Authors: Fiona McCallum
Time Will Tell
Time Will Tell
Fiona McCallum
Paycheque
Nowhere Else
Wattle Creek
The Button Jar Series:
Saving Grace
Fiona McCallum lives in Adelaide, South Australia, and works full-time as a novelist. She is the author of four Australian bestselling novels:
Paycheque
,
Nowhere Else
,
Wattle Creek
and
Saving Grace
.
Time Will Tell
is her fifth novel and the second in
The Button Jar
series (the first being
Saving Grace
).
More information about Fiona and her books can be found on her website,
www.fionamccallum.com
. Fiona can also be followed on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/Fiona McCallum.author
.
In loving memory of my aunt, Anne de Wit, who was also a very dear and special friend.
Many thanks to editor Lachlan Jobbins for bringing the best out in my writing and to Sue Brockhoff, Cristina Lee, Michelle Laforest and everyone at Harlequin Australia for continuing to believe in me, make my dreams come true, and turn my pages into beautiful books.
Thanks also to Jane and Emma at Morey Media for spreading the word and to the media outlets, bloggers, librarians, booksellers and readers for your support. It means so much to hear of people enjoying my books.
Thank you to members of the Gemmological Association of Australia SA Division Inc. for help with research and for very generously showing me some diamonds in the rough. Fascinating! Any errors of fact are my own or down to me taking creative liberties.
Finally, a huge thank you to my oldest and dearest friends Carole and Ken Wetherby, Mel Sabeeney and Arlene Somerville for being the best friends a person could ever hope to have.
Contents
Emily Oliphant and her best friend Barbara stood on the verandah, staring out into the still country evening. Birds rustled in the trees, settling themselves for the night, and a multitude of insects chattered and sang in the summer air.
âWhat a gorgeous evening. And what a really lovely spot, Em,' Barbara said with a sigh.
âIt is, isn't it?' Emily reached down to pat her border collie pup, Grace, who was at attention by her feet. âI could stay here forever.'
They were out the front of Emily's house â the house that would be hers if she accepted the Baker brothers' proposal. She thought of all she'd been through in the last two months â leaving her husband, meeting Barbara, saving Grace. And now, finally, settling into a home of her own. Could she find the courage to do this too?
âSeriously Em, you can do this â the house, everything. Don't let fear stop you. And don't worry about your mother.'
Emily nodded. Her friend was right; being offered the house was one hell of a Christmas present. And not too shabby as a thirty-second birthday gift either. Forget what Enid had to say about it.
This is my life
.
âWell, I'd really better go before they send out a search party,' Barbara said, kissing Emily on the cheek.
âI'm so glad you stopped in.' The two friends hugged, neither wanting to be the first to let go. As always, Barbara had turned up at just the right time.
Finally they broke apart, and Barbara made her way down the steps and over to her car. âSee you Saturday,' she called.
âDon't forget the tinsel,' Emily called back sardonically.
âNo fear there. And the champagne; we're going to celebrate.' She got in the car with a wave of her hand.
Emily watched until Barbara's tail-lights were out of sight. She smiled wryly. Her mother would indeed have a fit when she found out she was buying the run-down old place.
Thankfully it didn't matter what Enid thought. It was to be Emily's home and no one else's.
As she stared out into the last fading light of the warm summer day, her head began swimming with possibilities, risks, and calculations. The chance to buy the house really was a huge opportunity, if a little daunting â well, very daunting. But it was meant to be, wasn't it? A home of her own.
A home that was as much Grace's as hers, she thought, looking down at the small black and white dog beside her. Grace was a typical border collie except for the missing white ring around her neck. Emily still found it hard to believe it was only six weeks since the day she had picked her up as a tiny puppy â it felt like Grace had always been a part of her life. And Barbara; they'd become firm best friends almost instantly. She was so blessed to have met her. Along with Grace, Barbara had been her saviour; her rock, her voice of reason.
She bent down and ruffled Grace's ears. The puppy looked up at her with love and adoration. Emily smiled. That look would melt anyone's heart. Well, except her estranged husband's.
At the thought of John Stratten, her face clouded. Thankfully the bully was now out of her life. He'd completely ripped her off in the financial settlement, but at least he was gone.
âCome on Gracie, let's go inside.'
They made their way down the hall, Grace's claws clicking on the bare floorboards punctuating Emily's thoughts.
Why didn't I leave him sooner?
Her mother had told her that once she had made her bed she had to lie in it. If only she had ignored her. It was the twenty-first century for Christ's sake, not the nineteen-fifties!
How could I have been so damned gullible?
But of course Emily knew. It had nothing to do with gullibility and everything to do with that old chestnut that shaped your life growing up in a small country town: what will people say? What could possibly make a woman like her give up a marriage to one of the wealthiest farmers in the district?
She cast her mind back to the afternoon she had finally decided to leave him. John's threat to shoot Grace had been the last straw. A shiver ran the length of Emily's spine. At least she had saved her from the brute.
Forty thousand dollars?! It wasn't fair. Perhaps if she'd known she was going to be offered the old house to buy she might have fought for more in the settlement.
Emily sighed. At the time she'd just wanted to get it over with, to get on with her life and never have anything to do with him again. She had hoped that feeling would last; that when twelve months had elapsed it would just be a matter of the divorce papers being signed and rubber-stamped.
She paused in the hallway and looked around her. The old place had so much potential. She'd love to turn it into something worthy of
Home Beautiful
. But her meagre funds would barely cover updating the kitchen â even the most basic design.
The Baker brothers were only asking for ten thousand up front and then ten thousand per year for twenty years â and the costs associated with subdividing, however much that would be. It was a bloody good deal in anyone's book, but still felt precarious to Emily in her current situation.
She had approximately forty-seven thousand dollars in savings, but no job, and nothing on the horizon thanks to the Global Financial Crisis and a couple of years of drought since.
But she was going to stay positive. âFake it till you make it,' Barbara had said not so long ago. She had to have faith that it would all work out. Really, what else did she have?
She could see now that Barbara had really been gently telling her to stop feeling sorry for herself and get her act together. It was something Emily's gran might have said if she'd been born fifty years later than she had. As it was, Granny Rose would have been more likely to say something gentler, like: âPut on a happy face, dear. No one likes a sourpuss.'
With that thought Emily hoicked up her shoulders and carried on into the kitchen.
She filled the kettle and waited for it to boil. She really had to start believing that good things could happen. Like her cousin Elizabeth turning up with a friend who just happened to be an architect and a qualified builder; what were the odds of that?
Jake would be able to give her a good idea of how much the house would cost to fully renovate. He'd certainly indicated it was worth looking into. And he wasn't just humouring her or being polite. He was genuine â the gift and proceeds from the jam he had sent were proof of that. It was such a pity that he lived so far away in Melbourne.
She looked across at the old Bushells coffee jar on the kitchen table. It was an almost identical match for the original jar from the nineteen-thirties. Even the tone of the faded red tin screw-top lid was the same.
The night before she died, Granny Rose had given Emily her button jar. The thought of how serious Gran had been â her insistence that she take good care of it â still brought a sad smile to Emily two months on. The Alzheimer's had made her wise old gran say the strangest things.
The jar was precious to Emily too. It had been since she'd first seen it as a four year old. She'd always loved the bright colours and the rattle it made when gently shaken. She'd especially loved the weird tradition that buttons were constantly put in on top, but none ever removed, nor the contents ever tipped out and rifled through. Since Gran's death, she had felt a sense of comfort whenever she held it.
And she felt dreadful that in just a few months it had got broken. She still had no idea how the jar had fallen from the bench to the floor in the middle of the night. It would remain one of life's mysteries.
Emily forced thoughts of Gran aside â she was getting too melancholy thinking about her â and wondered if she should phone Jake again. She'd rung him earlier to thank him, but had got his voicemail. She could try again later.
No, that would be weird and stalkerish. You've already left one message
, she told herself.
But I'm really grateful to him
. The replacement jar was such a thoughtful gift.
The roaring kettle distracted her and she set about preparing a mug of Milo.
At the kitchen table sipping her drink, she looked around the large space and wondered who else she could ask for advice about the purchase. Her dad would be her first port of call â he'd already helped her repaint the inside of the house and sand the floorboards â but he wasn't in the actual building game, so he wouldn't know about how much things would cost.
