Page 112 of Just One Look
“Very wise, I’m sure,” Angus said. His blue eyes were shrewd, but held humor, too. “You’re a neurosurgeon, eh. That’s a pretty specialized field. A pretty impressive one, too.”
“Thank you,” she said. “And you really do look Scottish. Do you have a kilt, by any chance?”
Obviously not the most orthodox first conversational topic, but he laughed, a hearty sound. “I do indeed. You’ve unearthed my secret passion. Clever girl. I stride about every year at the Highland Games, up in Waipu, like the clan chieftain I’m not. Dreadful poser, I’m afraid.”
“No,” she said, “not possible. I can tell you’re genuine.” She liked him so much, somehow, based on thirty seconds’ acquaintance. Maybe it was easier to have a real emotion about him than the others, without that black-winged monster on her shoulder.
“Oh, life’s much too short not to be genuine,” he said. “Do we have a bit of time before dinner, my darling?” he asked Lauren.
“We do,” she said. “It’s nothing but salmon on the barbecue,” she told Elizabeth. “I’m afraid it’s nearly always fish while we’re on Waiheke.”
“That could never be a bad thing,” Elizabeth said. “My favorite. Savannah, you know.” She felt brave for that one. She’d referred to it, at least.
“Now, what will you drink before we get stuck into our tea?” Angus asked. His accent was the broadest possible New Zealand, and he didn’t seem like any kind of elite, but then there was this house. Maybe it was Lauren’s money. Maybe she’d … won the lottery, or got into real estate sales at the perfect moment. Or possibly started some boutique business that had caught the Zeitgeist at exactly the right time, and it had exploded. A cupcake shop that she’d franchised. A … a nationwide fleet of mobile dog groomers.
The lottery sounded more plausible.
“We’ve got anything you fancy,” Angus was saying, heading across the acres of polished golden flooring to a bar tucked into the end wall, handy for both the comfortable mushroom-and-brown seating arrangements and the huge patio outside, which also seemed to have another full kitchen. Not to mention the enormous rectangular swimming pool, lit to a glowing turquoise now. It was fed by a waterfall, and the elaborate greenery around it was illuminated from below, the same way the house’s driveway had been. The whole thing looked like a tropical paradise. She’d bet it was.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, aware that Angus was looking at her expectantly. “I’m just … admiring your beautiful house. It’s really spectacular.” Whoops, could that be considered talking about money? Sounding astonished by somebody having money? Too late now, if so, because she’d already said it. “Sorry, what did you ask?”
“Would you like a Scotch?” That was Piper. “You said that was your favorite. Or a glass of white wine, maybe?”
“I do have to drive home tonight, eventually,” Elizabeth said. “But a glass of white wine would be great. Oh—when do I need to leave to get a ferry?”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Angus said. “We’ll get you home safely.” He opened a huge wine fridge that must have held fifty bottles, selected one, and poured her a glass. “Try that and let me know what you think. It’s not from Waiheke itself—the island’s a bit of a wine destination, but not for Chardonnay—but at least it’s from the Auckland region. Got to represent while we’re up here, eh. Darling, would you like one now as well? Piper? And how about you, young miss? Will you have a ginger beer? Quite the special occasion tonight, with family reuniting like this.”
On such well-oiled wheels and truly ambrosial wine did the evening flow, with Lauren asking about the hospital, about Elizabeth’s training, about Atlanta and her life there, whilenotasking about her father, and Angus and Piper chiming in. Elizabeth tried to think of what she could askthem,but it was a little tricky. “So you married this guy, huh? Is he really rich?” probably wasn’t good. Neither was, “So what happened with your marriage, Piper?” She’d refrain from that, too.
Lauren was saying, as she served up delicate rectangles of a sort of low cake, with black seeds visible in the yellow topping, “Passionfruit slice. I don’t remember if you had passionfruit when you were here before, Elizabeth. It’s Piper’s favorite, so I’ve been wanting to give her the treat.”
“It’s my favorite, too,” Maddy said.
“I thought lolly cake was your favorite, miss,” Angus said.
“That’s myotherfavorite,” Maddy told him. “And chocolate biscuits is my otherotherfavorite.”
Everybody smiled, and Elizabeth took a bite of the … whatever you called this, with its cakelike crust that tasted like creamy butter and coconut, and the tangy-sweet layer of passionfruit and lemon. Lauren asked, “How’s your grandmother doing? I loved Betty Ann, the few times I met her. She could truly bake, couldn’t she? I have a recipe she gave me for something called Chess Pie. Sinfully rich, but so delicious. I still make it.”
“She died five years ago,” Elizabeth said, and felt the lump in her throat rising, right on cue.
“Oh,” Lauren said. “I’m so sorry.” Everybody sat there awkwardly, and Elizabeth realized that you were supposed to saypassed away,orpassed on,or something equally euphemistic. She’d never learned to do that. When you’d been raised by a surgeon and had felt the life seep out of as many people as she had, it was hard to say anything but “dead.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I really …” To her horror, the hot tears were rising in her eyes. “I really miss her.”
“Oh, darling,” Lauren said, and put a hand over hers. “I’m sure you do. She loved you like the sun rising in the east, anybody could see that. That’s a hard thing to lose, no matter how old you are.”
“Sorry,” Elizabeth said, touching the cloth napkin to her eyes and trying to laugh. “It’s just … you remind me a little of her, probably. Your kindness, that is. Not your appearance, obviously. Or you remind me of the time in my life when I could still see her, maybe. It just suddenly washed over me, you know?” She was definitely leaking now. Oh, this was wonderful. “And I realize,” she went on, possibly because she’d had two large glasses of wine and a too-emotional day, “that this is awkward for you. For all of you. All the things we aren’t saying, about my dad, about what a trulyterribleteenager I was …” She tried to laugh, and Lauren smiled and kept her hand where it was. “And a worse stepdaughter and stepsister. I haven’t asked Piper nearly enough about herself even tonight, and I want to know. I don’t even knowhowto ask about you, Lauren. This, all this … it wasn’t what I expected, and I’m so afraid I’ll say the wrong thing, I can’t seem to say anything at all.”
A scrape of a chair, and Maddy came running around the table and threw her arms around as much of Elizabeth as she could reach. “Don’t cry,” she said. “If you’re sad, you can ask Nana for a cuddle, and then you won’t have to cry. I can cuddle you, too. I cuddle my mummy all the time when she cries.”
Elizabeth gave a choked laugh, reached down to wrap her arm around the little girl’s shoulders, and said, “You’re an excellent cuddler. Thank you.”
“I think this calls for a cup of tea on the couch,” Angus said. “No reason you can’t let down your hair amongst family, and that’s a more comfortable place to do it.”
Elizabeth, though, was watching Piper. Piper didn’t look convinced, and she thought she knew why.
Angus asked Maddy, “How about if I got you ready for bed tonight, Miss Sauce?”
