made clear to me that I am honoured to work on logistics and I’d better not stuff it up.
‘Right.’ I clear my throat. ‘We have four seats confirmed on a flight departing from Hobart on the nineteenth of December. Cougar will be travelling with cameraman Rory Fleming, producer Mary Hogan and stylist Alicia Waring. Her Antarctic liaison is Lucas Nilsson.’
Lucas Nilsson. Thank goodness I’m not the one who’s going to be stuck in Antarctica with Lucas Nilsson. Good luck to Cougar, is all I can say. Dealing with Lucas, who is based at the Australian Antarctic Division in Hobart, has been beyond frustrating. If there was ever a man with no concept of project management, it is him. I make a mental note to check that he’s got my latest spreadsheet and continue. ‘The trip to Antarctica takes four and a half hours—’ A rumbling noise interrupts me.
Cougar skateboards into the room. Instantly everyone is on full alert. Cougar radiates star power. An aura moves with her, lighting up her long, tanned limbs, her bouncy black hair. She flicks her skateboard with her toe and carries it to the table, drains her vegetable juice in one gulp. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she perches on her chair.
She glances at the clock on the wall. ‘Okay, guys, let’s move it. I’ve got a date at the rock-climbing gym in half an hour.’ She manages to sound as if we’ve kept her waiting for hours.
Chapter Four
I evaluate for improved performance
Project: Becoming Mrs Adrian Robertson
Objective: Depart restaurant with ring on finger
17.45: Finish work, go to bathroom and change to night-time ‘look’
18.15: Leave office
18.30: Arrive at Le Max
18.30–18.45: Glass of wine and light conversation with Adrian
18.45: Adrian proposes. I accept graciously. The entire restaurant, which has been briefed, claps and cheers.
Critical event: Adrian proposing
I am at Le Max at exactly six-thirty pm. My hair is fluffed up and I have added lipstick, the slinky top and a spray of the Le Nuit perfume which Adrian gave me for my birthday. I inspect my reflection in the restaurant door as I open it. I look neat, clean and efficient with a touch of sex appeal. Perfect. No-one would ever know I was a hippie chick from Nimbin.
I am not trying to be a Dynasty-style vixen or a The Bold and the Beautiful seductress. No, I aim to be the type of woman a man wants on his team – an asset to the corporation, a suitable candidate for a merger and expansion.
‘Romantic love is a modern concept,’ Adrian told me the other night. ‘For most of history, marriage was about improving your lot in life, finding a partner to forge ahead with.’
He didn’t say as much, but it was clear to me he thought I was the partner with whom such productive forging could be achieved.
The waiter shows me to our pre-booked table. We always take one near the window. Adrian and I are valued customers. Renaldo has a special smile tonight. He has probably been briefed by Adrian.
‘Bring me a glass of chilled cabernet sauvignon please.’ Adrian has been teaching me about wine. I was strictly a beer and mixed spirits girl before I met him.
Renaldo’s brow creases.
Damn. Cabernet sauvignon must be the red one. Lucky Adrian isn’t here. ‘On second thoughts, make that a sauvignon blanc.’
His face clears and he departs.
While I wait for Adrian, I pull out my laptop and start a new email.
To: Marley Lennon Wright
From: Summer Dawn Rain Wright
Subject: The Project Adrian Plan
I had never intended to see Adrian again after I got off the plane, Marley.
Sure, I’d felt something when he talked about the Cone of Certainty, but it was like watching an animal in the zoo. It was entertaining, but you don’t want to get intimate with an armadillo. I had nowhere near accepted that I needed what he had.
But when I touched down in Sydney everything changed.
I switched on my phone as I got into the airport terminal. It beeped immediately. I had a text message from Mum – Call me.
I rolled my eyes. Mum would want to know when I was coming home. I had no intention of moving back to Nimbin, but I planned to visit once I’d sorted out some accommodation in Sydney.
I wanted to see you, Marley, if nothing else.
I pressed ‘call’ as I waited at the baggage carousel.
‘Summer?’ Her voice was high-pitched. ‘You need to come home. Marley’s in hospital. A tree fall.’
I swayed on my feet, my fingers tingling.
In the press of people jostling for their luggage, a hand gripped my arm. It was Adrian.
His touch was comforting. More than that, it held me up. ‘Is he, going to be alright?’ I croaked into the phone.
‘We don’t know. You’d better come home.’
It was Adrian who sat me down, retrieved my bag, bought me a cup of sweet tea, booked me on the next available flight to Ballina and sat with me while I waited, not talking, for my flight to depart. His capable aura dispelled my panic – I would have been a gibbering wreck without him. He pressed his card into my hand as I stood to board the flight. ‘Get in touch? When you’re back in Sydney?’
I stuffed it in my pocket, not expecting to ever see him again. My mind was on you.
But six weeks later in Nimbin, when the rain was turning our garden to a quagmire and I still didn’t know what I was doing with my life, I found his card. As I turned it in my hands, I remembered the Cone of Certainty – how the light shone through the window as he said it. And, being the hippie chick I was, it seemed like destiny. I gave him a call.
Adrian was so sweet those first few weeks. He used his contacts to help me find a flat. We went to the movies, out to dinner, and took long walks around the harbour. He was courtly, always the gentleman. He walked on the traffic side of the footpath, took my arm to help me over puddles. I’d never been treated like that before. In Nimbin you knew a guy liked you if he passed you the joint first.
And he was so competent. If he said he’d be there at ten, he’d be there at ten precisely, like a Japanese train. He said he’d find me a flat and a job and, voila, he did. I’d never met anyone like him. It was clear if I stayed in Adrian’s wake, doors would open.
On the third week we were dating, he introduced me to his favourite hobby – running. We ran somewhere in the bush near his apartment. Adrian ran around me in circles as I huffed and puffed. He might have noticed I wasn’t all that into it as the running wasn’t repeated.
Instead,
