Read Online The Maxwell Sisters by Loretta Hill - Free Book Online Page B

mansion. The giant rambling house on the property was falling apart and vacant. It had been for years. Whoever owned it never came to visit, but leased most of their backyard to grape growers so the vines growing around it were reasonably taken care of.
    The road began to slope gently upward and her car climbed to the top of the hill. As she rolled over the peak, she took her foot off the accelerator and her breath caught in her throat. There was Tawny Brooks. Not a blemish on the land but a feature. The vines cut neat rows as they curved over the hill, interspersed by gravel tracks and the occasional tree or rosebush. The dam, or ‘Crazy Man’s Lake’, was a prominent feature in the centre, a small gazebo and a short jetty at its shallower end. The house was not far from that. Built in the seventies but well maintained, it was made of jarrah and stone. It was only one storey and did not look that big from her vantage point but Natasha knew the floor plan like the back of her hand. The house was huge and every window had its own special view, whether it be the lake or the vines. The house had tranquillity covered from every angle.
    And yet, somehow, now that she was turning onto the gravel path that led down to it, the good feelings from before receded and worry began to set in.
    You lied to Phoebe and now you’re going to lie to everyone in your family.
    There would be questions. Even the most mundane one – ‘How are you?’ – would need to be answered. She couldn’t tell them what had happened last year and that she was still jobless. Not before the wedding. What a way to dull the happiness of their moment. Her miserable news could definitely wait. Besides, what had she been chanting to herself on the way down here?
    Forgive.
    Forget.
    Forgive.
    Forget.
    She had to move on. It wasn’t a choice any more. She had to forgive herself and stop obsessing over Sophia. In fact, she’d been making rather good progress these last few months in the lead-up to this trip. It had been many weeks since she’d allowed the name to creep into her head. Usually at times like this she had flashes of Sophia herself. Her smile, her hair, her beautiful and enviable skin. It was sick, really, given she had never actually met Sophia in the flesh. These images were an extension of her distraught emotions sent to taunt her more than anything else. Or at least that’s what her psychologist had said. This time, however, it was Heath’s face that caught her mind’s eye. His dark black brows drawn tightly together. His fists clenched, suppressing strong emotion. Anger or frustration, she didn’t know which.
    â€˜You’ve got to stop talking about her,’ he was saying. ‘It’s not helping. It doesn’t get us anywhere.’
    â€˜I can’t pretend she didn’t exist.’ Her voice arced in pain.
    â€˜I’m not asking you to,’ he cried, ‘but if you don’t start focusing on the future, Tash, there’s not going to be one. At least not for us, anyway.’
    That’s all he ever talked about. The future. The future.
    That if she wanted to move forward, she had to stop letting past events drag them down.
    â€˜How easy for you to say,’ she had flung at him. ‘You speak like someone with no feelings at all.’
    He’d walked out then. Not out of her life. No, that had come later. But it had definitely been the beginning of the end.
    Firmly, she shut off her thoughts as cleanly as picking up the TV remote and killing the picture. She focused all of her attention on the road again. Frankly, she was sick of images like that. Bone weary of them.
    Reliving the past didn’t help, but a sabbatical might. Tawny Brooks was exactly what she needed. The red dirt track widened into a large car park just outside the cellar door where several wine tasters stood chatting. Next to this was the famous Tawny Brooks garden, her mother’s