by Lilly Mirren
His voice sounded more distant. “Look, hon, I have to go. Work is crazy right now and I’ve got a million things to do. I’m sure you’ll work it all out.”
“We’ll probably have the funeral next week. Do you think you can make it down?” Kate took another sip of coffee and scalded the end of her tongue. She gasped, then blew on her tongue as best she could, setting the mug back on the bench.
“Ahhh… I’m not sure. As I said, we’ve got a lot going on, and I really have to be here for it, since I’m the boss. Pick a day, let me know, and I’ll see what I can do. Okay?”
Her brow furrowed and she chewed the inside of one cheek. He knew how much Nan meant to her. She was basically Kate’s parent, the only one she had left anyway. “Okay.”
“Look, I’ll call you later, hon. Love you.”
He’d hung up before the words “Love you,” had left her mouth in response. Her eyes narrowed, and she stared at the receiver a moment before pushing it back into its place on the wall.
Footsteps echoed in the living room, then Mima rounded the corner and into the kitchen.
“Ah, there you are! Good morning, sweetheart, I hope you slept well.”
She shook her head with a glum smile. “Nope. But I have coffee.” She raised her mug as though in salute.
Mima rolled her eyes. “You and Nan with that coffee! Pfft! A good cup of tea is what you need. Coffee clogs your arteries.”
Kate bit down on her lip to keep from laughing. Mima always railed against the evils of coffee. That and surfing. She couldn’t understand why anyone would stand on a flimsy board and trust a wave to carry them to shore when God gave them a set of perfectly good feet and land to stand on.
“Are you hungry? I made a batch of scones, and they’re cool enough to eat. Your Nan’s recipe.” Mima pulled a dishcloth from a tray of soft, golden-topped scones, cooling on a rack.
“Um… I haven’t eaten breakfast yet so maybe I shouldn’t.”
“Good Lord, rules are for fools, my girl. Eat what you want, when you want. That’s what I say.” She giggled, as she patted her rotund rear end. “Perhaps I’ve found the source of the problem,” she whispered, then laughed out loud as she refilled the kettle from the tap.
Kate laughed with her. “No, you’re right. I don’t have to follow the rules, I can be flexible, footloose and fancy-free…”
Mima flicked the switch on the kettle with a chortle. “Uh-huh. Sure you can, sweetheart.”
“No, I can. Let’s do it. Scones for breakfast. I’m breaking all the rules today. I slept late and now I’m eating scones with jam and cream for breakfast. Who knows, next I might go upstairs and mess up all the books on the bookshelf so they’re out of order.”
Mima waved her arms over her head. “Hallelujah! It’s a miracle!” She laughed as she put scones onto a plate. “Let’s go to the breakfast nook. It’s so nice in there this time of day.”
Sunlight filtered through the plantation shutters casting dancing prisms of light over the pale blue seat cushions and making the painted white timber furniture look new again.
On closer inspection, Kate could see the cracks in the paint and the dark smudges of mould and grime growing in out-of-reach places beneath table tops, close to the bottom of table legs, and in between the black and white tiles that covered the narrow floor in the breakfast nook. It’d once been a covered porch off the back of the Waratah Inn, and had since been enclosed when Nan decided it would be the best place to sit in the morning to have her coffee and ruminate over the early morning’s activities and what was to come.
Nan always considered the inn her home and the staff who worked there her family. When guests came to stay, they were invited unceremoniously and with great affection into the family for the duration of their trip. Nan and Pop had decided early on that the inn was their retirement plan and treated it accordingly. They worked hard in the early hours of the day, rested until evening, then set to work again to make their guests comfortable. All the hours in between were for them to relax and enjoy themselves in what they called their little corner of paradise.
Kate had asked Nan once, only a few years earlier, why they didn’t close up the inn for guests when they hit retirement age. They could’ve lived a quiet life, Pop throwing out his fishing line in the cove, Nan walking on the beach or puttering in her garden. Why bother waiting on guests. She’d told Kate it was their dream, their crazy little dream. No one understood it but them, they never had. And what would she do with her days if she had no work to do? She’d go stir crazy sitting around with no one but Pop to talk to. Much as she loved him, she’d added with a wink.
Kate sat in one of the chairs across from Mima, who lowered herself with a huff of air and a grunt into her own. She smoothed back the grey hair that was pulled into a tight little bun at the nape of her neck. Wisps and tendrils had escaped and were flying free around her face in loose curls, the grey streaked with more white than Kate remembered from Christmas.
Between them sat two cups of tea on matching saucers, and a plate of warm, soft scones, with side dishes of cream and strawberry jam.
“Made from the strawberries Edie picked in her garden in autumn,” Mima said as she pushed a spoon into the chunky jam. “So, how are things with that handsome man of yours?”
Mima sliced open one of the scones.
“Things are good, I think. I mean, we’ve postponed the wedding again; we’re both so busy.”
Mima didn’t say a word, just smeared jam on her scone.
“We’ll get there, we have to be sure the timing is right,” added Kate.
Mima nodded. “You do what you feel’s right to do. But can I ask you something?”
“Okay.” Kate wasn’t sure she wanted to hear whatever it was Mima had to say.
“When it’s right, you know it is. You don’t have to wonder or wait for the right time. If he’s the man for you, you’ll be tripping over your own feet trying so hard to get to that altar.”
Kate dropped a dollop of cream on her own scone, irritation boiling up from within. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t thought before. But hearing it come from Mima’s lips didn’t help her feel any better about it, and she bit back a defensive retort.
Mima had been single for as long as Kate had known her, and as far as she knew, had never married. What did she really know about love?
“He’s the right man for me. We’re busy. That’s all it is.”
Mima smiled. “Of course he is. And the two of you will be the most beautiful couple around. Him with his dark hair and suave suits, and you with those big green eyes and killer figure.”
“I have a killer figure? Hardly.” Kate rolled her eyes as she bit into the scone. It practically melted in her mouth.
“Please, sweetheart. Enjoy what God gave you because Heaven only knows it doesn’t stay that way forever. You’re beautiful, and you should know that. We women waste far too much of our youth wishing it away, envying everyone around us, and before we have a chance to stop and enjoy our freedom, our looks, our energy and strength, time has ripped it all away.” Mima shook her head. “Don’t spend your young years wishing, sweetheart. Enjoy them.”
Kate nodded. “You’re so right. I’ll try to, I promise. And by the way, these scones are amazing. I could eat a dozen of them.”
“Well, don’t stop on my account. I can always make more. And you’re practically skin and bone.”
Kate laughed. “Thanks, Mima. Hey, I was wondering — do you know what Nan wanted, what her final wishes were?” This was an awkward conversation to have. Mima and Jack lived at the inn, but Kate still didn’t know what Nan had decided to do with it, if she’d decided anything at all. Looking back, she realised they should’ve had a discussion about it years ago, but none of them had imagined Nan would leave them so soon. She’d always been so youthful, strong, and vibrant.
Mima’s brow furrowed and she tapped one cheek with a finger bent by arthritis. “Let me see, I know she wrote a will, because Jack and
I witnessed her signing it. She has a solicitor somewhere in Kingscliff, I’ve probably got his number in the rolodex back there in the office. I didn’t get to read the will, mind you. So, I can’t tell you what’s in it. But I know there’s a copy around here somewhere, and some other things she wrote down for you girls as well.”
“What about funeral arrangements; did she have anything to say about that, do you remember?”
Mima smiled, her full lips pulling so wide that her eyes almost disappeared beneath her wrinkles. “Now, that I do know. She wanted us to have it in the cove and sprinkle her ashes in the waves. She was pretty clear about that.”
Kate nodded, her throat tight. “That makes sense.”
A tap on the door frame caught Kate’s attention and she swivelled in place.
“Anyone home?” called a familiar voice.
Mima lurched to her feet, her eyes lighting up. “Bindi! You made it, honey. Oh, just look at you.”
Mima embraced Bindi, pressing her sister’s head into her bosom the way she did with anyone she hugged. Bindi’s wispy sandy-blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail and sagged beneath Mima’s hug. Bindi wore a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved flannel shirt and a pair of chunky boots. Her green eyes looked tired and freckles stood out across her pale nose and cheeks.
Kate stood slowly, brushing scone crumbs from her lap as she did. Her heart thudded. Bindi had always been good to her, but she’d never been one to keep in contact much. It was hard to stay in touch when you worked nights, weekends, and everything in between as a chef. People counted on her, and for the past decade everything and everyone else in her life had come in second best. Guilt washed over her as she took in the sight of her youngest sister’s tired face. She didn’t know anything about her — what was she doing, was she in love, healthy or sick, happy or sad?
“Hi Bindi, it’s good to see you.” She offered open arms and Bindi stepped into them.
With an awkward pat to her sister’s back, she smiled. “How was the flight from Melbourne?”
Bindi shrugged. “It was fine. You’re looking good.”
“Thank you. You too.”
When had things become so stilted between them? They used to be able to talk about anything, laughing together until their sides hurt. If she remembered rightly, there’d been a time Bindi had peed her pants when they were playing tennis one evening and laughing over some nonsense or other, unable to stop. They’d had the kind of connection other sisters envied. And now they were behaving like strangers.
“I’m going to take my bags upstairs and grab a shower, if that’s okay, Mima. I’m pretty tired.” Bindi ran a hand over her eyes, and Kate studied her. She looked tired. Something was going on with her little sister. Or maybe this was how she was these days.
Mima excused herself to walk Bindi up to her bedroom. Kate slumped into her chair and picked up the scone. She took another bite, then set the pastry back on the plate, her appetite gone. Sadness balled like a fist in her chest.
Without Nan, she was all alone in the world.
“Helloooo!” called a voice from the reception area.
Kate hurried to greet whoever it was, and to tell them the inn was closed to new bookings. With Mima busy upstairs, and Jack out doing who knew what somewhere on the property, she was the only one available to meet an unexpected guest. She glanced down at her pyjamas in dismay and smoothed her flyaway hair back as best she could. She pushed out her chest and stepped through the arched doorway that lead from the sitting room.
“Good morning, I’m sorry to say that the inn isn’t open to new bookings…”
A woman stood in the reception area, her back to Kate. She wore a narrow grey pencil skirt that hugged her lithe figure, offset by a pink knit jumper. Long, straight hair swung like a waterfall with each movement. Perfectly manicured hands pressed to her narrow hips and she spun about on stiletto heels to face Kate with a smile. A thick blunt fringe that brushed against her eyelashes, almost entirely obscured her eyebrows but accentuated wide, brown eyes
“Kate, how lovely to see you. You look… nice.” Nyreeda’s gaze swept up and down Kate.
“Reeda, wow, we weren’t expecting you yet. I’m sorry, I literally just woke up… rough night.” Kate kissed her eldest sister’s cheek, then stood back to study her.
“You look like you stepped off a runway, and not the airport kind,” said Kate, cocking her head to one side.
“Thanks. Where is everyone?”
“I don't know where Jack is, in fact I’m surprised he didn’t meet you at the gate. He was hovering close by when I glanced outside earlier. Bindi arrived a few minutes before you, so Mima’s showing her upstairs. You must’ve missed her at the airport by a hair. I’m sure she’ll be down soon.”
“Bindi’s here? Great, I guess we’re all here, then.” Reeda drummed her fingers against her hips.
“Want me to walk you upstairs? I’m actually not sure which room Mima has you staying in, but she can tell us that.” Kate crossed her arms over her chest, painfully aware of the contrast between her fashion model sister and the vagabond look she was currently sporting.
“Thanks. It’s so strange to be back here. Isn’t it?” Reeda scanned the room, her eyes softening. “And Nan’s not here.” The last was almost in a whisper, so that Kate couldn’t be entirely sure she’d heard the words.
Kate inhaled sharply as another stab of grief hit her unexpectedly. It came in waves. If she forgot Nan was gone for a moment, the realisation crushed her anew each time it hit her.
“Yeah, I know. Really strange.” She pursed her lips. “Come on, let’s go upstairs and find Mima.”
Kate peeked into the small, untidy office that was wedged behind the inn’s kitchen and beside the tacked-on laundry. It felt strange to pry in Nan’s office; it’d always been the place she’d come to sit with Nan while she ran over the bookwork, her black-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her button nose.
Where would Nan have kept her will?
A small, rusted filing cabinet was pushed up against the wall behind a worn timber desk. That was a good place to start looking.
She squeezed in behind the desk and sat in the swivel chair, since there wasn’t room to do anything else. After a few minutes of rifling through files, she still hadn’t found anything. She sighed and spun around in the chair to face the desk, massaging her temples with her fingertips. The beginnings of a headache had set in, and she suspected it had something to do with her sisters’ arrival. Tensions between the three of them ran high these days, and none seemed able to shrug things off the way they had in the past.
An old-fashioned black rotary phone sat on the desk and she eyed it. She really should call Marco, find out how things were going with the new menu. She’d been dreading making the phone call, since she’d abandoned them right when the restaurant was rolling out a menu she’d designed. Marco had put his faith in her after so many years of tightly controlling every aspect of his restaurant. She’d been so excited to show him what she could do. Now that might never happen.
She dialled the restaurant’s number, her anxiety growing with each ring. After a minute of ringing, one of the kitchen staff finally answered. She asked for Marco, then sat chewing a fingernail while she waited for the call to be transferred to his office.
She could see him, seated behind his large, hardwood desk, hunched down in his expensive ergonomic chair, his small, black eyes fixed on the computer screen in front of him. He’d mutter over the figures he was collating, about how many guests had attended the restaurant the night before, what the takings were, tips distributed, staff numbers and everything else. His business ran like clockwork, and he knew every last detail about it, down to how many napkins were used and needed laundering. He was the most fastidious restaurant manager she’d ever worked with, and his tight control over every detail of the business made it a challenge to work with him, especially when it came to creative risk taking.
“Hello?”
“Hi Marc
o, it’s Kate.”
“Kate, I hope your trip is okay. I know how hard family funerals can be.”
She nodded. “Thanks Marco. Actually, I was calling to see how the new menu worked out and to tell you again how sorry I am that I couldn’t be there for the first night.”
He hesitated and she could hear the rustle of papers. “It didn’t go well, Kate. I’m sorry to say it, but I’ve had to roll back to the old menu.”
Her mouth fell open. “But…”
“It was a complete disaster, Kate. The kitchen staff couldn’t pull it off without you, and we had more complaints than ever from customers. The scallops were overcooked, the salmon undercooked, there was too much soy sauce on the crab… you name it, they got it wrong. We needed you here, Kate.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingertips. “I’m sorry, Marco. I wanted to be there.”
“I know, and I get why you couldn’t be. But you have to understand, this is my business, my livelihood, and I can’t risk it for a new menu that my staff can’t deliver. I thought it was a good menu, and perhaps one day we can try it again with you at the helm, but it didn’t work. Not this time.”
She scrubbed a hand over her face. This couldn’t be happening. “I’m really sorry to hear that Marco.”
“So, can we expect to see you here on Monday?” His voice was gruff.
She could feel the tension pinching a nerve in her neck, and the headache that’d been building in the base of her skull reverberated through to her forehead. “Um… not Monday. I’m going to need to take a bit more time off. We’ve still got to arrange the funeral, and I’ll have some loose ends to tie up. We don’t know what Nan wanted to do with the inn yet, so I’ll have to meet with her solicitor, then figure out a way forward.”
