Paradise Valley

Chapter 1

Del Fisher sipped champagne and waited. And the longer she waited, the more her hope slipped away. She pushed aside the bowl of half-eaten chocolate-dipped strawberries. When Nick had invited her over for a special dinner, she’d been so sure. Everything pointed to him popping the question tonight: a bottle of Moët & Chandon, her favourite lobster salad, the soft strains of Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’ sounding from inside the cottage. Stars in the night sky shone so large and low she might have touched them. Had there ever been a more romantic evening?

But so far, she’d been mistaken. Over dinner Nick hadn’t talked of love. He’d talked of a looming union dispute and his father’s plans to expand the Mount Morton mine. He’d asked about the article coming out the next day in the local paper – the last in a series Del was writing on prominent local families.

‘Have you unearthed some scandalous skeleton in our family closet?’ Nick had teased. ‘Is that why you’re shooting through on me?’

‘Honey, I’m not shooting through,’ she said. ‘Sydney is only three hours away.’

‘More like four. And when you’re on the trail of a juicy story, will you still have time for me?’

That wasn’t fair. Nick frequently spent time away on family business and she’d never complained. The twinkle in Nick’s green eyes said he wasn’t serious, but Del was in no mood for jokes. Soon she’d be taking up a position on the investigative reporting staff at the Sydney Morning Herald. It was a fabulous opportunity, but it would mean a long-distance romance. Del would miss Nick terribly. She’d feel much better, much more secure in their relationship, if they became engaged before she left.

Sydney Morning HeraldDel caught her reflection in the crystal bowl on the table filled with floating tea light candles. Her normally straight blonde hair framed her face in soft curls. Hazel eyes gazed from behind dark mascara-tipped lashes, and sapphire earrings flashed against her olive skin. She’d even worn lipstick, which she hardly ever did outside of work. But it seemed Nick hadn’t noticed her extra effort to look good.

He finished the last lobster tail and wiped his chin with a linen napkin. ‘That was delicious, if I do say so myself.’

Del had managed a tight smile as he served her a bowl of chocolate-dipped strawberries with mascarpone cream. She was too tense to enjoy the dessert.

‘It’s not like you to leave chocky strawberries,’ said Nick, now noticing her unfinished bowl.

‘I don’t seem to have much appetite,’ she said. ‘Tired, that’s all.’

‘Well then, sweetheart, you just sit back, relax and let me clear the table.’

Del reached for his arm. ‘Can’t that wait?’

But Nick was already collecting plates and crockery, balancing dessert bowls in the crook of his elbow like an expert waiter. He disappeared inside the cottage.

Del topped up her glass and sagged back in the chair. Perhaps she should make some excuse and go home.

As Nick emerged from the house, an owl hooted from a nearby tree. He went to the porch rail and peered into the moonlit gardens, looking suddenly mysterious – a shadowy silhouette of a man. Tall, lean and straight-backed. Sandy-red hair luminous in the pale porch lights. His chiselled profile sent a familiar shiver of desire through her. Nick had no right to be so handsome.

Of course, that wasn’t the main reason why she loved him. She loved him for his intelligence and kindness and integrity. For his respect and his commitment to his family, even when they made things hard for him. Although she did wish that he’d stand up to his father more. Nick had put Carson on a pedestal that she wasn’t sure the man deserved. But Nick’s good qualities far outweighed his few faults. They were a perfect match. She was serious and he made her laugh. She obsessed over her career, and he reminded her that there was more to life than work. He rang her every day, made the best coffee ever and had perfect timing when it came to thoughtful gestures. Nick had a way of always making her feel special. Well, almost always. Not tonight.

What on earth was he doing now? Fussing about the antique jardinières ranged along the slate verandah. Pulling the odd w**d from the rainbow plantings of hyacinths, anemones and early daffodils.

‘Have a look,’ he called. ‘A triple bloom. Very rare.’

‘I’ll pass,’ said Del.

‘Oh, come on, sweetheart. You’ll be impressed, I promise.’

Del breathed a small sigh, put down her champagne flute and joined him. A giant tulip grew in the centre of the pot, holding its head high above its modest companions, putting them all to shame. She had to admit it. The flower was spectacular.

Del took a closer look. The bright blue tulip, shaded with orange, seemed to glow with an inner fire. The colours reminded her of an azure kingfisher, her favourite bird. And then she recalled something her mother had once told her. There’s no such thing as a blue tulip.

Nick lightly stroked her hair, his touch electric. ‘Pick it.’

Del brushed the smooth flower with her fingertips, then plucked it from the pot by its crystal stem. Nestled within the translucent petals was a ring.

Nick extracted the jewelled band and went down on one knee. ‘Marry me,’ he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Del didn’t – couldn’t – speak. She didn’t have to. Her eyes said yes. Nick slipped the ring on her finger, and they sealed their betrothal with a kiss. She closed her eyes and relaxed into Nick’s arms. This was, without doubt, the happiest moment she’d ever known. A bright future lay ahead of them, a future filled with joy and love. Life didn’t get any better than this.