Page 41 of One Last Thing
‘I hate lounging around on holiday, I like to be busy,’ he says, glancing affectionately at his wife. ‘And Mandy here grew up on a horse, so we thought why not trek through the mountains? We’ve booked a wine tour of a local vineyard for the day after tomorrow and then the day after that we’re going canoeing.’
‘Goodness! That does sound busy.’
‘What about you? I got the feeling this activity wasn’t your idea,’ he says, chuckling.
‘No, this was actually planned by my ex-husband,’ I inform him.
His smile falters. ‘Oh.’
‘We’re on excellent terms, don’t worry. Today was him encouraging me to like the same interests as him and Megan,’ I say with a sincere smile, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. ‘I think he was trying to be nice but he is not in my good books.’
‘Great that you get on so well that he can help you plan your holiday!’
‘Yes, isn’t it marvellous,’ I murmur drily.
‘Nothing wrong with doing something that scares you. You did great today.’
I take a sip of my drink, stretching out my leg without drawing notice to it. ‘Thank you, Rick. That’s kind of you to say.’
He watches Megan. ‘Your daughter looks like you.’
‘Actually, she looks like her father,’ I correct.
‘There’s definitely something about her that’s like you. Maybe the mouth?’
‘Maybe. Do you have kids?’
His eyes glaze and fall to the ground. He says he does, but in a voice so different to the one he’s been using, I know not to ask anything further on the topic. The air suddenly feels heavy with sadness and when he breaks it, back to his former geniality and light humour, I know that I will never know Rick’s full story – and that sometimes, in the future, I will find myself thinking of him and his quest to keep busy.
‘Are you retired, Dawn?’
‘No,’ I answer. ‘Mine isn’t the kind of job from which you retire unless forced.’
I think about the lunch with Michael and knock back the rest of my drink.
‘Now that’s intriguing!’ Rick exclaims. ‘May I ask what it is you do?’
‘I’m an author.’
His eyes light up. ‘Fantastic! What do you write?’
‘Romance.’
‘Oh, Mandy! You have got to hear this.Mandy.’ He interrupts his wife’s conversation so loudly that the rest of the campers around the fire are drawn into our conversation, too. ‘Dawn is a writer. She writes romantic novels. You’re always reading those books!’
‘I am,’ Mandy says, leaning forward to beam at me around him.
‘Her name is Dawn Dixon,’ Nico chimes in.
Mandy gasps in recognition. ‘Dawn Dixon, the author of theHeartlodgebooks?’
‘Guilty as charged,’ I say with a well-practised appropriately modest smile.
‘Oh my goodness, I amsucha huge fan,’ she gushes, placing a hand on her heart. ‘I can’t count the number of times I read those books! Wow, Dawn Dixon. What an honour. I can’t believe this!’
‘That’s very kind, thank you.’
‘My book club is going to be sojealous. Are you writing anything right now?’ she asks eagerly.
