Page 24 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

A RETRIEVER

Frailties didn’t frighten Oliver. He admired Mia and found her self-perception extremely seductive. The woman was attractive, accomplished, and vulnerable. He determined this to be an excellent combination of character traits. Combined with loneliness, they were especially desirable in a partner.

It also occurred to him that as accomplished as Mia was, she might not be very good at love.

He didn’t mean romance, but a deep emotional attachment to another human.

Out of her depth, she couldn’t trust her heart.

This didn’t deter him; you couldn’t be good at everything.

He loved food, but he wasn’t an accomplished cook.

Some people were terrible at chess. Shakespeare wasn’t his thing – he doubted he would ever voluntarily read a play.

Perhaps Mia held back because she wasn’t adept at love.

Over the following days, Mia had called Oliver several times. First, she called to ask if he thought she needed more people on her bulk delivery production line. She was advertising for casual staff in the town newsletter; should she hire a dozen, or did he think five or six would be enough?

‘I realise this might be another cliché,’ she had said. ‘Because I’m following Leo’s advice about asking men questions. But the thing is, I don’t have anyone else to talk to about production and distribution. You seem to have a basic grasp of the concept.’

A longer conversation about customer impact, automated shipping, and streamlining her delivery process followed. He thought she might have been taking notes. At the end of the conversation, she asked if he thought a clock made of wool was incongruous. He told her he didn’t think so.

When he asked her how she was, she said, ‘Busy, processing nine thousand Quinn the chicken kits. It was a live-and-learn experience. I’ll be more prepared next time. Have you found a lazy two hundred grand in the parsonage shrubbery?’ He hadn’t.

Two days later, she had called to tell him she could see the work he had done in the front garden.

That morning, he had trimmed back the wattle trees that grew along the side fence.

She followed this with a story about Snood pursuing rabbits near the river.

Stealth-like, the dog had crept toward the unsuspecting herd, and then he farted. The rabbits scattered immediately.

Oliver laughed. ‘He’s a retriever, not a hunter.’

‘Sometimes, he’s not as smart as he looks,’ she said.

Oliver told her stories about the dog he had when he was growing up. A female blue healer called Sparrow. She hated other dogs and nipped everyone except her human family.

‘What’s it like being back in your hometown?’ Mia asked.

The topic had been on his mind. ‘It’s fucking weird,’ he told her. ‘Like wearing an old jumper that was once a great fit, but now it’s shrunk. ’

‘They weren’t using the right detergent,’ she said. ‘Sensible thing to do would be to get rid of that jumper.’

‘I’m not ready to let it go. When I was a teenager, there was this local cop. Gutterson was his name. Sunday afternoons, he used to sit out the front of his house with a speed camera, trying to catch drivers. I drove past his place yesterday, and he was still there with his speed camera.’

‘Some people,’ she concurred.

‘Sometimes it feels like I failed,’ Oliver continued. ‘I know I haven’t, but I didn’t expect to be back here. Does this place feel like home to you?’ he asked.

‘Home is still my parents’ house, where I grew up. But I’m having a love affair with this town. I can’t see myself moving. Did you always want to be a mechanic?’ It sounded like she was ticking off her list, and perhaps she was.

‘I wanted to be a MotoGP champion. What about you?’

‘When I was young: a dolphin handler and then a dog trainer. A princess. A marine biologist and a scientist. When I was older, I found knitting.’ She paused. ‘Oliver, can I ask…did you have a girlfriend in the Kimberley? Was there anyone special you left behind?’

He wondered how to answer that question. There were women – several women – but no commitment. ‘No. I didn’t have a girlfriend. There was no one special.’

After she hung up, she called him straight back. ‘Oliver, what is it you want?’ she asked.

Considering the question, he felt a shiver of electricity surge in his chest. ‘I don’t believe in love at first sight, but every time I look at you, I feel a connection. I’d like to see where this goes.’

She paused. ‘Right.’

The following day, she sent him a message asking if he was free on Monday for coffee .

A large steel-clad building with wide roller doors housed the local Men’s Shed movement.

Leo waited at the entrance for Oliver. ‘Leave politics and religion at the door. Find meaning in a piece of wood and the smell of pine.’ He shuffled Oliver inside and introduced him to half a dozen men, all wearing what appeared to be their unofficial uniform: work-wear shorts and a fluro vest. Some were red-faced.

Many were overweight. A few wore name tags.

The place was like a commune for retired soldiers.

Life was tough; people needed somewhere to debrief, and this was the therapy room.

While Leo made coffee, Oliver wandered around the space. There were tables covered in furniture and household items that needed fixing. Cold cups of tea perched on every surface.

‘We’re a brotherhood,’ Leo said, handing Oliver a mug. ‘Blokes come in just to have a chat and a cuppa. There’s a backlog on repairs,’ he continued. ‘If you have the time, we could use a hand.’

In the work area, Oliver cast his eyes over a broken but newish-looking oil heater.

He turned it upside down and removed a cover plate.

After locating the reset button, he held it down for three seconds.

When he plugged the heater into the wall socket, the control lights flicked on. One appliance down, two hundred to go.

A toaster caught his eye. A Post-it note stuck to the side said Mia Burke.

‘That’s a fancy European model,’ Leo said. ‘Can’t be fixed. Mia needs to buy herself a reliable local brand, like LG.’

‘They’re owned by a Korean corporation,’ Oliver said. ‘I’ll take a look. ’

The toaster, a classic retro design with timeless styling, had extra-wide slots. You could make a toasted sandwich in this machine. Handmade, it had a stainless-steel finish. It used an analogue timer and a manual lever. It was a top-of-the-range appliance.

He suspected the heating element was faulty. The wiring looked to be intact, so he figured that was the only problem. He took out his phone, found the brand online and placed an order for the spare parts. With express shipping, they would arrive in a few days.

Three hours later, Oliver had repaired two heaters, replaced the plugs on half a dozen lamps, and serviced a lawn mower.

It wasn’t a bad way to spend an afternoon; coffee and biscuits were free.

Conversation was optional. He would return to the Men’s Shed, but not too often.

If he stayed too long, the place might prematurely age him.

He left with Mia’s toaster tucked under his arm.

A few days later, when the elements arrived in the post, Oliver dismantled the toaster and fitted the new pieces.

He tested the appliance – it worked perfectly, every element firing.

The inside radiated with heat, but the exterior was dull and tarnished from use.

He rubbed the surface with stainless-steel polish until it gleamed.

At ten, he placed the toaster on the passenger seat of his car and drove across the river and up the hill to Mia’s house for coffee.