Food for Love Page 2

  “Do you mind if we stay down here and have something light?” He glanced around the casual dining space. “I did snag us a table in the restaurant upstairs for later, just in case you preferred a more substantial meal.” He raised his eyebrows. “On second thought, what was I thinking?”

  Jess shook her head. “It’s been quite a long day, and I’m tired.” She swept her hair to one side and massaged the base of her neck. “Here would suit me fine.”

  They’d agreed to meet for supper at The Wells, in Hampstead, near Jess’s apartment that bordered the rugged heath with its acres of woodland as well as cycling and running tracks. But by far, the best feature of the hilltop flat was the outstanding views over London—on a clear day.

  “Good. I could use an early night myself.” He stifled a yawn and excused himself for it. “Maxine was exhausted last night. I was on pick-up-and-deliver-Rupert-for-feeding duty.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I almost forgot about your lecture this afternoon with the young ladies at South Hampstead. How did it go?”

  She peered over the top of the menu and cleared her throat.

  “I tried to answer the questions as honestly as I could without giving too many details about the crash.” Jess sighed. “I hate public speaking.”

  “Even though you naturally command attention.” Jonathan sat back in his chair and gave her a long, appreciative gaze. “Even Maxine has remarked on it.”

  Jess glanced at the menu again before tossing it aside. “Actually, the dean asked me out to dinner tonight.”

  “And, yet, here you are with me, a boring old man with nothing to entertain you with except baby pictures.” He smirked.

  She made as if to smack him from across the table. “You browbeat me into this meeting.” But she couldn’t keep up the pretend scowl for long. “Jonathan, you can show me all the pictures of Rupert you want.”

  “Are you trying to avoid dealing with Ben’s estate?” he asked. “I know it’s a difficult time, but we have to talk about it. You can’t put it off any longer.”

  She shut her eyes and rubbed her forehead with closed knuckles.

  “There is no way around it. You do realise going to Australia to meet with your brother’s executor and the lawyers is the sensible option. How long has it been since you were there?”

  “I was eleven when I left. Haven’t ever been back, apart from a brief stopover in Sydney a few years ago on my way to the New Zealand championships.”

  “It will be a shock, going back after all this time.”

  With a long, slow draught from her glass, she swallowed past the knot of emotion lodged in her throat. “What choice do I have?”

  “You will fly in to Melbourne,” he said. “The legal firm will have a driver pick you up at the airport, and they’ll arrange a hotel in the city for the night. The appointment with Ben’s solicitor can be the following afternoon. That gives you a chance to recover from the long flight.”

  He’s right. It is manageable. There’s no excuse for not going.

  “Do you have any friends in Melbourne?” He glanced up at her, then reached into his leather satchel and removed the papers he had brought with him. He searched through them. “How far away is the restaurant? Ah, what’s it called again?”

  “It’s named Ailie.” Jess raised her eyebrows. “I looked it up. It means light of the sun. The restaurant is on the Bellarine Peninsula, seventy minutes’ drive from the city, so not exactly close. I’ve kept in contact with a few cyclists on the international circuit, and some of them may be in Melbourne, but I doubt I will have time to connect with anyone.”

  “So, you will go.” Jonathan refilled her glass. “Do you have someone to look after your apartment? Do you need me to keep an eye on anything?”

  “My next-door neighbour”—Jess tapped his hand gently— “but thanks for asking.”

  He leaned across the table and squeezed her forearm in a comforting gesture. “Have you heard anything about Ben’s memorial service?”

  Jess looked at him in the eye. “Do you think it was wrong of me to not go?” she asked quietly.

  “No, sweetheart. Well, you were out of hospital, so perhaps you could have gone. It was the shock, I think. You weren’t ready. It would have been too much on your own.”

  “I just couldn’t go to the memorial service.” Jess exhaled deeply. “But I will go now. You are right. He was my brother, and I owe him that much.” She spoke carefully to conceal the depth of her sorrow.

  “This business of his investment in the restaurant is unclear. The paperwork you sent me sheds no light on their arrangement, and his will was never updated when the restaurant was registered four years ago. I dare say you will find out more when you get there. Considering your estranged relationship with him, it is odd that you’re the only beneficiary. Do you know anything about Lillian McAllister, the owner of the restaurant?”

  “She’s a chef. I need to do some more research before I go.”

  “Okay. Maybe Lillian was also his girlfriend?”

  “No, she wasn’t. At the time of the accident, Ben was travelling with his girlfriend.” Jess lowered her gaze. “She was the other victim when the jet ski flipped.”

  “Oh. That’s horrible, Jess,” he said. “I suppose it could take a while to get everything sorted. Prepare yourself for a longer stay, if necessary.”

  “If I must.” She sighed. “Apart from my volunteer work…I haven’t decided what’s next.”

  “Early days yet. What’s the latest from the specialist about your long-term prognosis?”

  “We’re hopeful. Depending on how long I’m in Australia, I’ll find a gym so I can keep up my strength training and continue with my rehab programme. Whether I get back to elite level—or not—is up to me. It might have been my second-last year on the circuit anyway. The accident may have just brought it forward.” The weight of declaring that to another person sat heavily on her chest.

  “Seriously?” Jonathan shook his head. “But you’re only twenty-nine.”

  “The average age of the competitive cyclist is creeping down. I could continue for a few more years, but given the limited amount of time you can push your body in this sport, not much longer, certainly not at that level. It’s just not sustainable.”

  “But Jess, cycling has been your life—your passion.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. Adjusting to the world outside competitive cycling would be incomprehensible, to put it mildly. “I would miss the buzz. I already miss my teammates.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “But after my time in rehab, I’ve had some thoughts about putting my degree to use.” She looked up to gauge Jonathan’s reaction.

  “Are you thinking of working as a physiotherapist?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Do you even have experience doing that? I mean—other than the occasional volunteering at the children’s physio clinic?”

  “I’ve only had limited experience,” she admitted.

  “I know you love volunteering at that place, but—” Jonathan looked up. “Jess, your real love is racing. How are you going to cope with this forced hiatus?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t have a choice. I could rush back in and chance an early return, but I face a higher risk of permanent damage and never being able to race.” Jess placed a hand over her glass as Jonathan attempted to refill it with wine. “Thanks, but two glasses is my limit these days.”

  “All right, all right. I’m sorry I went on about it.” He tucked into his hearty meal of burger, chips, and mound of coleslaw. Pointing his fork at her plate of salad, he said, “You need to eat more. No wonder you’re built like a reed. A baby bird could out-eat you.”

  “Hah,” she said. “Just for that…” Jess leaned across the table and stole one of Jonathan’s chips.

  He pushed a few more of the fried potatoes to the edge of his plate, within her reach. “Se
riously, take all you want. Between sitting all day at work and watching over Rupert at night, I certainly don’t need the extra calories.” He paused. “By the way, Ashley sent me a copy of your contract. It says they’ve agreed to put it on hold, but when you return from Australia, team management expects you to keep in the public eye as an athletic goodwill ambassador to keep your sponsors happy. You’ll do volunteer work like the physiotherapy clinic, only a lot more of it.”

  It could be worse, she thought. Better than rushing back into racing before she was ready. “What about my company endorsements? I don’t want the funds I’m raising for all those charities to dry up.”

  “Ashley is negotiating the individual endorsements,” he said. “We’ll see. But if your contract with the team is suspended, unfortunately that salary—no matter how meagre—stops. It’s a good thing you don’t rely on it to live, Jess.”

  “Well, thanks to you and my inheritance money you look after.” She smiled. “I’m fortunate to have you as my accountant.”

  “Thank you. And as your accountant, I’ll need copies of any additional paperwork once you see Ben’s lawyers in Melbourne.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’ll e-mail you anything new.”

  He tapped at one of the papers in his hands. “What about this Lillian McAllister?” he asked. “I didn’t get a chance to look her up. Do you think you need to worry about her? What was the nature of her and Ben’s relationship?”

  “I don’t know. Jonathan, you are asking a lot of questions.” She stretched her neck to ease her tight muscles. “Obviously close enough friends for him to have loaned money for her business. I guess she will have to pay it out.” She tilted her head at him, then sighed. “Unless I decide to go into the restaurant business.”

  He almost choked on his last piece of potato. “Really, Jess? Think about it: you and food—not exactly a match made in heaven. You hardly ever cook, or even eat anything. I’ve seen the inside of your refrigerator. As your accountant and your friend, I strongly advise you not to call me in a month and tell me you’ve become a restaurant owner. Get it settled as soon as possible.”

  He was absolutely spot on. She knew a little about sports nutrition, but naught about the restaurant business.

  No. For now, she had to take one thing at a time. One day at a time.

  Jess checked the time and shifted around in the oversized leather armchair. “I get tired of the press asking me how I’m progressing and not knowing the answer. The specialist hasn’t given me a set date when I can return to racing.” Jess leaned forward and scrubbed at her forehead. “There are good and bad days. Sometimes I feel useless. I lie awake at night and can barely crawl out of bed in the morning. But on the days I ride, I feel better.”

  Doctor Waters tapped the pen on the side of her notepad, crossed her legs, and pulled her skirt over her knees. “Will you have access to a bicycle in Australia?”

  “I am going to buy one. There’s no way I’d feel comfortable on a borrowed bicycle,” she said. “A girl can never have too many of them, and I’ve learned that I get pleasure and joy from cycling, just for the sake of it.”

  Doctor Waters looked at Jess over her black-framed glasses. “I’m pleased for you. You’ve made great strides.”

  “Thanks to you, I’ve accepted that moving on is a work in progress, not a quick fix.” With Doctor Waters’ help, Jess had avoided sinking into severe depression. She had resisted seeing her at first, because her physical rehab regime was so intense, but confusion and despair led Jess to make the first appointment. She found Doctor Waters to be non-judgemental and positive in her practice, and she was helping Jess manage her anxiety while her body mended. This was her only way forward, because Jess never wanted to revisit the dark times when, for a short time as a desperate twelve-year-old, she’d succumbed to self-harm. She clutched her right thigh automatically, then quickly smoothed her hands over her sweater to hide her action from the therapist.

  Jess stared out the fourth-floor London office window to avoid meeting the doctor’s perceptive gaze.

  “You are a strong and resilient woman, Jess,” Doctor Waters said. “No longer the twelve-year-old you remember.” After a brief pause, she continued with, “Autumn has come early to London, and the plane trees in Kensington Park are beginning to turn golden brown. The view is one of the main reasons I have this office.”

  “Strange to think it is spring in the southern hemisphere,” Jess said.

  The psychologist smiled. “You’re going home to Australia.”

  Jess turned to her. Home—what did that mean? Everything was silent, save the tick-tock of a large antique clock on the sturdy wooden mantle. Jess crossed her arms tightly in front of her chest.

  “You’ve made huge positive changes in the last few months.” Doctor Waters walked with Jess and pulled the door open. “I will see you when you return.” She briefly squeezed Jess’s shoulder, smiled, and retreated into her office.

  Jess thought about the doctor’s choice of words, calling Australia home. Without her mother or her brother there, how could it be home? Wasn’t home family? But home was also a sense of place—perhaps Doctor Waters was right.

  Chapter 2

  Bellarine Peninsula,

  Southern Victoria, Australia.

  Usually, her morning run helped lighten her thoughts, but today Lili McAllister’s legs were heavy under the weight of her worries.

  Her heart beat strong and steady beneath her hand. The five-kilometre run to the foreshore, with its gradual incline up and over the sand dunes, had worked her calf and thigh muscles hard, and it was still another ten minutes to Portarlington, where she’d told herself she would turn back. So much for this run helping her get her act together.

  Stop wallowing in your own grief, she told herself as she watched the sun rising above the treeline to the east. Its warm rays were like fingers caressing her skin. Time to focus on your own family, Lillian McAllister. And your staff.

  Lili had done a Google search of Jessica Harris after she’d received information from Ben’s lawyer, and her name alone had given Lili countless web links to troll—though most of the hits seemed to be speculation and idle gossip. Still, Ben’s sister was clearly a celebrity, and an alluring one: half-British and half-Indian, with sultry dark eyes and a graceful, athletic figure that had placed her in Sports Magazine’s list of most beautiful sportswomen. She featured heavily in online and print media social pages too.

  Obviously, a prima donna. She had the potential to make Lili’s life difficult. Just thinking about her soon-to-be houseguest made her queasy.

  She took a deep breath, turned back onto the gravel path that wound through the reserve, and jogged towards the small coastal township. She’d grab a quick coffee and check her mailbox at the local post office before she ran the track home.

  An hour later, after her shower, Lili drove the outer farm road to Ailie. She stopped the Subaru on top of the rise and rolled down the window to scan the undulating verdant farmland across to her restaurant—where it stood with its solid red-brick base and high glass windows that reflected the surrounding gardens and tall gum trees. She looked past Ailie to the valley of grapevines, down to the shimmering blue of Port Phillip Bay and the You Yang hills in the distance. Lili sighed deeply. They’d worked so hard to create Ailie, and now it defined her. This was hers. She was suddenly overcome by fierce protectiveness.

  She entered through the main door and spied her staff clustered around the bar counter. She ducked into her office, threw her keys and wallet into her desk drawer, and headed into the dining room.

  “Hi, everyone,” Lili greeted. She manoeuvred through the group and stopped beside Alex, who wrapped her arms around her and gave her a quick hug.

  “Here we go. The first staff meeting for the spring season. Are you ready for this?” asked Alex.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Lili shrugge
d and turned to the small group. “Please, take a seat.” She waited while most of her team settled into their chairs, while a few chose to stand and lean against the bar.

  “I’m right here.” Alex squeezed her forearm, and Lili appreciated the reassuring gesture from her sous-chef.

  Lili raised her hand, and the chatter around her ceased. “Thank you.” She squinted in surprise at the sight of her father, standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest, at the back of the room. She acknowledged him with raised eyebrows before continuing to address her staff. “It’s great to see you all.” Lili buried her hands deep into the pockets of her trousers. “We were on annual leave when we received the news about Ben, and I appreciated all the phone calls and e-mails I got from you reaching out. Thanks to those who were able to make it to the memorial service.”

  Owen reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and dabbed his eyes. The front-of-house manager had been recruited by Ben, and they’d shared a weird passion for early Hitchcock movies.

  Lili offered him a sad smile and took a deep breath. “Ben was my mentor, and he helped me build this business. Ailie has a lot to live up to.” She looked towards the Trip Advisor Certificate of Excellence and the Gourmet Traveller award that graced the restaurant wall above the bar.

  Alex stepped closer and placed her arm around Lili’s shoulders.

  “We have a great team, and I’m very proud of all of you.” She leaned into Alex, taking comfort. “Let’s make Ben proud.”

  Josh, their second-year apprentice chef, held his glass of water aloft. “To Ben.”

  “To Ben,” the others repeated, and waited silently for Lili to continue.

  “You’ve seen the new rosters. Please let Alex know if there are any problems.” Lili smiled and turned to Owen. “Now comes the fun part. I’ll hand you over to Owen, who will take us through the main reason we are all here, to brush up on the latest hygiene and safety handling procedures.”

  Later that afternoon, after the staff left, Lili made her way to the garden where she took a seat on the shaded terrace. She turned at the sound of footsteps to accept a steaming cup of chai tea Alex handed to her. “Thank you.”