The Family Inheritance, page 1
praise for Tricia Stringer
‘Tricia Stringer has written a gorgeous book…The pages are filled with wonderful characters, each with their own well-crafted arc and polished prose. This book is the equivalent of a hot bath or a box of chocolates, it’s comforting and an absolute pleasure to immerse yourself in. It’s realistically romantic, filled with hope, a tale of second chances. If you enjoy well-written family sagas, look no further. The Model Wife is perfect.’
—Better Reading
‘Tricia Stringer’s The Model Wife is a beautiful multi-dimensional family saga.’
—Beauty and Lace
‘[A] heartfelt saga.’
—Herald Sun on The Model Wife
‘Tricia Stringer excels at two things: strong, empathetic characters; and finding an experience or emotion shared by many, then spinning that small kernel of commonality into an engaging novel. The Model Wife is no exception…Stringer’s prose is warm and friendly. She pulls you in with an easy and flowing writing style that quickly has you absorbed by the action. It’s easy to read, but that doesn’t mean it’s shallow.’
—Other Dreams Other Lives
‘I would highly recommend this novel and hope that readers will gain what I have from it. The Model Wife is a beautiful story with familiar challenges and a strength of a family who are connected via their life experiences together.’
—Chapter Ichi
‘A well-written, engaging story of the everyday challenges of life and love…a wise, warm, and wonderful story’
—Book’d Out on The Model Wife
‘Delivers a gentle satisfaction that makes it a great choice for a lazy Sunday afternoon read.’
—Books + Publishing on Table for Eight
‘A witty, warm and wise story of how embracing the new with an open heart can transform your life.’
—Herald Sun on Table for Eight
‘…a moving, feel-good read…a warm and uplifting novel of second chances and love old and new in a story of unlikely dining companions thrown together on a glamorous cruise.’
—Sunday Mail on Table for Eight
‘A wonderful story of friendships, heartbreak and second chances that may change your life.’
—Beauty and Lace on Table for Eight
‘Stringer’s inviting new novel is sprinkled with moments of self reflection, relationship building, friendships and love.’
—Mrs B’s Book Reviews on Table for Eight
‘…a really moving tale…This truly was a delightful read that left me with that feel-good happy sigh…be enticed by this tale of love and laughter, trauma and tears, reflection and resolution.’
—The Royal Reviews on Table for Eight
‘This winner from Tricia Stringer…is a light-hearted and easy-to-read novel with twists and turns along the way…enjoyable and fun.’
—The Black and White Guide on Table for Eight
‘Tricia has no trouble juggling a large cast and ensuring we get to know and connect with them…captivated me start to finish; if it wasn’t the wishing myself on board for a relaxing and pampered break from reality, it was connecting with the characters and hoping they managed to find what they were looking for. Definitely a book I didn’t want to put down!’
—Beauty and Lace on Table for Eight
‘A heart-warming novel that celebrates friendships old and new, reminding us that it’s never too late to try again…If you enjoy stories that explore connections between people and pay tribute to the endurance of love and friendship, you will love Stringer’s new novel. Table For Eight is a beautiful book…If you’re looking for a getaway but don’t quite have the time or funds, look no further – this book is your next holiday. Pull up a deck chair and enjoy.’
—Better Reading on Table for Eight
about the author
TRICIA STRINGER is a bestselling and multiple award-winning author. Her books include Table for Eight and The Model Wife, and the rural romances Queen of the Road, Right as Rain, Riverboat Point, Between the Vines, A Chance of Stormy Weather, Come Rain or Shine and Something in the Wine. She has also published a historical saga; Heart of the Country, Dust on the Horizon and Jewel in the North are set in the unforgiving landscape of nineteenth-century Flinders Ranges. Tricia grew up on a farm in country South Australia and has spent most of her life in rural communities, as owner of a post office and bookshop, as a teacher and librarian, and now as a full-time writer. She lives in the beautiful Copper Coast region with her husband Daryl, travelling and exploring Australia’s diverse communities and landscapes, and sharing her passion for the country and its people through her authentic stories and their vivid characters.
For further information go to triciastringer.com or connect with Tricia on Facebook, Instagram @triciastringerauthor or Twitter @tricia_stringer
Also by Tricia Stringer
Table for Eight
The Model Wife
Queen of the Road
Right as Rain
Riverboat Point
Between the Vines
A Chance of Stormy Weather
Come Rain or Shine
Something in the Wine
The Flinders Ranges Series
Heart of the Country
Dust on the Horizon
Jewel in the North
www.harlequinbooks.com.au
For Nerrilee
Contents
Praise
About the Author
Also by Tricia Stringer
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Acknowledgements
one
Felicity
Felicity Lewis paused a minute to take it all in.
It was a balmy night in Adelaide; the temperature had dropped just enough after a hot March day for perfect outdoor entertaining. At number seventeen Herbert Street, West Beach, two streets back from the ocean, a party was in progress. Behind Felicity the carefully selected mood music resonated from the curved teak speaker, enough to be heard but not so loud people couldn’t hear themselves speak. It had been a birthday gift from Ian and Greta, not a total surprise, not any kind of surprise. She’d dropped several hints, which included leaving shop brochures lying around opened to pages with the desired gift circled.
The speaker sat on the polished shelf below their wall-mounted television in the big open-plan family room that stretched almost the full width of the back of the house. The glass doors to the deck were all thrown open. Around her milled friends and family enjoying the food she’d cooked and the drinks she’d selected.
Light spilled across the freshly oiled deck and out onto the back lawn where strands of festoon lights, hung in precise loops across the garden, added their glow to the glorious spectacle of a million stars twinkling overhead. It was a perfect autumn evening.
An arm slipped around her waist. “Everything looks fabulous, Mum.”
“As do you.” Felicity beamed at her daughter.
“I’ve taken lots of photos of the guests.” Greta lifted her phone and leaned her head against Felicity’s. “Selfie.”
Felicity blinked at the flash. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you how good you look in that outfit.” She adjusted the soft bow pulling Greta’s drapey pants in.
Greta batted her hand away and readjusted the bow. “I don’t know that cream is a good colour for me.”
“It’s perfect against your tan.”
“I was thinking more that I’m likely to spill something down it.” She glanced around. “Where’s Suzie? I haven’t seen her yet.”
“I told you Paul took her to America for her birthday.”
“No you didn’t.” Greta frowned.
“They’ll be gone for two months.”
“How will you manage not seeing her for that long?”
“Technology.”
“Dad should have taken you away, instead of you doing all this work.”
“I’ve enjoyed it—”
“Oh look, there’re the Gilberts. Thank goodness there’s someone more my age. I’ll get a photo of them too.” Greta dashed away.
Once more Felicity stood alone. She’d organised this special night to the last detail, a combined celebration for her fiftieth birthday and the completion of the renovations. She’d been planning, styling, cooking for weeks. The only downside was her best friend Suzie couldn’t be there.
Suzie and Paul had only been gone for two weeks and were havin g the best time. Felicity had already seen the photos of their Caribbean cruise and now they were driving themselves up the coast to New York. Suzie had rung this morning via WhatsApp to sing her happy birthday all the way from Jacksonville, Florida. Her brilliant smile and animated words had filled the room. Felicity had sat for a long time after the call had ended trying to swallow her glum mood and lack of enthusiasm for a party without her best friend. Suzie had provided all the energy for both of them during the call.
“Happy birthday, Felicity.” Humphrey from next door drew her into a bear hug and planted one of his sloppy kisses on her cheek.
She adjusted her new glasses firmly back in place as his wife Melody also wrapped her in a hug.
“Perfect night for a party,” Melody said.
“Thanks for coming. What would you like to drink?” Felicity waved over one of the young uni students Greta had organised to act as waiters for the night.
“Feliciteee, I love what you’ve done with the house.” Pam, her social tennis friend, air kissed her cheeks. “I haven’t seen it since you did this back extension, and the deck is fabulous. I can picture us having a few post tennis sessions here.” Pam clutched a glass of champagne and as her arm swept out in a dramatic arc it connected with a man just stepping up onto the deck.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She dabbed at his wet sleeve.
“No problem.”
“Pam, I don’t think you’ve met Tony,” Felicity said. “He’s been overseeing the renovations.”
“Has he now?” Pam looked him up and down. “Well, there’s a secret you’ve been keeping to yourself.”
“Nice to meet you, Pam.” Tony smiled, and offered his hand.
Pam’s return look was vampish.
“Let me get you another drink,” he said.
The bar was an old table Felicity had scrubbed to create a rustic look, adorned with ice buckets and glasses and one large bowl of flowers in soft pinks and mauves. She’d canned Greta’s suggestion of balloons but had allowed the banner, which looped across the sheer curtain she’d hung on the wall behind. In cursive letters cut from sparkly gold it said ‘Cheers to fifty years’.
Tony set off towards it. Pam stared after him.
“Did you knock into him on purpose?” Felicity said.
“Moi?”
“He’s married.” Felicity didn’t actually know what Tony’s marital status was but he was too nice a man to get tangled up with Pam. Every one of her relationships since her last divorce had ended in drama.
“Really? No ring on his finger.”
“You’ve checked already? He’s too young for you.”
“Past the age of consent.”
“Hi Felicity, Pam.” More hugs all round, this time from Tansie, another of their tennis group, and her husband Charles.
“This is Tony,” Pam said as he came back with several glasses of sparkling gripped between his two large hands. “He’s responsible for Felicity’s fabulous renovation.”
Tony shrugged. “Felicity was the driving force, I just made sure the structural stuff was legit.”
“You’re very modest, Tony,” Felicity said.
Tansie and Charles were planning a new bathroom and when Felicity could see Tony was safely in a discussion with Charles she edged away.
At the other end of the deck her own husband, Ian, was deep in conversation with their across-the-road neighbours, Sal and Les. Like Ian, they were bike riders. They rode regularly, along with several others from their neighbourhood. Not Felicity, of course. She didn’t own a bike and never wanted to. Getting hot and sweaty in lycra had never been her thing. Nor Ian’s until they’d moved here. Two years older than her, the approach of his fiftieth birthday had seen him turn into some kind of fitness freak. Not that Felicity minded. She was a homebody and the renovations had kept her busy, first in the planning, then in the construction and the refurbishing. Her workout was her weekly social tennis match and that was more about the company than the exercise.
After they’d moved they’d started taking regular walks to the beach but hadn’t gone together in ages. These days Ian power walked everywhere on his own or with his walking group, training for more arduous treks, while she’d been filling her time with colour charts and fabric swatches. Ian had been involved in the renovations when they were deciding on the structural changes to the house but after that he’d been happy to let her make decisions about the finishing touches.
This party was a birthday celebration but also the official end to the whole house renovation, a project that had consumed her since the moment they’d made the decision to buy the fixer-upper more than five years ago. She’d given up her job as practice manager at a doctor’s office when they’d moved. Now she’d have to find something else to fill her time. It wasn’t until she’d been dressing for the party that she’d realised she had no idea what that would be.
“Have you seen our parents yet?”
Felicity gave her sister a quick look then shook her head. Tall and lanky like their father, June was wearing a grass-green all-in-one jumpsuit. It reminded Felicity of a praying mantis. For two sisters born less than a year apart they were chalk and cheese.
“Not like them to be late,” June said.
“Dad’s hard to get moving these days.”
“We did offer to collect them.”
“I’m sure they’ll be here soon,” Felicity said. It was possible her father had pulled another of his tantrums and they wouldn’t turn up at all but she kept that to herself. He could do no wrong in June’s eyes but there had been so many times over the years when he’d spoiled celebrations or social occasions.
Her wedding day had been mortifying. Most dads were proud and happy on their daughter’s wedding day but not her father. Felicity had caused a ruckus by daring to find a husband before June. Not that June minded but their father did. She was always first in his eyes and Felicity had stolen her position this time.
On the day of the wedding he’d been grumpy, oozing disapproval of the goings-on, as he’d called it, as Felicity and her bridesmaids, were getting ready. Just before they’d been due to leave for the church he’d gone out for a walk – to clear his head, he’d declared. They hadn’t been bothered until the photographer was tapping his toes waiting to take the standard father–daughter photos. June had been the one to track him down and drag him home to walk his daughter down the aisle. Their mother had been upset and so had Felicity. They’d arrived fifteen minutes late to the church and for the rest of the day her father had told anyone who’d listen it was because Felicity had been disorganised with her preparations and the household had been carrying on like a bunch of chooks.
“Perhaps I should ring Mum.” June cut into her thoughts.
“Let’s leave it for a while. They’ll turn up.”
Hazel Gifford was a saint to have put up with her husband all these years and if her father was in one of his moods Felicity would rather he didn’t come.
“Oh, isn’t that your old neighbour talking to Derek?” June waved in the direction of her husband and another man, both towering over the crowd. “The one that lived down the road and sold up and bought a caravan.”
“Yes.”
“Such a lovely couple. Can’t see her, what were their names, but then she’s so short, isn’t she.” June set off towards the new arrivals without waiting for an answer.
Instead of following her Felicity stepped down off the deck, fanning her face with her hand. The air was slightly cooler out from under the verandah and she relished it. Hormone replacement tablets ensured the hot flushes of menopause didn’t affect her too terribly but just at that moment she felt as if her internal thermostat was ready to boil over. She moved further away and took the path to a corner of the yard that wasn’t lit. From her vantage point she had time to let her body cool down, to take a breath and observe. She’d been on her feet since she got out of bed this morning and she needed a few minutes to regroup.
She enjoyed creating special dinners for friends, loved parties and entertaining, but she was far better at the preparation, the cooking and the serving than the conversation. If it wasn’t for Ian insisting they go out for dinner, see an exhibition, travel, she’d simply stay home in her comfy clothes and slippers.
It had been more her idea to move than his but he’d gone along with it, liking their proximity to the beach and the walking and bike trails. His income was a good one and even though they’d extended their small mortgage to do the renovations they were comfortable these days. Felicity had been careful to stick to the budget they’d allocated and they hadn’t overcapitalised.
