Claire McNab - Wombat Strategy

When I appeared with the mugs, Harriet was sprawled in a chair with her legs extended into direct sunlight. "What have you been doing? I was about to come in to look for you."

"Making tea."

"Oh, of course," said Harriet, light dawning. "You don't use tea bags, do you?"

"Not on your nelly!"

Harriet laughed. "What's a nelly?"

"You know, I've got no idea."

It was a lovely, peaceful morning. A butterfly or two flapped around, birds tweeted, Julie Roberts rolled on her back and waved her feet in the air. Harriet, positively glowing with health, sat with me in companionable silence.

I broke it by saying, "You look so terrific. Must be clean living."

"I think it's the fact that I'm pregnant."

"You are?"

My surprise made Harriet grin. "In case you're wondering, Kylie, a gay friend's the father, via a syringe. Genetically, Maurice is excellent. Just as important, Beth and I adore both him and his partner, Gary."

I felt a jab of envy. Harriet was someone who knew pretty well where her life was going and was clearly delighted with the direction it was taking. Plus she had a loving companion by her side for the journey, and dear friends to light the way…

I gave myself a hard mental slap. If I kept this up I'd soon be snuffling into my tea.

I asked, "Does Ariana know you're going to have a baby?"

"She insists on being godmother."

Cool, enigmatic Ariana as a godmother, cooing over a kicking infant? "You know Ariana well," I said, phrasing it as a statement, not a stickybeak question.

"As well as she lets anyone know her."

"A woman of mystery," I said lightly.

Harriet gave me an amused look. "Before you ask, I'm not altogether sure."

I felt myself beginning to blush. "Hell's bells, am I that obvious?

"Uh-huh."

Now I was definitely red in the face. "I've been wondering since I met her if she's a lesbian. Dad never said one way or the other. With most people, you can pick up clues, but Ariana…" I shrugged.

"Beth and I have discussed it at length, believe me. Ariana never talks about her personal life. Beth thinks it's because she doesn't have one, that she's essentially sexless, rather like Lonnie. Neither of them seem particularly interested in relationships."

"I wouldn't compare Ariana to Lonnie," I said, indignant.

Harriet chuckled. "Only in that one respect are they alike. And who knows? Maybe Ariana has a scorching sex life we know nothing about." She looked at her watch. "We'd better get a move on-things to do and money to spend."

I collected a protesting Jules-Melodie had made it clear she wasn't allowed outside without supervision-and followed Harriet through the back door. Ariana with a scorching sex life? The idea didn't please me much. I had to admit I'd rather picture Ariana all alone, high up in her Hollywood Hills home, waiting for someone-well, waiting for me -to come bounding in and declare, "Let me take you to places you've never been before."

No, I'd have to rephrase. That sounded too much like a tourist agent. How about, "Together, we can make wonderful music"? No, that's worse. I should be more direct. I could say, "I lust after you, burn for you…" Nix that. Ariana would flatten me with her cold blue stare, or worse, laugh. Maybe I should let my actions speak louder than words and-

"Kylie? I don't want to hurry you, but we haven't got all day."

"Sorry."

I picked up my shoulder bag, resolutely banning further thoughts of Ariana Creeling. That way lay madness.

Harriet was nothing if not efficient. We hopped into her old Volvo and set out for the nearest shopping center. In short order I had a mobile phone and some really nice clothes to mix and match so I'd have several outfits for my undercover identity. Last was the rental car. Without probs I acquired a four-door, light-tan vehicle filled with the smell of artificial pine. It was a car without much character. Strewth, compared to Dad's Mustang, it didn't have any character. An automatic, it was no sweat to drive, but no fun either.

I thanked Harriet and said goodbye to her at the rental place. She was sweet and asked me if I wanted to join her and Beth for dinner, but I said I wanted an early night. Then I drove back to Kendall & Creeling. There was lots of traffic, and I seemed to snag every red light, so I stop-and-started the whole way, using the time to dwell on the fact Harriet hadn't been asked to help me find accommodation.

Last thing last night I'd said to Ariana, "I should get a flat somewhere near the office, don't you think?"

I would've thought she'd be pleased to get me out of the office bedroom suite, but she hadn't given the impression of jumping for joy. "You can look for an apartment when you have a better sense of L.A. and know where you'd prefer to be," she'd said.

"Melodie or Harriet can help," I'd said. "They know the whole area, don't they? I'd be happy to take advice."

"I don't think you should rush into a lease. If you sign one, you'll be committed to an apartment for at least a year."

I hadn't seen it last night, but now I realized Ariana didn't want me to put down roots. If I remained in the office bedroom, it was a temporary thing. I could go walkabout any time. It all boiled down to one fact: She didn't want me involved in the business. She was just biding her time until I caved and she bought me out.

She could bide all the time she liked. That wasn't going to happen. I was going to implement the Wombat Strategy. A wombat is unstoppable, once its mind is set on a goal. Just like that furry little tank, I'd set my course and I'd keep on keeping on.

When I thought about the drive home last night, I realized the freeze had really set in even before I'd mentioned getting a flat. Ariana, reassuringly sober, had been driving defensively, a wise decision since the roads appeared to be teeming with vehicles performing erratic maneuvers. I'd made a casual remark about wanting to look over Kendall & Creeling's books.

She'd glanced over at me with a frown. "You're free to discuss the financial situation with our accountants." Then she'd really got up my nose by adding, "I believe that would be best. Unless you're an expert, Kylie, financial records can be incomprehensible."

"Oh, I think I might muddle my way through," I said with heavy sarcasm. I'd looked after the financial side of Wombat's Retreat, and I figured a pub's books were going to be quite a lot more complicated than those of a private eye business.

I had no thought Ariana was cooking the books-I was sure she wasn't-but if my partnership with her was to work, I wanted to know every single thing about the company.

A chilly silence had fallen between us at this point. Looking for somewhere to live had struck me as a safe, neutral topic. Major miscalculation.

I spent the rest of the day going to a Laundromat, usefully within walking distance from the offices, planning how I'd get out of moving into the Deers' mansion, and calling Mum to see how things were in the 'Gudge. It was late Sunday afternoon here and Monday morning there.

Not surprisingly, since it was less than a week since I'd skipped, nothing much had happened. With a certain wry satisfaction I learned that Mum's fiance, Jack, was already having a bit of trouble mastering the finer points of running a pub.

Mum asked-hopefully, I thought-if I'd be coming home any time soon. I said although L.A. wasn't a patch on Wollegudgerie- Mum expected me to say that, so I did-I was finding it a very interesting place, so I'd stay a while. Mum asked if I'd seen any stars yet, and I filled her in with info on last night's party.

Without fail Mum has her hair done every Friday at 'Gudge's hairdressing salon, so I knew she would have seen Raylene's new love, Maria. I was burning to ask if she had any news of Raylene but with great effort managed not to bring up the subject.