Sundown Crossing Read Free

himself to death, you know, spending every minute he could building the vineyard up. The doc said that his ticker gave out on him in the end.’
    ‘I know. We’re all going to miss him,’ Angie said quietly. Peter was right about the quiet bit. The middle-aged Rolfe wasn’t the type to indulge in idle chatter, even when he was being sociable. His conversations invariably revolved around the vines, the coming vintage and future plans for Valley View. And…come to think of it because she was in a reflective mood, he had rarely talked about his life in Australia, and never about his childhood leaving her to guess that some serious trauma had occurred which he’d buried in his subconscious. She knew some personal things though—about his life in Italy, meeting Gina, marrying her, and moving to New Zealand. In fact, she was sure even Carla knew little about Rolfe’s childhood because he’d stolidly chosen not to talk about the past.
    Carla poked her head through the kitchen doorway. She gave Peter and Angie a lopsidedsmile. ‘If you’re ready, Tom wants to read the will. He said it was better to do it here, rather than having us traipse into his office.’
    ‘Be right there,’ Angie said. She flicked soap suds off her hands and dried them on a clean tea towel. There were lines of strain around Carla’s eyes, and she was holding herself stiff. Just hanging on, that’s what Rolfe’s daughter was doing—keeping up the pretence of being in control when, in reality, she was on the thin edge of it.
    Tom, Peter, Angie and Carla all sat around the dining-room table. Sam, who had no interest in the proceedings, was building some kind of structure with the Meccano set he loved that Rolfe had found for him.
    Tom sat at the head of the oblong table and patted his bald pate with his left hand, smoothing back what few strands of hair there were, while his right hand took a folder and other papers from the attachée case and put them on the table top.
    ‘A sad occasion,’ he began then stopped to clear his throat and put his glasses on. ‘Rolfe and I were good friends and I’m going to miss him, as we all will. Still, because we all knew him well, we know that he liked to be organised. He left a simple will updated a year ago, so it accurately reflects how he wanted to dispose of his assets.
    ‘As it’s a formal document, I’m legally bound to read it in its entirety. So, please, any questions you might have should be left until the reading’s complete.’
    Carla blinked furiously to hold back a threatening flurry of tears. Not yet. Later you can cry your eyes out, but just get through this, she told herself. This reading of the will underlined the reality of a death, the finality of a loved one having left this earth forever. She had been through the process before, with Derek. Not that her late husband had had much to leave other than a few sentimental, family trinkets, his mother’s jewellery and a modest parcel of shares which were to be held in trust for Sam. And with the small pension she received from Derek’s insurance policy together with what she earned as a teacher, she and Sam were coping if not well off. Her gaze focused on her son playing unconcernedly with his Meccano bits and pieces, his features taut with concentration as he placed screws and bolts together and tightened them with the accompanying child-sized wrench.
    She never tired of the joy of watching him—at play, watching television, asleep. After Derek’s death, which had shattered her emotionally for some time, he had been her salvation, given her something to cling to and focus her energies on, and he would be her salvation now. Somehow they would both grow and survive this sadness. She gave a mental shake and tried to concentrate on Tom’s words as he began to read…
    ‘…Is the last will and testament of Rolfe Wilfred Kruger who, being of sound mind, does bequeath to his one and only daughter, Carla Janine Hunter, the following