Moon - The Gift of Life

About the Book

Gabby McPhee is the owner of The Tin Man, a chic new cafe and coffee roasting house in Melbourne. The struggles of her recent heart transplant are behind her and life is looking up until a mysterious customer appears in the cafe, convinced that Gabby has her deceased husbands heart beating inside her chest.

Krystal Arthur is a bereaved widow, struggling to hold herself and her two young boys together since Evans death, and plagued by unanswered questions. Why was her husband in another city the night he died? And why wont his spirit rest?

Krystal is convinced that Gabby holds the clues she needs to move towards a brighter future. Gabby needs Krystal to help her let go of her troubled past. The two women must come together to try to unlock the secrets in Evans heart in order to set free their own.

So, its been a year since The Tin Man opened? the journalist asked, checking her notes. She was young and shiny and chirpy, which gave Gabby hope the article would be a correspondingly positive one.

Thats right, Gabby said. She nodded to the glass wall that separated the front of house from the back of house, through to the roasting machine that was currently in action, her new coffee roaster Luciano efficiently pouring a big bucket of green beans into the hopper right at that moment. Now weve launched our own specialty roasting service, with three signature blends.

The young woman flicked her long black hair off her shoulder, nodded and wrote down more notes.

Gabby handed her the signature blend card, with the name and description of each creation. Would you like to try one? I can get Ed to make you one now.

No, thanks, I dont drink coffee. It sends me cray cray, the journalist said, her laughter tinkling.

Ah, fair enough. Gabbys optimism for this story nosedived, which was a shame. One year in, the business was doing well any business that made it through its first year was on a good footing but if she was going to pay back her business loan in any kind of timely manner, or start making enough profit to consider one day buying her own home again, rather than living with her dad, then she really needed to be speeding up its growth. Investing in the roasting machine had been risky and involved significant additional debt, so she needed as much publicity as possible.

Its beautiful in here, the young woman said, gazing around admiringly. Did you do the interior design yourself?

A lot of it. My sister Pippa is a graphic designer and she has a real eye for these things, so she had input as well.

In the middle of The Tin Man was an aged twelve-foot wooden ladder, worn smooth and dried hard as amber, suspended from the ceiling and entwined with crimson flowers and fairy lights. On the whitewashed wooden floor, overstuffed chocolate-brown leather chairs were adorned with sheepskin throws, and the tables held posies of flowers. A long glass cabinet displayed coffee cream macarons and latte cupcakes. Sounding through the space was the constant whir, clack and froth of the coffee machine, the chatter of businesswomen and men, bursts of laughter and the bells and buzzes of mobile phones. Gabby liked the bustle and the noise. It was evidence of life all around her, a life she desperately wanted to be a part of for many more years yet.

I pulled out the article we did on you last year, the journalist said. Gabby wished she could remember the womans name. It was one of the side effects she lived with these days poor short-term memory. Peoples names in particular were often just out of reach. I love that you named this place The Tin Man because he was looking for a heart, and you needed a heart and had a heart transplant! That is so cool.

Mmm. I was one of the lucky ones. In truth, this line of promotion made Gabby slightly uncomfortable. Shed used it as a publicity angle when she opened the cafe and the media had lapped it up. Organ transplant stories were always a welcome happy news item for them and Pippa had helped her get as much traction out of it as possible. Theyd even had a morning television crew come and broadcast from the cafe, and she was certain it had helped lift business. She was happy to talk about organ donation and encourage people to discuss it with their families, and certainly the hospital and medical staff loved positive media coverage too. Still, she felt vaguely reluctant to use it again this time. It was the ever-present, gnawing guilt that she was alive because someone else had died.

The journalist, perhaps sensing her hesitation, closed her notebook and put it into her bright pink silk bag. I think I have everything I need. I better get back to the office and type this up. It should be in tomorrows paper.

Gabby stood and shook her hand. So quickly? Thats fabulous. Thank you so much for coming.

Youve done really well here. And your heart is all good? Everythings okay? She looked nervously at Gabbys chest.

Gabby plastered a smile on her face. Everythings going great. It was imperative that she appear strong and capable. She couldnt be the weak link in the cafes success. She walked the journalist to the front door, where they paused momentarily to admire the rainbows cast from water splashing in the fountain. Its my two-year anniversary this Saturday. I might even have a drink to celebrate, she said jovial, reassuring.

You should totally do that! Then the journalist was gone, leaving Gabby to stand for a moment and reflect on what this place had grown into in the past year.

The Tin Man was nestled in a small sandstone complex, in a square set back from Chapel Street in Melbournes South Yarra, alongside a clothes shop and a hairdresser, with a dazzling fountain in front. Mid mornings, sunlight reflected off the fountain and created a spray of whirling golden sparkles on the floor-to-ceiling windows of the cafe.

Each morning the person whod opened the cafe wheeled out a small coffee cart to the street and stayed there till 9 am, catching those who were too busy to come inside as they darted for buses and trams or hurried on foot to work or school. Gabby was proud of this place she wanted it to one day be the legacy she left for her children. Hopefully the newspaper article would be one more piece of effective publicity to continue building this dream.

Pippa arrived at eleven oclock the next morning, carrying the newspaper. She was looking fabulous as always, in a charcoal-grey apron dress over a long-sleeved black tee, with black tights and boots, and her long hair in two plaits. A chunky black-and-white necklace and flawless matt make-up completed the outfit. She looked younger than her years, trendy and so artsy. Gabby sat next to her at a table in the corner, away from the noisy coffee machine, and they put their red heads together to read the article. Pippa had become something of an unofficial marketing and publicity manager for Gabby and would scrutinise every piece of media about The Tin Man.

Oh, I see what you mean about the chirpiness, Pippa said as she read.

Its a bit over the top, but thats better than underwhelming.

It was a half-page colour spread, with lovely photos they had provided of Gabby, Ed making coffee, the glass cabinet and its gorgeous cream-filled contents, and artfully placed coffee cups on a wooden table.