As Deep as the Ocean Read online

She ignored the glower of jealousy in her stomach at the thought of Mac kissing either of her sisters.

  “Look,” she said more gently, leaning forward on the table. “I’m not dissing marriage, I swear. Real marriage is something to be celebrated. It’s a way to show commitment, it’s a promise that, at that moment, you plan to stay with your partner for the rest of your life. It’s a beautiful thing, and maybe one day I’ll get around to it. But let’s face it, it’s not going to happen anytime soon.”

  “You don’t know that,” Sandi pointed out. “How do you know that you won’t be walking along the bay in six months’ time and bump into some gorgeous guy? How’s he going to feel when he knows you can’t get divorced for another six months?”

  “Actually, Mac says you have to have been married two years in New Zealand before you can apply for a divorce...”

  Sandi bent and rested her forehead on the table. “This gets worse and worse.”

  Fred laughed. “Come on, you’re making too much of this. It’s no different than signing papers when you take out a loan. You sign your life away too, then, don’t you? You make a commitment to that company to pay the money, and you pay a penalty if you don’t.”

  “It’s hardly the same,” Sandi pointed out, sitting up again. “It would feel bizarre to know that you’re married to Mac. I don’t think I could see it as a business deal.”

  “We need to try to take the emotion out of it,” Fred said. “I’m serious here. He’s made an incredibly unselfish offer, and we should take the time to consider it properly.”

  “Is it unselfish?” Ginger queried.

  “I know there’s no such thing as a selfless act,” Fred replied, “I’ve already thought of that. He feels terrible about what his father did, and he wants to make himself feel better.”

  Sandi frowned. “But surely it means by law he’d get half of the vineyard by being married to you?”

  “He told me I could draw up any pre-nup I want, and that he wouldn’t make a caveat that we have to keep him on—that would be up to us. He doesn’t want the land. He wants to help us.”

  They all thought about that.

  “He sounds too good to be true,” Ginger said. “But actually, that wasn’t what I meant when I asked if it was unselfish. I meant, do you really think he hasn’t thought about what it would mean to be married to you, on a personal level?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ginger’s expression softened. “You’d be his wife. Don’t you think that would change how you feel about him? And don’t you think he knows that?”

  Sandi’s eyebrows rose. “You mean, he’s hoping it might help Fred develop feelings for him?”

  “Yeah. That’s exactly what I meant.”

  Fred’s heart banged, but she kept still, not wanting to give her feelings away. “I don’t think so,” she said calmly. “I know it’s difficult for us to trust people at the moment. We’ve all been duped, and we’re going to be suspicious of ulterior motives. And of course, I don’t know him well, so I can’t be certain there’s nothing behind his offer. But he seems genuine. I truly believe he wants to help us and put right what his father did. He could have made all kinds of offers to me—he could have asked for half the money for himself, or said he’d marry me providing I agree to let him stay on as estate manager.”

  “But don’t you see,” Sandi insisted, “that’s what makes it even more strange. It would have made more sense if he had stipulated that you keep him on. At least he would be getting something out of it. What’s he getting out of this? Do we all really believe he’s doing it out of the goodness of his heart?”

  Fred’s throat tightened. Sandi had not only lost her partner—she’d had to deal with his terrible betrayal and, hot on the heels of that, the knowledge that their mother had also betrayed them for many years. It was no wonder she was so afraid to trust.

  But that didn’t mean that Mac wasn’t genuine. It was like rolling a dice—if you rolled a six the first time it didn’t reduce the chance of rolling a six the next. And so it was with people—just because they’d all been terribly hurt by someone’s cruel actions didn’t mean that the next person who came along wouldn’t have a heart of gold.

  Equally, she warned herself, she had to go into this with open eyes. She had to be critical and careful, but it would be a mistake to turn her back on a genuine opportunity.

  “When it comes down to it,” she said, “what other choice do we have? I think we’ve all decided that we want to stay. I don’t know about you two, but it’s clear to me that Mac was right, and the place needs some serious money spent on it. Yes, we could get a couple of cheap cans of paint and give it the appearance that we’ve overhauled the place, but the locals would know, the people who work here would know. Mac would know. He might not stay, and we need him to stay. He knows the place inside out, and I don’t think any of us can deny he knows his stuff where winemaking is concerned. He can make the vineyard a success again, I’m convinced of it, and if the vineyard’s a success, the B&B and the restaurant will have the chance to be, too.”

  She tapped on the table. “But to do it properly, we need money. We could wait until we get residency, then apply for a loan, but do we really want to sink ourselves deep into debt? You heard what he said—forty to fifty thousand to really make some good changes. This would be a start, and providing we reinvest the majority of the profits we make, we’ll be well on the way.” She leaned forward to catch their gazes. “Do we really want to do this? To stay, to begin again, and try to make it work here? Or do we want to give up, sell, and go back to the U.K.?”

  “I don’t want to go back,” Ginger said immediately.

  “Neither do I,” Sandi said, a bit more slowly. “But equally, I don’t want you to give up your freedom for us, either. If this is the only way, I want you to be sure. Even if Mac’s intentions are honorable, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ll be tied into the contract for two years. It’s a long time, Fred. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  Fred shrugged. “It is and it isn’t. It’ll take us that long, I suspect, to get this place the way we want it—the way it should be once again. I think two years will pass quickly. And look, even if it doesn’t, and even if I were to meet a guy in the bay, if he was the sort of man who’d be interested in me, I’d expect him to understand why I made this decision. It wouldn’t mean that I couldn’t date anyone.”

  “I suppose.” Sandi met her sister’s gaze, and her lips curved up. “You really want to do this?”

  “Fifty thousand dollars,” Fred whispered. “Imagine what we could do with that!”

  “Has Mac got two brothers?” Ginger grinned. “Imagine what we could do with a hundred and fifty thousand!”

  They all giggled.

  “Seriously, though,” Ginger said, “what would we do with the fifty thousand? How would we decide where to spend it?”

  “Well, I’d bring Mac in on that decision. If he’s going to be our estate manager, we’ll need his input, and he’s the most informed person anyway. We need to work out what our profits are likely to be, and what else we need to invest in the vineyard to start the ball rolling, and then it should be clear what we can spare to put into the restaurant and the B&B. We all know the vineyard’s important, but equally I want us all to have something to work with. There’s no point in having a fantastic Cellar Door, but everything else looking like crap.”

  “I suppose.” Ginger put her hand in the middle of the table, palm down. “So we’re all agreed, then?”

  Fred took a deep breath and put her hand on top of her sister’s. “I’ll take the rest of the day to think about it. But at the moment, yes, I think I should take Mac’s offer.”

  They both looked at Sandi. With some reluctance, she reached out her hand and placed it on theirs. “As long as you’re sure,” she said. “Don’t rush into it, Fred. If you feel you need a week or even longer to think about it, make sure you take the time.”

  “I will.” Fred wi
thdrew her hand. “Okay, I’m going up to the house to finish sorting out the bedrooms. I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah, see ya, Fred.”

  She walked out and headed up to the house. Her mind was buzzing, but she couldn’t deny the feeling of excitement in her stomach at the knowledge that her sisters had agreed with the idea. They’d be able to stay!

  She stopped at the gate to the house and looked across the vineyard, to where Blue Penguin Bay curved below them like a smile. Harry Cartwright had probably stood in this very spot at some point, looking at his vineyard, staring out at the Pacific Ocean. Had he thought of his family back in England very much? Had he wondered about his girls? He must have been devastated when he thought they’d chosen not to write back to him.

  A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed. He knew what Louise Cartwright was like—had he ever considered that she might be behind her daughters’ lack of communication? Maybe he hadn’t been able to bring himself to believe she could be that spiteful. Fred still had trouble believing it herself. In the way that Mac was convinced that his father’s decision to destroy the original will had driven James MacDonald mad, she wondered whether her mother choosing to keep up the pretense that Harry had no interest in keeping in touch with his family had had some connection with her illness, and how bad she’d gotten over the years.

  She thought about what Mac had said, about how Harry was still here somewhere, watching over her. And about the quote from Gone with the Wind, about land being the only thing in the world worth working for, worth fighting for, worth dying for. She liked that he felt the same way about Blue Penguin Bay that she did. The thought of him standing beside her, working with her to make the vineyard great once again, gave her a glow inside that she couldn’t ignore.

  But she would take the day to think about it, she promised herself. Or longer, if necessary. There was no need to make a decision on the spot, even if her sisters agreed it was a good idea.

  FOR THE REST OF THE day, she cleaned and tidied, getting rid of the last of the rubbish before making sure that all the wooden floors were scrubbed and the windows opened to let in the fresh air and cleanse away any of James’s lingering presence.

  She didn’t see Mac, didn’t see anyone, in fact, and thoroughly enjoyed herself, pleased at the end of the day to stand back and view her handiwork, and see the place looking spick and span.

  Taking a can of Coke Zero out of the fridge, she went out and sat on the bench that faced the vineyard. It was around six, a few hours yet until sunset. The clouds had cleared from the morning, and although the breeze was cool, the sun was warm enough to sit without a jacket. The ripe grapes glowed like marbles, the green vines rich and lush. She could almost taste the wine they’d make.

  Her turangawaewae. Yes, she could easily make this her place to stand.

  Someone exited the barrel hall, and she saw him walking toward the house. Her heart rate immediately sped up, but she stayed seated, letting him see that she was watching him walk. He had a casual roll, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. His hair looked as if it hadn’t been brushed for a fortnight. His arms shone in the late rays of the sun, gleaming an impressive bronze. He looked like a god.

  “Hey,” he said as he came through the gate. He walked across and sat beside her.

  “Hey.” She smiled. “How’s your day been?”

  “Productive. Getting ready for the harvest. We’re about there. We’ll start on Monday, I think. How about you?” His ocean-blue eyes surveyed her.

  She stifled a shiver. “Finished the bedrooms. The house is looking good.”

  He looked pleased. “Ah, well done. I’m sorry I left you to it. I meant to help with that.”

  “It’s okay. It gave me time to think. I talked to Sandi and Ginger this morning, by the way. And I’ve been thinking all day.”

  “Oh?” His gaze met hers. And even though she knew this was strictly business, and even though she knew it shouldn’t mean anything, deep down she felt a flutter of pleasure at the hope in his eyes.

  “Mmm,” she said. “And the answer’s yes.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “MAC!” THE TALL, GRAY-haired woman who’d opened the door flung out her arms to encourage a hug.

  Mac did so, kissing her cheek at the same time. Jackie Coulthard was a qualified celebrant. She was also a friend of his mother’s, and he’d known her for over twenty years.

  “Jackie, this is Fred,” he told her, stepping back to let Fred come forward.

  Jackie shook her hand and said, “Welcome, Fred,” but he could see her assessing Fred shrewdly. His mother had told him that Jackie was uneasy about performing the ceremony, and that she wanted to talk to them both before they went ahead. He wasn’t sure if it was Jackie who was uncertain or his mother, but he was prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt and answer a few questions.

  He was aware, though, that inside he felt like a sixteen-year-old introducing his girlfriend to his old aunt. He wanted Jackie to like Fred. That, in itself, interested him.

  “Come in, come in.” She beckoned them into the house, which was large and impressive. The living room had huge north-facing windows that overlooked Russell and, beyond, the curve of Blue Penguin Bay. He could just see the terracotta buildings of the estate high on the hill opposite.

  She led them to a cream sofa and sat opposite them in an armchair. In front of them, three cups and a pot of tea rested on a tray, along with a plate of homemade cookies. Outside, it was raining, and the drops peppered the windows and bounced off the deck.

  He sat back, conscious of Fred beside him sitting on the edge, her spine stiff. He still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go ahead with his crazy plan.

  Jackie poured them all tea as they chatted about the weather and what Fred thought of the bay. When they all had a cup in their hands and were munching on cookies, Jackie finally broached the subject.

  “So... you two are thinking of getting married.”

  He swallowed the mouthful and cleared his throat. “Yes. And we’d like you to do it.”

  “Okay. Well, Megan’s given me some insight into why you’re making this decision, but I’d like to hear your side of it.”

  So Mac gave her a rundown, explaining about the fake will, how James had spent all the money, and how he himself had contacted Fred when he’d discovered Harry’s letter.

  Jackie listened to it all, sipping her tea, her gaze flicking occasionally to Fred, who confirmed each detail with a nod of her head.

  “All right,” Jackie said when he’d finished. “So, Fred, you need to show a marriage certificate to your lawyer to access your funds.”

  “Yes.”

  “But beyond that, there was nothing else stipulated about the relationship.”

  “No.”

  Jackie nodded and pressed her lips together, her gaze meeting Mac’s.

  “Come on,” he said softly, “be honest. I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Is part of your role to assess the intention behind a couple’s decision to marry?”

  Jackie put down her cup. “No. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’ve read the code of ethics and professional standards. It says that we should preserve the clients’ rights to personal choice and decision-making. We’re supposed to provide guidance about the ceremony, and take into account the couple’s beliefs and traditions. I am conscious that if this were a religious ceremony, the priest or whoever was marrying you would have a duty to assess the couple’s readiness for marriage, and whether they understood the solemnity of the vows. However, I don’t believe it’s my job to decide the depth of feeling in a relationship. There are places all over the world where arranged marriages are common, and I’ve actually officiated in two of those with couples from Vanuatu, so in that sense I don’t see why this is any different.”

  She surveyed him with a frown. “Except that it’s you, Mac. I’m a little disappointed in you. That you think so little of marriage.”

  H
e shifted on the sofa under Jackie’s cool gaze, continuing to feel sixteen. “I don’t think little of it at all. One day I hope I’ll get married properly, and I’ll write my own vows and do all the ‘in sickness and in health’ stuff, and I’ll mean every word.” He forced himself not to glance at Fred, who was looking up at him. “But that’s not what this is about. I have to do something, Jackie. What my father did—it hurts me, physically. I have to try to put it right. The land belongs to Fred and her sisters, and I’m convinced that if Harry had known what my father was going to do, he wouldn’t have tied up the girls’ money in this way. I need to do something.”

  “All right,” Jackie said gently. “I understand. I guess I am a little puzzled as to why you didn’t choose a celebrant you didn’t know. You wouldn’t have to explain yourself then. Why not just pretend, wouldn’t that have been easier?”

  Fred spoke up then. “We thought about it. Both of us feel awkward asking a celebrant to marry us knowing it’s for show, and especially with you being a friend of Mac’s mother—I hope you don’t see it as an insult. But I think it would be worse to be married by a stranger who would assume that we’re in a relationship and genuinely want to commit to each other for the rest of our lives. We do both value marriage as an institution. We don’t want our vows to include statements about ‘till death us do part’ that we have no intention of obeying. It doesn’t feel right.”

  Her cheeks flushed. Mac had to fight not to reach out and feel the warmth of her skin. He envied the man to whom she would eventually pledge her life and vow to love and cherish forever. Inside, he felt an odd twinge at the thought that they wouldn’t be exchanging the traditional vows. He’d never given marriage a lot of thought in the past. How would it feel to be promising Fred that he’d stay by her side forever? That he’d never love another woman except her?

  Conscious that the room had gone quiet, he glanced at Jackie. She sipped her tea, and he had the feeling she was hiding a smile behind her cup. “Okay,” she said. “You understand the legal obligations of what you’re getting into? That although yours might be a business relationship, it doesn’t change the legal, binding aspect of it?”