morning now that you suddenly have decided to become fully involved in the running of Wangallon?’
‘Bloody hell.’ Sarah banged the top of the table with her hand, before taking a deep breath. ‘Look, I don’t like change, okay? You of all people should know that. There has been too much of it in this family. I don’t want to move bedrooms or put awnings on the main verandah. I don’t want Matt Schipp disgruntled because you want him to be more than the head stockman and I don’t want things purchased or Wangallon’s management style changed without us discussing it first, jointly. I’m entitled to have an equal say in the management of Wangallon.’
‘Fair enough. It’s just that since Angus’s death you have holed yourself up in the office a fair bit. I thought you were happy with the way things were going.’
Sarah ignored the tight line of annoyance between his eyes. ‘It was important for me to get the feel for things. You know cashflow and budget forecasting. And yes, I’ve been really upset. Angus’s death is the like the passing of an era on Wangallon.’
Anthony rolled his eyes. ‘It’s nearly two years, Sarah, time to let go and move on.’ He cleared his throat. ‘We should be discussing the one thing you’ve been avoiding since Angus’s death. You can’t keep burying your head in the dirt. Jim Macken was left a thirty per cent share and –’
Sarah held her hand up. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. Not tonight.’
‘You can’t ignore it. Angus stipulated that Jim had two years to be informed of his will. And fair enough. They have a lot to come to terms with.’
‘They have a lot to come to terms with?’ Sarah’s knuckles whitened.
‘Sarah.’ Anthony leant forward in his chair. ‘All I’m saying is that the two years are nearly up. You have to prepare yourself. Jim Macken has rights.’
‘The illegitimate son of my father has rights?’
They ate silently for some minutes, although Sarah’s appetite was gone. ‘It was great to see Shelley so happy.’ Sarah knew her words sounded double-edged.
Anthony pushed his chair out abruptly and stood. ‘Yes, it was. Is that going to be us, Sarah? Two years is a hell of a long time to be engaged.’
Sarah closed her eyes briefly. ‘Aren’t you happy?’
‘It’s not the same.’
‘Nor is saying you’re willing to work as a team and then running off and buying expensive stuff without consulting me. There are other people involved in the running of this property. And in case you’ve forgotten, we actually do work to a budget.’
‘Personally I think the main problem here, Sarah, is that my surname isn’t Gordon and you want to make sure yours stays that way.’
How on earth did a conversation about his attitude morph into the personal? Sarah wondered.
‘Every argument we have invariably involves Wangallon and your heritage. You don’t have anything to prove, and I’m not trying to supersede you as far as the running of the property is concerned. How can I possibly do that when you are the fourth generation Gordon? Yes, I was left a thirty per cent share in the property as you were, but you forget; I’ve been here for eight years. During that time you moved to Sydney, became a photographer, fell in love with someone else and got engaged. It was your grandfather and me running Wangallon. Now after holing yourself up in the station office for months, you seem to have decided that I’ve taken on too much responsibility and you feel threatened by it. Well I know what has to be done and how to do it. So bloody well let me.’
He left her sitting alone with the remains of their unfinished dinner. Sarah glanced up at her great-grandfather, finishing her wine in two long sips. This was one argument that she couldn’t see being won by either of them. In a way she guessed she should have known this would happen. From Anthony’s viewpoint he was the one who had put in the hard yards on the place. Yet having both received a thirty per cent share in the property from her grandfather did not make them equal in his eyes, for in the end she was the surviving Gordon, both by name and birthright. She may well have been the second choice following her brother’s untimely death, but the mantle was hers.
Sarah cleared the dining room table. She stacked the plates and left them on the kitchen sink and then