When Harriet Came Home by Coleen Kwan

mirror she saw him staring after her as she sped away.
     
    “Darling, when are you coming back?”
    Harriet smiled at the sound of her best friend’s voice coming over her mobile phone. Gemma was a high-flying corporate lawyer who loved to entertain. She had started out as one of Harriet’s clients, and the two had quickly become fast friends. When Harriet told her she wouldn’t be back in Sydney for at least two weeks, her friend let out a shriek.
    “But we have concert tickets for next week! I can’t go without you!”
    Harriet let out a wistful sigh. “I’m afraid you’ll have to. Give my ticket to someone else.”
    “It won’t be the same. And you’re supposed to go sailing with me on Nico’s yacht. I don’t trust him without you there.”
    “Hmm. I won’t exactly miss playing the gooseberry between you two.”
    “But you love sailing, and I thought you’d only be gone a few days, and you did say your dad was doing well. I just don’t understand—” Gemma drew in a quick gasp before her tone altered. “Oh, I get it. There’s a man involved in little ol’ Wilmot, isn’t there? That’s why you’re not hurrying back as fast as you can.”
    Harriet scowled. “The only man involved is my dad. I’m filling in for him on a catering job. That’s all.”
    “Says you.” Gemma crowed. “So what’s he like, this mystery man who’s stopped you in your tracks? Is he a big, burly farmer? Does he wear plaid shirts and chew hay stalks?”
    “ He is sixty years old. He has a broken leg. He is relying on me.”
    “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
    Harriet sighed. “Methinks this conversation needs to end. Speak to you later, Gemma.”
    When she’d rung off, she felt deflated. If Gemma were here she might have brought herself to talk to her about Adam. But she couldn’t do that over the phone. She looked about her and heaved an even deeper sigh. Here she was back in her childhood bedroom, the same old posters still stuck on the wall, the same books on the shelves, and her still sighing over Adam. She might as well be eighteen all over again.
    Flopping down on her bed, she tucked her arms behind her head. Her brief talk with Gemma had given her a powerful reminder of what she’d left behind in Sydney. Her life there was so different from what it was here. Back in Sydney she was a different person. Back in Sydney she was too busy to daydream about men. Back in Sydney she didn’t spend Saturday afternoons mooning over Adam.
    Adam. Why couldn’t she go five minutes without thinking about him? She jumped up, rifled through her drawer and pulled out the sock she’d never given back to him. She stretched it out across her lap and stroked the red wool. There was a tiny hole in the heel. Maybe she should mend it. She had some red wool somewhere… Stop. How childish to hang on to a silly sock for so many years.
    Her phone rang again, and she snatched it up, some wild, silly part of her hoping it was him.
    “Harriet?” Her hopes crumbled away as she recognised Portia’s clipped tones. “It’s Portia here. I wanted a word with you.”
    This sounds ominous, Harriet thought. She perched on her bed and put on a cool voice to match Portia’s. “How can I help you?”
    “If you really wanted to help me, you’d go back to Sydney as fast as you can.”
    Harriet rolled her eyes and counted silently up to ten. “I’m sorry I can’t oblige you there, but I don’t want to let Adam down.”
    “Are you serious about that?” Portia snapped.
    “What do you mean?”
    “You’ve done enough damage to Adam. He’s suffered plenty because of you. He doesn’t need you sabotaging him again.”
    Harriet kneaded her temples. They were starting to ache. “Sabotage him? I don’t understand. That sounds way too paranoid.”
    “I’m warning you, Harriet. I don’t trust you an inch. You’ve come waltzing back into Wilmot like you’ve got a score to settle, but don’t you dare try anything on with