Page 22 of Seduction Under the Southern Stars
Why?
Because he said he got his angel wings for me.
I know he didn’t. Or at least, they weren’t just for me, in a romantic sense. He said he got them for ‘Joel and Fraser, and all the other kids at the school’, and because he missed the home he’d had for four years with us. He’d become part of my family, and that’s why he got the tattoo.
But even so, it was a nice thing for him to say.
He must have been gutted when Dad sent him away. I still can’t believe Dad did that. I’m going to have words with him later about it. For now, though, I want to have a nice evening with my friends, and a good time always begins with good food.
I already have canned tomatoes, tomato puree, and spices at home. I buy ground mince, onions, kidney beans, cheddar cheese, a couple of avocados, sour cream, fresh chilis, and tortilla chips. What does Linc drink? Unsure, I add a bottle of white wine, a bottle of red, and a pack of Steinlager to the basket, throw in a few tubs of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, and take it all to the checkout.
Within twenty minutes, I arrive at my apartment. I’m not usually home on my own during the day, and I put the shopping bags on the kitchen counter, then look around, a little unnerved at how quiet it is. It’s never quiet here when Zoe’s around.
I go over to check that I’ve locked the front door and put the chain on. Go into the bedroom and change into a comfy tee and track pants. Then go back out and check the front door again.
I check three more times, undoing the chain and putting it back on to reassure myself that I’ve remembered, before I finally feel satisfied. Then it’s time to start cooking.
I put some music on, unpack all the ingredients, and chop up the onion. I fry it with the ground beef, lots of chili powder, garlic, cumin, oregano, cayenne pepper, salt, and pepper, then tip the mixture into my slow cooker. I rinse the kidney beans and add those along with a couple of tins of chopped tomatoes, stir it all up, put the lid on, and turn it up to high. It’ll take three or four hours and should just be done before they all arrive at seven.
Next, I chop up the fresh chilies, avocados, and red onion, and grate the cheese. I put them all in individual small pots along with the sour cream so everyone can add whatever they want and place them back in the fridge for now.
Hmm, Zoe and I only have six dishes and six lots of cutlery. Oh well, I’ll have to have mine in a bowl and use my fingers. I get them all out, along with some kitchen roll as I don’t have any serviettes, and the half a dozen mismatched wine glasses we have. One of the guys will probably have beer, and they can drink that out of the bottle.
I check my phone and smile at Zoe’s text: Are you really taking the afternoon off? Now I’m intrigued… She’s going to be like a dog with its favorite bone, and I don’t think Hallie’s going to be much better. I never talk about guys, so the appearance of one from my past will intrigue them both.
I look around the apartment, wondering what Linc will think of it. What kind of place does he have in London? Judging by the fact that he’s renting the penthouse at the hotel, it’s going to be something big and impressive, on the Thames, maybe.
Renting in Wellington is expensive. My father would have helped out if I’d asked him. My great-to-the-power-of-seven-grandfather made his fortune gold mining in Arrowtown in the 1860s, and clever investment by his ancestors has meant my family is moderately wealthy. Dad paid my university fees and bought me a car, for which I’m very grateful. But I’m keen to pay my own way now I’ve graduated.
I met Zoe at uni, and I was pleased when she said she was looking for someone to split rent with. We were thrilled at the time to find this two-bedroomed apartment not far from the museum. It has one bathroom and a combined living room and kitchen. It’s a little cluttered—I like my books, and I have several collections of various archaeology magazines, plus Zoe paints in her spare time, so there are canvases, brushes, and tubes of acrylic paint on every surface not currently covered with books.
I spend some time tidying up, putting the magazines into piles, removing books from the coffee table and stacking them around the sofa and chairs, and putting Zoe’s paints back into the box. I place some new candles around, and I’ll turn on the fairy lights when the time comes, which always give the place a comforting glow.
Bored with tidying, I huff a sigh. Okay, now what? It’s too early to get dressed for the evening. Shall I go back to work? Fraser will tell me off, though; it’s true that I didn’t take any vacation days last year, apart from looking after Mum, and I know he’s worried about me.
Well, I’ll be busy this evening, so it makes sense to do some studying now instead.
Fraser and Joel went to Otago University in Dunedin to study archaeology, although they both ended up working in the capital. I should have gone to Dunedin as well, really, or Auckland, as they both offer excellent archaeology courses. But after what happened when I was eighteen, I was in no position to live on my own so far from my family. Dad tried to talk me into staying at home and learning online, but eventually Fraser convinced him to let me go to Victoria University of Wellington, saying he and Joel could keep an eye on me there, and my parents finally agreed. Unfortunately, Vic doesn’t offer archaeology, but I ended up taking a degree in Anthropology, which I adored. Now, though, I’m taking my Master’s through Otago, so I can specialize in heritage management, especially the indigenous archaeology and heritage of New Zealand and the Pacific Islands. As I’ve always been interested in bones, I’m focusing on osteology, specifically the bones of the sixty species of extinct birds, including the famous flightless moa, which used to be endemic to New Zealand.
Museums show only a small proportion of the artifacts in their collections, and the National Museum is no exception. In the storage rooms are boxes and boxes of bones from various sites across the country that haven’t yet been sorted or cataloged. Fraser let me sort through the remains taken from a Maori midden site found in a dune near the Wairau Bar in Marlborough, and I’ve been cleaning them and identifying them, laying them out on a table so I can see how many individual skeletons I can identify.
I sit at the table and open the box. Soon the real world fades away, and I’m up to my elbows in cervical and thoracic vertebrae, having the time of my life.
Sometime later, a text pings up on my phone from Zoe, and it’s with some surprise that I read it: On my way up! I check the time. Oh my, it’s nearly six! I go over to the sink and wash my hands, then run to the front door and peer through the peephole just as she walks up. I undo the chain and unlock the door, and open it for her.
“Hey you!” she says, coming in. “Ooh, something smells nice.”
“I can’t believe it’s nearly six.” I lock the door behind her and slide the chain across.
“We’ve still got an hour.” She goes over to the slow cooker and lifts the lid. “Oh my God, Elora, you know how much I love your chili.” She picks up a wooden spoon and gives it a stir. “There’s enough here to feed an army.”
“We’ve got three guys coming. They won’t leave any, believe me.” I walk back to the door and check it again. She doesn’t comment; she’s used to my weird behaviors.
“Are you going in the shower?” she asks.
“Um, yeah, I think so.”
“Go on, you first, then I’ll nip in.”
