Her Best Friend (19 page)

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Authors: Sarah Mayberry

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BOOK: Her Best Friend
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A
MY WOKE EARLY
the next morning. She showered, ate breakfast and drove to the Grand even though it was barely six.
Once there, she flicked on the lights and did a slow tour, trying to get her head around what needed doing next and not think about the mess that was her private life.

A futile effort, at the best of times.

She stopped by the concession stand, noting that Quinn had made a start on it yesterday. She ran her hand over the newly stripped wood. Then she turned away and climbed the stairs to the upper foyer.

“You’re a mad cow,” she said to herself as she reached the top. “A mad, irrational, contrary cow.”

Because she was angry with Quinn. There was no getting around it. She’d waited all afternoon and all night for him to call or come by her house. Even though she’d told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted to forget all about her declaration. Even though she’d been marinating in guilt since Lisa had unfolded her slim body from her expensive European car and reminded Amy of everything that was at stake.

She’d wanted Quinn to come to her, to force her to discuss what had happened. She’d wanted him to override all her objections and denials and say all the things she’d waited half a lifetime to hear.

Which made her officially crazy, because she already knew how he felt, what he wanted: to be friends. Period. He’d already told her so, after they’d kissed. And he’d told her again with his body language when she’d blurted out her drunken confession. Yet she’d still tensed every time she heard a car in the street last night.

Frustrated with herself, Amy tackled reorganizing their building supplies, forcibly keeping her tangled thoughts at bay with bruising physical labor. By the time she heard Quinn’s heavy tread in the rear exit corridor she was covered with sweat from lugging paint cans and ladders around. She stood and wiped her forearm across her forehead as Quinn entered the theatre.

“Hi,” she said. Her belly muscles did their usual tighten-release thing at the sight of him, hair still damp from the shower, thighs long and lean in worn denim. She might be angry and disappointed in him, but she still wanted him.

“How did your lunch go?”

“Good. Lis and I had a nice catch-up.”

She risked a glance at his face but couldn’t get a read on his mood.

“I saw you started on the concession stand,” she said. “Should come up well.”

“Yeah. Going to take a bit of work, though.”

“Yep. Lot of wood there.”

“Might need to get some paint stripper onto the carved sections,” he said.

“Right. I can get some stuff from the store later. Or you can go grab it if you like…?”

Dear God. This was excruciating. There were so many dead cows in the room it was a wonder either of them could fit.

You did this, Amy. You made things this way.

And the best thing was, there was more to come, thanks to the phone call she’d received from Lisa last night.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said suddenly. Might as well get it over and done with. “Lisa offered to help out at the Grand while she’s in town. I didn’t know how you’d feel about it. But I didn’t want to say no, either. So…”

Quinn’s jaw tensed.

“Sorry.” It felt woefully inadequate. She was well aware that he hadn’t taken time off work so he could rub shoulders with his estranged wife.

“It’s not your fault. How long is she here?”

Amy pushed her hair back from her forehead. She hated having a conversation that cast Lisa as the stinky kid, but the reality was that Quinn had every right to not want to spend time with her. It was an awkward situation, any way you looked at it.

“Two days, I think.”

He glanced at the floor for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay. Where do you want me today? Back on the concession stand?”

“I know it’s uncomfortable,” she said. “I didn’t know how to put her off without hurting her feelings.”

“It’s all right, Ames. I’m a big boy. I can handle it. Where do you want me?”

He didn’t want to talk about it. Which made two of them.

“You’ve made a great start on the stand. So if you wanted to keep at it, that would be great.”

“Sure.” He exited to the foyer.

Amy closed her eyes for a long beat. If only she’d had the presence of mind to politely deflect Lisa’s offer. And if only Lisa hadn’t asked in the first place.

She’d made a start in the ladies’ bathroom by the time Lisa arrived an hour later. Lisa struck a pose in the doorway, showing off what was obviously a brand-new pair of jeans and a crisp white T-shirt. “Check it out. The best Daylesford fashion has to offer. Good look for me, huh?”

She was being sarcastic since the jeans were about fifteen years out of date, but Lisa could make sackcloth look good.

“That T-shirt is going to stay clean for approximately sixty seconds. You know that, right?” Amy said, pushing her protective eye goggles up onto her forehead.

“Sacrifices have to be made. So, where do you want me?” Lisa rubbed her hands together as though she couldn’t wait to dive into work.

Amy gestured toward the wall where she was scraping tile. “Grab a dust mask and some goggles and get banging. When we’re done here, there’s the gents’ next door to tackle.”

Amy had half expected Lisa to balk at the prospect of chipping tile off with a hammer and chisel, but she reached for the second pair of safety goggles without hesitation.

“Was Quinn okay about me helping out?” she asked after a short silence.

Amy hesitated a moment, wondering what her obligations were in this situation. Protect Lisa’s feelings? Play peacekeeper?

“He wasn’t exactly jumping for joy, but he’s cool with it,” she said, deciding simple honesty would have to do the trick.

A flicker of hurt crossed Lisa’s face. Then she mustered a smile. “Well. I guess I should get used to that. So, am I just smashing the hell out of this stuff or is there an art to it?”

They worked side by side all morning. The tension banding Amy’s chest slowly dissolved as she and Lisa caught up on each other’s lives. It was uncomfortable hearing her friend talk about Stuart, the man she’d left Quinn for, but Amy figured she was going to have to get used to it if she and Lisa were to continue being friends. They were laughing about one of Lisa’s court stories when Quinn appeared in the doorway.

“Lunch is up.”

He didn’t hang around for a response, slipping out the door and into the theatre. Amy tugged off her goggles and tried not to feel like a traitor because she’d been giggling with the enemy.

When she and Lisa entered the foyer they discovered Quinn had been out and bought rolls and doughnuts from the bakery, as well as large take-out coffees. He nudged the one marked low-fat toward Lisa wordlessly. She looked surprised for a moment before she took it and murmured a thank-you.

Amy watched them both surreptitiously as she ate her ham and salad roll. Ostensibly Quinn looked at ease, sprawled on the stairs, but she wondered if it was an act. Lisa kept up a steady stream of chatter about nothing much, a sure sign she was nervous. Amy swallowed the last bite of her roll as quickly as possible.

Not the most pleasant and relaxed meal of her lifetime, that was for sure.

She and Lisa went back to work once they’d polished off their doughnuts and by late afternoon they’d stripped all the walls bare.

“Coffee break,” Amy declared as the last tile smashed to the floor. She sat back on her heels, dropped her hammer and chisel and shook out her aching arms.

“Isn’t there a machine you can hire that can do this for you?” Lisa asked from the other side of the room.

She sounded exhausted and Amy spared her a glance. Her face was coated with dust and dirt and, as Amy had predicted, her T-shirt was beyond redemption.

“Probably, but I can’t afford it,” Amy said with a tired grin.

“I’ll give you the money. Hell, I’ll buy you the machine, no matter what it costs. Consider it a donation.”

Amy pushed herself to her feet. “Come on. I’ll buy you another one of those disgusting low-fat lattes you love so much and you’ll feel better.”

Quinn was working on the front panel of the counter when they passed. He glanced up at Amy when she rested a hand on his shoulder to get his attention but didn’t turn the sander off. She mimed drinking a coffee and he nodded yes. Amy unlocked the front door and started walking toward the Gourmet Larder.

“I hope I haven’t made things weird between you and Quinn,” Lisa said after a moment.

Amy shot her a wary look. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it was just the two of you, before I came along. I’d hate to think I was cramping your style, making things weird between you both.”

No worries about that. I took care of that all on my own.

“We’re fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“I asked Quinn if he thought we could ever be friends again yesterday,” Lisa volunteered suddenly.

Amy almost stumbled over a crack in the pavement. “What did he say?”

“That we can’t turn back the clock.”

Amy bit her lip and frowned at her feet. “Is that why you wanted to help out at the Grand? To try and change his mind?”

“No.”

Amy slid her a look. Lisa’s mouth tilted up at the corner.

“Okay, a little. But I wanted to help out, too. This way I get some bragging rights whenever I’m in town. ‘I tiled the loos at the Grand.’”

They’d reached the Larder and Amy waited to one side as a woman with a baby pram exited the store. She was about to step over the threshold when someone called her name. She glanced over her shoulder and froze when she saw Barry Ulrich striding toward her.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Lisa asked.

“That’s Barry Ulrich,” Amy explained quietly.

She’d filled Lisa in on the developer’s tactics over lunch and she felt Lisa straighten to her full height as Ulrich stopped in front of them. Thank God Lisa was a lawyer, too. Maybe she could stop Amy from making the situation even more disastrous than it already was.

“Ms. Parker. I was just coming to see you.”

“I’m afraid I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Ulrich,” Amy said coolly. “My lawyer has instructed me that any and all correspondence be directed through him.”

Ulrich pulled an envelope from the leather portfolio he was carrying.

“I’m withdrawing the suit, so you can call off your guard dog, all right?” he said abruptly, offering her the envelope.

Amy stared at the letter but didn’t take it. This had to be some kind of trick. Some ploy to get her mad enough to say something else stupid and destructive.

“Are you deaf or something? I said I’m dropping the action,” Ulrich said impatiently.

No wonder she’d felt compelled to assault the man with a muffin—he was a rude butt-head.

“Let me,” Lisa said, and she took the envelope. There was a rustle of paper as she unfolded the letter. After scanning it briefly she met Amy’s eyes.

“It’s true. He’s filed a motion to drop the suit.”

Amy felt a little dizzy. How…? Why…?

“I’ve done my bit, now it’s time for you to do yours. Call off your guard dog,” Ulrich said.

Amy shook her head, hopelessly lost and overwhelmed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play games with me, missy. I’ve had two calls from the Australian Securities and Investment Commission this week already.”

Amy opened her mouth to deny whatever he was accusing her of again but Lisa’s hand suddenly clamped down on her shoulder.

“I assume this means Amy won’t be having any more after-hours visitors at the theatre?” Lisa asked silkily.

Ulrich made a big deal out of straightening the cuffs on his shirt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lisa smiled thinly. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to do better than that.”

Ulrich glared at her for a long moment. Then he cleared his throat. “As far as I’m concerned, the Grand project is defunct. Ulrich Construction is no longer interested in the site.”

Amy sucked in air to speak but Lisa’s hand tightened on her shoulder again.

“Excellent. Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Ulrich. Have a lovely day,” Lisa said.

Amy gave in to the insistent pressure on her shoulder and started walking up the street, away from the Larder.

“What was that all about?” she asked when they were out of earshot. “Has he really dropped the suit? Is he trying to trick me or something?”

Lisa passed the letter over. “Read it yourself. He’s acknowledged in writing that no material harm has come to him or his business as a result of your statements. Even if he wanted to, he can’t sue you now. With that letter on record, it wouldn’t get past a first meeting.”

“But…why? I don’t get it. He had me over a barrel. Quinn said he could keep me in court for years.”

“One of the great things about being at law school with a bunch of other lawyers is the friendships you form,” Lisa said. “All those study hours and parties after exams are great for bonding. Then you all graduate and go out into the big wide world. Some people end up in private practice, others go corporate. Others work for the government.”

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