The Peppercorn Project by Nicki Edwards Page B

understand. ‘I don’t think I have what it takes. It’s a stressful job and I—’
    Jack interjected. ‘I’m sure it’s still too early for you to work after your husband’s death.’
    Isabelle shot him a grateful smile.
    ‘Could you nurse again if you wanted to?’ Rachel asked. What was her problem? She was worse than the proverbial dog with a bone.
    ‘I think Isabelle is saying she needs time before getting back on the horse,’ Jack clarified.
    Isabelle wanted to hug the grandfatherly figure. And Alison too. They understood.
    ‘I lost my wife a couple of years back,’ he said softly. ‘Cancer. I know it takes a while before you feel like you can walk without your head surrounded in a fog. My advice is take all the time you need. That’s what this project is all about. To help people like you.’
    Again, the tears threatened. ‘Thank you, Jack.’
    The interview continued for another ten minutes. Isabelle answered their questions as well as she could, hoping she met with their approval. She had given it her best shot. Now all she could do was wait. She said a quick prayer they would see through her pain and grief and grasp how much she needed them to say yes. There was no plan B, no other option, no other choice. She needed to win.
    Rachel checked her watch, shuffled the papers on her clipboard and stood. The interview was over.
    ‘Could I say one last thing?’ Isabelle asked, pushing back her own chair and standing.
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘If I’m chosen for a Peppercorn lease, I’d rather people didn’t know what happened to Dan. When I’m ready, I’ll tell those I trust, but I don’t want to be known as ‘the widow’.’
    ‘This will stay between us,’ Jack assured her. ‘You have our word.’
    He looked to the others for confirmation and they nodded their heads.
    ‘Thank you,’ Isabelle said, slinging her bag across one shoulder. ‘And I’m sorry about what happened earlier with—’
    ‘Thank you , Isabelle,’ Alison interrupted with a wide smile. ‘We’ll announce the winners tomorrow night at the pub. I look forward to seeing you and your children there.’
    Heat flooded Isabelle’s face yet again. She licked her dry lips. ‘I’m not actually staying Sunday night. I could only afford two nights’ accommodation, so we’re going to head back to Torquay tomorrow morning. It’s a long drive. I figured you’d contact the winners by phone.’
    Alison frowned. ‘Where are you staying?’
    ‘The Caravan Park.’
    Alison rolled her eyes. She pulled a pen from her clipboard and wrote a number on the bottom of Isabelle’s application form. Then she tore off a corner off the paper and handed it across the table. ‘Call this number. My sister Fran and her husband Jim live not far out of town on a huge property. The last of their kids moved out recently and Fran’s at a loose end. They have loads of spare rooms and the house is empty. She’d enjoy the company, and I reckon your kids would enjoy a taste of real Aussie farm life.’
    Isabelle took the paper. The numbers blurred as the tears fell in earnest. She folded it carefully and placed it in her handbag. The offer was lovely but she couldn’t accept hospitality from a stranger.
    ‘Call her,’ Alison insisted. ‘You’ll be able to stay tonight and tomorrow night, or longer if you want. The caravan park isn’t suitable for your family.’
    ‘But my booking … I’ve already paid for another night.’
    ‘I know Pat Wallace,’ Jack interrupted. ‘I’ll get it sorted. You make sure you call Fran and Jim. They’re good people, and I know they’d love you to stay.’
    Clearly, it was out of her hands.
    ‘Thank you for everything,’ Isabelle said, meaning every word. It didn’t matter if she didn’t win – she felt more valued and loved than she had in months because of the kindness of these people.
    Alison led her to the door. ‘If you don’t call my sister, I’ll get her to call you and drag you out to the farm.