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‘Why do you need to do anything?’
‘I’ve been trying to think what Stan would do, what he’d want me to do.’
‘I get that,’ Will said, ‘I often find myself trying to work out what Dee would do or say in a particular situation – like when Owen decided to move out, or when he wanted to set up his business. So, what would Stan do?’
‘I think he’d want us to contact her.’
‘You haven’t as yet?’
‘No. I’m torn between respecting Han’s wishes and wanting to do the right thing.’
‘What do you think this woman wants?’
‘I’m not sure. It seems she recently lost her mother and is reaching out to whatever family she might have left. I can see where she’s coming from, but…’
‘I understand.’ Will knew how he’d try to avoid doing anything to upset Owen. ‘Hannah’s determined to ignore her?’
‘Yes.’
Daringly, Will put his hand on Cleo’s. ‘Well, I suggest you do the same. Maybe Hannah’s wishes should come first?’
‘Hmm. Maybe you’re right,’ Cleo said. But she still looked worried.
Will squeezed her hand. ‘It’s not as if this woman’s likely to turn up here in Bellbird Bay, is it?’
‘No…oo.’ But Cleo didn’t sound convinced. ‘But what if she does?’
‘Well, we can cross that bridge when we come to it – if we come to it.’ He squeezed Cleo’s hand again, delighted to feel an answering pressure.
‘You’re right,’ Cleo looked up at him with a smile, ‘I may be worrying about nothing. I should put Hannah’s wishes first.’
Will smiled right back, so relieved that he’d been some help.
‘Now, how about I fill up your glass and we talk about happier things?’
‘Thanks.’ Cleo smiled again and held out her glass.
Twenty-four
Cleo gazed at herself in the mirror. Had she really agreed to spending an entire day with Will Rankin? After their meeting to discuss fundraising, it had been easy to agree to see Will again on Saturday, when they’d dined in style atThe Beach House.
The restaurant, sitting almost on top of the ocean was one Cleo had often wanted to visit, but the opportunity had never arisen. It wasn’t the sort of place her budget stretched to, she and Hannah preferringThe Bay Bistroor the local Italian restaurant on the few occasions they chose to eat out. Mostly, they’d preferred to stay home and enjoy Cleo’s homecooked meals.
She’d enjoyed the ambiance, Will’s conversation, and the atmosphere. The delicious food and the wine had lulled her into agreeing to spend the day together on Tuesday – her day off from the café.
Now she wasn’t sure if they had enough in common to spend a whole day together. It would be a test of their new relationship, one which she still wasn’t convinced was a good idea.
Cleo waited nervously for Will to pick her up. Without explaining his reason, he’d recommended she dress comfortably and wear pants, causing Cleo to wonder what on earth he had in mind. She soon found out.
When she opened the door to Will’s knock, dressed in a pair of jeans and shirt, a sweater knotted around her neck in case the weather changed, she saw on the road, not the white surf school van she’d expected, but a sleek red motor scooter.
‘Yours?’ she asked.
‘All mine. It’s not feasible to take the van everywhere and it’s filled with my boards. I’ve always kept a ute for use when I’m not working, and when Owen moved out, I gave him the use of it and bought this. Isn’t it wonderful? I always wanted a bike or a scooter, but, when my mates were spending their money on them, I was saving up to get married. What do you think?’
For a moment, Cleo was too surprised to offer an opinion, then said, ‘It looks good. Stan had a bike when we first met.’ Another reminder of her husband, one which brought back good memories, memories of riding on the back of his bike, her hair flowing from under her helmet, the wind in her face, the feeling nothing mattered but the man she was clinging madly to.
‘I have a helmet for you.’
