Morgan's Law (34 page)

‘Are you all right, ma'am?' he asked.

Sarah forced a smile to her face. The man who'd stepped forward to grab her was a tourist, and from the sound of it, an American tourist. His big Stetson looked out of place here in the centre of London, and immediately Sarah thought of another country boy who would have worn his hat as a badge of honour too and stood out like the proverbial sore thumb.

Thanking the cowboy, she made her way to the office without any further near misses, but the incident had shaken her—and it wasn't all due to almost being run over. It just seemed that everywhere she looked and everywhere she went there was always something that reminded her of Adam, or Tash—she even found herself giving complete strangers fascinating tidbits of useless information about cotton.

She researched the cotton industry even though it seemed pointless when she was never going to need any of that knowledge. She suspected that a psychologist would explain it as her way of maintaining some kind of a connection with Negallan, but it had been over ten months since she'd left and she shouldn't still miss it like this. And that was the problem—when she was in Negallan, she'd been worried that she was missing out on what was happening here, and when she was here, she missed being in Negallan.

It was March, and back in Negallan they'd be getting ready to harvest. Sarah's life settled into a busy routine, having slipped back into the habit of taking on more work to avoid having too much time to think about all the things she still missed. Then, one afternoon after work, Sarah's safe routine was given a rude shake-up.

Three weeks earlier she'd received a phone call from an old friend who worked in America, saying his company needed someone with her experience to run a department in their New York office and he'd suggested her. Sarah hadn't thought she stood much of a chance of landing such a huge job and so didn't give it too much thought after not hearing anything further over the next few days. But the following week an email arrived asking if she could meet with the CEO for an interview while he was in London on business, and Sarah suddenly took the possibility of scoring an amazing job
very
seriously.

The interview had been one of the most nerve-racking things she'd ever done. Halfway through the interview she realised just how monumental a job like this would be, and had an attack of the jitters. Certain she'd blown it, Sarah bought a bottle of wine and drowned her sorrows, eventually consoling herself with the fact she hadn't really wanted to move all the way to America anyway! But then tonight, a mere three days after her interview, her phone rang at home and, with barely any preliminaries, the CEO's voice calmly informed her that she had the job!

A million thoughts raced through her head at once. This was so much bigger than she'd ever dreamed. How naive had she been to consider Brandl & McBride as the pinnacle of her career? The truth was she'd never really given much thought to what came next. Her career goals had only ever gone as far as picturing this point in her life, but here she was now, having conquered one mountain, only to realise beyond that was another one—even higher.

The CEO formally congratulated her and they talked logistics and Sarah saw a thousand and one things on a to-do list flash before her eyes. There were visas and travel requirements to work out, but she'd have to hand in her resignation first—her stomach lurched at that. She loved this place, but then she reminded herself that it was business . . . She'd work out whatever time they required, then she'd be free to move on.
Move on
—the thought seemed to echo around her. Maybe this was exactly what she needed, to keep moving forward, not back. Maybe this would erase the feeling that she was simply floating untethered—caught in a limbo of second thoughts and uncertainty. She needed to make a fresh start. She had seventy-two hours to get back to them and accept the job.

The next day Sarah sat at her desk unable to concentrate on the paperwork in front of her. She was still in a dilemma about the New York job and the thought of telling her bosses she was resigning weighed heavily on her mind. It hadn't helped that she'd been unable to contact Tash, either.

With harvesting about to start, if it hadn't already, the gin would be preparing for a hectic few months, but Sarah could really have used a little bit of Tash's level-headed advice right now. Then, as if the woman had ESP, Tash's number flashed on her phone.

‘Hey stranger, sorry I missed your call yesterday. It's been crazy around here.' Tash went on to fill Sarah in about the upcoming harvest season, even though most of it went straight over Sarah's head. ‘How're things with you?'

‘Oh . . . good. Same old, same old.'

‘Bull. What's going on?'

Sarah smiled into the phone and shook her head. There was no putting anything past Tash. God, she missed her. After telling Tash about the job offer, Sarah sat back in her chair with a sigh. It felt good to get it off her chest at last.

Tash let out a low whistle on the other end of the phone. ‘That's a pretty big offer. So what's stopping you accepting straightaway? You've worked hard to get where you are. Your company didn't do you any huge favours, so you don't owe them anything just because eventually you got the promotion you'd been working yourself into the ground to get. If this is what you want then you should just do it.'

Sarah stared out the window of her office and watched the traffic moving past. It was a good question . . . what
was
stopping her from accepting?

The phone ringing woke Sarah. It had been the first time in almost three days she'd had a decent night's sleep, after finally making peace with her decision.

‘Tash? What time is it?'

‘Sorry to wake you, but this couldn't wait.'

‘What's happened?' Sarah pushed herself up in bed, worried by the unexpected call.

‘Remember how I told you everyone thought this year's crop was going to be huge?'

Sarah loved Tash, but calling to discuss cotton at this hour of the morning was definitely stretching the friendship. ‘Yes?' she said a bit flatly.

‘It's better than huge.'

‘That's great, Tash. Can I call you back later—when it's daylight?'

‘I think you'll want to hear this bit, grumpy,' Tash teased. ‘The projected haul has made it possible to open a paid position on the board—Sare, the job's perfect for you.'

‘A job?'

‘Okay, it pays a pittance compared to that fancy New York job, but you could always freelance on the side if you wanted to start your own business. I mean, it's not impossible to fly to Sydney every few weeks if you had to, and meanwhile you could be living back in Negallan and doing what you love.'

‘Tash, would you take a breath?'

‘Just apply, Sare. Check your email and call me back.'

‘I resigned yesterday, Tash. I've already accepted the New York job.'

On the other end of the phone, Sarah could picture Tash giving a shrug. ‘Just tell them you changed your mind. Take a look at the email.'

After Tash disconnected the call. Sarah stared at the phone in her hand. Just last night she'd finally thought her life was sorted. She'd made her decision, handed in her resignation and convinced herself that she didn't have to stress any more over what to do. And now Tash had thrown a huge spanner in the works.

Sarah didn't immediately open her laptop; instead, she went back to bed and tried to ignore the bubble of excitement Tash's call had reignited inside her at the prospect of returning to Negallan. Her resolve not to read the email lasted all of twenty minutes.

It was official—she'd lost her freakin' mind. What was she thinking? Sarah couldn't believe what she'd just done. Dropping her head onto the desk, she closed her eyes and tried to rationalise why she had just applied for a job that paid less than she spent on her yearly wardrobe, when she'd already secured one in New York that paid twice what she earned now!

Sitting in a small café later that morning, Sarah watched an old couple seated at the table across from her. That old couple could have been Rose and William if they'd been allowed to follow their hearts. The thought saddened her, but as she watched them longer, a smile tugged at her lips. She loved the way the old man slid the sugar bowl across the table towards his wife as their cups were placed before them, and how she poured the milk into his. It was those little things that two people who had been together so long did automatically—almost as though each was an extension of the other. And finally everything became clear—fate was offering her the second chance William and Rose hadn't got, and all she had to do was reach out and take it.

Thirty-One

Welcome to Negallan—home of Cott & Co.
The new sign brought a smile of pride to Sarah's lips as she passed it on the outskirts of town. How different the trip out here was this time around. The first time she'd driven out here she'd had no idea where she was going or what to expect once she got there; this time she still didn't know what to expect, but she knew where she was going and was anxious to get there, so the trip seemed to drag.

Within a week of applying she'd been notified that the position on the Cott & Co board was hers and here she was, a month later, her furniture on a boat somewhere, bound for Australia, her suitcases crammed in the boot of her BMW, and what felt like a stomachful of butterflies fighting to get out as she drove into the small town.

The last of the harvest had been processed through the gin and the town was celebrating with a street party. Over the last few weeks Tash had been filling her in on the big event and Sarah was glad she had managed to get back in time to see it. Parking her car, she headed straight for the Royal to track down Tash.

Activities had started earlier in the day, but she'd arrived in time for the street party and barbecue; already the smell of onions and sausages was wafting through the air and Sarah's mouth was watering.