Chapter 3

CHAPTER

3

One more sale. A good one. That was all he was asking for.

Matt leaned back in his chair and sighed. Winter was just around the corner and that was always a quiet time for a real estate agent. Not that autumn had been busy. Or summer either. Wagtail Ridge had seemed a little more prosperous this year; the mobile library was running again and there were more people around the town on library days, buying groceries and having a drink at the pub, stopping by the farm supplies store. But library visitors didn’t come to his office. No-one bought a property on a whim.

He looked around the room. It seemed … not dingy as such, but not appealing either. The small wooden building on the town’s main street needed a coat of paint, inside and out. And some smarter furniture. That might attract a few more customers. He did have a couple of nice rural properties on his books. Not huge places, to be sure, but suitable for small breeders. Or hobbyists. All the bigger property sales went to the large national brokers these days. If only he could get one more even halfway decent sale in the next couple of months, he and Vicki would manage for another year. There wouldn’t be money for any luxuries, but they could stay in this place they loved, holding tight to the memories it contained.

He reached for his mouse and, with a click, the accounting spreadsheet vanished and the photo that brought him so much joy and all his sorrow filled the screen. The two people he loved most in the world smiled at him from a sunny spring day, years ago.

‘It hasn’t been the best year, Kim. Vicki and I—we’re managing, but only just.’ He reached out a hand, his fingers hovering a hair’s breadth from the face of the dark-haired woman, who was holding a child in her arms. ‘I miss you. I miss having you to help with the book-keeping. And you were always better than me with the clients. I miss the way you winked at me when you knew we had a sale. I miss your optimism—’ His voice broke.

After nearly two years, he should be able to think about Kim without tears. Sometimes he did. But there were other times when the loss was overwhelming and he lay alone in the bed they had shared, staring into the darkness. People were wrong when they said that the grief would fade with time. That the pain would be easier to bear. It wasn’t.

The sunlight streaming into the room was replaced by shadow as a figure stopped outside the glass door. His two o’clock appointment. Maybe this person was going to save him and his daughter.

Matt shook his head at the fancy and closed his laptop as the door opened and the person came in. He stood up and blinked back his unshed tears.

‘Hi. I’m Matt Ambrose.’

The figure stepped forward and Matt saw a woman with startling hair and equally startling clothes.

‘Hi. I’m Brianna Johnston. I’m afraid I’m a bit early. I do hope that’s okay.’

‘Yes, of course, Ms Johnston. That’s no problem at all. Please, take a seat.’

‘Call me Bree. Everyone does.’

As he sat down opposite her, Matt pulled his thoughts away from Kim and Vicki and focused on his client. She was here to view a property. She could be that one more sale he needed. Matt was good at his job, which was as much about reading people as it was about knowing real estate, and Bree Johnston was not the person he had expected to walk in the door to inspect a good but slightly run-down horse-breeding property. She was younger than he’d expected; probably not yet thirty. But it was more than that. Her spectacular brown hair fell in wild curls past her shoulders, almost to her waist. Her brightly coloured clothes were slightly crumpled and obviously designed for comfort rather than to impress. Peeping from beneath her flowing skirt, one of her legs was clad in a brown stocking and the other in yellow. She also seemed to have a tiny toy parrot pinned to her jacket. Her eyes, however, were arresting. Like her legs, each was a different colour, one blue and one green; they danced with intelligence and life. They were mesmerising.

‘Um … Matt?’

‘Oh, sorry. Yes. Bree. You said in your email that you’d looked at The Gums online. How did you find me and it?’

‘How do we find anything? I googled.’

‘Have you been looking for long?’

‘I’ve been dreaming for a long time. Actively looking, not very long. This is the first place I’ve come to see.’

‘Well, shall we go and look at it, then? We can take my car. The property is only a few kilometres out of town.’

‘Great.’ She was on her feet before he was.

The drive from Wagtail Ridge to The Gums took ten minutes. Matt would normally have used that time to do his salesman’s spiel about the value of properties in this section of the Upper Hunter Valley. He would talk about the beauty of the region, which was still holding on to the last vestiges of the autumn green, while at the same time trying to gauge just how likely it was that there was a sale in the offing. But this time, he said very little as Bree exclaimed over the beauty of the landscape.

‘I love the shape of those hills. Sort of gentle but strong. And the sky is an amazing colour. It’s never quite that clear in the city. It always seems to have a grey tinge. And the clouds are never that white. I bet you have some spectacular rainbows here after the rain.’

Her voice was curiously low-pitched and pleasant to listen to.

‘Here we are,’ he said, pulling into the gateway. ‘Give me a moment to get the lock.’ He got out of the car to open the wide gate. ‘The owners moved out some time ago,’ he said as he got back in. ‘Otherwise, like most places around here, the gate is usually unlocked and open.’

‘I like the gateway.’

So did he. It was made of timber in a sort of American western style with four thick posts holding up a heavy crossbeam. The property name was burned into the crossbeam. ‘The current owners had quarter horses when they lived here. I guess it suited their marketing.’

She nodded but her eyes were already turned towards the paddocks.

‘As you know, there’s a little over fifty-six hectares—that’s one hundred and forty acres, if you prefer. The fencing is all as you see it, plain wire with a wooden top rail, except for two small paddocks near the main outbuildings. Those are fully railed.’ The words came out with practised ease. This was his job. He could make this sale. He had to.

‘They need some work.’

‘It’s been empty for almost a year. There’s been some maintenance done around the house and outbuildings, but it did suffer a bit in the summer storms.’

‘It didn’t flood. I checked the records.’

Matt was impressed. He never lied to a potential customer, but even if he was tempted, he doubted much would get past this Brianna Johnston. ‘The grazing is a bit thin right now,’ he said as they moved slowly down the gravel drive. ‘The paddocks were let out for agistment. But come spring, it’s all improved pasture. And there’s a few hectares of river flats for growing lucerne if you want.’

‘That’s good to know.’

Matt pulled up outside the homestead and they got out of the car. ‘It was well set up for a small horse-breeding operation as well as training.’

‘Oh, it’s not horses I’ll be breeding.’ Bree threw him a quick smile and set off in the direction of the stables and yards.

Matt let her go ahead. She was eager. That was a good sign. He glanced at his watch. There was time for her to have more of a look around before he needed to go back to the office.

Kim, this could be the one.

***

The Gums was exactly as it had looked in the online photographs. But photos don’t tell you everything and, in Bree’s mind, the feel of a place was the most important thing about it. She pulled her hand-knitted cardigan closely around her body to ward off the chilly breeze and looked at the nearest paddocks, assessing the grazing, shelter and water supply. Those things were vital to her plans, but her heart was doing the important work. She breathed in the crisp air, feeling the grit and the fumes of the city fading away. She loved the strength emanating from the soil beneath her lace-up hiking boots and, all around her, the wind through the trees seemed to call to her. This felt right. This place had been prosperous and loved in the past. It might be lonely now, but deep down, it was still very much alive. It could be exactly what she was searching for. Her place.

When she reached the stables, she found solidly built and functional facilities. The lower half of the structure was brick and the upper was wood, with a corrugated iron roof. Although built for horses, they would suit her needs just fine. They’d been kept shut up against the weather, so were in good shape with just a few running repairs needed to set them to rights. The weatherproof feed and tack room was a good size although she might have to clear a few of the spiders.

Bree left the stalls and walked the short distance to lean on a railed fence. The fences too were in need of work. She took hold of a rail and tugged. It was weathered and loose, but still good, solid timber. She could use the rails to rebuild and repair the existing fences. That would save money. And she had always preferred timber rails to the modern trend to metal. Timber rails were the land’s gift to the people who cared for it.

The property was looking pretty good, but there was more to inspect, and she had quite a list of things she needed if this was going to be her place. Matt Ambrose was leaning against the stable wall, watching her. She liked that he wasn’t one of those pushy salesmen and had left her alone to get the feel of the place. Him hovering would have spoiled this experience, but Bree doubted it would have put her off.

‘So far, it’s very much as I expected,’ she said as they walked side by side towards the big machinery shed.

‘If you have any questions …’

‘I won’t hesitate to ask.’ Bree smiled at him.

She had no questions about the shed that sat comfortably between the stables and the house. The shed was open on one side, with a dirt floor and plenty of room for a car, a horse float and maybe even a small tractor. She’d need one of those if she wanted to grow lucerne on the river flats. What the shed lacked was some sort of dry storage space to store the fleeces. That wasn’t a deal breaker. She could maybe use one of the stables. They would be easy to convert and they already had good floors.

The house was next. Bree wanted a nice place to live, but also needed to run her business from there.

‘How’s the internet connection out here?’

‘This close to town, it’s pretty good.’

So was the house. It looked empty and sad, but that was easy to fix. She was overjoyed to see a large glass-fronted wood burner in the living room. That would come in handy on the long winter evenings. There were three bedrooms. She needed one for herself, one for her office and one as a guest room for the frequent visitor she was expecting. There wasn’t any storage for the boxes of spun yarn or other products for her online store. She would have to make do at first, but in the long term, she was going to need more space. The kitchen was functional and the floors were wood that had once been polished. That was a bonus. It wouldn’t take much to replace the boring cream walls with colours that would lift her spirits.

‘Thanks, Matt. I’ve seen enough.’

‘And?’

Her heart skipped a beat. This felt so right, but it was the first property she’d looked at. Everyone knew you never bought the first one. Not an outfit nor a dining table and certainly not a property. It would be crazy to do that. She might have quit her job with nothing to replace it and nowhere to go, but she wasn’t crazy. Well, not entirely. She would look around some more. There might be something better out there. Or more affordable. Or … She could feel herself starting to give way to uncertainty.

‘It’s not perfect,’ she said. ‘It needs work. And the price …’ She shook her head and let the comment hang.

‘Let’s go back to my office and talk.’

Bree was quiet as they drove back into Wagtail Ridge. The fear faded and common sense took over. She liked The Gums, but if this was going to be her new home, the town and the people in it mattered. So she let Matt talk.

‘If you need some work done on the place,’ Matt said, ‘I recommend Jake Barnes. I sometimes think he keeps the whole town running single-handed. His wife Lou is an environmental consultant with the council, but mostly we all think of her as the person who runs the mobile library. There’s a good school too, if you’ve got kids.’

‘No kids. It’s just me.’ She almost felt the questioning glance he sent her way, but ignored it.

‘There’s a small shop,’ Matt continued. ‘It’s not big but Kelly, that’s the owner, can order anything you need. We try to shop in the store as much as we can, rather than drive into Scone.’

Bree heard the unspoken words. Small towns were struggling to survive and needed all the support they could get from the locals.

‘Same for the pub. We’ve only got one. The owners are good people. There’s a town hall and we have a couple of fundraisers there every year. Dances. The money funds school projects and the mobile library. Everyone comes.’

Bree cast a glance at the man driving. Every word he spoke was full of affection for the town. As they approached the first buildings, he pointed out the school and the hall and every gesture, every word, said this town was important to him. He wasn’t a real estate agent trying to make a sale any more, he was a man talking about something that meant a lot to him. She liked that. She liked the pride in his soft, deep voice too. She decided she could trust him if she went ahead with the deal. After that … Well, she was moving to a new town and would want to make friends with the locals. Maybe he’d be a good place to start.

Matt pulled in next to her car. She got out and looked around the street. The little town looked, if not exactly prosperous, at least alive. And it had a welcoming air.

Matt unlocked the office door. ‘Come on in, I’ll make us some coffee and we can talk about price if you like.’

‘Sure.’ She tried not to feel too hopeful, but if he was willing to talk about the price, there might be a chance she could argue it down. All those hours arguing cases in a courtroom might have an unexpected pay-off.

‘By the way, you said you weren’t bringing horses to the property. Do you mind if I ask what you are planning to keep?’

‘Alpacas.’ No sooner had Bree spoken the word than there was a high-pitched squeal behind her. She turned to see a girl of about six wearing a school uniform and clutching a bag covered with stickers of ponies. Her blue eyes were shining.

‘Alpacas! Daddy, can we go see the alpacas? Can we? Please? Please? Please!’