food warmers that operated on spirit lamps set into the base below them. They were old-fashioned perhaps but effective and stylish.
What had prompted Sharon to burst into song was the fact that their efforts were all but complete and a marvellous array of dishes stood on counters and the kitchen table, all set to be refrigerated overnight when they’d cooled down then warmed in the copper-based servers tomorrow.
From a previous job in the state, Rhiannon had discovered that Queenslanders really loved their seafood, and there was an abundance of it to choose from. The local shops had yielded a bonanza.
Rhiannon had made a seafood casserole containing crab and Moreton Bay bug meat with fresh asparagus in a cream, herb and brandy sauce that smelled divine, and tomorrow she intended to assemble platters heaped with fresh peeled prawns and oysters, with bowls of lemon wedges and tangy dipping sauces.
There were two large legs of ham that had been scored and pricked with cloves, all set to be basted with brown sugar and pineapple juice as they cooked tomorrow.
Sharon had cooked three different rice dishes that only needed to be heated up in the microwave to be fluffy and perfect. She’d also concocted a chicken and Marsala casserole, as well as a beef and black-bean sauce one with Asian crisp vegetables. Rhiannon had made a potato frittata and tomorrow she would put Cliff’s fresh produce to good use as promised in a cauliflower au gratin dish, several salads and a ratatouille.
And between them they’d baked four pavlovas to be heaped with strawberries and served with cream and ice cream for dessert.
‘There.’ Rhiannon stood back and looped her hair behind her ear. ‘Most of it only needs to be heated up just before you set it out, then we can keep it warm in the servers. Really, apart from the prawns and the vegetable and salad dishes, all that needs to be done just before time is the fried chicken legs so they’re nice and crispy, and carving the ham as well as buttering the rolls. We’ve done well!’ she added with a grin at Sharon.
She’d already explained to Sharon that she wouldn’t be much help in the kitchen but she’d pop in as frequently as she could.
‘We sure have. Just one thing—what about snacks?’ Sharon replied. ‘Peanuts and so on.’
‘No snacks,’ Rhiannon said. ‘It’s so easy to fill up on nuts and things so that you’re not hungry for anything else that will soak up.’ She paused.
‘The alcohol? Too true.’ Sharon agreed.
‘OK.’ Rhiannon untied her apron and glanced at her watch. It was five o’clock. ‘Thanks, Sharon. Off you go and have a pleasant evening! I’ll see you tomorrow—don’t worry about being early, it’s going to be a long day. Who looks after your child, incidentally, when you’re working?’
‘My mother, so it’s no problem. Um—are you going to cook Lee’s dinner? He’s a big steak fan and—’
‘Actually, Lee has other ideas,’ Lee himself said as he strolled into the kitchen, ‘but I just wanted to give you this, Sharon, a small token of my appreciation of all your efforts, plus a little something for your mum.’ He slipped an envelope into Sharon’s hand.
‘Oh, you didn’t have to do that!’ Sharon looked all flustered.
‘Yes I did.’ He closed her hand over the envelope then gave her a little push towards the back door.
‘That was nice of you,’ Rhiannon approved once the door had closed on Sharon. ‘I would definitely recommend keeping her on. So, I take it you’re going out and don’t need dinner here?’
‘We are going out.’
‘We? Who’s we?’
He looked around quizzically. ‘There’s only you and me left, Rhiannon, so it has to be us.’
‘But I don’t want to go out and you haven’t asked me!’ she protested.
‘Then I’ll ask you now, not that I intend to take no for an answer. Come and have dinner with me in the village, Ms Fairfax. For one good reason, I can’t imagine anyone who’s done as much cooking as you have today being remotely interested in more; and for another, I’d like to be assured you don’t still wish me dead.’
Rhiannon ground her teeth. ‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Wishing I were six feet under has to be the same thing,’ he said gravely.
‘You were the one.’ She broke off. ‘All right, I may have—’
‘You did.’
‘I didn’t really mean it. Satisfied?’ She eyed him.
‘Not unless you have dinner with me.’ He’d propped himself against a kitchen counter with his arms folded.
He’d changed into khaki trousers and a long-sleeved, light blue linen shirt. He looked big, relaxed yet entirely immoveable.
Rhiannon made a kittenish little sound of frustration.
He straightened, went to the fridge and brought out a bottle of wine. He poured a glass and handed it to her.
‘Go and have a soak in a warm bath, wash your hair and whatever else girls do. The restaurant I have in mind is informal but pleasant and the food’s good. We’ll leave at six-thirty—no, don’t say no or I’ll come and help you.’
She tossed him such a sparkling look of outrage, he laughed softly and said, ‘On the other hand, I’ve had my shower and changed.’
‘I never thought you actually meant it!’
‘I wouldn’t put it to the test, shower or no shower, Rhiannon. And I wouldn’t be too sure you wouldn’t enjoy it, either.’
Their gazes clashed but, although his was still amused, she’d had at least two demonstrations of the lengths Lee Richardson would go to to get his own way today.
Not only that but she was also afflicted by a sudden vision of them showering together, of him soaping her body and.
She switched her mental vision off with an audible click, audible only to her. But her heels did click on the kitchen tiles as she turned away from him and swept out.
It was when she was spraying on her perfume, a precious bottle given to her for Christmas by her aunt, that Andrea Richardson came back to mind suddenly.
She’d done everything Lee had suggested—soaked in the bath, washed her hair and changed her clothes for taupe linen trousers and a lime-green silky knit top cinched into her waist with a wide bronze belt.
But she couldn’t help wondering suddenly what place Ross Richardson’s widow held in the family now. Obviously not a happy one but surely she deserved some status?
She shrugged, checked her reflection and took a deep breath.
‘Not such a bad idea after all,’ Lee said to her over a red and white checked tablecloth and an oil lamp on the restaurant veranda.
‘No,’ Rhiannon had to agree.
She’d
