Joel said, “No. I just had dinner with some colleagues up the road and wasn’t quite ready to head home yet, so I thought I would wander down for a while and see what I found. And
voila
, I found you.” Pushing my jacket up against my leg, Joel lowered himself onto the seat next to me.

My pulse was racing and my hands began to sweat again. Gone was the work uniform of the black suit, replaced by designer jeans, dark blue top, and white shoes.

He caught me looking at his shoes, and I figured I had to say something. “What is it with you guys and your damn white shoes?”

Looking at his own shoes, probably noticing what he had on for the first time, he just chuckled wholeheartedly. “These are my naughty shoes. I wear black shoes every day for work, so when I’m off the clock, I go for something different. Just trying to shake things up a bit.”