Marion Lennox - Misty and the Single Dad

‘Hey, then Misty’s your girl,’ the vet said, nudging Misty. ‘Give ’em your spiel, Mist.’

‘No, I…’

‘She wanted to be an interior designer, our Misty,’ the vet said before she could stop him. ‘Sat the exams, got great marks, she was off and flying. Only then her gran had the first of her strokes. Misty stayed home, did teaching by correspondence and here she is, ten years later. But we all know she does a little interior decorating on the side. Part-time, of course. There’s not enough interior decorating in Banksia Bay to keep a girl fed, eh, Mist? But if you’re in Don Samuelson’s place… There’s a challenge. A man’d need a good interior designer there.’

‘I’m a schoolteacher,’ Misty said stiffly.

‘But the man needs a couch.’ Fred could be insistent when he wanted to be, and something had got into him now. ‘New to town, money to spend and an empty house. It’s not exactly appealing, that place, but Misty knows how to make a home.’

‘You could come and see and tell us what to buy,’ Bailey said, excited.

‘Excellent idea. Why don’t you do it straight away?’ the vet said. He glanced down at the little dog and his eyes softened. Like Misty, Fred fell in love with them all. That Nick had appeared from nowhere with the wherewithal to pay…and that Misty had offered the dog a home…

Uh oh. Misty saw his train of thought and decided she needed to back off, fast. Fred Cray had been a friend of her Grandpa’s. He was a lovely vet but he was also an interfering old busybody.

‘I need to go home,’ she said.

‘You’ve visited your gran and you ate a hamburger at Eddie’s half an hour ago,’ Fred said, and she groaned inside. There was nothing the whole town didn’t know in Banksia Bay. ‘The little guy and his dad had fish and chips on the wharf, so they’ve eaten, too. So why don’t you go by his place now and give him a few hints?’

‘There’s no rush,’ Nicholas said, sounding trapped.

‘Yes, there is. We need a couch.’ Bailey was definite.

‘See,’ Fred said. ‘There is a rush. Misty, I’m keeping this little guy overnight. Come back in the morning and we’ll see how he is. Nine tomorrow?’

‘Yes,’ she said, feeling helpless. She turned to Nicholas. ‘But there’s no need…I’m not really an interior decorator.’

‘Bailey and I could do with some advice,’ he admitted, looking as bulldozed as she felt. ‘Not just on what couch to buy but where to buy it. Plus a fridge and beds and a proper kitchen table. Oh, and curtains. We need curtains.’

‘And a television,’ Bailey said.

‘You really have nothing?’ Misty asked, astonished.

‘I really have nothing. But I don’t want to intrude…’

‘You’re not intruding. You’re the answer to her dreams,’ the vet said, chortling. ‘A man with a blank canvas. Go with him, Misty, fast, before some other woman snaffles him.’

‘I don’t…’ She could feel herself blush.

‘To give him advice, I mean,’ Fred said, grinning. ‘You’ll get that round here,’ he told Nicholas. ‘Advice, whether you ask for it or not. Like me advising you to use Misty. But that’s good advice, sir. Take it or leave it, but our Misty’s good, in more ways than one.’

PICK a quiet town in rural Australia, the safest place you can imagine to raise a child. Rent a neat house on a small block without any trees to climb and with fences all around. Organise your work so you can be a stay-at-home dad, so you can take care of your son from dawn to dusk. Hunker down and block out the world.

His plan did not include inviting a strange woman home on day one.

The vet had obviously embarrassed her half to death. She emerged from the clinic, laughing but half horrified.

‘Fred’s the world’s worst busybody,’ she said. ‘You go home and choose your own couch.’

That was good advice-only Bailey’s face fell.

If she was old and plain it’d be fine, he told himself, but her blush was incredibly cute and when she laughed she had this kind of dimple… Danger signs for someone who wished to stay strictly isolated.

But maybe he was being dumb. Paranoid, even. Yes, she was as cute as a button, but in a girl-next-door way. She was Bailey’s schoolteacher.

Maybe they needed a couch, he told himself, and found himself reassuring her that, yes, he would like some advice. There were so many decisions to be made and he didn’t know where to start.

All of which was true, so he ushered her in the front door of their new home and watched her eyes light up with interest. Challenge. It was the way he felt when he had a blank sheet of paper and a yacht to design.

For Fred was right. This place was one giant canvas. They’d set up camp beds in the front room and slung a sheet over the windows for privacy. They had a camp table and a couple of stools in the kitchen. They’d picked up basic kitchen essentials.

They had not a lot else.

‘You travel light,’ she said, awed.

‘Not any more, we don’t.’

‘We’re staying here,’ Bailey said, sounding scared again. The minute they’d walked in the door he’d grabbed his teddy from his camp bed and he was clutching it to him as if it were a lifeline. The house was big and echoey and empty. This was a huge deal for both of them.

Bailey had spent most of his short life on boats of one description or another, either on his father’s classic clinker-built yacht or on his grandparents’ more ostentatious cruiser. The last year or so had been spent in and out of hospital, then in a hospital apartment provided so Bailey could get the rehabilitation he needed. He had two points of stability-his father and his teddy. He needed more.

But where to start? To have a home…to own furniture… Nick needed help, so it was entirely sensible to ask advice of Bailey’s schoolteacher.

He wasn’t crossing personal boundaries at all.

‘You really have nothing?’ she asked.

‘We’ve been living on boats.’

‘Is that where Bailey was hurt?’

‘Yes. It’s also where Bailey’s mother was killed,’ he said briefly. She had to know that-as Bailey’s teacher, there was no way he could keep it from her.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, sounding appalled.

‘Yeah, well, we’ve come to a safer part of the world now,’ he said. ‘All we need to make us happy is a couch.’

‘And a dog?’

‘No!’

‘No?’ she said, and she smiled.

She smiled ten seconds after he’d told her his wife had died. This wasn’t the normal reaction. But then he realised Bailey was still within hearing. She’d put the appalled face away.

Bailey had had enough appalled women weeping on him to last a lifetime. This woman was smart enough not to join their ranks.

‘A girl can always try,’ she said, moving right on. ‘Do you want all new stuff?’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘Old stuff’s more comfortable,’ she said, standing in the doorway of the empty living room and considering. ‘It’d look better, too. This isn’t exactly a new house.’ She stared around her, considering. ‘You know, there are better houses to rent. This place is a bit draughty.’

‘It’ll do for now.’ He didn’t have the energy to go house-hunting yet. ‘Do you have any old stuff in mind?’

She hesitated. ‘You might not stay here for long.’

‘We need to stay here until we’re certain Banksia Bay works out.’

‘Banksia Bay’s a great place to live,’ she said, but she was still looking at the house. ‘You know, if you just wanted to borrow stuff until you’ve made up your mind, I have a homestead full of furniture. I could lend you what you need, which would give you space to gradually buy your own later. If you like, we could make this place homelike this weekend.’