None of these kids looked in an especial hurry. They wandered toward the back veranda alone or in groups of two. They wore a uniform of sorts, grey-green trousers and long-sleeved shirts, heavy-duty boots, and an out-in-the-Australian-sun, wide-brimmed hat. Billy and Sophie, she knew. She guessed the boy at Billy’s side was Tim.
She joined them, a plate of chocolate-chip biscuits her entry ticket to the party. Not the healthiest option to add to a table spread with jugs of water and a platter of cut fruit, but hey, they did a fair bit of physical labour and would burn off the sugar before lunch.
“Hi. You must be Barbara Bee.” Holly offered a hand to the psychologist. A fitting name, since according to Mona, the woman buzzed all over the site, talking, observing, taking notes, and ready to lend a hand when a hand was needed. “I didn’t properly introduce myself on Tuesday.”
“I know who you are.” The bright eyes of the short, neat woman sparkled. Her hair perched like a beehive on the back of her head. “Mona and I are old friends. Welcome.” The woman leaned towards her, her voice low. “For the record, you handled yesterday just fine.”
“Thanks.” Holly spotted the girl beside Barbara and remembered her grandmother’s comment. She’ll be shadowing Barbara. “I’m guessing you’re Suzanna.”
“Can I have one please?” The timorous girl slid a single biscuit off the plate in response to Holly’s nod. “Thank you. My mother liked to bake.”
Barbara’s eyebrows lifted, and Holly understood this was more conversation than the girl usually offered strangers. “I like baking too,” Holly said. “I don’t often get the chance.”
“Can I have one?” Billy appeared at her elbow.
“They’re for everyone. And a chance for me to practice names. Let’s see, I know Billy and Sophie, and I’m guessing you’re Tim...” Holly waved the plate of warm biscuits close enough for the scent to make the boy’s stomach audibly rumble.
“How’d you know?” The boy stood hipshot, his gaze narrowed and an edge of belligerence to his tone.
“You’re the same height as Billy, Mona said.” She swung to a taller boy. “On the basis of height, you must be Nick.”
An olive-skinned roadrunner of a kid with curly dark hair grinned and took two biscuits.
“And you’re Lucas.” Holly offered the plate.
“I’m short because I’m younger,” he said defensively. “Thanks.”
“Makes sense.” Holly turned to the girls. “I might need help here. I met Sophie. I’ve worked out Suzanna. So, one of you must be Emma and one Lauren.”
“Yes,” they said in unison.
As Rachel joined the group, Holly turned, the plate of biscuits—her weapon of choice—held in front of her.
“When’s Mona coming home?” Rachel accepted a biscuit, but her body language screamed hostility.
“Hopefully next week,” Holly answered. Rusty either resented her interference with Billy or resented having a woman her own age on site. Rachel’s hand on Kit’s arm had been very proprietorial. The woman needn’t worry. Holly wasn’t interested in competing for a man.
“Are you staying?” Rachel asked. Ears pricked up and conversation stalled.
“Until Mona’s one hundred percent,” she replied pleasantly, plonking her backside on the top step of the veranda.
A plaintive whine came from the kitchen.
“Is Bella in trouble?” Billy dropped beside her, with Sophie on the other side of him.
“I’ve asked her to guard the house until Mona gets home.” Holly turned to the boy. “From the inside.”
He grinned. “That’s bullshit. The house doesn’t need guarding.”
“I checked with Mona. She says with Rachel short-handed, it’s not fair for Bella to run free.”
“Why don’t you help since you’re here?” Billy lobbed his verbal Molotov cocktail into the conversation.
Chapter Three
Holly recorded the expressions chasing each other across Kit’s face. He’d rounded the side of the house in time for Billy’s verbal bomb to explode. Surprise, followed by horror, papered over by an if-only-it-were-possible regret.
“We can’t take advantage of Holly.” Kit dismissed the suggestion.
Holly held out the plate.
“A bribe?” He took a biscuit and the place on her other side.
“Call it a peace offering. I’m not leaving yet.”
“Time to move,” Rachel called, then lingered when Kit didn’t immediately stand up.
“What’s the game, Holly?” He nudged her shoulder as he munched on the biscuit.
Warmth spread from him to her. “I’m not going to hide in the house all day while I’m here.” She settled the plate where Billy had been. “When Mona comes home, she’ll want to be in the garden, and I’ll have to be with her a lot of the time. Everyone needs to get used to it.”
“For a few weeks,” he insisted.
The sun slipping behind a cloud explained her sudden chill, not the condemnation in his voice. “You’re in charge until she gets home, and then I presume you’ll share top dog. I won’t be rocking the boat,” she replied.
“You already have.” He reached across her to snag another biscuit and their gazes tangled. “But you know that.”
She tugged on her bottom lip, her stomach doing a slow somersault. Sparks zapped between them, tiny explosions tickling her nerves. “Do you want me to keep out of your way?”
“I’ll let you know.” He pushed himself off the step, stealing the last biscuit. “Thanks. They’re good.”
He strolled across to join Rachel.
Holly pushed through the hospital doors a few hours later, ridiculously miffed by Kit’s desire to see her gone.
“I’m going, I’m going.” She tugged on her hair.
“Okay, Holly?” the cleaner asked.
“Fine, Molly.” She’d learned the names of staff on Mona’s floor—nursing, admin, food workers, and cleaners. “Bad habit. Talking to myself.”
Kit’s call had scared her spitless. She could admit that now. Mona, her sane, funny adviser injured. Theirs was an unbreakable bond, the result of two years of living together. Mona was her go-to when the world came crashing down around her. At six, at twenty-six, even now.
Mona was making steady progress, if slower than Holly thought it should be. TLC was the prescription, rather than intensive nursing. Release, although Mona called it escape rather than discharge, was planned for next Monday or Tuesday. A blessing, given Holly, despite calling in every favour she was owed, hadn’t been able to get out of one three-day gig starting tonight. Holly used her hip to nudge open the door of Mona’s room.
“You didn’t tell me about your Kit.” Holly transferred the nightdresses she’d laundered into the bedside cupboard.
“Be still my beating heart.” Mona’s grin was full of mischief.
“Sooo, he is one of your toy boys.”
Mona fanned herself with a hand. “He’s got the body of Chris Hemsworth.”