The High Price of Secrets

Tamsyn scoured her memories for any hint of her mother that went past a vaguely remembered cuddle. The best she could muster was the sound of peals of laughter infused with the scent of freshly cut grass and the heat of summer sun. She gave up with a curse that startled the birds that had been pecking at the lawn. They lifted to the nearby trees with a flurry of wings and squawks of indignation.

This was hopeless, she decided, closing the applications on her phone and picking up her glass to take it back inside. Clearly she needed a face-to-face approach. She wondered if there was somewhere local where she could view an electoral roll or something like that. Perhaps the nearby town’s information center might be able to head her in the right direction.

Tamsyn went back into the house and grabbed her keys. Eschewing closing all the windows again, she locked the front door and headed for her car.

The drive into town was quiet; in fact, she hardly saw another vehicle on the road until she got within town limits. She eased her car into a space on a side street, near the boutique where she’d shopped yesterday, and got out. She vaguely remembered seeing an information center sign posted near the end of the main street and she struck out in that direction.

It looked as if she was headed toward a small town hall. This was probably the hub of the immediate district’s social life in its day. Judging by the activity milling around there now—a mixed age group of people wearing loose clothing and carrying yoga mats, spilling out the front door—it was still equally well used. A large notice board out front attracted her attention and Tamsyn was surprised to see the list of activities available on various days. A bright notice stuck to one side caught her eye. It was an advertisement for a volunteer seniors’ activities coordinator to provide temporary cover one day a week in the lead-up to Christmas. Applicants were bidden to apply at the office.

Tamsyn mulled over the notice. Once a week for five weeks? She could easily commit to that. It might take her that long to find her mother at this rate. Even if she found her sooner, she’d certainly want to spend time with her before going back to Adelaide.

If she went back at all.

The thought wasn’t as unsettling as it should have been. Instead, a kernel of excitement began to cautiously unfurl within her at the thought of truly starting over fresh. She reached out to take the notice from the board and walked up the steps leading to the front of the hall. Nerves assailed her as she lifted her hand to knock at the door marked Office. This was the first job she’d ever actually applied for. In the past she’d always worked at The Masters in one field or another. Odd jobs while she was at school, and subsequently, during her semester breaks while she was at university. Once she graduated, she took over developing and managing the accommodation cottages, eventually expanding to special events and weddings. She’d never once had to face rejection in the course of her work.

What if she applied for the job and they said no?

She swallowed against the fear that threatened to paralyze her. She’d never had to second-guess herself before. Trent’s lies and subterfuge had totally done a number on her head, she realized. Especially coming on the heels of discovering the secret her family had been keeping from her. Now she was so shaken up she was second-guessing her ability to apply for a casual position doing something she knew in her heart she could do virtually blindfolded.

She forced herself to knock on the door before she could give in to the anxiety.

“Come in if you’re good looking!” a gravelly voice answered.

The words brought a smile to her face and she opened the door.

“I’m here about the coordinator’s job?” she said as she stepped into the chaos that was the hall’s office.

Papers were strewn on every available surface, together with an array of multicolored empty coffee cups. Behind the desk sat a woman who was probably anywhere in age between fifty and eighty. Her wiry hair stuck out in all directions and an unlit cigarette hung from her lips as she looked up in response.

“An Aussie, huh? What makes you think you can do the job?” she barked.

Tamsyn fought to keep her face impassive. She took a deep breath. “I have a degree in communication, majoring in event management, and I’ve worked the past seven years coordinating events on both small and large scales, from company dinners and product launches, to weddings and anniversary celebrations.”

“The job’s not paid.”

“I’m aware of that. Money isn’t an issue.”

“Hmmph. Nice for some. You know it’s only for five weeks—only four probably because no one will want to come on Christmas Eve.”