Page 3 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

GIN WITH GRAPEFRUIT

When Oliver opened his eyes, a woman was standing in the kitchen. She held a weighty cardboard box in her arms. As she placed it on the bench, the sound of clinking bottles resonated around the kitchen. Still half asleep, he wondered if he was dreaming.

Wedged between the wall and the refrigerator, she hadn’t seen him. He took a moment and looked her over. Long, sandy hair tumbled over her shoulders. She wore boots with a short skirt and an oversized, fluffy jumper.

Amongst the mid-twentieth-century style of the kitchen, complete with its original Formica countertops, yellow cabinets, and chequered floor, she appeared at ease.

For a moment, he thought she might be Elsie’s ghost, fifty years younger, returned to haunt the kitchen. But Elsie was short with dark hair.

Bathed in the golden glow of the overhead kitchen light, the woman shimmered, dream-like, and he felt an odd mix of excitement and fear. Realising he couldn’t stay hidden forever, he stepped away from the wall .

Startled, she spun around. They locked eyes – hers were blue.

‘You must be Oliver,’ she said.

It took him a moment to respond. ‘Yes…hello.’ When he stepped forward, she stepped back.

Fidgeting hands betrayed her nerves. He noted her bright pink nails and several glittering rings on slender fingers – but no wedding or engagement rings.

A gold watch on her slim wrist and a silver cuff on the other.

Her earlobes were adorned with dangling earrings.

Over her shoulder, a fancy fringed bag. Her glamorous girl-next-door appearance was deceptive; she wasn't from around here. She was a city girl.

‘I brought gin.’ Tilting her chin, the woman nodded at the box resting on the bench. ‘Given the circumstances, I thought it appropriate.’ She paused, then asked, ‘Long trip?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s a big country.’ She looked him over. ‘I like that shirt on you.’ She ran a finger around the collar of her jumper and then pulled it to one side. A considered look followed, and something passed between them, but he wasn’t sure what that meant. Had she just sent him a signal?

Her eyes shifted to the Tupperware on the bench.

‘Is there anything savoury in those containers?’ she asked.

‘Because we should give them some proper food instead of brownies and caramel slices. The sugar plays havoc with their blood pressure.’ She peered into the living room, her gaze settling on the group of senior citizens. ‘I’m not sure they’re thriving.’

Much like the beautiful woman standing in his kitchen, the baked goods were a complete mystery to him. ‘I’m sorry, who are you?’ he asked.

Leo entered and draped an arm around the mysterious woman’s shoulder. ‘She’s my niece,’ he said. ‘My favourite niece.’ They looked at each other and smiled .

‘How many nieces do you have?’

‘I have three.’

‘Four!’ the favourite niece said. ‘You have four and you love them all dearly.’

‘That’s not true.’ Leo shook his head. ‘I love some more than others. Your cousin Casey, for example, she’s a bloody nightmare. God must have been very tired the day he made her.’

The favourite niece nodded, confirming that Casey was created under duress.

‘But not this one.’ Leo smiled. ‘This one’s a keeper. She’s also the fun police – she’s taken my motorbike keys.’

‘I brought gin, so you might want to rethink that title.’

Leo picked up two kitchen chairs and carried them off to the living room.

The favourite niece started unpacking bottles of gin and tonic water from the box.

‘I wonder if Elsie has a citrus zester,’ she mumbled.

After rummaging through the cutlery drawer, she came out empty-handed.

Unphased, she moved to the overhead cupboards, searching for glasses.

As she reached for the top shelves, her skirt lifted.

Oliver tilted his head, admiring her long legs and firm thighs.

The way her fabric embraced her bottom as she leaned forward.

Skorts. Such a sensible item of clothing.

When he raised his eyes, she was staring at him, unimpressed. He almost laughed – the entire day had been absurd. Then he caught her serious expression. She was annoyed. More than annoyed, she was angry. He ran a hand over his mouth, almost wiping the smile from his face, but not quite.

She returned to her task, placing whatever glasses she could find, which were a dozen mismatched tumblers, on the table.

This wouldn’t be enough – at least fifty people had gathered.

When Leo returned looking for more chairs, Mia assigned him the task of collecting used glasses from the living room.

Standing to one side with his hands in his pockets, Oliver realised he was in the way, blocking the woman’s access to the sink.

She kept walking around him. Somehow, he wanted to be involved in this delightful plan.

Given Elsie’s teetotaller status, serving gin and tonic to the mourners was hilarious.

‘What can I do to help?’ he asked, pulling his hands out of his pockets and rubbing his palms together.

‘Nothing,’ she snapped.

Again, he found her brisk reaction funny, and another smile followed.

This seemed to upset her even more. Her back stiffened; she squared her shoulders and completely ignored him.

Leo entered with an armful of dirty glasses. ‘Oliver can help you with the drinks while I wash up,’ he volunteered.

‘I offered,’ Oliver said. ‘But she’s angry with me.’

‘It doesn’t take much to upset her,’ Leo whispered.

‘Oh my god,’ the woman mumbled.

‘Does she have a name?’ Oliver asked.

‘She does. It’s Mia,’ Leo said. ‘Short for missing in action.’

Mia turned and considered the men. ‘I hate you both.’

‘No, you don’t.’ Leo had one of those rare smiles that offered eternal comfort. It focused solely on Mia with unwavering favouritism. ‘Come over here and meet Oliver properly. He’s very nice, and he won’t bite.’

On the contrary, Oliver thought, if the circumstances were different, he would very much like to bite Mia.

She walked over to them and held out a slim-fingered, pale hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you,’ she said.

When he took her hand, she quickly withdrew it.

‘Same,’ he replied and wanted to say more, but the moment passed .

Turning to Leo, she said, ‘There’s a bag of ice on the veranda. Can you get it for me?’

‘I’ll go,’ Oliver said before she had time to intervene. He retrieved the ice and a small bag containing three grapefruit, bringing the items into the kitchen. Leo was nowhere to be seen.

Sidling up to Mia, he whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’

Lining up more glasses, she didn’t look up or acknowledge his apology.

‘It’s been a weird few days. Levity helps,’ he added.

Still ignoring him, she promptly opened another bottle of gin.

Oliver retrieved the grapefruit from the bag. ‘Well, Mia, missing in action, what are we doing with these?’ He might as well have been talking to himself.

Without ceasing her pouring, she said, ‘I was out of lemons and limes. I can’t see anything wrong with using grapefruit.’ Her tone was firm, the topic non-negotiable.

Her schoolteacher voice was hilarious, and Oliver had to stifle another smile.

He pushed his sleeves up, opened the bag of crushed ice, and filled the tumblers.

Then, taking a knife from the drawer, he cut the grapefruit into thin slices and garnished the drinks.

After sliding two glasses to one side, he said, ‘I thought these could be ours. If you’re not driving, you can be more heavy-handed with the gin. ’

She hesitated, then added a decent splash of gin to both drinks.

After taking a tumbler from the table, Oliver held it up. ‘Cin cin,’ he said.

She followed his lead and raised her glass.

He finished half his drink in one gulp – the tumblers were quite small. Citrusy and heavily scented, it was deliciously refreshing. Not as good as a strong cup of coffee, but it gave him the kick he needed.

He noticed Mia had done the same, and her drink was almost empty. Perhaps they were both in unfamiliar circumstances. Neither belonged in the parsonage, or, for that matter, in Eagle Nest. She certainly looked like a peacock in a henhouse.

Getting his attention, Mia pointed to a high shelf. ‘There’s a tray, would you mind?’

Oliver followed her gaze. On the shelf was a wooden tray with handles. It wasn’t beyond her reach, but she would have to stretch.

‘That depends,’ he said. ‘Are you going to check out my arse?’

‘I’ve just met you. That would be rude.’

‘Once you get to know me, are you going to look?—’

‘The tray!’ she snapped.

Oliver smiled. He retrieved the tray. Leo served the drinks to the eager crowd, and Mia started pouring the second round.

When Leo returned, he grabbed Mia by the arm. ‘Come on, I’ll give you a turn around the dance floor.’

Oliver realised guests were now dancing in the living room. Two older women, supporting each other, floated by. He thought one of them might be Flora, the troublemaker.

‘I can only do a waltz,’ Mia confessed. ‘One, two, three. Forward, side-together. Forward, side-together,’ she said.

Leo swept her away into the living room. ‘Boom, tick, tick. Boom, tick, tick.’ After fifty years of dancing, his muscle memory was automatic. The man was a natural.

Oliver watched as Leo glided, and Mia counted the beats under her breath.

Once or twice, she caught his eye and immediately looked away.

She stood out like a daisy in a field of pinecones.

Again, he felt a strange combination of elation and terror.

Behind him in the kitchen, he overheard someone telling a joke about a woman who had a smoking hot body at a cremation.

Everyone laughed. Horrified, he turned away. He needed to check on Tash.

He found her on the sofa, asleep. Her arms wrapped tightly around the neck of a black Labrador.

A dog lover, he wandered over to introduce himself.

After perching on the edge of the coffee table, he patted the dog under the chin.

With big, glassy eyes, the animal looked up at him – it had resigned itself to being used as a comforter.

‘I know,’ Oliver said, ‘but you’re a good dog.’

Beside him on the coffee table was a plate of half-eaten cakes, which Tash had been devouring. Oliver broke off a small piece and fed the dog. It almost took off his hand.

He went back to the kitchen, where Blanche was rinsing glasses and Leo was drying.

‘A wonderful show of cakes,’ Blanche said.

She wanted to know what to keep. Several of the cream-based slices were already a few days old and wouldn’t make it through the next twenty-four hours.

Oliver sympathised; the last few days had been rough on everyone.

He suggested she use her best judgement. She handed him the trash to take out.

Outside, he spied Mia on the veranda. She was staring up at the night sky, looking at the stars. As he approached, she asked him if he was having a good time, her manner so formal he wondered if she went to some sort of finishing school.

In no rush to return to the ruckus inside the house, he decided to linger and leaned against the railing. ‘Earlier, I met a woman whose mother’s mother once held hands with the queen. ’

‘Ah, I know that woman. She’s in my Sit the stillness of the evening felt extraordinary.

Music crooned from inside – an old Frank Sinatra tune – and he felt an astonishing connection to the world.

A part of the Earth. A part of her. If he didn’t want her to leave, he would have to start a conversation.

‘I have to ask, what’s wrong with Cousin Casey?’

‘She voted no in the gay marriage referendum. She also talks down to people and drives a Jaguar, which Leo objects to. He tells me they’re unreliable.’

‘He has a point.’

She sighed heavily.

He knew the cause: the stillness, the moonlight and the stars, but he thought there was no harm in asking, and he wanted to keep the conversation going. ‘What’s that sigh for?’

She considered him for a moment and then turned away. ‘I knew you were tall, but I didn’t realise how tall. Six-three? Six-four?’

‘Probably.’

From inside the house came the sound of a momentous crash.

They shared an alarmed glance.

‘I’ll go,’ he said. ‘You stay here and look at the stars.’ Oliver headed inside.

In the kitchen, Troublemaker Flora had run into Leo, who had knocked the tray holding the empty glasses off the table.

For the next half hour, Oliver was busy sweeping shards off the floor.

Perfecting the French exit, Mia slipped away into the night.