I can’t help it. My poverty-based indignation takes over again.
Chapter Thirty-One
In which there are more lessons in fiscal responsibility. Kai does not mind a bit.
Kai…
Luna stops abruptly, nearly knocking over a nice old lady coming the other way. Maybe not so nice, because she glares at Luna, muttering something about “Eejit American tourists.”
“Sorry!” Luna calls after her, “Really, my apologies, ma’am.” Then her gaze turns on me. “How much did that dinner cost?”
My brow furrows. “Why?”
“Tell me,” she says, “how much?”
“Two thousand and forty-five pounds,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck.
Her eyes nearly bulge from their sockets. “Two thousand and-”
“That does include the tip,” I hasten to add. “I always tip 100%.”
She does the horrified goldfish thing again, mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Thrusting out her hand, she says, “Give me two thousand and forty-five pounds. I know you’re one of those men who carries a giant wad of cash, so don’t tell me you don’t have it.”
Pulling out my money clip, I pull off the required amount and hand it to her.
Clutching the wad of bills in her fist, she marches up the stairs of the cathedral two doors down from us. Shoving open the tall doors, she heads straight for the priest, who’s kneeling at the altar in front.
“Father? I’m sorry to bother you, but I wanted to give you something.”
He’s older, worn around the edges, but he has a kind smile for us despite the late hour. “Welcome, my child. Are you here for confession? I fear it’s a bit late for that, but I can find the time if it is important to you.”
“Oh, thank you, Father. I’m not Catholic,” Luna says. “I do have a gift for your beautiful church.” She puts the fistful of pound notes in his hand. “It’s two thousand and forty-five pounds. I’m sure you can put it to good use. Have a lovely evening, and thank you for your time.” She gives an odd sort of curtsy and strides back down the aisle.
“Go with God, my child!” he calls out.
‘I’m thinking ya have a soup kitchen ya oversee, Father?” I ask.
“Aye,” he says with a confused smile, “the food bank over on Mouerton Way.”
Pulling out the rest of my money, I hand it to him. “Thank you for your good work.”
“I will never turn down a donation for our efforts with those in need,” he says, his sense of humor rising to the forefront, “but is there something specific that brought you here tonight?”
I nod in Luna’s direction as she waits for me in the narthex, admiring the flowers there. “That one. She’s a force of nature.”
“Aye, I can see that,” he chuckles. “Go with God, my son.”
Mysionnach beagis back in good spirits after our financial detour.
“Can we go home now, or do you have more places to donate our money?”
She loops her arm through mine. “That’s enough for tonight.”
Back at the house, I dismiss most of my security detail, who’d followed us in puzzled silence on our expensive jaunt through western Glasgow.
Luna keeps the lamp in the living room low, so the river of light and shadow from the streetlights outside softly illuminates the room. She’s very fond of sitting on the floor in front of the windows, watching this section of the city put itself to sleep.
“Thank you.” She smiles up at me as I hand her a glass of wine and settle next to her.
