Her Great Expectations. Joan Kilby

anything.”

      Oliver glanced up at her, his mouth curving uncertainly. She returned his smile with love and pride. Briefly his eyes met hers in naked affection that embarrassed him so much he colored and glanced away.

      “Oh, Olly.” Flooded with warmth, Sienna reached over and hugged him. He hugged her back briefly, then began to squirm. With a sigh she scrubbed her hand through his hair and reluctantly let him go.

      They watched the robot squeak and scrape across the tiles. Meesha, the black cat, dropped from the chair arm where she’d been curled up sleeping and watched the jerking mechanical computer disk with alert interest.

      Sienna asked, “Have you talked to your father lately?”

      Oliver tensed, then shook his head, pretending all his concentration was on the erratic progress of the robot.

      But Sienna could tell she had his attention. “Have you told him yet whether you’ll go with him on the ski trip to New Zealand?”

      “Why do you want me to go? I’d have to miss a week of school. And the qualifying exam to see if I can go into the advanced math class next year.”

      “I’ll speak to your teacher. We’ll work something out.”

      The robot hit the table leg and stopped. Oliver picked it up and watched the legs give one last flicker. “I don’t want to go if she’s going.”

      Sienna’s jaw tightened, but she strove for an even tone. “Erica’s seven months pregnant and not having an easy time. From what Anthony said, I doubt she’s going.”

      Still Oliver hesitated. Sienna didn’t want to lecture him again tonight, but neither did she want him to miss this opportunity. “If you want to maintain a good relationship with your dad you need to spend time with him. Every second weekend isn’t enough. We agreed that you would have a holiday with him every year.”

      Oliver glanced up, his eyes searching her face. “Doesn’t it bother you? Her, I mean.”

      Yes, it did. She’d gotten past her initial raw anger and grief, but the hurt lingered. However, she wanted to do what was best for Oliver. “This isn’t about me. You don’t have to choose sides. You can love us both. You can even—” she swallowed hard “—love Erica.”

      “That’s never going to happen.” Oliver was silent for a moment, thoughtful. “You really don’t mind?”

      “No, I don’t. I want you to go.”

      He glanced at her as if to make absolutely certain, then his expression gradually brightened as the reality of the trip started to sink in. “Okay. I’ll call him now.” He hesitated, then hugged her quickly. “Thanks.”

      As she watched her son scramble to his feet and head for the phone, heat pricked Sienna’s eyes. She’d known he was ambivalent about going, but not that his reluctance was out of concern for her feelings. She hated to think of him not going after what he wanted, only to have regrets. That applied to his schoolwork, too, even if he couldn’t see it right now.

      She got to her feet, glancing once again at her watch. Oh, God. It was six-thirty. Her guests would be here soon and she’d better get busy.

      “I COULD HAVE SWORN she was enjoying our conversation, then out of the blue her smile turned sour,” Jack said to Bogie as he unloaded groceries onto the kitchen counter. “Do you think it was something I said?”

      Bogie’s heavy fringed tail wagged in sympathy, but the golden retriever was too busy trawling the tiled floor for spilled crumbs to actually reply.

      “It’s not like I’m in the habit of stalking women in the vegetable aisles,” Jack continued in his one-sided conversation. “But if you’d seen that mess of red curls you’d have crossed the room to talk to her, too.”

      She looked to be about his age, maybe a little younger, say early to mid-thirties. Designer jeans, good-quality flat leather shoes, crisp white blouse beneath a tailored dark jacket. She could be an upmarket housewife—plentiful in Summerside. Then again, those slender fingers with their just-scrubbed look and short clean nails could belong to a pianist. Or a brain surgeon. All in all, he guessed pianist, but maybe that was simply because he had a thing for Oscar Peterson.

      Oscar was on the CD player now, jazzy piano notes bouncing around the kitchen like the dust motes in the last rays of the sun spilling through the large windows overlooking the back garden. Outside, rainbow lorikeets were flitting home to roost in the gum trees, their raucous chatter nearly drowning out the music. Inside the sprawling single-story house, terra cotta tiles and walls of ocher and almond gave off a cozy warm glow. Jack poured himself a glass of red wine and began to cook.

      An hour later the aroma of chili, garlic and ginger permeated the kitchen. The first of his guests, his sister Renita, banged open the front door and called through the house. “Hey, Jack. Come and give me a hand. This box weighs a ton.”

      He strode out of the kitchen and into a short hallway bordering the lounge room to see his sister, her dark head and curvy round figure almost hidden behind a large cardboard box. He took it out of her arms. “This isn’t so heavy. Maybe you need to start lifting weights.”

      “Ugh, I can’t think of anything I’d like less.” Renita went ahead of him to the kitchen, her ponytail swinging and her flip-flops slapping on the tiles. She’d changed out of the suit she wore as the loans manager at the local bank and into a sleeveless top and cargo pants.

      “I thought you were bringing a date,” Jack said.

      “He had to go away on business.” Over her shoulder she asked, “How was your trip?”

      “Let me see… Three months sailing and diving on the Great Barrier Reef? Life doesn’t get much better than that.”

      “Yeah, yeah, don’t rub it in,” Renita grumbled good-naturedly. “Some of us have to work for a living.”

      Jack set the box on the counter. “Is there any point in me learning your new guy’s name?”

      “Probably not. At least I’m dating.” Renita went to the cupboard for a wineglass and opened the bottle of sauvignon blanc she’d brought. “Hey, have you seen Mum since you’ve been back? She’s cut all her hair off.”

      “I kind of like it. I’m worried about Dad, though,” Jack said. “Ever since he retired he’s been so morose. It’s been six months and now that Mum’s got all these new interests I think he’s feeling left behind.”

      “Did you invite him tonight?” she asked, pouring.

      “He’d rather watch the footy.” Jack lifted the box flaps to look inside. “What have you got?”

      “Ingredients for a Thai seafood appetizer. It’s best cooked at the last minute.” Renita stirred the wok on the stove and sniffed appreciatively. “Smells good. I saw Sharon at the liquor store. She and Glenn are going to be a bit late. Who else is coming?”

      “Lexie, Ron and Diane.” Jack stirred the fragrant curry, then dipped a spoon into the coconut-milk broth and tasted. It needed something… Ah, how could he forget? Kaffir lime leaves. He stacked six of the deep green leaves on the chopping block and sliced them into slivers. An image rushed back to him of crouching to retrieve the fallen packet and gazing into a pair of huge gray-green eyes, clear as water. A faint pink blush had stained her pale cream cheeks as he’d shoved the packet into her hands.

      Glancing over at his sister, he asked, “Do I come on too strong?”

      Renita’s eyebrows shot up as she looked at him over her glass of sauvignon blanc. “Okay, spill. Who is she?”

      CHAPTER TWO

      “WHY DO YOU ASSUME there’s a woman?” Jack turned away to sprinkle the chopped leaves into the bubbling curry.

      “Because with a man, you wouldn’t even think of asking that