‘Yes, of course.’ Amber had first met the Richmonds on Christmas day two years ago, when Christmas dinner had been held at Aunt Kate’s place.
Max Richmond was the owner of the Royale chain of international hotels, including the Regency Royale in Sydney, but had semi-retired to the Central Coast after his marriage. He and his wife were good friends of her Aunt Kate. They were a very glamorous-looking couple, with two amazingly well-behaved children: a darling little boy named Stevie and a very pretty blonde baby named Jasmine, who just sat in her stroller and smiled at everyone.
Amber recalled thinking on more than one occasion that they seemed the perfect family.
‘You may or may not have noticed,’ her mother said, ‘but the Richmonds weren’t at Kate’s funeral last week.’
‘No, I didn’t notice.’ She’d been too upset to notice anything much.
‘They were overseas at the time of Kate’s death and didn’t learn about it till they returned home yesterday. Anyway, to cut a long story short, they immediately got in touch with us to let us know that they were in possession of a new will, made just after Easter this year. In it, Kate has left her superannuation policy to your father, but her home and all its contents go to you.’
‘What? But that’s not right. I don’t deserve it!’
‘Whether you deserve it or not is not the point,’ her mother said archly. ‘Kate’s bed and breakfast is now legally yours.’
Amber blinked with shock. Her aunt’s B & B was situated a stone’s throw from Wamberal Beach, a much-sought-after location during the warmer months of the year. Any seaside town within a couple of hours’ drive from Sydney was never lacking for guests, especially during the school holidays. Aunt Kate had made a good living for herself over the years, though she’d wound the business down a lot lately, because of her age. She didn’t even have a website, relying on past customers and word of mouth for guests, plus the sign that stood at the entrance to her driveway. Even if it wasn’t a going concern as a B & B any more, the house would still be worth close to a million dollars.
‘How does Dad feel about this?’ Amber asked worriedly. ‘Is he upset?’
‘He was at first. Not because he wanted the place himself. As you know, we’ve done very well with our fencing business over the last few years and we’re not wanting for money. But we both thought Tom and Tim should have been included in Kate’s will. Yet when your father spoke to them, they said they didn’t mind at all. They actually seemed very pleased for you. They pointed out that they weren’t close to Kate the way you were. They didn’t visit her or love her the way you did. Of course, both my boys have very good jobs,’ her mother said proudly. ‘They don’t need a helping hand. Unlike you.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Amber snapped, hurt by the pride that her mother always voiced in Tom and Tim. Doreen Roberts was one of those women who doted on her sons and largely ignored her only daughter. Amber’s father was just the same. It was no wonder her sole ambition in life had been to leave home and make a family of her own, one where the love was shared around equally.
‘We’re all worried about you, Amber, living with that heartless man. Kate was especially worried. I have a suspicion she knew she didn’t have long to live, and changed her will in your favour to throw you a lifeline, so to speak. At least you’ll have a home and a job when that man’s finished with you. Which, if he runs true to form, will be any day now.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Amber threw at her mother before she could think better of it.
‘That’s where you’re wrong, dear. I know quite a lot about Warwick Kincaid and none of it’s very complimentary. He might be successful in his business dealings, but his personal life is another matter. It’s a case of like father, like son.’
‘Meaning?’
‘His father was a notorious womaniser who hung himself after losing millions at a casino, according to the inquest.’
Amber was truly shocked. Warwick had told her that his father had died unexpectedly at fifty-one, but she’d just assumed it was from a heart attack or a stroke. He’d said nothing about suicide.
‘His wife divorced him soon after their only child was born,’ her mother rattled on, ‘the price of her freedom being that she had to give up custody of her son. At the time, James Kincaid was one of the richest bankers in England with lots of power and influence. It’s all there to read on the Internet if you ever want to look it up.’
‘I don’t have to, Mum. I know all about Warwick’s family background.’ Which was an exaggeration of the highest order. Warwick was a man who lived in the here and now. He rarely talked about his past life. Neither did he ask her about hers. He’d told her a few brief details just before Christmas last year when she’d enquired about his family. She did know about the divorce and that his mother—from whom Warwick remained estranged—was an actress of sorts. She knew his mother had never remarried, so he didn’t have any half-brothers or -sisters. She knew nothing of his father’s womanising, or his suicide.
‘Then you must know that your boyfriend’s a womaniser as well,’ her mother swept on waspishly. ‘With a mistress left behind in every country he’s lived in. It’s a different country each year: France, Spain, Italy, Turkey, Egypt, India, China, Vietnam … And now Australia. Next year he’ll probably hop over to New Zealand, then on to the Americas. He’s an adventurer, Amber. And a gambler, just like his father. Maybe not at cards or roulette, but with his life. He does dangerous things.’
‘Yes, I do know that, Mum,’ Amber said ruefully. Bungee-jumping and heli-skiing weren’t her lover’s only thrill-seeking activities. Warwick liked to drive fast cars and boats. He liked everything that smacked of speed and risk. ‘Please, can we stop this conversation right now? You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.’ Okay, so she hadn’t known the detailed itinerary of his past love life, but she’d been warned about his womanising reputation right from the start, both by Jill and Warwick himself.
‘And still, you stay with him,’ her mother said with incredulity in her voice.
‘I love him, Mum.’
It was the first time Amber had said the words out loud to anyone other than herself.
‘I very much doubt it,’ her mother snapped. ‘You’re just infatuated with his looks and his lifestyle.’
‘You’re wrong, Mum. I do love him,’ Amber insisted hotly. ‘And I won’t leave him. Not unless he asks me to.’
Her mother sighed. ‘There’s nothing more to be said on that subject, then. So what are you going to do about Kate’s place? You can’t just leave it empty indefinitely. You’ll have to do something with it.’
‘Could I rent it out, do you think? I mean … as a holiday house?’ She didn’t want to sell it. Not straight away.
‘I suppose so. But you’ll have to find yourself a reliable agent. And soon. Your father went up there last weekend and mowed the lawns and watered the garden but you can’t expect him to keep on doing that. The place is your responsibility now.’
Amber’s heart jumped when she heard the familiar sound of the front door being opened. Warwick was home at last. Thank heavens! She was beginning to worry that he might have had an accident.
‘Mum, I’m sorry, but I have to go now. I’ll come over tomorrow and pick up the keys. Will you be home?’
‘Yes. But only till twelve. I have a hairdressing appointment at twelve-thirty.’
‘I’ll be there before then. Bye.’
Amber tossed the phone back down on the granite counter-top and hurried out of the kitchen, her heart thudding behind her ribs in a maddening mixture of excitement and annoyance.
Just the sight of him tipped