The High Price of Secrets

The assistant just smiled and spread her arm to encompass an entire wall of garments. “Take your pick,” she said, smiling. “Let me bag up your other things and take off those price tags and you’ll be good to go.”

Tamsyn paid for her purchases just as a Shania Twain song came onto the speakers in the store. She smiled to herself, agreeing with the lyrics. She really felt like a woman right now and was actually looking forward to lunch with the enigmatic Finn Gallagher more than she realized.

“Are you just passing through town?” asked the store clerk. Tamsyn looked at her, suddenly struck by the realization that the woman was probably around the same age as her mother. In fact, there were so many people around—on the street, in the shops—who were all around that age. Surely, amongst them, would be some of her mother’s friends.

“I’m here a few days at least, although I might stay longer if I can. I’m…” She hesitated a moment and then decided, in for a penny, in for a pound. If she didn’t start asking every person she met if they knew her mom, she’d never find out, would she? “I’m looking for my mother. Ellen Masters. Do you know her?”

The other woman shook her head slowly and pursed her lips. “Hmm, Ellen Masters…no. Can’t say I’ve met anyone by that name around here, but I’m fairly new in the region and I’m still getting to know all the locals.”

“Never mind,” Tamsyn said pasting a smile over the pang of disappointment that tugged at her heart. It was a numbers game. Eventually she’d find someone who knew her. Didn’t New Zealanders pride themselves on the fact that there were only two degrees of separation between them and a fellow Kiwi? “It was a wild shot.”

“Well, good luck finding her and do come back soon!”

Tamsyn gathered her things and started to walk back to her car. Even with this small latest setback she still felt more positive. Just before she reached her car she stopped and perused the window of a real estate office that appeared to double as a letting agency and an idea occurred to her. If she found a place to rent she could set herself up more permanently here and could use the property as a base from which to widen her search. She scanned the listings in the window and an address caught her eye. It was on the same road as Finn Gallagher’s property, fairly close, too, if the street number was any indicator.

A coil of something she couldn’t quite identify curled tight in her stomach as she read the details. It was a short-term lease on a week-by-week basis. She could see why it was still available. Not many people would want the insecurity of week-by-week rental, but it suited her just perfectly and as a bonus it was fully furnished. All she’d need to do was feed the cat and the chickens on the property. She could do that. She pushed open the door to the agency, coming out twenty minutes later with an agreement in one hand, a key in the other and an excitement roiling in her she barely knew how to contain.

A late-model Porsche Cayenne, a Turbo S model, she noted with some appreciation, stood in the driveway when she returned to the hotel. No doubt Finn’s, she thought as she took a quick look at the dashboard clock on her rental. The side trip to the property agency had made her late, but right now she didn’t care. From tomorrow she had somewhere of her own to stay. Things were falling into place and who knew? Maybe the next person she saw would be someone who could tell her where to find her mother.

* * *

Finn watched from the office window as Tamsyn alighted from her car. Even from here he could tell she was excited. There was a light and energy about her now that had been missing yesterday and this morning. It served to make her even more beautiful.

He tamped down on the shiver of desire that threatened to ripple through his body. If he was going to control this situation he’d have to start by controlling himself. Errant physical attractions would only complicate things. And as complications went, getting a call from the leasing agent handling Lorenzo and Ellen’s cottage to say a certain princess from Australia was interested in taking up the short-term leasing option was a big one.

As tempting as it had been to say an absolute and resounding no when the agent had queried him about the lease, especially as the leasee had no references, he’d been mindful of Lorenzo’s wish to keep Tamsyn close for Ellen’s sake. How much easier would it be to keep an eye on her if she was just down the hill from where he lived?

Of course, he reminded himself, there was the bonus of him not having to feed Ellen’s man-eating black cat, Lucy—short for Lucifer. A singularly appropriate moniker Finn had always privately thought. He hadn’t had a morning yet where the feisty feline hadn’t delivered him a scathing hiss or a barbed paw.