How To Trap a Parent. Joan Kilby

tugging at the card. “Are you going to help me out, or should I go hire an agent in Dromana?”

      Cole released the card. “Ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

      Jane spun on her heel and strode to the door, her red tote bumping against her hip, her hands shaking. She breezed past Millie, throwing her the brightest smile she could manage. All she could think of now was getting to her car.

      COLE LET OUT a deep breath and tugged on his collar as Jane hurried away. It felt two sizes too small, as if he’d somehow swelled with frustration at having to deal with Jane. She was as elusive as ever, slipping out of his grasp before he could close his fist. He’d thought he’d cared for her once, but now she was just an obstacle to his being with his daughter.

      “You haven’t changed either,” he said softly, moving to the corridor to watch through the window of the outer office as she crossed the road. “Still have to have the upper hand.”

      He’d been unbelievably careless, getting both Leslie and Jane pregnant back when he was eighteen. He and they had been paying the price for it ever since. A failed marriage, a single mum raising a daughter he barely knew. The opportunity had now arisen for him to rectify at least one of those wrongs. He didn’t know why Jane was so possessive of Mary Kate but he would spend time with the girl, whether Jane liked it or not.

      His younger brother, Joey, came out of his office across the hall, munching on an apple. He was tieless and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. A lock of near-black hair hung over his forehead. “Was that Jane Linden? Has she got the kid with her?”

      Cole nodded. “At the farm.”

      “I forget, who’s older, Mary Kate or Stephanie?”

      “They’re both nearly twelve. Mary Kate’s six weeks younger than Stephanie.” Cole couldn’t believe how quickly the girls were growing up. As annoying as Jane was, he was pleased she was back in the country. It was time he asserted his rights as a father.

      Joey lounged in Cole’s doorway, still gnawing on his apple. “You gonna see her?”

      “Mary Kate? Of course I’m going to see her. As much and as often as Jane’ll let me.”

      “No, I mean Jane. As in see her.”

      Cole stared at his brother. “Why on earth would I want to do that?”

      “You used to be in love with her,” Joey stated matter-of-factly. “Maybe you’ll get back together.”

      “I doubt it. She’s only in town to sell Cockatoo Ridge.”

      Joey took a huge bite and gestured with the core. “You should buy it.”

      “Using what for money?” Cole said bitterly. He should have inherited the farm and be living there now. Checking his watch, he added, “Aren’t you supposed to at the Terpstra open house in five minutes?”

      “Yeah, yeah, I’m going. Nobody ever shows up to these things on time.” Joey tossed his apple core into the rubbish bin and pushed himself off the door frame.

      “Actually, they do. As the agent, you’re expected to take care of certain things beforehand.” Jeez, he’d gone over this repeatedly. “Speak to the vendors, set out the signs—”

      “Dude, if you weren’t cranking away at me, I’d be there by now.” Joey sauntered toward the exit that led to the employees’ car park. He paused on the threshold and some of the cockiness went out of his face. “Listen, Cole, I need a favor.”

      “Sure, what is it?”

      “I need to borrow some money.”

      “How much?” Cole asked, reaching for his wallet.

      “Two hundred dollars. Three would be better.” Joey picked a piece of apple skin out of his teeth with his fingernail.

      “Three hundred dollars.” Frowning, Cole made no move to take out the money. “You just got paid last week.”

      “I know but… Crystal and I went to the casino last night and well, we dropped a wad at the blackjack table.”

      “Joey!” Cole began then lowered his voice, mindful of Millie in the outer office. “Remember what happened to Dad? You don’t want to go down the same path.”

      “It’s not like I’m addicted,” Joey said. “We had a bit of a flutter. Small potatoes.”

      “You’ll just have to tighten your belt until the next paycheck,” Cole replied.

      “I’ve got bills due,” Joey argued. “They eat up most of my wages. Not that I don’t appreciate you giving me a job, but if I was allowed to show the more expensive listings I’d make better commissions.”

      “You’ve only been qualified as an agent for six months,” Cole reminded him. “You’ve got to earn the right, learn the ropes, before you get access to the top houses.”

      “Come on, dude. It’s just a loan. If I don’t make a car payment soon I’ll lose my wheels,” Joey added. “Then how will I pay you back?”

      This argument always landed Cole in a catch-22 situation and Joey knew it. His little brother was nearly twenty-two but in many ways still a child. At his age Cole had been married with a young daughter and supporting his mother and Joey as well. Would his brother ever grow up and take responsibility for himself?

      “Here.” He handed over a cluster of fifty-dollar bills. “But I won’t be forking out money every time you lose at the casino.”

      “Thanks, mate.” Joey gave Cole the thumbs-up. “You’re the best. I’ll call Crystal and tell her not to pawn her grandmother’s wedding ring.” Joey whipped out his cell phone as he strode toward the exit door.

      Cole went back to his office and shut the door. He closed his eyes, took slow deep breaths and willed his blood pressure to drop. He fell into a familiar daydream, visualizing himself walking between rows of grapevines, running a hand over the fluttering leaves, admiring the thick twisting stems and the clusters of ripe grapes. Clods of red dirt crunched beneath his boots.

      He’d had his eye on Cockatoo Ridge for years, saving everything he could while he watched helplessly as land prices rose steadily, keeping the farm always just out of reach. Now the property was for sale…

      What was he thinking? He still wasn’t ready.

      JANE LIFTED a beautiful jade-green vase with a delicate black design made by her aunt off the mantelpiece and put it in a safe spot in the china cabinet. Then she swept knickknacks off the marble surface into an empty cardboard box. It was hard clearing out her aunt’s things but keeping busy helped her cope with her grief. Besides, there was no one else to do it.

      Jane, an only child, had lived with her parents in Sydney until they’d both died in a scuba diving accident when she was eight. Esther had raised her after that, first in a tiny terrace house in inner Melbourne, then at Cockatoo Ridge Farm where they’d moved when Jane started high school, so Esther could have her own pottery studio. Since Jane’s abrupt departure from Red Hill thirteen years ago, she’d seen Esther mainly in L.A. where her aunt had connections with gallery owners. In the interim, her aunt had gradually filled the farmhouse with furniture, dishes and ornaments from secondhand stores.

      Jane carried the box out to the garage where she was collecting things to be disposed of. Back in the living room, she gazed in dismay at the remaining clutter and groaned.

      “What’s the matter, Mom?” Mary Kate came into the room eating a piece of toast smeared with jam. With her beads and bangles, bare midriff and miniskirt, she looked more like fifteen than eleven-going-on-twelve.

      “Nothing that a few gallons of petrol and a lit match wouldn’t fix,” Jane muttered.

      “I heard you groan,” Mary Kate insisted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you got sick here. The water tastes