Page 27 of Kiwi Gold
She said, “Not American parents, no. My dad went to grad school in the States, that’s all. He worked there for a few years before we came home again. How about you? Did you go there with your mum and stepdad? You’d have been young, like me.”
“No,” I said. “But I made it there eventually. I’ve been most places, or it seems that way.”
“Why?”
Somebody was approaching us. A very pregnant woman with the same ginger hair as the little girl—Olivia. This was Poppy, obviously. Jax’s sister, and another degree of separation closer to our hosts.
I said, “Exploring.”
“For what?” Laila asked. “Inner serenity? And I want to know more about the sisters, too.Foursisters?Quadrupletsisters?”
Poppy was almost here now. I said, “Quads, yeh. And for gold, that’s what. For copper and silver and oil, too, when I have to. But especially for gold.”
* * *
Laila
Poppy was upon us, looking between Lachlan and me as if our being together here meant something, when she was the one who’d arranged it. After that, there were introductions, and she was saying, “Let me take you over to meet Gray and Daisy.”
There were so many things I wanted to ask. He was an exploration geologist. The same profession as my dad, in the same city, and the back of my neck was prickling. Did he actuallyworkfor my dad? Please, no.
For the moment, though, I said, “Wait. First—why does Oriana live with them?”
Poppy stopped walking and turned back. “You don’t know?”
“No. I have no idea who these people are.”
“Gray Tamatoa’s an All Black,” Lachlan said. “Ex-All Black. Does something else now.”
“Builder,” Poppy said. “And Daisy’s an R.N. Workmate of Matiu’s in Emergency, and runs and surfs with him sometimes as well. Kicks his arse, he says. Terrifyingly goal-driven, but then, I’m exactly not, so …”
“All right,” I said. “And they invited me because … I’m Oriana’s boss? Or you’re trying to get me out of the house? I just gotoutof the house last night. It didn’t go all that well. Sorry about that,” I told Lachlan. I hadn’t addressed my sudden flight at all with him yet, and I needed to. How hard was it to say?Sorry I ran out on you. I was …
What? Experiencing tampon leakage? Suffering from a psychotic break? Expecting my coach to turn back into a pumpkin?
As panicked as my fifteen-year-old self at the thought of kissing somebody—of kissinghim,especially in public? Gah, no, not the truth. How would I ever explain?
I still hadn’t worked out any reasonable way to end the sentence when somebody else arrived. A man, tall, dark, muscular, and extremely fit, and a woman about my size, meaning, “not very big,” everything about her body language and expression saying, “Composed and in control.” The kind of woman I was trying to be, and the kind who intimidated me. She said, “Hi. Welcome. I’m Daisy, and this is Gray. You’ll be Laila and Lachlan, I’m thinking.”
“Gray Tamatoa,” the fit bloke said, and held out a hand to Lachlan. “You’re a mate of Jax’s, eh.”
“Lachlan Hughes,” he said. “And yeh, I am. Cheers for the invite.”
I said, “I didn’t realize you knew Oriana. That she’s living with you, that is, or … renting from you, or whatever it is. My assistant. Small world, eh.”
Daisy said, “She’s living with us, yeh. She’s my sister.” Getting an even more guarded look on her face, as if she knew what came next. I was familiar with that look.
“Oh,” I said, the realization lighting up like a flare. “Wait. Isawthat on TV. The sister who got her family out of Mount Zion, who confronted the … the Prophet. That was you?” Totally tactless. Blame the hangover.
Her chin came up. “Yes. That was Gray and me, with heaps of help. Not all of my family left, but some did. Also yes, I was raised in a cult. Married at sixteen. Everything you’ve heard and more.”
I said, “I’m Laila Ashford. As in—married to Kegan Ashford.” A fact I never shared if I could avoid it, but something in that closed-down face made me want to say,I know about feeling too exposed, and too judged.
Beside me, Lachlan stiffened. I could feel it, even though I couldn’t look at him. I thought,That’s all right. I clearly wasn’t ready for a man in my life anyway,and tried not to feel bereft, for some stupid, hormonal, overexposed-nerve-endings reason. Instead, I told Daisy, “I’m thinking of changing back to Laila Drake personally as well as professionally, though. What d’you reckon?”
Daisy said, “Are you asking me because you assume I changed my name in order to hide my background?” Still composedly, but with a flash in her eyes.
Oh, bugger. I was really acing this social-life thing. “No,” I said. “I didn’t know you’d done that. I should have, clearly, because—Mount Zion. Odd names. Sorry, I forgot about that. I was attempting to do bonding or something. Awkwardly, clearly.”
