Page 62 of The Knitting Club at Wagtail Ridge

A door at the back of the shop opened onto a short, covered walkway that ended at the door of a small weatherboard cottage. Like the shop, it needed a coat of paint. But that wasn’t a concern for Rose. A coat of paint was easy.

When Matt unlocked the door, they stepped straight into a kitchen.

‘This is the back door,’ Matt said. ‘There is a front door that opens onto the street at the back. Makes it far more like a home.’

Rose’s idea of what made a home was very specific. People. Memories. Comfort. Love. And those came to the house with each new owner.

It didn’t take long to inspect the cottage; it wasn’t very big. There were two bedrooms, both of reasonable size, and one bathroom. Rose winced when she looked inside. Avocado green had never been her favourite colour, but bathroom fittings could be changed. It was liveable for now. So too was the kitchen. It was a surprisingly big room. Despite the ancient electric stove and the gaping hole where a fridge had once stood, Rose could see a lot of potential. There would be room for a good-sized kitchen table and chairs. Rose was a firm believer that big kitchen tables were the heart of any home. The striped wallpaper in the living room would have to go, but with cool, pale blue walls and bookshelves and light furniture, it could be a lovely room. In so many ways, this cottage was as far from her Sydney flat as it was possible to be, but Rose felt it tugging at her.

She had already made up her mind when Bree joined her in the kitchen. Matt had discreetly vanished.

‘The shop is great,’ Bree said. ‘I’d love to have it, but I’d need someone to be here while I was at The Gums. I can’t afford more staff yet—maybe in a few months, when I’m a bit more established. Hopefully the owner will still be willing to rent it to me.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Rose said.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because I’ve decided to buy the place.’

‘What?’ The shock on Bree’s face was comical. ‘Why?’

‘Lots of reasons.’

‘Please don’t buy it just because of me.’

‘I’m not.’ Rose searched for the right words to explain. ‘I was eighteen and still living with my parents when I met your grandfather. It was love at first sight.’ Her words slowed as the memories came flooding back. William’s handsome face. His lovely rich voice. The way her heart had skipped that first time he had looked her way. ‘At nineteen, we were married and I was about to become a mother. While I was home looking after Margaret, your grandfather was building the firm. By the time Margaret was grown and working with her father, I had become a corporate wife. The perfect hostess in our apartment overlooking the harbour. When William died, all that stopped and suddenly I wasn’t important any more.’

‘You were always important to me, Nan.’

‘I know, darling. But I don’t think I was important to me.’

‘Oh, Nan.’

‘Don’t misunderstand, I don’t regret a single moment of my life. But it was always defined by what other people needed me to be. I never had the chance to do something entirely for me. To have the life I wanted.’

‘And this is the life you wanted?’ Bree indicated the tiny cottage around them.

‘It is what I want now. I like the idea of living in Wagtail Ridge, of running a small craft shop. I could sell your wool and help you out, but there might be other local crafts people whose things I could stock. Help them too. I might even properly start dating Mike. I want to try all those things. Your grandfather left me ridiculously well off, so I can afford to do this. It’s time I spread my wings a bit.’

Rose caught the glimpse of a tear in Bree’s eyes and felt her own well up in response. As she hugged her granddaughter, she knew she’d made the right decision.

CHAPTER

24

Matt wasn’t quite sure how things had happened so quickly. One minute he had been talking Keith into renting the shop to Bree; now he was doing the paperwork for an offer to buy it. From Rose. He shook his head. He was beginning to understand that nothing about Bree and her grandmother was what he might expect. From the minute Bree had walked into his office with her wild curly hair and those odd-coloured eyes, the stable, staid life he was trying to build for himself and Vicki had been turned on its ear.

Alpacas. Knitting classes. And those kisses last night at the dance. His world was not what it had been. And that was a good thing. As was the invitation for him and Vicki to go to dinner that night at The Gums.

He looked at the computer screen where he was composing the offer email for Keith. If this sale went ahead, he’d have some spare money. He might take Vicki on a trip somewhere. Just the two of them. That would be fun. He ignored the tiny voice at the back of his head that was telling him it would be even more fun if Bree came with them.

He hit send and closed his email down. He hovered the mouse over the icon that would call up the photo of Kim and Vicki. The photo he opened every day and looked at with a mixture of love and heartbreak. He lifted his hand from the mouse and stretched his fingers. Instead of clicking on the icon, he reached for the unopened brown envelope that had been delivered earlier. He didn’t recognise the solicitor’s name in the corner of it.

He read the first few lines of the letter inside and froze. This was not paperwork for the sale of a house—this was an attack on the very fabric of his life.

He dropped the letter on the desk and took several deep breaths before reading it carefully all the way through. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. The letterhead paper looked real, but it had to be some sort of cruel joke.

But deep in his gut, he knew it wasn’t.

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