‘Do you want slice?’ I ask, knife now in hand. Mum should’ve been a 1950’s housewife. She’s a fabulous cook and loves to bake, but will never ever be the size of a house. I, on the other hand, have yet to master the culinary arts, but I can sure shove the results down my throat.
‘Slice?’ Kai asks, looking confused.
I point the knife at the confection on the table, a hardened layer of chocolate suggesting what’s beneath. ‘Caramel, Mum?’
‘Millionaire shortbread,’ she answers from behind me.
Awesome! Talk about a coinky-dink!
The knife clatters to the table as I begin to giggle. Loudly. Some would say hysterically.
‘Katherine,’ Mum scolds. ‘What in heaven’s—pull yourself together, girl!’
But I can’t help it, and I can’t stop. This is just all so surreal. My mum and the millionaire sharing a cup of Earl Grey, eating slice!
I slide a glance at Kai, unsurprised that he isn’t joining in, or at least smiling.
‘It’s m-m-millionaire short—’
‘Yes,’ he replies, unamused. ‘I heard.’
‘M-m-mill—’
‘Is she often like this?’ Kai asks my mum as she brings the teapot to the table.
‘Sometimes. It’s nerves,’ she responds without looking at him as she places it down. ‘Australian Breakfast tea?’
‘I’d thought so. Yes, thank you.’ Pensive for a moment, eyeing me like I’m something he’s never quite seen before, Kai adds, ‘It’s because I’m quite rich, you see.’
‘Oh?’ replies Mum, sitting down a little too heavily for her light frame.
‘Yes.’
‘A million—’ Her voice is a couple of octaves above normal but she stops herself from completion, vulgarity avoided, manners recalled.
With a wry twist of his mouth Kai mutters, ‘Something like that.’
I hold a hand to my mouth, huge gulps of laughter squeezing past my fingers, fat tears rolling down my face.
‘And I’m marrying Kate.’
Like a case of hiccups and shock tactics, my giggles cease. Immediately.
