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She wasn’t ready to face everything in one day.
As she wandered through the lounge room, past the formal dining room and into the kitchen, the smell of garlicky roast lamb had her mouth watering. ‘Oh my gosh, Shea, you’ve made my favourite.’ She put her nose into the air, sniffing madly. ‘It seriously smells like I’ve died and gone to heaven.’
‘That’s my infamous roast, along with all the trimmings, including my super-duper thick minty gravy, made from the rich lamb juices of course.’ She gave Samantha the once-over with a very concerted gaze. ‘And by the looks of you, Samantha Evans, you need to have two helpings of everything. My gosh, woman, don’t they feed you good hearty food over in the UK?’
‘Ha, not really.’ Samantha knew she looked a little on the lean side, so she chose to ignore Shea’s innocent comment completely – her friend meant well, as she always did. ‘Come to think of it, I haven’t had roast lamb for ages,’ she added, by means of steering the conversation anywhere other than her thinness. ‘Probably since you came for a visit last year.’
‘Well then, tonight shall be an epic feast.’ Grabbing the oven mitts from the bench, Shea slipped both on. ‘Followed by copious amounts of yummy vino and great conversation.’
‘Sounds like the perfect night to me.’ Samantha pulled up a chair at the breakfast bench, and watched Shea manoeuvre a roasting tray from the oven, and onto the sink just as the pitter-patter of tiny feet sounded, as did the clicking of dog paws.
Shea looked over her shoulder. ‘Uh-oh, look out, trouble is inbound.’
Amaya came skidding around the doorway, her chocolate-coloured labrador, Fudge, hot on her heals. ‘Aunty Sammie.’ Her face a picture of delight, she ran towards her. ‘You’re here!’
Shooting to her feet, Samantha caught her, and lifting the wild-haired mini replica of Shea into her arms, she spun her in circles and kissed her cheek repeatedly.
‘That tickles.’ Giggling, Amaya wriggled free. ‘You’re a funny one, Aunty Sammie.’
Samantha’s hands went to her hips. ‘Am I, now?’
‘Uh-huh. That’s what Daddy says sometimes … ’ Amaya nodded exaggeratedly and looked to Shea, who was wide-eyed with whisk in hand. ‘… hey Mummy, Daddy reckons that Aunty Sammie is a real funny one.’
‘Does he now?’ Smirking, Samantha looked to Shea, who was now stirring her pot of gravy into oblivion. ‘And what does Daddy Jack mean by that, I wonder, hmm?’
‘Oh, you know.’ Shea overtly shrugged but didn’t meet Samantha’s eye. ‘That you’re witty and comical, and sometimes a little weird, which is why we love you so much.’
‘Good save, my friend.’ Samantha knew Jack meant it kindly, as did Shea, so she wasn’t offended, and instead found it endearing that they still saw that quirky side of her, instead of the straight-laced side that had been nurtured by her day-to-day life in London for over a decade. Ps and Qs were important in her career, especially with her clientele.
‘Speaking of your father,’ Shea glanced at the clock above the stove, ‘I hope he’s not too much longer putting the chickens to bed, or dinner is going to go cold.’
Right on cue, the back door flew open and Jack stepped in, along with the scent of the earth he provided from. ‘Howdy doody family.’ Fudge ran to his master’s socked feet, wagging his tail madly as he received a warm hello from Jack.
‘Speaking of the devil himself.’ Shea’s smile as she looked towards him was filled with so much love.
Jack caught Amaya as she leapt up and into his arms. ‘I thought my ears were burning.’ Father and daughter shared a tight hug. Pausing briefly to brush a kiss on Shea’s cheek, he then took long strides towards Samantha and popped Amaya back to the floor. ‘Welcome home, stranger.’ He pulled her into the tightest of hugs, filled with brotherly love. ‘We’ve all missed you.’
Samantha relished the feeling of being part of such a tight-knit, loving family. ‘Hey, soon-to-be-brother-in-law, it’s good to see you.’ She watched as a giggling Amaya dragged Fudge around the kitchen, a ball tied to a rope clenched tightly in his mouth.
‘Of course it’s good to see me, I rock.’ Jack’s larrikin side shone through immediately. ‘We’re stoked you made it. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to, although wifey-to-be here was positive you would.’ He made his way to the stylish Smeg fridge, grabbed a beer from the depths, and then held it up. ‘Want one, Sammie?’
‘Not for me, but thanks.’ There were way too many carbs in a beer for her, not that she was about to say such a thing out loud in an Aussie country kitchen where the gold liquid was often referred to as a gift from the gods.
Leaning against the bench, Jack took a decent glug. ‘Ahhh, that hit the spot nicely.’ He grinned. ‘Would you like a cuppa, or maybe a glass of … ’ He seemed to be trying to look posh. ‘… pinot noir?’ It was said with a hilarious accent that was a total British failure.
‘You’re a dag, Jack Farley.’ Laughing, Shea tossed the tea towel in his direction.
Catching it, Jack mocked offence. ‘I’ll have you know that I’m not the little bit of pooh that hangs off the end of a sheep’s butt.’
‘Hmm,’ Shea replied playfully. ‘You sure about that?’
‘Ha, very funny.’ His face a picture of mirth, Jack gave her the middle finger. ‘Now, about that wine, Sammie?’
Samantha chuckled at the pair’s playful antics. ‘A glass of pinot noir would be perfect, thank you.’
‘Yes please, and make it a big one, it’s been a long day,’ Shea said, before Jack got the chance to ask her. ‘The wedding planning is doing my head in, given it’s all so last minute.’ She looked to Samantha. ‘Thank god you’re here to help me now.’
‘We could have given ourselves a little more time, sweet.’ Grabbing a bottle from the wine rack, Jack got to pouring two glasses. ‘We’ve waited this long. We could have waited a bit more.’
