Winter Beginnings Page 8

  The employment contract she’d signed was informal at best. It had probably been put together by a neighbour or a customer, someone known to him or his father who’d owned the garage before him. There would be loopholes. Potholes, even. She could argue her right to be employed elsewhere, so long as it didn’t impact on her work at the garage.

  She shifted and licked her lips. Closed her eyes.

  Except it was impacting on her work.

  It was impacting on her entire life. There weren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done, and more than four hours of sleep each night was a luxury.

  She wasn’t being her best self. The best worker, the best friend, the best daughter. Worse than all of that, she wasn’t being the best mother she could be to her son.

  He deserved better than a zombie who marched in and out the front door, hungry for money. And yet what could she do? Each job could not support them on its own. She had to keep chasing that next paycheck.

  The car was still warm from the heater she’d blasted on the way home.

  She’d talk to him. To Dean. Soon. He was a fair man. A kind man. He worried about customers paying for services they didn’t need, and he’d offered to help her before, without knowing her situation. He wouldn’t cast her out.

  She filled her lungs, and her chest lifted against the seatbelt. She breathed out and tried to think how to start such a conversation.

  Maybe over coffee.

  Far out, coffee would be good right about now.

  Her mind wandered back to the hot drink she’d shared with Dean—with her friend—and then memories became dreams as she slipped into sleep.

  Chapter 10

  Alice’s good intentions went no further than the front door of Foster’s Garage. It was the following day, her neck was killing her from an extended nap in the car yesterday, and the very man she’d hoped to speak with was already speaking with someone else. Forcefully.

  Dean stood opposite Daniel Peck, the youngest mechanic on staff. Dean’s hands were on his hips and Danny’s were in his pockets. Danny’s long face was made longer still by his obvious misery.

  ‘I know we do this day in and day out,’ Dean was saying. He glanced towards Alice and nodded a stiff welcome.

  She offered him an uncertain smile.

  Dean looked back to Danny. ‘Come through to my office.’

  Danny led the way, head down. Dean glanced at Alice again, then followed.

  Alice hesitated in the doorway, then stepped fully inside and shrugged off her jacket. She lifted the air conditioner remote from its cradle and thumbed the temperature up. After a wondering glance down the little corridor behind her desk, she flipped the closed sign over and the workday officially began.

  Dean had closed his office door, but when she settled in her seat and sat quietly, waiting for her computer to boot up, she could still hear him.

  ‘We can never be complacent,’ he was saying. His voice was low but firm. Brimming with authority. It brought to mind the cold morning he’d gathered their children at the school to sort out their differences. He’d brooked no nonsense. ‘Not when our customers—our families, our mates—leave here then drive a hundred kilometres an hour down the highway.’ There was a heavy pause. ‘If you miss something, you could kill someone.’

  Alice didn’t hear Danny’s reply, and she was happy not to. Something had happened, or almost happened, and Dean was in Boss Mode.

  Today was not the day for a heart-to-heart.

  She shelved her plans and logged on to her computer. Her confessions could wait another day. The outstanding invoices and unread customer enquiries filling up her inbox could not.

  A few minutes later, Danny hurried past her, head down and neck flushed a deep red. He stepped into the garage and closed the adjoining door behind him.

  Through the window she watched his back as he retreated to his regular station, then turned in her seat when she heard Dean step into the corridor. He muttered, ‘Morning, Alice,’ but didn’t break stride. He went out the opposite door, the one which led to the mystery space that had been keeping Ethan so busy.

  Through the window in the door, Alice could see him stop in the middle of the concrete slab. His hands went to his hips and his head dropped to his chin. His body was shaking, she realised, then she saw his foot bouncing like a Morse code transmission key.

  She looked away. The words on her computer screen were meaningless. She read them over and over before she gave up and looked towards him again.

  She should go out there.

  As a friend. As, she added a little shamefully, an employee who was about to need a good turn. If she was an ear for him now, maybe he would be more generous with her when she told him about her second job. One good turn, and all that.

  His jacket was hanging on the coat rack by the garage door, and she gathered this in her arms after she shrugged back into hers. It was freezing in there, as there were no working machines to heat the space, and Ethan often left the roller door open for hours at a time. If Dean wasn’t feeling the cold now, he would be shortly, however much his blood might be hot from confrontation.

  At his side, she found she didn’t have the words to start, so she handed him his jacket without speaking. He didn’t speak his thanks, but nodded it.

  They stood side by side. The material of his jacket swished and whispered as he pulled it on.

  She waited, and suspected maybe he was waiting too. But she could outlast him. Small talk had never been her thing, and being as she was about her personal life, she wasn’t quick to pry into people’s business either.

  At length, Dean sighed, and Alice knew the heart-to-heart was about to begin.

  ‘Attention to detail,’ he murmured. ‘I’m not being dramatic when I say it can save lives.’

  Alice nodded.

  ‘Fatigue, distraction and deceitfulness,’ he went on, ‘they have no place here. I can’t allow them to.’ He rubbed at the skin of his freshly shaved face, dragging his mouth from side to side.

  Alice pulled her jacket tighter around her body, but the cold was inside her now. She wasn’t wielding a socket wrench or responsible for a customer’s car and its innumerable parts, but she was part of this team, and three for three, Dean could have been describing her own behaviour.

  Hadn’t she come to work on the brink of sleep—many times? Wasn’t she lying by omission? And only yesterday he’d caught her losing focus.

  Whatever Danny had done—and she doubted now that Dean was going to tell her—Alice felt that Dean’s ire should probably extend to her too.

  As for her confession, the stakes seemed higher now than they had half an hour ago. The carefully considered words she’d practiced on her drive into work seemed suddenly inadequate. And even if Dean didn’t ask her to give up her second job, he couldn’t permit her to have the very behaviours he’d just forbade Danny. He wasn’t a hypocrite, and she wouldn’t put him in that position.

  Which meant, what? She could work to reduce her fatigue and distraction, but a person was either deceitful or they were not.

  Alice could tell him about her job and she could eliminate her fatigue by reducing her hours at one or both places, but that would only increase her distraction, as she’d worry about less money coming in.

  Was this a no-win situation? Could Alice only ever offer two of three?

  ‘What is it?’ Dean asked, shocking her from the march of questions in her mind. He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘You think I’m being unfair? Expecting too much?’ He huffed a breath and gazed around the empty space.

  Her fingers uncurled from the arm of her jacket, but when she realised she meant to touch him, she grasped the material again. ‘No, that’s not it,’ she said, hating that she’d made him doubt himself and his management.

  Heat finally came, but it was the burn of frustration. Impatient with herself, she rocked onto the balls of her feet and let her hair fall forward over her face, between them.

  She never had the word
s, could never think of the right thing to say. Tonight when she was bussing a table or polishing cutlery, she’d think of the perfect thing to say, but that would be hours too late and of no help to anyone.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I shouldn’t be speaking with you about such things. This isn’t your problem.’

  It was in a way he didn’t know, but even though she was all the things he said he couldn’t allow, she wanted it to be her problem.

  She wanted to be his confidant. She hadn’t wanted to be, moments ago when she’d only come out here because she’d needed something from him, but something had changed. Inexplicably, she wanted to carry some of the things which burdened him.

  Which was saying a lot, considering her arms were already full.

  The things he carried, they were such pure things to worry about. Staff behaviour, customer safety, his children’s happiness … her comfort. She thought of all the little things he’d done for her, from dropping her close to the pub door when it had been raining, to washing her cup so she could go out to her angry son, and she felt something like generosity bloom from deep within her. A new stem on the proverbial branch of her heart.

  The absurdity of it all didn’t escape her: she was falling for the man who held her financial security in the palm of his grease-stained hand. He’d just listed her shortcomings when he’d listed Danny’s, and instead of feeling cautioned, she was feeling … abandon.

  He was a good man. A sweet, decent, slightly haunted man with a lot of baggage.

  And she wanted to share his problems. She liked that he had come to her for advice yesterday. That he talked to her so kindly and openly, even if it was in his protracted way.

  Of course, she had no words to express these feelings. Nor did she have the slightest idea what she was going to do about this change in her, which seemed bound to further complicate her life.

  ‘You do you,’ she said, rather inadequately. And then, because he looked uninspired, she added, ‘You’re a good boss.’

  She half-turned. Her face angled towards the office door but her shoulders facing Dean, she said, ‘I should get back.’ She imagined her fingers combing through the mess of her mind, looking for gold amongst quartz. ‘Whatever happened—’ her words were slow and quiet, ‘—Danny likes working here. And likes working for you.’

  It would have to do. It wasn’t going to inspire a greeting card, but at least she hadn’t embarrassed herself.

  She felt his eyes on her back as she walked away, and for the first time in a long time, she hoped a man liked what he saw.

  Chapter 11

  The house was freezing. Nina had insisted that they practice for camping by getting used to the cold, so Dean and Rowan were huddled on the couch thinking warm thoughts, wearing jumpers over shirts over singlets, and not speaking. Nina had unpacked the tent that Dean had bought at the country outfitters, and was wearing it like a shawl. It trailed behind her, hissing on the floorboards as she walked. Occasionally one of the ropes snagged in something and she was forced to disentangle herself, but it provided adequate wind protection whenever she opened an external door or window to further cool the house.

  Dean longed for the warmth of the ducted heating, and if that was denied him much longer, he was going to crawl into bed and call it quits on the day. At four o’clock.

  Rowan touched his lips—perhaps to see if they were still there—then scowled at his father. ‘You’re indulging her again,’ he said.

  Dean raised an eyebrow. Sometimes Rowan—a spitting image of his uncle—opened his mouth and Ethan tumbled out. No doubt the pair of them talked during the many hours they spent together at the warehouse extension. Rowan idolised the man, and parroted him often.

  ‘I’m indulging this conversation too,’ he countered playfully.

  Rowan rolled his eyes and wriggled further into the cocoon of his clothes. He blinked at the floor, and Dean waited. He knew his son—knew when something was on his mind and not sitting right on his tongue.

  There was a bang in the hallway, then an, ‘I’m okay!’

  ‘Is the furniture?’ Dean called back.

  A pause, then Nina said, ‘It’s okay!’

  Grinning, Dean looked back at Rowan.

  ‘Was camping Ms Jaye’s idea?’ Rowan picked at a piece of fluff on his jumper and avoided looking at his father. He thought his eyes gave things away, so he often busied them when he was asking something important. It was a tell to cover a tell.

  Dean shook his head. ‘No, it was my idea. I didn’t know she camped until you did.’

  ‘Will she come with us one time?’

  ‘Would you like her to?’

  Rowan shrugged. ‘I dunno. It could be cool, I’ve never seen a girl camp before.’

  ‘You’ve never seen a boy camp before either.’

  ‘True.’

  They didn’t speak again for a few minutes.

  ‘Everything’s quiet,’ Dean said, shifting in his seat to look towards the hallway. ‘What do you suppose your sister’s up to?’

  ‘Something strange.’

  ‘That’s what I was thinking.’

  Dean stood, shook the blood into his legs, then strode towards the suspicious silence. He found the tent discarded at the foot of the stairs, its tangled ropes stretched behind it like that of a tousled jellyfish. A chilling breeze barrelled through the open front door and made the material dance. There were no discernible sounds coming from upstairs, but there was a low hum coming from the kitchen which begged investigation.

  The first thing he noticed was that the window in the kitchen was not open. It was a little warmer in here, and the open oven door explained that. Nina was sitting on the floor beside it, her knees against her chest and her arms around her knees. The air from the oven fan was making the hair about her face stir. She stared back at him with enormous eyes. His lips popped open.

  ‘I’m weak!’ she cried. She threw her arms wide and fell onto her back. ‘I’m so weak!’ She rolled onto her side and angled her face towards the floor. She was a tangle of limbs now, and Dean’s surprise made him slow to realise that the pressure in his chest would be laughter if he freed it.

  ‘Promise me it won’t be cold!’ she wailed.

  Rowan appeared at Dean’s side, spied the sneaky source of heat, and let out an indignant shout. ‘Hey! Dad!’ He rounded on Dean and pointed at his sister, as if Dean needed to be shown the source of his outrage.

  Dean put his hand over his mouth. He was going to lose it. He should really be telling Nina off for turning on the oven, and quieting Rowan before he worked himself into a temper, but the disciplinarian in Dean wouldn’t stir.

  There was only the laughter.

  Nina lifted her head to peer over at them. Rowan’s pointed finger dropped and his eyebrows lifted.

  Dean’s shoulders began to shake. Then his chest shook. It was only when his whole body was shaking and he was bent double, gasping at the floor, that the sound came.

  A roar of laughter that filled him and spilled from him.

  Rowan tackled him and Dean went down easily. He slumped, back against the wall and arms around his son, onto the floor, and moments later Nina was there too, elbowing her way into a good position. The three of them laughed together. The kids didn’t fully understand the joke, but then again, neither did Dean.

  Neenz huddled by the oven had been funny, but not to this degree. This was something else. And it lasted at least five glorious minutes.

  When they’d all exhausted themselves, they lay where they’d fallen. Dean’s arms were heavy and his chest ached. He was breathless but energised, and damn, was he happy.

  ‘You haven’t laughed like that in ages,’ Nina said, her face pointed towards the ceiling again. She said this around a smile.

  Dean pulled her tighter against him but didn’t reply.

  Rowan poked her and she wriggled.

  Dean thought about Bree, and felt his mood sober. She’d always been saying and doing the damnedest th
ings and here was her little girl, a replica of her eccentricity and charm. He hadn’t laughed like that since before Bree had died. It had taken years for the world to budge itself out of the long shadow her loss had cast him in, and whilst it wasn’t full sunshine, it was leagues lighter now.

  And today of all days. It was a marvel to think that this moment had come on the heels of this morning. He’d been forced to issue a formal reprimand at work—something new for both him and his typically prized employee.

  Danny had rushed a repair. It had been the end of a long day, he’d been tired and he’d had one eye on the clock. Things hadn’t been reassembled correctly. Had Dean not noticed a few extra parts in Danny’s workstation following the service and called the customer back, the next they’d heard of that car might’ve been in the news headlines following catastrophic engine failure.

  People could have died.

  Dean had been sure he’d be spending this evening lost in reflection and agitation. It had been a significant incident. Yet here he was, huddled together with his little family, an exhausted smile on his face.

  All because of Alice.

  Alice who’d come into his life and given him the time he needed to be an effective manager and a better father. He would never have spotted those spare engine parts a few weeks ago; he would have been blurring from one job to the next, or in his office buried under mounds of ceaseless paperwork. He might have been the weary, distracted one doing sub-par work. And even though his kids walked to the garage more than he met them at the school gate now, he was spending more time with them than ever. Here he was, home at a reasonable hour, and he wasn’t even brooding because as succinct as his talk with Alice this morning had been, it had helped. It had also felt a little nice to be checked on.

  She’d followed him out, listened to him complain, said a few reassuring things then given him his space.

  It had warmed him from the inside for most of the day. Combined with the jacket she’d brought him, he’d been very comfortable indeed.