5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Trent

Callum pulled his HiLux ute to the side of the road directly outside of the small cottage. Trent climbed from the cab and turned back to look inside. "I won't be long."

"Sure. Take your time," Callum replied from the driver's seat and shot him a grin.

He gathered the canvas bag of empty egg cartons from the footwell and, with a wave to Callum, headed around the house. Joe and Mary lived in an older cottage surrounded by an expanse of vegetable gardens and a small orchard. Chickens roamed freely in a large fenced area out the back. The sight of the chooks pecking happily amongst the veggie scraps brought a smile to his face.

The screen door slammed, and Trent turned to see Mary slowly descending the back steps. He hurried to the foot of the stairs and held out an arm. In her late seventies, she was a fit and active woman, at least she had been until a nasty accident had robbed her of her mobility.

"Good morning, Trent," she said, eyes crinkling. She hadn't lost any of her sparkle despite her unsteady movements. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it? I've got your eggs ready, and Joe put aside some radishes and endive."

"Thanks. I can't wait until I have my first harvest and can bring you something I've grown myself."

"We'll look forward to it. How's business going, dear?"

Trent opened the gate of the fenced yard, following Mary through and latching the gate before the hens could escape. "It's improving. I've got guests booked on weekends for the next couple of months, but mid-week is still quiet."

"I'm sure things will pick up. You're doing wonders with the guesthouse and I'm sure word will get around. I've been telling the ladies at my bridge afternoon all about the work you're doing."

Trent chuckled. He didn't have the heart to tell her his business was more likely to come from TripAdvisor reviews than from referrals from a group of elderly ladies playing cards. "I appreciate it, Mary. Hopefully I'll be able to show you the progress soon."

"That would be wonderful, dear. Joe and I used to visit the guesthouse when it was owned by the Browns. They had it for close to fifty years, you know." She laughed and waved a hand. "Of course you know. But did you know they used to have a garden party each year?"

"I'm thinking of having a party when the major work is done." He hadn't been, but suddenly it sounded like a great idea. Bring back a little piece of the past plus celebrate the new life of the guesthouse and all the hard work he'd put in. Or rather me and Callum.

"How wonderful! Something to look forward to." She beamed, eyes twinkling. "Now let's get you sorted and on your way so you can get back and get that place spic and span as soon as possible —I want to attend that party! I can't wait to go out and buy myself a new dress."

She giggled, her enthusiasm warming Trent.

He headed to the small shed at the rear of the fenced yard next to the coop. "The girls have been laying well?" he asked.

"Don't you know it! We have to eat eggs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and bake every day just to keep on top of them. But it's a nice problem to have. Did you want your usual?"

He nodded. "Perfect." He pulled four egg cartons from his bag and passed them over.

It didn't take long for the cartons to be filled with freshly laid brown hen's eggs, and soon he was heading back to the car after declining the offer of tea. He felt a twinge of guilt at not joining Mary for a cuppa and a slice of her banana cake, but he was eager to get back to Callum and didn't want to keep him waiting in the car any longer than he already had.

"Guess what?" he said as he climbed into the ute and buckled up his seatbelt. "We're having a party!"

"Huh? We are?"

He turned to meet Callum's confused expression. "Yep. A garden party."

"What on earth is a garden party?" Callum asked as he started the HiLux and pulled out onto the road.

"Hmmm. Good question. I'm not exactly sure. I guess it's a party outside, but I'm not sure what makes it different to any other party."

Callum chuckled. "So long as there's a cold beer and some food, count me in. But why a garden party?"

"Mary was telling me that the old owners used to host an annual garden party. It seemed a nice nod to the past."

"I think it's a great idea. I can picture the garden now. The plants in bloom, a marquee on the lawn, tables and chair scattered around, a band—"

"Hold on," Trent said, but couldn't help smiling. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. There's a lot of work to be done before we're ready for a party."

Callum glanced over and winked. "Lucky I got a head start on the path though, isn't it?"

"The outdoors is looking great, but there's still so much to do." Trent's head hit the headrest with a thud. "Arrr. So much work."

"You've got this," Callum said.

He loved the vote of confidence. Recently, he'd been buoyed by Callum's support and not so consumed by the overwhelming nature of the renovation project.

He sat up straighter. "Hey. I was wondering if you want to go grab a bite to eat tonight?"

He waited with bated breath, unexpectedly nervous. Argh! Why does it feel like I'm asking him on a date? Friends go out for dinner too.

"What did you have in mind?"

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, although Callum focused on the road ahead, not him. "Maybe that new bistro on the highway?" God, that does feel date-like. "Or we could just go to the pub," he hurried to add.

"Either sounds good," Callum said. "But I've heard good things about the bistro. French, isn't it?"

"They did a write up in the local tourism magazine. French Asian fusion."

"That sounds awesome. Sold!"

Trent couldn't wipe the smile from his face all the way back to the guesthouse.

The restaurant was dim and cosy, the table bathed in soft candlelight—a perfect date destination. Trent had to remind himself this wasn't a date, something that was hard to do given the feelings swirling around inside his chest. He met Callum's soft-as-silk gaze across the table when Callum looked up from his fish. A smile flittered across his face before his eyes lowered, dark lashes shadowing his cheeks. God, he has cheekbones to die for.

Trent blinked, tearing his eyes from Callum and bending his head to focus on his own meal. The bouillabaisse was delicious, a French classic amped up with star anise and a twist of coconut milk. He swallowed the last mouthful of spicy broth with a moan of appreciation.

"How was it?" Callum asked.

"Fantastic. Just the right amount of spice. What about the fish?"

"Delicious. I'm a fan of barramundi; all fish, really. Although I'm better at catching them than cooking them."

"You fish? Of course you do." Trent groaned and rolled his eyes. The outdoor activity suited Callum perfectly. He could imagine him hauling in a marlin from the back of a boat, muscles straining with the weight of the big fish. Or thick legs sturdily planted on a rock platform at the base of a sea cliff as the waves rolled in. The power of the ocean wouldn't phase him as he reeled in snapper after snapper—

"Trent?"

God, his fantasies were taking him to strange places lately. "Sorry. You were talking about fishing?"

Callum nodded. "I don't go as often as I'd like, but there are some beautiful places to fish around here."

"There are?" Fishing seemed like a coastal pursuit.

"Sure. There are a ton of dams and lakes, and the river fishing is an amazing experience. I usually fish for rainbow or brown trout."

"Wow. Fishing up here in the mountains didn't even cross my mind. When I think of fishing, it's dangling a line off the end of a wharf at the bay where we had holidays as kids."

"Snap!" Callum smirked. "Mainly leatherjackets caught with frozen prawns we bought from the general store."

Trent smiled. "You got it. Then Mum freaking out when we expected her to clean and cook them for dinner." Trent could still picture his mum's look of horror.

"My mum grew up in the country, so the scales and guts were chicken feed compared to butchering a lamb—" Callum started, but then stopped at Trent's shudder. "Sorry. Not ideal dinner conversation. Hey, I was thinking about something."

"What's on your mind?" he asked, then lifted his glass of semillon and took a sip.

Uncertainty flickered in Callum's gaze. "Well… It's an idea for the guesthouse. I hope I'm not overstepping…"

"Go ahead," Trent said as he put his glass down, keen to hear what he had to say.

"The guesthouse is going to be beautiful—a blend of the traditional with modern comfort, and from what you've told me about your plans, the dining room will be amazing. And I know from personal experience, the breakfasts are awesome." He winked. "It just…" His words trailed off again.

"What is it? I can take it." Trent tapped his cheek with a finger. "Hide as thick as a hippo here."

Callum snorted. "Somehow I doubt that, but here goes then. I don't think you're making the most of the mountains—"

"Of course, I am," Trent interrupted. "The guesthouse is all about the mountains."

"The guesthouse, sure. You're capturing the essence of the past and mountain life inside , but you're not taking advantage of everything else the mountains offer beyond your own garden."

Trent frowned. "I'm not sure I'm following." The waiter chose that moment to clear the table. As soon as the plates were whisked away, Trent lent in. "What are you—"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything." Callum lowered his gaze to the table, straightening his cutlery. He looked back up, uncertainty in his eyes.

Trent waved him off with a hand. He really was interested in Callum's opinion. He smiled in encouragement. "Don't be. Just explain what you mean."

"Well, the Blue Mountains are a popular destination because of the majestic views. Then there are the small towns with the cafes and artisan crafts. Tourists visit the lookouts to grab their Instagram shots, and shop at the malls, maybe visit an art gallery. But there are opportunities to explore deeper, to give people a unique experience."

"You mean like fishing?"

Callum chuckled. "That's one of the things. Fishing, guided walks, garden tours."

"But I've got links to those sorts of things on the website, and I have all the brochures from the information centre available for guests."

"Yes, but I think you could go a step further, build tailored experiences into your weekend packages. The experiences would complement the accommodation and food offering."

Trent pondered the idea. It needed more thought, but he could see where Callum was going. "Bespoke experiences," he mused. "I like it."

Callum offered up a smile. "I'm happy to share my insider knowledge if you want to discuss some ideas."

Insider knowledge? A light bulb had come on. "Actually, I have an idea I definitely want to run past you."

Over dessert Trent put forward his fledgling idea—that Callum take the more adventurous guests on day trips—fishing, bushwalking, exploring. He could run his own business alongside the guesthouse. They could leverage each other's strengths, especially after the renovation was complete and the handyman workload decreased.

"Hmm. It's certainly food for thought," Callum said.

"I know there's a lot to consider, but I think we could make this work."

He was talking about the business proposition, but a part of him was referring to his unrealistic dream of the two of them together.