Page 2 of The Mistletoe Wish

His name meant nothing to Sara. She must have been mistaken when she’d thought she’d met him before today.

“This is most unusual.” Excitement along with curiosity flared in Ty Devereaux’s eyes as he flipped through a bundle of loose printed pages on his desk. “Before we start, procedures must be followed. Could you both please present me with your driver’s license along with your passport if you have one or your birth certificate and Medicare card.”

A few minutes passed while he perused their ID’s and ticked boxes on one of the pieces of paper. After handing back their documents, he offered them a folder each. “Now allow me to inform you why you are here and then you can read the information provided.”

Pausing, he took a sip of water before folding his hands on top of his desk. “Thanks to the generosity of a certain benefactor, you are now the joint owners of a property which consists of twenty-five acres of land encompassing a house, one windmill and two dams.”

His statement fell into a pool of silence that seemed to last forever.

Eventually, Darim Cooper drew in a sharp breath but didn’t respond. His chair creaked as he shifted his weight jarring Sara out of her shock. She actually wondered if perhaps she was asleep, dreaming.

Surely, she had misheard. Surely, her greatest wish had not just been handed to her on a silver platter. “I’m sorry, Mr. Deveraux, but would you mind repeating what you just said?” The words came out in a rush, almost tumbling together.

“Of course.” A smile creased his face.

After he finished, Sara didn’t feel as if she was any the wiser. “I don’t understand.” She shot a glance at the silent man beside her who shook his head, as if indicating he also was at a loss. “Are you certain you haven’t made a mistake? I have no relatives in this country. I don’t even know if I have anyone in the world that could be related to me. Both my parents came from a South Korean orphanage. And I’ve certainly done nothing to warrant such a gift, or a reward.”

Quite the opposite in fact. The shame that never left her night or day, gnawed away in the depths of her soul. She made no move to rifle through the folder, instead she placed it onto the desk. Beating back her tormenting memories, she twisted her hands together where they lay hidden in her lap.

“I’m also confused and know of no one who would do such a thing.” Darim tapped a finger on the papers he held as if emphasising a point. Although what that could possibly be, Sara had no idea.

Ignoring the man seated beside her, she fixed her attention on the solicitor, not wanting to miss one nuance of expression. “I’m certain you know more than what you are saying.”

Ty Deveraux inclined his head slowly. “That is correct, however I am limited by client confidentiality as to what I can reveal, in particular the benefactor’s identity. Basically, the bequest was initiated from the assistance you both gave a stranded gentleman approximately seven years back.”

Sara shuddered and ducked her head. Seven years ago. A low point in her life that she had no wish to recall in any detail whatsoever. Her heart banged painfully against her ribs as she fought the flutter of panic beginning to hammer in her mind. Her muscles tensed. If the solicitor was about to mention her past, she’d be packed and gone before nightfall.

“Of course!” exclaimed Darim. “I remember now. I thought I had seen you before … Miss … er …”

Sara turned to look at him as Ty interjected helpfully. “Sara Pyeon.”

Darim continued. “It was ten forty-five oh hundred and very cold, when I noticed a stationery car with its bonnet up on the road ahead.” Here he paused and a pulse ticked to life beside his left temple as if not all his memories were pleasant. “We were coming back from a family holiday visiting the natural springs in Moree and my wife was keen to reach Singleton before dinner that night. As I pulled over, another car coming in the opposite direction also stopped. That was you, I believe.” His sharp gaze drilled into hers.

So hewasthat guy! But more to the point, she’d been mistaken; this appointment had nothing to do with her past sins. Relief was as intoxicating as the mulled home-made organic wine made by a pair of elderly local sisters. Sara willed her hands to stop shaking and rushed into speech as details of that chance meeting flashed into her mind. “I was heading to Bindarra Creek.”

There was no need to divulge the purpose of what had been her first visit to the small town. “An elderly gentleman had suffered a puncture and when he’d attempted to retrieve the spare tyre from the boot, he’d fallen over. I think he had knocked his head on something because he seemed a bit dazed. Plus, there was blood on his face.” She paused.

A faint smile appeared on Darim’s face and his rich, brown eyes warmed with laughter.

Try as she might, Sara couldn’t prevent the blush that swept up her neck when she recalled what had happened next. Determined to prove she was in control of her life, of herself, hell anything would do, she’d marched to the boot and hefted the tyre out despite Darim’s declaration to leave it for him. But the tyre had been heavier than she’d expected. She had staggered backwards, and the tyre had slipped out of her hands. The next instant, it was rolling merrily down the highway with Darim chasing after it – much to the delight of the little girl watching from the backseat of his car.

It had taken another hour before they were able to wave the old man on his way. He’d asked for their names, Sara now remembered, although he had made no mention of his own. “So, the man we helped has given me a house as a way of saying thank you?”

When spoken out loud, the idea hardly seemed feasible. There was no such thing as a free ride. There had to be a catch. Something the bloke would want in return. Or maybe this was all some elaborate hoax?

Darim must have been thinking along the same lines, as a heavy frown chased away any lingering amusement. He pushed the folder across the desk towards the solicitor. “I don’t believe in fairy godmothers or fathers.”

“It’s all perfectly legal and above board. I assure you there is no mistake,” Deveraux said in an affronted voice. “There are however certain conditions that must be met and adhered to before the property is transferred into your joint names.”

“Joint?” Sara said.

Almost in unison, Darim queried, “Conditions?”

“Exactly.” Ty began to read from the uppermost document. “Stipulation number one: both parties must reside in the house for no less than twelve months from the date of signing the agreement. Stipulation number two: neither party can sell, will or donate their share until that period has ended. Stipulation number three: if either party stays away from the property for more than twenty-four hours at one time, unless both parties are together, than they forfeit their share to the other party. An emergency obviously will not count, however said emergency must be authorised by the executor. Work related issues also come under this heading. Stipulation number four: no additions or alterations to the size of the main house is to be carried out during this period, apart from any repairs to ensure the dwelling is up to livable standards. Stipulation number five: any repairs or maintenance required must be run past the executor for approval and authorisation for the works to proceed.”

He looked over first at Sara and then Darim. “There are more conditions, but they are minor ones. Now I do have another appointment soon, so let’s get the ball rolling. I’m sure you are both eager to inspect your new home. I need your signatures here, here, and here. Don’t worry, I will get my assistant to make a copy of the agreement for each of you.”

Head whirling, Sara hovered the pen above the line marked with her name. It was if she was being tempted or tested, rather like Eve with the apple. Try as she might, however, she couldn’t resist this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. This could be her only chance of achieving her dream - owning a little land where she could run a home business making rugs and wall-hangings from llama fibre. The pen slipped from her clammy fingers. Flushing a little as she felt the men’s eyes resting on her, her hand shaking, she snatched up the pen and signed.

---