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I rolled my eyes. “You can never take a master painter off the brush.”
Stacey surprised me by talking with Dad about the technical issues she’d had with painting the parlour and how she was prepping the exterior stonework. Soon Dad and Stacey were swapping ideas about colours and period decoration. If Dad wasn’t happily married to my mother, I’d be jealous. Maybe I was anyway. Mum winked my way before mentioning to Stacey about how hard it was to find respite care for Liam where they lived in Brisbane.
Stacey noticed someone in the crowd and waved her over, introducing her to Mum as Trish, the coordinator for the local respite group for parents with children with disabilities. Mum asked Trish many questions about support and getting respite carers in the district, and then introduced her to me, and soon they were chatting about all sorts of things.
Stacey caught my eye and smiled, and right then, I knew.Tonight,I’m going to tell her how I feel.
“Harry, so glad you came.”
Leonie joined our little group, along with Pam. “Hey, Mrs T. Great party tonight.”
I introduced Leonie to my parents and Liam.
“Stay for the party, I insist,” Leonie said. “You’re more than welcome to join us.”
Worlds had now definitely collided and it had been seamless.
Drinks flowed. Music played. We danced.
And I waited patiently for the clock to tick down so I could get Stacey alone and declare myself fully and wholly hers.
24
STACEY
Ballydoon Community Group:
Eugene posted 6.14 p.m.:
Wanted: old firefighter jackets and helmets for costumes. Doing fire brigade theme for the kangaroos next week. Please drop in donations at the general store.
Harry made his way to the bar while our families danced. Wendy was a lovely woman and had asked many questions about Ballydoon life. Dave was curious about my painting jobs at home. I seemed to pass a test when he’d approved how I was prepping the stone and plaster for painting.
But a thought wouldn’t go away.Where did that leave Harry and I when his job was done?
Our table was hidden from other tables behind a hedge covered in fairy lights. Voices carried through the foliage, derailing my thoughts.
“Amanda never told me her younger brother, Tom, was so good looking. He’s still at uni though.”
“I want to see the full sleeve tatts on her older brother’s arm. And if he’s got others on that body of his.” Squeals of disbelief and laughter followed. “What? I like ink!”
“I’d tap Tom but I’m not ready for cougar status yet.” More laughter.
Holy shit, some ladies were thirsting for my brothers!
“Hey, ladies. More bubbles?” Amanda had arrived at their table. She must be with her Sydney friends.
“Is it French, or the local stuff?”
“It’s local,” Amanda’s voice wavered. “I don’t think they have French champagne here.”
“Guess it will do,” one said with disdain.
“Gin selection was also woeful. That blonde bartender had no idea about the brand I asked for.”
“You’re not in Sydney anymore, darling.” More giggling followed.
I sighed. I wished Amanda would stick up for Ballydoon. The bubbles were made by the Zanettis—her best friend, for god’s sake—and it was fantastic wine. I’m sure they could all survive without a certain gin label for a weekend.
