Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(89)

Small-town coincidence, Falk thought as he looked again at 31A and 31B. Sometimes it was just one of those things. Sometimes it wasn’t.

“Aaron, mate. G’day.”

Falk heard the familiar voice and in the reflection of the print shop glass saw someone crossing the street toward him. Charlie.

He turned. “G’day.”

“Thought that was you.” Charlie was lugging two heavy-looking bags of some agricultural product Falk couldn’t identify. He lowered them to the ground with relief and glanced at the office space behind Falk, his eyes lingering on 31B in particular. Kim’s former workplace. A cloud crossed his face, but he didn’t say anything. When he looked back to Falk, his usual smile had returned.

“You heading to the vineyard?” he said. “Want a lift?”

“No, thanks, I’ve got the car here,” Falk said. “I’m catching up with Gemma soon, anyway.”

“Yeah?” Charlie didn’t sound surprised by this, but there was a pause as he seemed to consider something. Then he nodded at the bags on the pavement. “I’m parked around the corner. Got time to give me a hand with these?”

“Sure.”

Falk picked up the nearest one and followed Charlie along the footpath to a shady side street. When they reached his truck, Falk helped him heave one bag into the back, then the other.

“Thanks.” Charlie unlocked the driver’s door but didn’t open it. Instead he leaned against the side. “Listen, it’s so bloody hard to talk at home right now, people everywhere.” He flashed Falk a grin. “There’s not usually this much mayhem, by the way. It’s mostly just me and Shane a lot of the time, getting on with things. You can hear yourself think, at least.”

“Right.”

“Yeah. So anyway, I think Rita might have mentioned, but if you were maybe looking to hang around Marralee—”

No. Falk’s internal response was immediate, but he stopped himself before he spoke. Charlie caught it in his face, anyway.

“That brother of mine giving me dud info, is he? Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Sorry.” Falk shook his head. “Go on.”

“Well, the thing is, the business is bigger than it used to be. It’s outgrowing the setup I’ve got, so I’m having to start to think ahead. I’ve got Shane, obviously, and the casuals and seasonal teams, but I need someone else year-round. Steady pair of hands to help me and Shane—”

“With what, though?”

“God, all of it.” Charlie laughed. “If you can find your way around a spreadsheet and a tractor, we’d keep you busy, don’t worry about that. It doesn’t have to be a boss-employee thing, either, if that’s what you’re worried about. We could do a contractor arrangement if you want. That’s what Shane has. I could pull together some numbers, see if it’s even in the ballpark for you.”

“Charlie, mate, I know nothing about wine.”

“I can tell that.” But he was smiling. “It’s agricultural at this end, anyway, but to be honest, it’s better to have people who aren’t too fond of the finished product.” Charlie looked at Falk and shrugged. “I dunno, mate, I realize it’s a bit out of the blue. But from what Greg’s told me over the years, you’d be good. There’s nothing in this business you couldn’t learn if you wanted to.”

“What about Shane? What would he think?” Falk wondered why he was even asking.

“Shane’s the one who suggested it. I know how he seems, but he’s a lot more switched on than he comes across sometimes. Can spot an opportunity when he sees it.”

Falk considered that.

“I’m not an accountant, you know,” Falk said. “Seriously. It’s one thing helping Shane out with a couple of invoices, but I’m not trained or qualified. That’s not what I do.”

“Understood,” Charlie said. “I bet you’re good at dealing with them, though.”

Falk had to smile at that. He said nothing for a minute, instead looking down the shady street at the town beyond. At the junction, a woman greeted a couple with delight as they spotted each other crossing the road. Beyond, three old men sitting outside the pub were arguing good-naturedly, cold beers in front of them. The afternoon sky was a dazzling blue above and on the far-off horizon, the rolling hills sat lazy and lush.

“No offense if you’re not keen,” Charlie said, and Falk could tell he meant it.

“It’s not that. It’s—” Falk stopped. What was it? So many things. He shrugged. “I mean, when did you last consider uprooting your life?”

“Well, never.” Charlie grinned and waved toward the town, the clear sky, the green hills, the flourishing vineyards invisible beyond. “But I already get to live here.”

Falk smiled. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Anyway—” Charlie pulled the truck door open now. “No pressure. Just wanted to flag it. Just in case.”

“Okay. Thank you,” Falk said. “Really. The vineyard’s great. And I appreciate the offer.”

“You don’t need to thank me, you’d be helping me out, too.” Charlie started the engine and raised a hand out of the window. “Take some time. Mull it over.”