Chapter One
Cabarita Beach
Jemima Everest sat in her car for a few moments after the sound of the engine died away and adjusted the rearview mirror until she could see her own reflection. She grimaced at the sight of more salt than pepper in her curls, then shook her head.
“Time is a cruel mistress.” She applied a mauve-coloured lipstick, pushed the mirror back into place.
Last month, she’d turned seventy-two and experienced what seemed like an onslaught of new wrinkles across her increasingly sagging face. But she was determined not to let it bother her—she saw every wrinkle as evidence that she’d survived yet another year. The privilege of aging was one she embraced with every breath she took. She’d lost so many of her dearest friends and family members, she didn’t intend to waste a moment worrying about the way she looked. Besides, she had plenty of photo albums to pore over from the old days, and if she did say so herself, she’d been a bit of a fox.
With a grunt, she clambered out of her car, then shut the door behind her. A pair of plovers ran on thin red legs across the parking lot and launched into the air at the sound of her door slamming. They cried out in unison, their shrieks startling Mima. She pressed a hand to her chest.
“You two always do that to me!” she shouted after them.
In front of her, the Waratah Inn rose regal against a backdrop of gums, pandanus trees and sea grasses. The garden was well-kept and tidy, with the brilliant colours of summer flowers lining the beds. The lawn was green and well-groomed. The inn gleamed beneath the hot sun, light yellow walls with white shutters and trim. The verandah was also white, with natural stained timber floorboards and pretty white wicker furniture scattered in a manner that was intended to look haphazard, but Mima knew had been well thought-out by Nyreeda Summer, an interior designer and one of the three sisters who owned the place.
With an exhale of contentment, she shuffled around the side of the inn, past the shrubbery, through an archway with an overhanging vine that was lush with white flowers, and along a small garden path. She climbed the stairs, puffing and leaning hard against the handrail as she went, then paused at the door.
Inside, she could hear the sounds of a busy kitchen—voices communicating in hushed tones, the clang of pots and pans, the clash of cutlery being shoved into the industrial dishwasher, the crooning of the music played over the sound system. How she loved it all. She’d moved to a retirement community the previous year, and although she enjoyed the swimming pool, the lawn bowls club, and the company of her friends, she still missed the vibrancy of the Waratah Inn, running the kitchen and working alongside her lifelong friend, Edith Summer, who’d owned the business before she died and left it to her granddaughters.
A low crack of thunder in the distance reminded Mima that an afternoon storm was on the way. Her head swivelled in the direction of the sound, out beyond the cove. Dark clouds hugged the horizon, although she couldn’t see much of them through the trees. She knew they were there—she could smell the rain on its way. It would pummel Castle Rock before reaching the golden shoreline. Then it would trample Kate’s kitchen garden. She glanced at it wistfully for a moment, remembering a time when Edie had knelt there, tending to the sugar-pea vines that climbed over the fence and spread out of control. Then she turned and pushed through the back door.
When they renovated the inn, they’d extended the kitchen and added a restaurant. The kitchen was busy, serving the last of the lunch crowd before the afternoon lull. Mima traversed around and between the servers who carried plates towards the dining room, waved at the chef and other staff as she passed by. She glanced up at the crystal chandelier that hung over the bottom of the wide timber staircase before turning left towards the sitting room at the front of the building.
She found Kate Cannon (formerly Summer) seated in an armchair, a tray with a teapot, two cups, and two slices of layered chocolate cake on patterned china plates before her. Kate’s stomach bulged out from beneath her chef’s uniform, her face a little puffy, and her hair bedraggled as though she’d recently tugged a hat from it, leaving stray strands flying about her temples.
Kate looked up at Mima. “You made it. I was beginning to wonder…”
“Sorry I’m late, love.” Mima bent to kiss Kate’s cheek. “Please don’t get up. Although with that baby getting so big, I’m not sure how you’d manage it anyway.”
Kate arched an eyebrow. “I may be stuck here forever. This armchair wasn’t the best choice.”
Mima chuckled as she took a seat across from Kate. Between them, a small oval coffee table held their afternoon tea. They met once per week for tea and cake, and to discuss the menu for the following week. Mima knew Kate didn’t need her input—she’d done the job long enough to know what would work best for their guests. But Mima loved coming to the inn where she’d worked for so many decades that she’d lost count. And she adored Kate for continuing to include her in the workings of the restaurant she’d once managed.
“How are you feeling, hon?” Mima asked as she poured them each a cup of tea. The teapot was decorated in vintage pink floral, and the cups had the matching pattern along one side.
“I’m hot, uncomfortable, heavy, swollen and ready for this baby to come. I don’t know if I can take another day.”
“You poor thing. Summer is the worst time of year to be pregnant in Australia,” Mima said with a shake of her head.
“I know! I can’t understand how endures a summer pregnancy. I’m sweating constantly. I’ve lost my appetite, and I can barely get any sleep because of this hip pain.”
“Pregnancy sounds wonderful,” Mima replied with a wink as she handed a cup and saucer to Kate across the table. “More importantly, you’re a stunner. Your bump is tiny, I don’t know how you do it. No one at Bindi’s wedding had a clue you were pregnant. That flowing dress you wore gave nothing away.”
Kate exhaled. “Thank you, Mima. I didn’t want to take the attention away from Bindi and Josh on their special day and anyway, I was only four months along. Alex was paranoid that something would go wrong. He wanted to keep the pregnancy to ourselves for as long as we could manage it.”
“Job well done, then. I’m pretty sure Jack still doesn’t realise there’s a baby on the way.”
Kate giggled. “I know you’re exaggerating, and yet he does seem fairly oblivious.”
“That’s Jack, my dear. He lives in his own head half the time. But I love the man.”
“I complain too much about this pregnancy. I know that. I should be over the moon, and I am. I realise how blessed I am. I really do. But sometimes I just have to let it all out.”
Mima swished one hand around in the air. “Oh, honey, preach it. You’re amazing and you’ll get through this, I promise.”
“Thanks, Mima. I always feel better after talking to you.”
“That’s what I’m here for, my love.”
“Now, tell me about your lawn bowls competition. How did it go?”
Mima cocked her head to one side. “You’ll never guess what happened.”
“I’m dying to know.”
“Neville—you know, the guy who’s always prancing around declaring how good he is, how his ball just glides across the grass, and we mortals couldn’t possibly understand where his talent comes from?”
Kate giggled. “I remember Neville.”
“Well, he tripped and fell on the first bowl. His ball didn’t even make it to within a metre of the jack, and he couldn’t take another turn because he’d twisted his ankle. Judy had to get him an ice pack and sit with him for the rest of the competition. She missed out entirely.”
“Neville’s such a troublemaker,” Kate teased with a grin. “And Judy is a bit of a gold digger.”
“She’s got her eyes on his Kirra Beach penthouse, that’s for sure. And I say go for it. You only live once—it might as well be in a penthouse overlooking one of the most gorgeous beaches in the world. Even if you do have to pander to Neville’s ego to get it.”
“Well, well, well, Mima. I’m surprised at you!” Kate pretended to look scandalised.
The two of them chuckled heartily.
After they finished the tea and cake and finalised the menu for the next week, Mima helped Kate out of the armchair, and they both waddled back to the kitchen.
“I’m going to finish up the lunch shift for you, love,” Mima said.
Kate shook her head sternly. “No, I’m fine—I can do it. Honestly, I was only having a whinge. I’ll be okay now that the sugar has kicked in.”
Mima waved her off. “Honey, I can’t let you do that. You look like that baby is about to drop out onto the hardwood floor. You should stay off your feet. When are you going to take maternity leave? I think that should’ve been about a month ago, if you’re looking for my input. Which I’m sure you’re not.”
She helped Kate into a chair at the small dining table beside the kitchen where they all used to sit and eat together before the extension.
Kate inhaled a slow breath. “I know you’re right, but I couldn’t bring myself to step away and let someone else take over. Who should do it? I’ve got a stack of resumes on my desk in the office, how do I choose someone?”
“Well, never mind all that now. You sit here, I’ll get you another cuppa, and you can put your feet up while I get things sorted in here. There’s hardly anything left to do anyway.”
“Thanks, Mima. You’re the best.”
She poured Kate another cup of tea, then headed into the adjoining kitchen. There was a small black stereo on the bench, its antenna pointing high above it. Music played so softly, Mima could barely hear it above the din of activity. As she walked by it, she turned the knob, raising the volume.
“Here come the men in black…” The song burst from the stereo speakers, along with a jaunty rhythm that made Mima want to break into the jitterbug, but she was afraid she might fracture a hip if she did. Instead, she swayed along to the rhythm as she got to work wiping down the bench tops with a clean cloth.
“What’s this song?” she shouted over the music. “I like it!”
Kate shook her head. “Mima, you’re such a rock star!”
Mima hammed up her dance, cracking the cloth in the air like a whip until Kate’s bump wobbled with laughter.
Just then, Kate blanched. She pressed a hand to her stomach and let the china cup clatter onto its saucer. Mima turned down the music.
“What’s wrong, love?”
“I think my water broke.”
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