* Set in New Zealand. Spelling and grammar are indigenous.
*
CHAPTER 1
Baxter and Chase Hudson's marriage began disintegrating the day best friend Aimee told Chase at the juice bar at Betty's Gym that Baxter had made an aggressive pass at her.
Chase bristled and demanded, "Aggressive?"
She'd imagined that that her husband had attempted to steal a kiss or fondle one of the well-developed boobs of the 34-year-old who'd been her bridesmaid five years ago, and who could blame him? No -- that's not what she meant. Good God!
Aimee had aquamarine eyes, brilliant shiny eyes that caught the light and smiled jewel-like when Aimee purred or reacted to clever repartee or a saccharine greeting of a friend or someone handing her a fat cheque for her home décor consultancy work. Chase and Aimee had known each other since the age of thirteen, at time when bodily changes including on the chest had them both worried and fascinated.
The course that nature took was to endow the chest of Aimee more substantially, a biological advantage -- or so it seemed -- that really taught Chase the meaning of envy. But in their late teens and to this day she now longer envied her friend for that reason because Aimee had a heavy load to carry and the way men looked at her disgusted Chase.
Now, it seemed, Baxter had succumbed to the temptation of Aimee.
"You don't want the details -- I recommend that you don't press me on this one," urged Aimee, sweeping her chestnut hair back with a combination of head flick and hand guidance that even some women would watch through narrowing eyes and a slight catch of breath.
The look on Chase's face clearly said she wanted to know, in complete detail.
Aimee sighed. "The Olivers' party at the Yacht Club last Saturday -- you and Jackson were just ahead of Rachel Guest and me going up the stairs to the dinning room and Baxter was right behind me. Well, he came up really close; his hand went up under my dress and struck you know where."
Chase had tensed and asked if Aimee was absolutely certain it was Baxter.
"Yes sweetie, I regret to say," Aimee said sadly, touching her friend on the arm lightly. "I turned and saw him. There was no one else within a couple of paces of us."
"The bastard," breathed Chase, face struggling to remain impassive.
Almost two months had passed since that revelation that branded Baxter as promiscuous. Then just ten minutes ago Jackson had phoned Chase to advise he'd just caught Aimee in bed with someone and had fought the seducer.
"I'm sorry, Chase, but the bastard I caught with my wife was Baxter.
After the call terminated Chase wept. She'd suffered a double blow. Her best friend as well as her husband had betrayed her. She knew that Baxter would be hurt, probably suffering facial injuries because Jackson was a bigger and stronger man.
Wiping her eyes, the blonde and very feminine journalist with a tough streak acted decisively. She went to the study where she emailed her letter of resignation to the editor of the Morning Star, one of the top daily newspapers in the country where she worked as an associate editor, in charge of the Star Weekender magazine section.
She'd also been required to write a couple of 'editorials' -- the think piece representing the newspaper's viewpoint -- at least twice a week as part of being groomed for greater responsibility. The editor-in-chief used Chase to write with a feminine viewpoint on domestic issues, feminine issues and ethereal thoughts while the editor-in chief and his deputy wrote with weighted thoughts in a mix of fact, interpretation and opinion on topics ranging from international threats to peace to teenagers wallowing senselessly in drugs, sex and Hip Hop.
Chase sighed and left the building without saying goodbye to anyone.
Seventeen minutes later the black medium-size Mercedes was packed with her choice possessions. Placing the house key under the mat after setting the security alarm, Chase drove off, heading south before Baxter arrived from the other direction.
She smiled, thinking of bad guy Baxter's arrival home. When the electronically controlled garage door opened Baxter would assume Chase was out because her car was not there. Later he'd realise he'd been abandoned, finding Chase and her dearest possessions had gone. The bank where Baxter worked as operations manager owned the home. He was an executive director on the board. Baxter would later find before Chase left the city she withdrawn exactly half the funds in their joint-bank account.
Cruising along the highway out of the city within the maximum speed limit, Chase chose a CD and the first track; 'Blue Moon' suited her mood perfectly. Until now she'd never planned to leave Baxter, so had nothing planned. Even so, her destination was in her mind: a northern seaside city of around 50,000 people. A few days ago she'd noticed the city's afternoon newspaper was seeking a senior executive, so now that vacancy interested her greatly.
Two hours after arriving in Walton City, Chase was handed the keys to a foreshore apartment she'd leased for three months with the contract containing a right-of- purchase clause and signed by the developer.
The young real estate salesperson had noticed the car and Chase's clothing and expensive jewellery, so had not bothered to ask for references, which was fortunate, because Chase had none with her and was completely unknown in the community. In turn she'd signed the lease agreement and initialled the purchase clause without referral to an attorney and that rather worried the salesperson. The very attractive brunette client had not revealed she possessed a law degree.
The apartment was the penthouse, the last unit in the luxury block to be occupied. A new opportunity had jumped into the developer's grasp so he'd decided to remain with his family in an old house and begin his new project, informing Chase that his banker would be pleased that the Blue Horizon apartment block was now fully occupied.
"Er -- where will you sleep until you get this place furnished?" asked the astute salesperson who was in her mid-twenties.
"Oh, I really hadn't thought about that," Chase confessed.
"My mother lives just along the street," said Pru. "She usually has a friend staying in her guesthouse but no one is in occupancy at the moment. Should I phone and see if she'll accommodate you?"
Chase was surprised that Pru should make this sound so pompous -- a pokey little room in the garden could scarcely qualify as a guesthouse and she was slightly miffed that the mother would rule whether Chase was an appropriate person to have at the bottom of her garden.
"I think perhaps I should stay at a hotel."
"No don't -- your accommodation will be superior and I've a feeling mother will bond immediately with you."
Well, that made it sound as if hotel accommodation in the city was a bit tacky and the upside was 'mother' might be a personality.
"Thanks Pru. I'll accept your advice."
Well, 'mother' turned out to be Pru's stepmother, Lady Judith Clinton-Jones, widow of Sir Iain.
Lady Clinton-Jones lived with a cook and chauffeur-gardener in a tired-looking mansion with a beautiful new luxurious cottage built beside the rose garden. The cottage provided modern facilities for visiting relatives and for her old friends who came from afar to enjoy what Pru called "decadence and the sea air."
Chase had expected Lady Clinton-Jones to be outrageously eccentric, but in fact she was a pretty woman, small in bone and statue, third wife of the late Sir Iain and aged about fifty. Chase was thirty-four. Despite the legacy of her deceased husband's title, inherited from his father who'd arrived in New Zealand from Britain sixty years ago Judith, as Lady Clinton-Jones insisted Chase call her, was not at all superior in manner or overly inquisitive.
Pru had left after having coffee with Judith and her houseguest.
"Pru is young to be working in real estate agency."
"Yes," said Judith with a smile. "It helps that one of my occasional lovers own the business."
"Oh goodness, I didn't mean to pry."
"You're not -- I chose to share than information. Pru will not mind you knowing that. She's a sweet and uncomplicated young woman; I'm the one in the family accused of not acting my age and being irresponsible."
"Your roses are very pretty," hastened Chase, wishing to get back to neutral ground.
"Yes," smiled Judith. "Look, you settle in and come and dine with me at 7:00 if you wish. I'd very much welcome the company."
"Why thank you."
During dinner Judith took a phone call from her daughter and simply said "Yes, yes, that's lovely of you" and that was the end of it.
"That was Pru -- her next business appointment is as noon tomorrow. She will be here at 9:00 to take you around the upmarket furniture shops and home décor specialists."
Chase was over-whelmed by such kindness.
"Oh, it's nothing," smiled Judith. "The developer who took a risk engaging Pru as sole salesperson is pleased that the penthouse is to be occupied as it finishes off that development."
As 'cook' (Mrs Ryan) served dessert and with two cocktails before dinner plus a shared bottle of chardonnay after soup and during the main course, Chase revealed her purpose to coming to Walton City.
Judith said wryly, "That might be a bit radical for the Walton Evening News -- it's less than a decade ago they engaged their first female reporter.
"Well, I've decided to relocate here whatever the outcome. My widowed father died three years ago and left me financially very well off; there is no reason why I should work, expect I am compelled to be industrious."
"And good for you," was all Judith said. She did no attempt to interrogate the handsome younger woman with her sad eyes.
The next afternoon, after a very productive morning with Pru inspecting some furniture shops and being introduced to a very confident husband and wife running a home décor business, Chase phoned the law firm of Wright, Younger and Abbott.
"I cannot put you through to Mr Younger," said the prim-sounding receptionist. "You'll have to state the nature of your business to his personal assistant and arrange an appointment."
"I am not a legal client. I wish to speak to him about the Walton Evening News."
"Oh, just a minute."
Less that a minute later Chase's phone clicked and the voice of an elderly male barked: "Harold Younger speaking."
Chase stated the nature of her business.
"You'll need to apply for the editorship through the correct channels as stated in the recruitment advertisement."
"I wish to short-circuit the process. I'll automatically be regarded a final selection candidate."
"By heavens, woman, you have some gall."
"Doesn't everyone?"
"No they don't."
"Well, I required to be interviewed. I have just arrived in Walton City and secured accommodation so am ready to take the position as editor."
Harold laughed. "By God, you've got some nerve and a high opinion of yourself."
"Don't you have similar attributes?" Chase replied coolly.
There was a pause. "Do you play golf well?"
"Yes."
"Well my wife and I are playing golf with Mansfield Alum at the golf club on Thursday afternoon at 1:30. Would you like to partner me against Mansfield and my wife Helen?"
"Yes, that would be lovely."
"It's just a social occasion."
"I'd expect nothing more than that, although I appreciate that I will be under inspection."
Harold chuckled and gave Chase details about her Thursday appointment.
On Wednesday Chase went to the apartment to instruct furniture movers where to place her bedroom furniture suite and the dinning table and chairs and two chairs and small table for the kitchen.
During their pre-dinner drink together, Judith expressed such an interest in that event that Chase stood up and said, "Let's go and take a look."
