Page 32 of Bay of Plenty

“Oh, jeez.” Mum was at the sink and averted her eyes.

“Just to say good luck for tomorrow.” Rosemary joined Mum at the sink and gave her a hug. “And here’s some avocados.” She emptied a bag into the fruit bowl. “Sorry, gotta go. Zoom call, money never sleeps.”

On the pretense of checking out her new pink cruiser bike, I walked her out.

“What a pretty basket,” I said, running my hand over the wicker. “By the way, how’s that big campground deal going with the bow-tied buyer?” I tried to keep my tone casual.

“CeeCee was right.” She hoisted herself onto her seat. “I can’t talk about that.”

“I might be able to dig up some background on him.”

“No, I have to keep it quiet.” Her eyes diverted to Declan again. “Wish my Fleur had a nice bloke like you do. She’s so consumed with being this town’s health and safety boss that she won’t take any risks with men either.”

Fleur was head of health and safety? Rosemary talked about how Fleur should start by softening her look with hair extensions. I nodded intently, but the back of my neck was tingling. Fleur might be able to shed some light on those regulations at the winery.

A few more questions and I learned Fleur had a dog she walked at seven in the evening, straight after her dinner.

When I first arrived, the comings and goings on the beach seemed random. But they weren’t at all. No one left the house without fruit, cake, or jam to drop off. Everyone had a definite destination, even if they got waylaid.

The dog walking was precision itself, each person timed to meet dogs and people they liked and avoid those they didn’t.

So, later, while Mum was making a cup of tea and Declanwas on his phone in the bedroom, I snapped on Fred’s leash. Before Mum could offer to join me, I was out the door.

I paced impatiently on the beach. As Mum stepped out onto the front deck, a hand shielding her eyes, Fleur strode past with her doodle mix, a dog as bouncy and smiley as she wasn’t. She made a striking figure—a champion rower; she’d grown unusually tall, maybe even six feet, with broad shoulders and no-nonsense short hair.

Over her baggy jeans and T-shirt, she wore a high-vis vest.

“Hey, Fleur, fancy meeting you here,” I said.

“What.” It wasn’t a question; it was the wordwhat.

Was she standoffish and prickly to protect herself from the comments—so big for a woman, so strong for a woman, those shoulders. How often had I watched myself be as grim and difficult?

“I like your high-vis vest,” I said. “Obviously essential for dog walking.”

“Safety doesn’t take a holiday.” Her voice and face were emotionless, except for an almost imperceptible twitch of her lips.

I laughed. She’d had the same sardonic sense of humor as a kid.

“Seems like pretty much everyone here wears those vests for work—suppose that’s your doing?” I asked. “It’s like someone’s taken a fluorescent marker and dabbed it all over the landscape.”

She cracked a smile.

“Funny that,” I said, “because New Zealand has the most wild-ass unsafe activities.”

She huffed out a laugh. “I’m going to use that.” She turned to me for the first time and narrowed her eyes. “By the way, I’m only talking to you because your mother keepsMum off my back about restyling my hair and my life. Cut to the guts,” she said.

What a relief.“About Snow’s winery. Could I get a wine tour without them obtaining a permit?”

“What are ya?” She screwed up her face in disbelief.

But I wasn’t going to let her off that easily. “You kind of owe me, Fleur,” I said. “All those nights I let you girls stay up. And I always brought you loads of lollies. I’ll go to my grave with that—final offer.”

She rolled her eyes and gave a reluctant laugh. “Think Mum turned a blind eye. She could never decide whether you were the shittiest or the best babysitter. Okay. Yes. Winery regs three two. Up to four friends can visit a winery if they’re not charged.” She sniffed, annoyed.

“Thank you, Fleur.”

We ambled together for a little longer, laughing about our mothers.

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