Page 55 of Kiwi Gold
“Excuse me?” Lexi said. “Whywouldn’the? Look at the picture here! Four sistersandtwo nieces, and Larissa’s baby a girl, too? Ewan’s here, but that’s probably only because it’s his house, and he reckons it’s the only way he’ll get breakfast. Why d’you think Lachlan isn’t married? Why is he likely never tobemarried? Because he’s afraid he’ll run!Iwant to run, and I’ve never had to look after the rest of you.”
“He doesn’t have to look after us, though,” Larissa said. “We’re perfectly capable of looking after ourselves. We wanted his opinion, that’s all, as he knows Torsten.”
“Somewhat,” I said. “In a business rivalry sense, at least. He’s not bent, not exactly. Ruthless, though. He’s a hard man.”
“How does he feel about you dating his daughter, then?” Lexi asked. “You as a business rival, not to mention you as …” She waved a hand.
“As what?” I asked. “Can’t wait to hear you fill in the blank.”
“Well,” Lark said, “you’re not exactly Mr. Responsible, are you?”
“Pardon?” I asked. “Who’s here this morning? Who’s feeding the baby, for that matter?”
“What she means,” Lexi said, “is you as a man—” She glanced at Claire. “A man w-h-o-r-e. Not to mention an s-l-u-t.”
“And you’d know this how?” I asked.
She shrugged and ate some more teacake. “I get around. It’s not that big a town. I’d tell you exactlywhatI’ve heard, but there are too many tender ears here, and I don’t mean the kids. Anyway, what does Laila say about all of this? She’s our half-sister, after all, isn’t she?” Again, breezily.
I could have said,We’re not really dating.I didn’t, because we were … well, I had no idea what we were, but I still didn’t say it. I said instead, “I don’t know what he thinks, and I wouldn’t care if I did. Laila’s a grown woman. Like you said.”
“Why isn’t she married herself?” Lark asked. “If her father’s Muslim, presumablyshe’sMuslim, right? Wouldn’t that make her more traditional, likely to be married young and all? Or maybe she’s actually youngnow,in which case, dating her really isn’t all right, Lachlan. You’re thirty-five.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m aware of my age.”
She went on as if she hadn’t heard. “I can never tell, with skinny little women like that, the kind with no curves. They always look like teenagers. Of course, she wasn’t covering her hair, and that dress was pretty revealing, so she can’t be allthattraditional, but …”
“How?” I asked, unreasonably annoyed. “It covered almost all of her. I’ve seen all of you in skirts heaps shorter than that.”
“Excuse me,” Lark said. “Transparent? What, thatwasn’tmeant to be sexy?I’dnever have worn that dress.”
Lexi said, “We knowyouwouldn’t.”
Ewan said, “Your date was wearing a transparent dress?Howtransparent?”
Lark said, “You don’t need to know.” It was a snap.
“It had an underskirt,” I said. “Underdress. Whatever. And of course Laila’s not a teenager, or whatever you’re thinking.” However much my sisters liked dissecting each other’s lives, they weren’t dissecting mine, thank you very much. Other than the times when theydiddissect it, such as the minute I was out the door, but what I didn’t know wouldn’t hurt me.
Did anything get resolved at that breakfast? No. Torsten had told the girls that he was out of town for a few days, but he’d “be in touch,” whatever that meant, and that was all. He was in Aussie, giving a presentation as a finalist for a job Ihadn’tmade the final cut on. And I hadn’t been any help, as far as I could see, because all I knew about this was, (1) it would have to play out, and (2) at least one of my sisters was going to be either crying on my doorstep about it, or on my doorstep explaining that someothersister needed my help, because “She seemed off, to me. And you know she can’t talk about it in front of—” insert Lark or Lexi, as appropriate— “becausethatwould be a disaster.”
I couldn’t wait.
25
EARLY SETTLERS
Laila
Late Saturday afternoon, and my regular weekend chores nearly done. I climbed out of the car with the girls, distributing hardware-store bags and a couple of supermarket bags while taking the heavy ones myself. Approaching the house, then, my foot giving me a reminding stab with every step, hearing Long John’s sharp bark from inside, and the girls running ahead.
I’d put away the groceries, then get a start on my project. If I worked on it the rest of today and most of tomorrow, minus the time to fix a quick dinner …
A side door opened, and my neighbor appeared, changing course when he saw me.
No, not Lachlan. No bare feet, no faded jeans, and no T-shirt stretched over too much shoulder and too much chest. My neighbor on the other side, Trevor McMichael. He and his wife, both aged … whatever comes after “senior,” had been the first occupants of the converted church, fifteen years back, as his wife had been sure to tell me the very first time we’d met, as if they were some sort of Early Settlers, the keepers-up of Building Standards.
Trevor was fine. As long as it was only Trevor …
