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Just by looking at him, Rafe couldn’t quite tell if Mr Bridges was old or had simply led an eventful life.
His hair was grey with patches of silver and his skin, that which was visible, was tanned and leathery and covered in the blueish-green ink of old tattoos. His voice, however, seemed younger than the rest of him appeared to be.
“Good morning, Mr Bridges,” Jane said, holding out her hand to shake the old man’s. “Remember me?”
A brilliant smile lit the man’s face and put a twinkle in his milky blue eyes. “Miss Melville! How could I forget you, or your maple pecan tart?” The old man leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, “I don’t suppose you brought another one with you?”
Jane smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to bake anything for you. The decision to fly down was very last minute.”
She glanced at Rafe and he moved to stand behind her, rested his hands on her shoulders. Let her know he was there for her.
Reassure her.
Mr Bridges patted her hand and offered her a kind smile, then unlocked the door and ushered them inside.
“Yes, yes. Your lawyer friend here told me all about your unpleasant situation over the phone. I wish I could help you out, sweetheart, I really do, but I can’t afford to lose that much money, especially on a job that is already completed and not likely to sell to anyone else.
“A mobile patisserie is not all that common. Most of the trucks I fix up are for burgers, pizza and coffee.” He put the kettle on to boil. “I did have a run of French crepe trucks a few years back, but they almost all went bust inside of a year. Would you like a cup of tea?”
Jane shook her head. “No, thank you. I appreciate your concern and I understand your point of view completely. It’s just a shitty situation all round, I guess.”
Rafe cleared his throat. “About the lease, I’d—”
Mr Bridges waved him off. “It’s too early to talk about money.” He turned to Jane again. “How about you come and see your truck. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To take her home to sunny Queensland?”
A spark of excitement lit up Jane’s face, followed closely by apprehension. She looked at Rafe again, as though asking for his permission and his heart ached at her loss of confidence.
He hadn’t really noticed it at home, where she was surrounded by family and familiarity. Here, now, in this unfamiliar situation it was obvious she was second guessing herself.
The woman who had aced every test they’d thrown at her at one of the toughest culinary schools in the world, was scared and unsure.
If I ever see Sam Lyndon again I will sell his body for dog meat.
And he could too.
Rafe knew people.
He took Jane’s hand and smiled. “I think she’d like that very much. And as her business partner, so would I.”
Eyes wide, Jane opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again and nodded. Her lips twitched up in one corner. “Yeah. That sounds like a plan.”
Rafe followed Jane and Mr Bridges through to the main floor of the warehouse. The outfitter flicked a switch on the wall, and as the lights flickered on he saw row after row of food trucks, vans and trailers in various stages of transformation.
Sitting out front was a large cream coloured van with a big pink logo on the side.
Street Sweets Mobile Patisserie.
“There she is. A ‘65 Chevy Step-Van with interior and paint as per your instructions. Whaddaya think?”
“She’s beautiful,” she said softly, her hands pressed to her cheeks and her voice filled to the brim with awe. “Can I look inside?”
“Of course.” Mr Bridges handed Jane a set of car keys. “She’s all your now.”
Jane unlocked the van and climbed inside. A few seconds later she made a loudsqueeenoise and the van started rocking as though she were jumping up and down. Which he realised she probably was. She did that when she was excited.
Rafe smiled and shook his head, then noticed the outfitter watching him curiously. “Should we discuss payment now?” he asked, shifting once more into work mode. “I’d like to pay out the lease today.”
The old man’s eyebrows shot up and his jaw fell slack. “The whole amount?”
