All They Need(56)
“So what do you do, Flynn?” a voice asked from his other side and he realized Mel’s mother had nabbed the spot next to him.
“I work in property development.”
“Help yourself to a sandwich before my son hoovers them all up,” Val said. “The Porter family motto is He Who Hesitates is Lost. You’ll starve if you hang back.”
She waited until he had his mouth full before hitting him with her next question. “I believe I’ve heard Mel mention that you bought Summerlea recently. That’s a big project to take on.”
Flynn swallowed before responding. “I figure if I take it bit by bit, I’ll eventually get things under control. And if that turns out to be completely delusional, I can always call in the pros.”
“So you like a bit of handyman work, do you?” Val asked.
“I’m more of a gardener, to be honest. But I’d like to think I’m not completely useless with a power drill.”
“You should talk to Harry. He does some handyman work on the side.”
“Mom.” Mel’s voice held a not-so-subtle warning.
“Thanks, I will,” he said, shooting Mel a look to let her know he didn’t mind her mother’s suggestion. He was new to the area, and he’d much prefer to have someone he knew working with him than a random tradesperson he’d plucked from the phone book or the classifieds.
“And are you married, Flynn?” Val asked, nibbling delicately on the crust of a chicken salad sandwich.
Mel choked and he glanced at her in enquiry.
“Need me to Heimlich you again?” he asked.
“No,” she said, her eyes watering.
He grabbed a can of Coke from the cooler. Pulling the tab, he passed it to her. When he returned his attention to Val, her expression indicated she was still waiting for his answer.
“I’m not married,” he said.
“Ah. Divorced, then?”
Mel sighed loudly. “Mom. I swear—”
“How else am I supposed to get to know people if I don’t ask questions?”
“I don’t know—maybe you could wait until it comes up in conversation?” Mel suggested.
“As if Flynn’s going to talk about his divorce with a total stranger.”
“Thank you for making my point for me,” Mel said.
She successfully changed the subject after that, and once the sandwiches had been polished off Val went home. After twenty more minutes of lounging in the warm winter sunlight, they roused themselves and started the first of many trips transferring the topsoil from the front lawn to the garden beds.
By five o’clock Flynn was sweaty, sore and covered with grit. It had been a while since he’d worked with his body and hands for a full day and he had a new respect for Mel after watching her toil alongside the men without once letting up. As the time edged toward five-thirty he began to wonder when, exactly, the apparently indefatigable Porters were going to call it quits. He heaved a silent sigh of relief when her father dug his shovel into the garden bed with an air of finality.
“Right, that’s it. It’s getting dark and cold and I need food,” Mike said.
No one was about to argue. Between the five of them they returned Mel’s tools to the shed, then Mel ushered them all into her kitchen and distributed beers. Harry sat back in his chair and made an appreciative sound as he swallowed his first mouthful. Flynn had to agree that an ice cold beer had never tasted quite so good before, probably because he knew he’d bloody well earned it.
“Okay, dinner is on me. Fish and chips. Who wants what?” Mel asked.
She had a notepad in hand and a smudge of dirt on her cheek. He watched in amusement as she proceeded to decipher the barrage of requests from her family before finally fixing her gaze on him.
“What’s the burger situation like?” he asked.
“Good fish-and-chip-shop standard, verging on very good at times.”
“Hook me up with one of those, then, thanks. And a couple of dim sims.”
“Fried or steamed?”
“Fried. Of course.”
“I knew you were all right,” Harry said as he downed the last of his beer.
Mel made a couple of phone calls, and twenty minutes and a round of beers later their food arrived, delivered by Val, and a woman who looked so much like her that she could only be Mel’s sister, Justine, and two little boys.