Page 86 of The Knitting Club at Wagtail Ridge

He looked up at Margaret. ‘I’m a good father.’

‘Then I’m sure we can make this go away. I think we should try mediation first. That might solve the problem before it even gets in front of a court. And if it doesn’t, knowing we tried will help get the judge on our side. What would it take for you to agree to let Sally see Vicki again?’

‘I never wanted to stop her seeing her grandparents—I want to stop them interfering. Giving her things. Imagine giving a six-year-old a mobile phone without even talking to me about it. She keeps hinting to Vicki that she should go and live with them. I know why she’s doing all this. She’s never got over losing Kim.’Neither have I.‘But she can’t expect Vicki to take Kim’s place. I honestly think she needs counselling. If she agreed to that, and to talking to me before giving her gifts, then I’d be happy for her to be back in Vicki’s life.’

‘What about the grandfather?’

‘Brian is a good guy. He’s struggled with Kim’s death too, but not the way Sally has. I’m sure he thinks Sally needs help. He loves his wife, but I think he’s afraid of driving her away if he insists.’

‘I see.’ Margaret put down the pen with which she’d been making notes on her yellow legal pad. ‘I’ll draft another letter to Sally’s solicitor, suggesting mediation. I think perhaps Sally is being goaded into this with bad legal advice. The firm she has hired is not exactly reputable. If this is all she has, if there is nothing else, I can make it all go away.’

Matt hesitated a fraction of a second. ‘There’s nothing else.’ He looked Margaret firmly in the eyes, hoping she would believe him. Because there really was nothing else. Not even Sally would stoop so low as to dredge up—No. She wouldn’t. That would tarnish the memory of her daughter, at least in Sally’s eyes. She wouldn’t do that, would she? If she did, Matt would fight her every step of the way. Nothing would spoil his memories of Kim. And nothing would destroy his future with Vicki.

‘Thank you.’ There was one more issue he had to deal with. Margaret was obviously a formidable woman and excellent at her job. He was glad she was on his side. But there was an issue he could no longer avoid. ‘Bree originally offered to help me, even though I can’t afford—’

Margaret held up her hand. ‘My daughter asked me to help. I will. After all, what would you do for your daughter?’

Her mask seemed to briefly drop and Matt thought he could see the woman behind the tough solicitor. For the first time, he realised Margaret had mismatched eyes. Bree must have inherited them from her. Strange how the steeliness of her face had hidden that from him. He wondered how many of the people she had faced across the courtroom had noticed.

‘I would do anything for my daughter.’

‘So, enough said.’ Margaret smiled. It was a far more genuine smile than the one with which she had greeted him before their meeting. ‘Right. Now, could you please point me in the direction of this shop my mother has bought? My husband is there talking to my mother’s boyfriend—if that’s the correct word—about renovations.’

‘I’ll walk with you. I’m on my way to join Vicki at the hall. I’ll stay with her for knitting club. I still don’t trust Sally not to try a repeat of her previous unannounced visit.’

As they left the house, Margaret paused. She looked decidedly uncomfortable, which Matt guessed was not a common thing for such a dynamic and confident woman.

‘Matt, I’m not interfering, but I wonder …’

Matt nodded. Of course she would ask about him and Bree. She was Bree’s mother, after all. And he really wasn’t sure what to say. He liked Bree—a lot. She was attractive and smart and funny. Independent and … everything. Whenever he was in the same room as her, he wanted to be close to her. He wanted—

‘It’s about my mother and this man, Mike. We met him last night at dinner. He seems nice. But I’m worried that my mother is being … I’m not sure. Swept off her feet? That might be the right expression. It’s her life, I just don’t want her to be hurt.’

‘Mike is a good guy,’ Matt assured her. ‘Don’t be fooled by that rough exterior. He’s a gentleman, in the real meaning of the word. He’s smart and kind and he’s not after her money, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘That thought had crossed my mind.’ The hardness was returning to her voice and eyes.

‘That’s not Mike. He’s been moving around the region with his crew for years. I’ve never heard a bad word said about him. And besides—’ it wasn’t really Matt’s place to say this, but, ‘—Rose is a smart woman. She’s got her head screwed on straight. I don’t think she needs looking out for.’

They resumed walking as, a short distance ahead, a ute pulled up in front of Bree’s shopfront. Mike got out from behind the wheel, looking strong and workmanlike in his T-shirt and jeans. Gary got out of the passenger side, looking somewhat out of place in his ironed chinos and sports shirt and loafers. The two of them went to the back of the ute and slid out a huge wooden table. Rose emerged from the shop door, holding it open to allow the men to carry their burden inside.

‘I do hope you are right, Mr Ambrose.’ The voice was once again the clipped, cold tones of a lawyer.

CHAPTER

34

Two weeks later, Rose’s Alpaca Emporium was ready to open for business. The doors would open at ten the following morning, with both Rose and Bree on duty for the first day. But before that could happen, there was need of a celebration. Bree left the farm in Maggie’s care when the afternoon feeds were done. Maggie would join the party later, but Bree needed the first few minutes in the store alone. She drove into town, unlocked the shop’s front door and stepped inside. She stood in the middle of the room and slowly turned in a circle, unable to take the smile off her face.

Jake, with a bit of help from Mike, had worked wonders on the place. The smell of fresh paint hadn’t quite faded, but the vibrant blue walls and yellow shelving were cheerful. The box shelves were already stocked with yarn. Some of it was Bree’s own, spun from her fleeces. Other sections contained commercially sourced yarn of different styles, colours and price. Other shelves held a selection of needles, stitch holders and other accessories, with a bookshelf full of patterns and pattern books right next to it. The back wall featured several large photographs of Bree’s alpacas and people holding them, including, right in the centre, Vicki and Sky.

Pride of place in the store went to the big table sitting squarely in the middle of the room. It was big enough for people to lay out pattern books and yarn or to show off a finished project. A yarn swift could be fastened to one end to wind wool from hanks into balls. And the knitters could gather around it to knit, help each other and share the joy of their work.

Or, as it was now, it could be covered with glasses and bottles of wine.

The back door opened and Rose walked in to place a cheese platter on the table.

‘I can’t believe how perfect that table is,’ Bree said to her grandmother. ‘The guys pulled off a blinder finding that.’

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