Page List

Font Size:

Impossible.

But could she really hang the tinsel and pull the crackers—something she hadn’t done for the last seventeen years of her life?

Then again, how could she not give Lenore exactly what she wanted? How could she not grant a dying woman, a woman who was like family, one final wish?

Turning her back on the starry night sky, Hannah pulled down the blind and retrieved her wine from the table. A crimson ring circled the aged wood, the first piece of furniture she’d bought when she’d arrived in Yarrabee. It would leave a stain but right now her care factor was zero.

Downing the half-glass of shiraz in a few gulps, she picked up her phone, found Lenore’s number and let her finger hover over the call button. Her hand trembled. She was trained to deal with other people’s grief but managing her own was a different matter entirely. No problem, she’d just handle it as if she was talking to a client, making an appointment like she did every day of her working life. But this wasn’t any patient, this was Lenore, and she’d see through the bravado in five seconds flat. Maybe better to leave it until tomorrow, until the knife lodged in her gut disintegrated into needles with the thin veil of time. Even if it was only overnight.

She switched her phone to silent, turned off the lights and pulled on her PJs without bothering with her normal skincare routine. All she wanted was to disappear between the pages of a romance novel, escape into a fictional world where she could pretend that happy endings really were possible.

Chapter 2

Just Blush was the ideal colour. Dark enough to provide definition but light enough to go with any of her work clothes. And it complemented her pale pink pantsuit perfectly. Lipstick applied, foundation covering the grey circles rimming her bloodshot eyes, Hannah angled her head in the mirror and ruffled the ends of her wavy bob. Her Scandinavian genes didn’t exactly suit the Australian climate but her sun safety precautions seemed to be working. She tugged on the lapels of her jacket, the text she’d been mentally drafting to Lenore since first waking replaying itself in her head like a Buddhist mantra.

Would love to have you and Nancy here for Christmas. Let me know your arrival date. Can’t wait to see you.

That’s where it would remain until she could bring herself to convert thought into action.

Her breakfast did a well-timed flip inside her stomach. The peanut butter toast plus a banana protein smoothie may have been overkill. It would be fine. She would definitely send the text, just not right now.

Time to get to work, the perfect distraction.

Based on the case notes she’d read about her next client, this session could prove challenging. Nothing she couldn’t handle. Dealing with wayward teens had become an integral part of her practice.

She stepped across the threshold into her waiting room. Having a separate office space made for a good division of work and home. This house had been such a great find.

‘Good morning.’

A chirpy greeting startled Hannah to a stop. She stared at the woman sitting behind the reception desk, her mop of red curls alarmingly bouffant.

‘Crystal?’ Was that her name? ‘What are you doing here?’

For a split second the beaming smile faded, only to be followed by a barking laugh. ‘Oh, you’re good. You almost got me there.’

‘Got you?’

‘Yeah, you know, like tricked me into thinking you weren’t expecting me. I wouldn’t have taken you for a leg-puller.’

Leg-puller? What was this woman talking about?

‘So …’ Crystal pointed to the computer screen, running her finger down an imaginary line in the air. ‘Pretty full schedule today. Owen Morgan is in first, then—’

‘Sorry …’ Either Hannah had entered another dimension where her office had been taken over by an alien impersonating a woman she’d spoken to briefly about possibly taking on a part-time receptionist role, or one of the two of them had the wrong end of a very sharp stick. ‘Did we actually agree on a starting date? As in today?’

Crystal checked the enormous watch strapped to her wrist, possibly doubling as a resistance weight. ‘Monday, November twenty-eight. That’s today. A day for fresh starts, according to my astrology app.’

The conversation they’d had only a couple of weeks ago—the last time Hannah had eaten her lunch in at Something’s Brewing, started to coalesce in her brain. Clive had introduced them and said Crystal had great admin skills if she ever needed a receptionist. Crystal had rattled off a verbal resume and said she’d be happy to do a trial and yes, maybe they had agreed on a start date, but why wasn’t it in her diary?

‘Okay, maybe we need to—’

‘I told you, I’m not going in there by myself.’

This time the conversation was coming from outside the front door. What was it today with strange voices and out-of-body experiences?

‘And I toldyou, you don’t have a choice,’ a deeper voice replied. ‘Get back here.’

What the hell was going on?