Adam reached out for Ellie, but with lightning speed she uncrossed her arms and slapped his arm away.
“I’m still mad at you, Adam Henderson!” she bit out.
Adam’s brows rose in surprise, then relaxed in amusement as he noticed Ellie wringing her hand. Cursing under her breath because she had hurt it.
“Jesus, when did you get so buff?” she winced.
Adam laughed, looking at his arms, which had obviously beefed up – it was the first thing I had noticed. Adam had changed from a floppy-haired, wiry boy to … well, a bit of well-formed beefcake. If he wasn’t my cousin, of course, I’d guess he was hot. I cringed at even having thought that.
Adam opened his mouth to speak but Ellie soon cut him off.
“Two words – two words – you sent me.”
“Ellie, I—”
“You could have picked up a phone, written letters, sent smoke signals, anything!”
“Ellie …”
“I don’t want to hear it, Adam, I don’t want to hear it! You up and ditched me. There is no excuse.”
“You’re right,” Adam said.
“You … w-what?” Ellie stuttered.
“I’m a grade-A dickhead, who needs to be flogged with a dictionary.”
I let out an exacerbated sigh. “Oh, my God! I am never going to hear the end of that, am I?”
Adam stepped slowly closer to Ellie, carefully, as if he might spook her.
“There is no excuse.” He reached out and gently cupped her face. “I’m so sorry.”
Against her better judgment I could see Ellie leaning into his hand. Oh, he was good. I wasn’t sure what he was doing in the army besides lifting weights, but he had become such a smooth talker that I think Adam seriously needed to reconsider his position in life and be a hostage negotiator or something.
It took a mere moment for Ellie to throw her arms around Adam in a fierce hug before drawing back and hitting him really hard again.
“Don’t call me Pretty Parker.”
***
I had started the late shift with a spring in my step and a song in my heart. Okay, maybe that was overstating it, but still, the day had been massively productive. The kitchen and restaurant were gleaming and after the interesting Tess–Adam–Ellie reunion , Tess’s mum and dad rocked up to help out with menu ideas and cook up a few samples. They brought tubs of ingredients and easy-to-follow recipes: simple, hearty food, which was what they were famous for.
Tess’s parents owned the Rose Cafe in Perry, a small border town separated only by the Onslow Bridge. They had won numerous awards over the years, including being the back-to-back title holders for ‘Best Pie.’ They even had a house specialty pastry dubbed the Onslow Boy – hilarious.
Tess’s parents were wonderful; they were light, bubbly and so generous with their time. I hugged the bejesus out of them before they left, fearing it would never be enough to show how grateful I was for their invaluable help. The McGees even offered to help out with catering for the working bee, and doing a few lunch shifts until we got on our feet.
The last cook we had that I could remember was a dishevelled, grotty man by the name of Dezi. I had wondered where Rosanna, our bad-tempered, pint-sized cook before him, had gotten to. According to Melba she had met and fallen in love with some guy over the Internet and he had relocated her and the kids up along the coast somewhere. Not that I was considering rehiring crazy Rosanna … Although she was very entertaining. I had often wondered what she was doing now. I hoped she was happy.
I looked over the handwritten menus we had worked on that afternoon and smiled, filing them in the bookings folder near the till. My eyes trailed down the line of the bar, pleased by the customers that were dotted throughout the hotel. The jukebox blared from the poolroom as did animated laughter and chatter; it felt so good.
Tomorrow the working bee would officially commence. Chris and I were even going to interview a couple of potential people to take on for staff, as Tess, in all her wisdom, had put up some flyers: ‘Help Wanted’. Things were looking up!
And then the phone rang.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Honey, we’re coming up!” My mum’s voice beamed down the phone.
“Wait, what?” My heart threatened to beat out of my chest.
“It won’t be this weekend, but probably next weekend, providing your dad’s up to it.”
My shoulders slumped in relief.
“Everything all right, hon?” Mum’s voice kicked into concerned-parent mode, so I amped up the ‘everything’s awesome’ cheerful vibe and told her I couldn’t wait to see them.
Once I had said my goodbyes and hung up the phone, any positive walking on sunshine feeling I’d had before was swallowed up by a dark cloud. Now I had a deadline. I had to pull out all the stops, had to show Mum and Dad what this place could really be and convince them not to sell.