Chapter One
The sweet scent of golden corn and heady aroma of cilantro wove its way through the air and around Joanna’s head as she bent over the hot open oven door. She breathed in deep, then shut the door again. It would be ready soon, and she couldn’t wait for the guests to arrive. Corn off the cob and refried beans dusted with grated cheese were only two of the dishes that she’d be serving at this month’s potluck. There was also shredded pork, Mexican rice and an assortment of fresh salads to go with their Mexican theme.
She smiled at Emily, her in-home carer and unofficial sous-chef who was frying tortillas in an electric pan on the other side of the kitchen island.
“How’s it going over there?”
Emily tucked a strand of her long, straight brown hair behind her ear. Her brow creased. “I think…good. I’m not sure. Do you want to take a look?”
Joanna strode around the outside of the island, lifted the edge of the foil, and studied the pile of tortillas on a large plate. “They look great. You’re doing a fantastic job. Well done, Sous-Chef!”
Emily grinned with pride. “Thanks, Chef.”
The monthly gathering of what Joanna impulsively called the Sunshine Potluck Society had become a staple in her life. In fact, it was more than a staple. It was her life. Her children had moved away years earlier, and they were busy with their careers and families. When Ron passed a decade ago, she’d taken to spending more and more of her time indoors until finally, three years ago, she realised she hadn’t stepped a foot outside of her front yard in six months.
These days, she tried to go somewhere once a month, but the effort usually left her feeling worn out. And she much preferred to stay in. It was safe in her home, warm and cozy. She ordered her groceries online, and just about anything else she wanted could be delivered.
Still, she realised that it wasn’t a good thing for her to always be cooped up in the house alone. That was when she’d finally decided to hire an in-home carer. Someone who could help her around the house and make sure she took her medication, give some form of social interaction and a much-needed hand in the kitchen. Emily hadn’t come highly recommended. In fact, most of the people in her life told her she was crazy to give someone like Emily a chance. Her resume was nonexistent.
Emily had grown up in Sunshine, just as Joanna had, on Bribie Island’s eastern shore. But for some reason, none of them knew much about her. And she seemed to mostly keep to herself. Still, Joanna had liked the young woman right off the bat, and so she’d decided not to hire someone with in-home care experience but instead go for the unknown, which had been a risky move at the time but had paid off in spades. Emily had turned out to be the exact right person for the job. The two of them got along well, Emily was a hard worker, and Joanna couldn’t be more pleased with the choice she’d made.
Emily was twenty-three years old, which was exactly the kind of youthful antidote to aging that Joanna wanted. At sixty, she had slowed down a little. But she didn’t want to give up just yet, even if she struggled more and more to get away from the four walls of her home. And she liked to think that Emily’s exuberance for life and positivity kept her young at heart and gave her hope that she could someday do something like take a walk on the open beach again.
At least, Emily always told her she’d do it. “Someday,” she’d say. “You’re gonna walk down that beach. You’ll feel the wind in your hair, the open sky above you, and you’ll be happy. I promise.”
Joanna clung to those words, even as they scared her. But the fact that Emily believed her promise gave Joanna the strength to believe it as well.
Emily slid a piece of pulled pork into her mouth as she waited for the next tortilla to fry. “Mmmm… It’s delicious. Will you include this recipe in your next cookbook?”
“Maybe.” Joanna had worked as a head chef at the restaurant she and her husband ran for twenty years, with a break to have children. Now she wrote cookbooks for a living. When Roy died, she’d done her best to keep their dream alive. The long hours and late nights had never really suited her, but she’d made it work. With Ron gone, she struggled to maintain the schedule, the paperwork and to keep the restaurant afloat. Now, she didn’t like driving past the place where it’d stood all those years ago. A sad reminder of what once was, the life they’d had, the family they’d grown, the business they’d built together.
They’d spent so many happy times in that restaurant. She hadn’t worked full time while raising the children, but she’d still spent many hours a week there. She managed the menu and oversaw the kitchen staff. The children would run and play, hide-and-seek or tag, much to the dismay of the new head chef and the delight of the rest of the staff. They knew every nook and cranny of that place.
She often had to go searching through cupboards and crawl spaces to find them and bring them home at the end of the evening. She’d watched them sit up at the bench to do homework throughout their high school years and even seen them bring dates to eat there once they’d graduated. The restaurant was a big part of their lives, and it saddened her that it was gone. If only one of the kids had wanted to go into the business. But they hadn’t. In the end, it wouldn’t have made much difference.
Karen had become a teacher and married a school principal down in Melbourne. They only came home for holidays, and their children were now grown too and living all over the world. Brett was a carpenter, and he’d moved to the Sunshine Coast. He was only an hour away, but it might as well have been ten hours. He rarely visited, since his building company kept him busy. And his kids were in high school, which meant they no longer wanted to see her much. They were too occupied with their friends and extracurricular activities.
“Oh, there’s the postie. I’m just going to run out and grab the mail,” Joanna said suddenly as she spotted him zooming by the front window on his motorbike.
Rain sprinkled across the green grass in her front yard. The sky overhead was grey. But the world was washed clean and bright. There was no point in bringing an umbrella. It was hardly raining. She’d hurry, and then she could dodge most of the drops.
She glanced down at her slippered feet. That wouldn’t do. She took them off and slid her feet into the gumboots by the front door. Much better.
Then she took off at a brisk pace in the direction of the mailbox. Best not to think about it too much. The clouds overhead helped to make the sky seem less big, and she wasn’t far from the comfort of the roof over her head. The overhang almost reached her. But still, she was outdoors, and the familiar rush of anxiety washed over her. It elevated her heart rate and made her breathing shallow. Her head felt light, and she squeezed her hands into fists as she pushed herself forwards.
“It’s not very far. And I’m fine,” she chanted to herself in a bright tone. “What’s the worst that could happen?” Probably not the best approach at self-encouragement, but it generally worked well enough.
She spied her neighbour, Chris Hampton, trimming a hanging vine that had climbed over her side of the fence. He glanced up at her with a smile and a wave.
“Good morning, JoJo.” He sometimes called her that. It made her feel young. But good grief, the man was obsessed with gardening. Here he was pruning a vine with rain falling down on his wide-brimmed hat.
She waved back, but as she did, her gumboots slid out from underneath her and she flew up into the air and landed on her rear end with a grunt.
The wind was knocked out of her for a moment. She sat up and blinked. “I hope I didn’t break anything. Ouch!” She felt along her arms, then both legs. Everything seemed fine. She tried to get back onto her feet, but the panic was weaving its way up her spine. She was stuck out in the open and couldn’t get traction with her gumboots on the wet pavement.
Chris was by her side. “Did you hurt yourself? Here, let me help you.” He held her by one elbow, and she pressed her weight against him to rise to her feet.
“It’s slippery, and I wasn’t paying attention,” she said as she balanced herself.
“It can happen,” he replied. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She patted her rear end. “I think so. Nothing hurts too badly, other than my pride. I’ll have some bruising, but I don’t think anything’s broken.”
His kind blue eyes crinkled around the edges. They were the same blue eyes she’d looked into over forty years earlier when the two of them attended the Sunshine State High School together. So much had changed since then. But not his eyes.
“Well, let’s get you inside, then,” he said.
“I came for the mail,” she replied. “And now we’re both soaked.”
He laughed. “I was soaked before this. And since I’m not made of sugar, I don’t think there’s any great risk of me dissolving.”
He left her standing there and fetched the mail from her mailbox. He tucked it under his arm to keep dry, then took her by the elbow and helped her back to the house. By now, she’d forgotten all about the anxiety. It had flapped away the moment Chris arrived to help.
Chris opened her front door, then removed his own boots and helped her out of hers. Her body was already stiffening. She could tell she’d be struggling with pain throughout their potluck brunch today. Never mind—she’d been through worse.
“What happened?” Emily asked in alarm when she saw them.
“I fell. It’s nothing. I’ll be fine,” Joanna said.
Emily hurried to her side and immediately got to work towelling her dry, finding her a seat and putting her feet up.
Chris watched with an amused expression. “You’re well taken care of here.”
Joanna smiled as she opened a large manilla envelope. “You have no idea. Emily is truly a godsend. Now, what is this?”
Emily handed Joanna her reading glasses, and she pushed them up the bridge of her nose. “Oh, yes, it’s from my publisher. They want to buy the idea we sent them!” She beamed at Emily. “They want to publish The Sunshine Potluck Society Cookbook!”
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