What You Left Behind - Len Webster Page 0,5

be making four times what Mistral is offering me. I’d be the real deal.”

“Why did you do that?” Stevie asked, astonished. The Pepper Point wasn’t just the number one restaurant in the Southern Hemisphere, but it had also surpassed Heston Blumenthal’s London restaurant to take the sixth best restaurant in the world.

Clara looked over at the tables and smiled the moment her eyes met her husband’s. “Because he’s worth it, Stevie. I’m terrified that he won’t see how much I really love him. I just want to be enough for him.”

“You are more than enough for him. He loves you. But I get that you don’t want to tell him about The Pepper Point. He’d never let you move to Boston to be with him.”

“Exactly. Noel would be quitting his job, and I can’t have that. He knows I gave up restaurant offers. I think it made him feel guilty; that’s why he asked me to stop naming the restaurants. But I like Mistral’s offer. I’d take any offer to be with him. Anyways, are you packed for Sunday?”

Just before their engagement, Clara had asked if Stevie wanted to move into her old apartment. Clara didn’t want to sell it and would rather have someone she trusted occupy it while she moved to Boston.

“Not yet. Papa is still reluctant about me moving into an apartment in the city,” Stevie replied and picked up the envelope off the table.

“Papa?” Clara asked with a raised eyebrow.

It was a slip of her tongue. Stevie had always tried to control what she said around people. What she said and how she acted was the only thing she had control of in her life. She felt guilty that she was never truly honest with her best friend. Besides Jarred and his mother, no one knew her father had married French socialite and model, Collette Agustin. For a year in Collette’s life, she’d been married to Nathanael Appleton.

Stéphanie Élise Agustin Appleton.

Shortly after Collette gave birth, she’d missed the French runway and decided to go back to modeling. She then divorced Stevie’s father, and once she’d retired, she moved to London. When Stevie was three, her father remarried and she had a new stepbrother. Though she grew up in Melbourne, she had spent summers with her mother and grandparents in Paris. They had ensured she never forgot her French heritage.

“Stevie?” Clara called her name, breaking her thoughts.

“I call my father, papa. Some people say that,” Stevie explained.

Clara glared at her as she adjusted her veil. “And what do you call your mother?”

Maman.

“Collette,” Stevie stated and held out the envelope. Clara eyes fell to the envelope and then back up at Stevie.

“What is this?” Clara asked once her husband approached her.

“What do you have there?” Noel asked, peering at the envelope. Stevie smiled at the way he wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist.

Clara had placed a kiss on his cheek before she opened the envelope. She let out a small gasp and glanced up at Stevie. Surprise filled Clara’s eyes. “You kept them.”

Stevie shrugged. “Thought you might need them. Like I’d listen to you when you ask me to do something.”

Clara flicked through the photos she had once asked Stevie to burn. The large smile on her face had Stevie grinning.

“Thank you for keeping them.” Clara’s eyes glistened with tears.

“Seriously, thank you, Stevie. I never kept them on my phone,” Noel said.

“Nolan, come dance with your grandmother!” Granny Parker yelled, interrupting them. Noel let out a sigh and excused himself, leaving Clara and Stevie alone.

“Can I ask you a favour?” Clara asked as she returned the photos back to the envelope.

Stevie nodded and noticed whom Clara was staring at.

Liam.

“Now that you’re moving into my old apartment, do you mind keeping an eye on him for me? I just want him to be okay.”

It was a request Stevie understood. Now that they’d be neighbours, they’d run into each other. Clara loved Liam, and she didn’t want him derailing. But that was Clara—she thought of other’s needs and happiness before her own.

“I’ll keep an eye on Liam for you.”

Taking his suitcase from the boot of the taxi, Julian handed his fare to the driver and took in the Eagle Ridge golf course. He smiled at the sight of the Victorian inspired clubhouse. Julian had fond memories of Eagle Ridge. Before his mother had died, his father had a weekend ritual of playing golf along with Noel, Alex, and Max’s fathers. When she died, his father lost the love of

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