‘You’re kidding?’

‘Nope,’ she said, with a hint of defiance. ‘We run the most garishly decorated bridal salon in the southern hemisphere. Our brides love it.’

‘Carver Brides won’t.’

She nodded. ‘You’ve made that plain. It wasn’t kind-to swat Kylie and Shirley like that.’

‘If anyone publishes pictures of Kylie as a Carver Bride…’

‘They won’t. They might be provincial, but they’re not stupid.’

‘They sound stupid. What the hell was Malcolm about, buying this place?’ Guy demanded, and Jenny’s face stilled.

‘You don’t like it?’

‘It’s a backwater. Sure, it’s scenic…’

‘Do you know the average income of our locals?’

‘What has that to do with it?’

‘A lot, I imagine,’ she said. ‘There’s two types of business in this town. First there are the businesses that provide for the original inhabitants. The likes of Shirley and Kylie. Those who you consider stupid. Then there are those that cater for the elite. We have no less than twenty helicopter pads in the shire. Millionaires, billionaires-we have them all. In your terms, not a stupid person in sight. The town has a historic overlay and a twenty-acre subdivision limit, so development is just about non-existent. In the last ten years every place coming onto the market has been snapped up by squillionaires. You know that, or you wouldn’t have bought here.’ She hesitated. ‘You really want to get rid of the likes of Kylie?’

‘I didn’t want to imply all the locals are stupid. But if Kylie can’t afford me…’

‘She won’t be able to afford you. None of the real locals will. Why do you want me to stay on?’

‘To ease the transition.’

‘There won’t be a transition. You’ve just told Kylie there won’t be Carver Brides until your people are here. I thought…according to the contract…I’d be one of your people.’