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Jake had been true to his resolve. He’d spent his twenties making documentaries in far-flung corners of the world, earning a small fortune at the same time. He’d still be overseas, living that life, if a run-in with a group of rebels in war-torn Africa hadn’t forced his life into a different direction.
Working in television was tame by comparison, but it had its moments. Jake couldn’t really complain.
Admittedly, since he’d stopped flitting from country to country and city to city, Jake had given up one-night stands and fleeting flings in favour of longer relationships. If you could call a few months long, that was. His current girlfriend was a career-orientated and highly independent woman who was great company, great in bed and knew better than to pressure him for marriage or, God forbid, a baby. Olivia had assured him on their first date that she wouldn’t get bitten by the biological clock bug like his last girlfriend. The only responsibility Jake wanted in life was paying his own personal bills.
Which was exactly the way things had been…till the solicitor for Craig’s estate had dropped his bombshell at the wake.
Jake already knew he’d been left the bulk of his uncle’s estate, Craig having given him a copy of his will for safekeeping. What he hadn’t known was that Craig had summoned his solicitor to his bedside a few days before his death and given him a letter for Jake, to be delivered after his funeral.
Jake pulled the letter out of his pocket, unfolded it and read it for the umpteenth time.
Dear Jake
Hope you aren’t angry with me for not telling you about my illness, but there was nothing anyone could do and I do so hate pity. I had a good life, my only regret being that I didn’t go out with more style. A bullet or a bomb would have been much more me.
But on to the reason for this letter. Jake, there’s something I want you to do for me. Last July, when I stayed at your place after I bunged up my knee, I got to know your very nice housekeeper quite well. Abby was extra kind to me and went over and above the call of duty to make my stay both comfortable and enjoyable. And, no, nothing untoward happened between us. She’s not that sort of girl.
Anyway, on to my request. I didn’t want to add a codicil to my will. Too much trouble at this stage. Still, what I would like, Jake, is for you to buy Abby a new car to replace that appalling bomb she drives. Something small and stylish but with a long warranty.
I also want you to give her twenty-five thousand dollars out of your considerable inheritance to go towards her travel fund. Please insist that she not use it for any other purpose. Don’t let her give it away to any of those free-loading relatives of hers.
I have every confidence that you will do this for me. You’re a good man. And not a greedy one. Give Abby my love and tell her not to wait too long to see the world. Life is meant to be lived.
The same goes for you, my boy. I’ll be watching over you from above.
Your Uncle Craig
Jake closed his eyes as he folded the letter, a huge lump having formed in his throat.
‘Damn it, Craig,’ he ground out, his heart squeezing tight with grief. ‘You should have told me you were ill. I could have been there for you the way you always were for me. You shouldn’t have had to die alone.’
And you should have just put a damned codicil in your will, came the added thought, grief finally giving way to exasperation.
It was impossible not to do what Craig asked, Jake accepted as he shoved the letter back in his pocket. But it annoyed him all the same.
It wasn’t a question of money. He had plenty of money. It was the fact that fulfilling his uncle’s deathbed wishes would force him into Abby’s personal space—and company—something he’d been careful to avoid ever since he’d hired her.
Because let’s face it, Jake, you fancy her even more now than ever.
But he could see no way out. He would just have to gird his loins and endure!
CHAPTER THREE (#u76a56ca2-61b7-5606-9892-0121d0b641aa)
AT TWENTY PAST THREE Abby’s boss finally showed up, looking slightly harassed but still very handsome in a smart grey suit and a crisp white shirt which highlighted his dark hair, olive complexion and deep blue eyes.
Even Abby had to admit that in the flesh her boss was a hunk. But she’d never been blindly attracted to a man on looks alone. Handsome is as handsome does, in her opinion. What attracted her most in the opposite sex was kindness and gentleness, qualities which Wayne had had in spades.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ Jake said as he strode into the kitchen, where Abby was making herself coffee. ‘Damned ferry was running late. Could I trouble you for some coffee? Black, with no sugar,’ he ordered as he slid on to one of the kitchen stools, reefing off his tie at the same time.
Abby wanted to scream at him. Didn’t he know how stressed out she was? But she held her tongue and made him the darned coffee.
‘So what did you want to talk to me about?’ she asked as soon as she’d placed his mug in front of him. She stayed standing on the other side of the breakfast bar, not daring to pick up her own coffee yet for fear of spilling it.
His forehead bunched in a frown, which only added to her discomfort.
‘You’re going to fire me, aren’t you?’ she blurted out.
His head shot up, his dark brows arching. ‘What? No. No, of course not! Good God, is that what you thought this was about?’
She just shook her head at him. ‘I didn’t know what to think.’
‘Why on earth would I want to fire you? You are the best housekeeper a man could have. I’m sorry if you thought that.’
Abby found herself flushing at his compliment. And his apology. Relief swamped her as well. She didn’t want to lose this job. Not for a good while yet.
‘It’s to do with Craig’s will,’ Jake said abruptly.
‘Craig’s will?’ she repeated, feeling somewhat confused. ‘Are you talking about your uncle Craig, the man who stayed here for a while during the winter?’
It had been back in July, she recalled, about four months ago.
‘Yes. The thing is, Abby, he’s left you something in his will.’
Abby just stared at Jake, shock joining her confusion. ‘Are you saying that he’s dead?’
‘What? Oh. Yes. Yes, he died last week. Incurable cancer,’ he finished up with a heavy sigh.
‘But…but that’s impossible! I mean, he was so alive not that long ago.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Jake said as he swept an agitated hand through his hair. ‘It came as a shock to me as well. I gather he found out during an MRI for his busted knee about the cancer. But he never told anyone, not even me. And we were very close. I knew nothing about his illness till his solicitor rang and told me he’d passed away.’
Abby found it hard to understand what he was saying. ‘You mean you weren’t with him when he died?’
‘No. No one was, other than the palliative care nurse. He’d booked himself into a hospice without telling anyone.’
‘But that’s terrible!’ Abby declared heatedly, upset that anyone would choose to die like that.
Jake’s shrug carried a weary resignation. ‘It was what he wanted. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about his death. It was all over the news at the weekend. He was quite famous.’
‘I… I don’t often watch the news.’
‘I see.’
She wanted to ask him why he hadn’t told her himself, but of course why would he? She wasn’t a relative, or a friend. He wouldn’t have known how much she’d enjoyed the time she’d spent with his uncle whilst he’d stayed here.
Craig had been a fascinating individual, highly intelligent, widely travelled and very well read. He’d been incredibly nice to her, showing an interest in her as a person and not just some kind of maid. The day before he’d left, he’d given her a list of ten books which he said everybody—especially young women—should read. She was still slowly working her way through them. They were the reason she didn’t watch the news much any more, and why she hadn’t seen the report of his death.
Tears flooded her eyes at the realisation that this very nice man was actually dead.
‘He…he said he was going away to have a holiday.’ Abby’s voice caught at the memory.
‘He told me the same thing,’ Jake said.
‘Instead he went away to die,’ she choked out. ‘Alone…’
Abby couldn’t think of anything sadder than dying alone. It was the main thing which haunted her about Wayne’s death. That he’d been all alone, out there in the ocean, with the storm raging around him and little chance of being rescued. Had he lost all hope in the end? Had despair engulfed him in the moments before he drowned?
Suddenly, a huge wave of grief overwhelmed her, emotional distress welling up in Abby till it could not be contained. Tears filled her eyes so quickly they spilled over and ran down her cheeks.
When a sob escaped her throat, Jake stared at her with a look of horror.
Embarrassment flooded in but there was no stopping her now. When more sobs racked her body, all Abby could do was bury her face in her hands. She simply couldn’t bear to witness her boss watching her whilst she wept her heart out. No doubt she was making a fool of herself. No doubt he thought she was a typically sentimental female to cry over a man she hardly knew.
The feel of strong male arms suddenly pulling her into a comforting embrace shocked Abby rigid. She certainly hadn’t expected a hug. Not from her very aloof boss. Unfortunately, his uncharacteristic kindness only made her weep all the more.
‘There, there,’ he said, patting her back as she clasped the lapels of his suit jacket and sobbed into his shirt. ‘No need to cry. Craig had a good life, with no regrets. He wouldn’t want you crying over him. Craig wasn’t one for tears.’
Abby could hardly explain that it wasn’t just Craig’s death which had set her off, but the way he’d died. All alone.
Oh, God…
Abby was gritting her teeth and doing her best to pull herself together when Jake stopped patting her back and slid his arms right around her, holding her quite close. No doubt he was still just trying to comfort her but for some reason Abby no longer felt comforted. She felt very discomforted. Because she liked him hugging her like that. She liked it a lot. The urge to slide her own arms around his back was acute. She wanted to hug him back, wanted to bury herself in the solid warmth of his very male body and…and…
And what, Abby? Make an even bigger fool of yourself? For pity’s sake, get a grip, girl.
Taking a deep gathering breath, Abby lurched backwards, releasing the lapels of Jake’s jacket as she gulped down a sob of shame.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she choked out, her face flushing as she spun away from him and grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the kitchen counter, not saying another word till she’d blown her nose and composed herself. She did note rather ruefully, however, that Jake didn’t wait long to hurry back to the other side of the breakfast bar.
Her groan carried more shame. ‘I’ve embarrassed you, I can see. It’s just that… Oh, never mind.’ Her fisted right hand came up to rub agitatedly at her mouth. For a moment she was tempted to confide in Jake about Wayne’s tragic death. But only for a moment. Maybe, if he’d been any other kind of man she might have explained why she’d been so upset at the news of his uncle dying alone like that. But Jake didn’t invite confidences. Why, he’d never even asked her how her husband had died!
Despite his hug just now, Jake didn’t really care about her. She was just his employee, hired to look after his house. His housekeeper. A glorified cleaner, if truth be told.
Craig hadn’t treated her like that. He’d been genuinely interested in her life. Not that she’d told Jake’s uncle the total truth. Abby had become masterful at blotting out the really painful parts in her past. Talking about them wouldn’t have achieved anything, anyway.
‘The thing is,’ she went on, compelled to make some excuse for her emotional display, ‘I really liked your uncle a lot.’
‘He must have liked you a lot too,’ Jake replied.
‘Well, yes,’ she said slowly. ‘He seemed to.’
‘You haven’t asked me what he left you,’ Jake went on, his eyes on her.
‘What? Oh… Some books, I suppose.’
Jake frowned at her. ‘No, no books,’ he said. ‘Nothing as mundane as that.’
‘Then what?’ she asked, perplexed.
‘To be honest, he didn’t leave you anything directly. He left a letter for me with instructions of what he wants you to have.’
She blinked, then frowned. ‘That sounds…weird.’
‘Yes, I thought so too,’ he agreed drily. ‘But Craig was never a conventional man. Look, why don’t we both drink our coffee before it gets cold? Then, afterwards, I’ll fill you in on everything.’
When Jake picked up his coffee mug, Abby did likewise, sipping slowly and thoughtfully. A hot drink always calmed her. And brother, she needed calming after that crazy moment when she’d almost hugged her boss back.
‘I would have liked to go to his funeral,’ she said after a suitably calming minute or two. ‘Was he buried or cremated?’
‘Buried,’ he said.
‘Where?’ she asked.
Jake’s face looked grim as he put down his coffee. ‘Rookwood Cemetery.’
She wasn’t sure where that was. She didn’t have a GPS in the ute and often got lost. ‘I’d like to go and visit his grave some time. Pay my respects. Say a prayer or two. Would you take me?’ she asked him before she could think better of it.
Jake’s sigh suggested that was the last thing he wanted to do.
‘Okay,’ he said with a resigned shrug. ‘But I can’t go till next Saturday. In the meantime, wouldn’t you like to hear about what Craig wanted me to give you?’
‘Oh, yes. What is it?’
‘Well, first of all he wants me to buy you a new car. Something small and stylish, with a decent warranty.’
Shock at this news was swiftly followed by confusion.
‘But that doesn’t seem right,’ she said. ‘As much as I would love a new car, why should he ask you to pay for such a thing?’
‘It’s basically Craig’s money, Abby. He left most of his estate to me. Trust me when I say that my inheritance was considerable. So it’s no hardship on me to spend a seriously small portion of it on you.’
‘But why didn’t he just leave some money to me in his will to buy my own car?’
‘I have no idea. It might have been simpler all round if he’d done that. Apparently, he was worried that you might not spend it on yourself—that you might give it away to relatives.’
‘Oh, dear,’ she said, embarrassed. ‘I suppose it’s because I told him about paying for Timmy’s operation.’
‘No. He didn’t mention anything specific. Who’s Timmy?’
‘My sister’s little boy. She’s a single mum and doesn’t have any private health insurance. Timmy needed his tonsils out but would have had to wait eighteen months to have it done. She couldn’t afford the operation so I paid for it to be done privately.’
‘I see,’ he said, his tone sceptical.
A degree of anger pushed aside Abby’s embarrassment. ‘Please don’t think my sister’s a user because she’s not. She’s doing the best she can under the circumstances. Megan didn’t ask me to pay for Timmy’s operation. That was my idea. She won’t come and live with me, even though I said she wouldn’t have to pay any rent. Your uncle got the wrong idea.’
‘Possibly, but that’s irrelevant now. I have no alternative but to follow through with Craig’s dying wishes. He was most specific in his letter about what he wanted me to buy for you. A new car is the first cab off the rank. Then he wants me to give you twenty-five thousand dollars. For your travel fund, he said.’
Abby’s mouth dropped open. ‘Twenty-five thousand! But…but that’s way too much. What will people think?’
