She glanced, somewhat hesitantly, at her beloved cottage, with its sage green walls and pretty white trim. It seemed too serendipitous. Was this inheritance the miracle she’d prayed for? Could it fund her purchase of the cottage? Could she actually buy her dream home?
She kept reading, eager for more details.
It is my duty, however, to inform you that conditions have been placed on the gifts. To claim your inheritance, you are required to travel to Western Australia and live within the district of Karlup for a period of three months.
Beth frowned. Why would an aunt she’d never even known ask her to uproot her life for three months?
The letter went on to say that she’d be given provisional access to the house during that period and a stipend from the estate would be offered to cover living expenses and any repairs or improvements to the property that she deemed necessary. Once the three months had elapsed, she would secure her inheritance. If, however, she was unable or unwilling to meet these conditions, the property would be sold and the proceeds donated to the local farming community.
‘Whoa.’ Prudence Campbell hadn’t been mucking around when she’d drawn up her will. Though, considering she’d never met Beth, and hadn’t known a single thing about her, it was actually quite logical to make her gifts conditional. Beth could respect that decision. What she didn’t understand was her aunt’s insistence that she live in thedistrictof Karlup. Why not in the house she’d left her? That would at least make sense.
So now Beth had a decision to make—either uproot her life for three months or kiss this life-changing inheritance goodbye. She could challenge the terms of the will, she supposed, but time was of the essence. There was a for sale sign in front of her cottage, after all.
But taking this opportunity would surely mean giving up her job, which she didn’t want to do despite her invisibility in the lunchroom.
Worrying at the corner of her mouth, Beth looked down at the solicitor’s letter once more, certain that she’d come to a decision. Only time would tell if it was the right one.
CHAPTER
THREE
Three and a half hours after leaving Perth Airport in her rental car, Beth passed the Welcome to Karlup sign. Population 1,574.
Historically, she’d always loved the moment of arrival in a new place. No matter how much she’d hated moving, no matter how much she’d resented Rosie’s nomadic lifestyle, she’d always harboured a smidgeon of hope whenever they’d arrived in a new town. In the early days, she’d savoured the possibilities, wondering whether this would be the place that finally inspired Rosie to stay put, or if the kids in town would be different from others she’d encountered. Would they welcome her and accept her as one of their own?
As she got older and made peace with the fact that those things just weren’t on the cards for her, Beth focused instead on getting the lie of the land. There was comfort to be found in knowing a place as well as one might know a friend, so she made it her mission to learn each town’s secrets, its customs and traditions, its places of refuge and its claim to fame. On that first drive through, she’d always keep her eyes peeled for anything worth exploring.
But this time?
Tightening her grip on the steering wheel, Beth tried to make sense of what she was feeling. On the one hand, she was finally here, ready to serve her time and claim her inheritance, but there’d be no dreaming of possibilities, no making plans to explore. She’d stay long enough to claim her aunt’s estate and sell the house to the highest bidder, by which time her landlords hopefully would’ve accepted her expression of interest on the cottage and she could head home to Townsville and her forever home.
Two weeks had passed since she’d received the letter from Barrington and O’Dwyer. Thankfully, her boss at DHB had agreed to grant her leave without pay. So now all she had to do was meet the conditions of her great aunt’s will—oh, and find a job in town so she could keep paying rent on the cottage. The stipend from her aunt’s estate wouldn’t extend as far as covering her expenses in Townsville, so job hunting had to be one of her first priorities.
Distracted, she glanced out at the undulating hills, green with pasture, that decorated either side of the highway. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen such lush farmland. Drought had devastated the cattle stations in central Queensland and the land was bone dry, animal numbers were dwindling and farmers’ businesses were suffering. That didn’t seem to be the case here. The hills were dotted with dams sparkling in the mid-morning sun.
The speed limit dropped and Beth eased off on the accelerator before navigating a bend. The hills dipped and a swollen river, lined with eucalypts, ran between them. The car’s tyres rumbled over a wooden bridge spanning the waterway, the sound softening when she reached the other side and the smoother road surface.
She’d reached the centre of town.
Shifting in her seat, she attempted to ignore the sights along Karlup’s main street and focused on the car’s GPS instead. She refused to be sidetracked from the task at hand, but her gaze landed on something so bizarre her interest was piqued. A bicycle, its basket overflowing with flowers, leaned against the entrance to the caravan park, its frame completely encased in pastel-coloured crochet. Even the wheels hadn’t been spared!
The planter boxes were next to catch her eye, dotted as they were along the footpaths and filled with tulips of every colour. Did tulips have a scent? If they did, it must smell glorious out there.
She passed quaint shopfronts and an enormous old country hotel that sat in the centre of town. Directly opposite was a bowling green, the grass perfectly manicured and edged with deep-red roses. She glimpsed a monument of a dingo-like animal with a sign beside it that declared it to be the Karlup Tiger.Like the Tasmanian Tiger?
Just as the GPS instructed her to turn right, Beth passed a beautiful two-storey red-brick house, its front yard featuring an enormous tree. It looked like it might be a jacaranda—her favourite kind of tree—though at this time of year, its branches were bare. She bet it would be a focal point for everyone in the street when it was in full bloom.
On Blackwood River Road, she kept an eye on the house numbers and pulled up to the kerb in front of number twenty-seven. Her stomach plummeted. Hoping she’d misread the address, she scrolled through her phone and double-checked Vince O’Dwyer’s email. Yep, number twenty-seven. She had the right house—and the place was a shambles. Selling it wouldn’t be as easy as she’d hoped.
To be fair, though, Vince had warned her when she’d spoken to him to arrange their meeting. ‘It’s been sitting empty for years,’ he’d said, ‘and requires a bit of TLC.’
Deciding to take a closer look—and needing to stretch her legs after the long drive—Beth hopped from the car and cast her eyes over the property.
The front yard was badly neglected. The grass was high enough to swallow a small child, though mowing it to a respectable length might be all it needed. The external cladding on the house, however, was badly weathered and needed repainting, or perhaps replacing. Green shoots sprouted from the gutters and moss covered a good portion of the roof sheeting. So much to do before she could put the house on the market—and she hadn’t even looked inside!
A vehicle approached and pulled up behind her rental car. A balding man, dressed neatly in a suit and tie, stepped out. He tucked a brown leather satchel under one arm and made his way over to her. His brows rising expectantly, he smiled and thrust a hand towards her.
‘You must be Ms Sullivan.’
