style="font-size:15px;"> Lee Richardson expressed a long, slow breath. ‘That would probably account for it.’
She glanced at him then veiled her eyes with her lashes. ‘Yes. There was only one course then and that was to go into the hands of the receivers and declare himself bankrupt.’
‘How is he now?’
‘He’s better, he’s a lot better, although sometimes he’s still crushed by it. But at least he’s taken up his music again. He and my aunt, his sister—she’s a widow and she lives with us—are both musicians. He’s a guitarist, she’s a pianist and they coach bands, school bands, music societies and so on. Unfortunately.’ She paused.
‘Go on.’
‘He’s going to need a hip replacement shortly but we don’t have private health cover and there’s a waiting list in the public system. So I’m saving every cent to get it done privately.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Lee Richardson said. ‘It must be quite a load to carry.’
Rhiannon’s head drooped briefly then she squared her shoulders and tilted her chin. ‘I’ll cope.’
‘How about financially? Are you the only breadwinner in the family now?’
‘More or less. He gets a pension and Di, my aunt, gives piano lessons but it’s …’ She stopped and started again. ‘Now that I’ve made a go of this business, it’s a lot easier. Funnily enough, that day.’ She stopped.
‘Tell me,’ he invited.
‘That day we shared a taxi was the day I got my first job doing this kind of thing. Oh, on a much smaller scale, but it was a start. And the reason I was in such a rush was to get home, because I’d had to leave my father on his own to go to the interview. Of course, that was four years ago, when I was still really worried about him.’
He studied her averted cheek and the way her fingers were plaited around her coffee-cup, but she moved suddenly then jumped up, saying, ‘All of which reminds me that I came here to do a job so I’d better get on with it.’
She hesitated then turned to look at him. ‘Unless—if you don’t feel you want to employ me because of what happened. I would understand.’
Lee Richardson stretched his long legs out. ‘Do I look like a monster?’
‘No.’ She coloured. ‘But it’s a rather difficult position to be in. I just thought—’
‘Well, don’t,’ he recommended.
‘OK,’ she said slowly. ‘Thanks. And now I’d just like to establish a couple of things before I get to work. Where are the nearest shops, how will I get to them, do you have a credit system or do I need cash? Oh, and what about the bar tomorrow night? Do you need me to organise wine, spirits or whatever?’
‘You can leave the bar to me, we’re extensively stocked anyway.’ Lee stood up. ‘But I’ll leave soft drinks to you.’ He pulled a set of car keys from his pocket and handed them to her. ‘You can use the blue Mercedes station wagon in the garage. Mount Tamborine is our nearest village and you can put anything you buy on Southall’s tab. I’ll give you a note of introduction and draw you some directions.’
Half an hour later, Rhiannon parked the wagon and got out to enjoy the sights and sounds of Mount Tamborine.
It was not only a pretty village with lovely trees and gardens, but there were also art galleries, craft shops and interesting-looking restaurants. Several large buses alerted her to the fact that it was on a scenic tourist route and the clear mountain air was lovely.
When she got back to Southall, it was to notice a yellow Lamborghini parked in the driveway.
She raised her eyebrows but thought no more about it because by this time Sharon, the housekeeper, had started work.
Sharon was six feet tall, in her middle thirties and friendly.
‘Thank heavens someone is here to—well,’ she said to Rhiannon, then looked embarrassed, ‘I wasn’t sure if the party was still on after the shenanigans of yesterday, not to mention this morning—damn! I wasn’t going to say anything about that.’ She reddened.
‘It’s OK, I’m up-to-date,’ Rhiannon assured her, ‘and the party is still on.’ She stopped, struck by a sudden thought. ‘You wouldn’t know who the guests are, would you?’
‘Not by name but they’re all Mary’s friends from TV and the movies. Some of them are flying in from interstate apparently—oh, not to stay here but down on the coast.’
Rhiannon stared at her. ‘She must have been really upset to walk out—I mean—’
‘She was. She doesn’t like living up here and Matt has been away for a week on business so she was feeling extra-lonely and she’s.’ Sharon grimaced. ‘Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot to like about her but she can be a bit spoilt. She’s so gorgeous, she’s probably used to getting her own way a lot.’
‘I see.’
‘Oh, by the way, she told me she’d organised a DJ, hopefully for the right date, but I’m not sure if Lee knows about it. And it may be more than thirty people, she told me she’d lost count but she thought it could be forty or fifty. She has a lot of friends.’
Rhiannon heaved a sigh. ‘I think I’d better tell him.’
But, along the way, Rhiannon got another surprise.
She almost bumped into a strange woman who was striding through the lounge, probably the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen.
For a moment she wondered if it was Mary Richardson then decided not; this woman was in her early thirties, possibly, and she looked faintly familiar. She also, from her flashing dark eyes, set mouth and the way she was walking, looked furious.
‘Oh, sorry! Hello,’ Rhiannon said, and introduced herself.
‘Ah, the housekeeper! How do you do? I’m Andrea Richardson.’
Rhiannon blinked. ‘You mean …?’ She broke off as full recognition dawned.
Andrea Richardson née Comero was tall and had a river of dark, glossy hair flowing down her back. Her skin was smooth and olive, her lips a luscious red, and she wore a glorious pomegranate-pink silk blouse with hipster black satin trousers and silver sandals. She held herself regally and you could just see her striding the catwalk.
‘The wicked stepmother no less?’Andrea shot back. ‘Yes, that’s me.’
‘I—didn’t mean that at all,’ Rhiannon disclaimed. ‘I mean to say, all I know is that you married Ross Richardson but most people probably know that.’ She looked quizzical for a moment.
‘Then you either haven’t been here long enough to hear otherwise or they’ve been unusually discreet.’ Andrea Richardson shook out her hair. ‘They—make that particularly Lee—regard me as a fortune huntress who preyed upon their father and trampled the sacred memory of their mother.’
Rhiannon stared
