Page 14 of Scotlander

She nodded for him to continue.

‘So . . . since I can’t be a big brother to her any more . . . you’re just going to have to let me do it for you.’

She was on the brink of snapping back that she already had two big brothers, thank you very much, when a) she remembered she still had two brothers to whine about and b) this was the first time he was openly acknowledging his absence in Valentina’s life.

She asked the one question she’d been avoiding all day. ‘What made you show up today?’

He laughed and swept a hand through his inky hair. ‘The letter from the lawyer said I was being sued by her estate.’

‘For what?’

‘Breach of contract.’ He looked down at his hands then back up at her. ‘She included a crayon drawing I’d done for her when we were kids that said “Best Buds Forever”.’

Willa cackled. That was definitely a Valentina move. Go big or go home. ‘Suing you was the only way she thought you’d show up?’

‘Pretty much! Trust my kid sister to be both a hoarder and to know which buttons to press twenty-odd years after we’d last spoken.’

She winced. ‘Was it really that long?’

He nodded, his voice choked with regret as he said, ‘And I will never, ever forgive myself for it, so let me do this. It’s a pathetically small gesture, twenty-two years too late.’ He pulled out a black AmEx card and in a completely non-showy way said, ‘I think you’ve figured out I can afford it.’

True. And she would be paying it off in twenty-five-dollar instalments for the next two years, so . . . she offered him her hand to shake and, solely in the spirit of clearing up the whole boundaries/set-up/not a set-up thing asked, ‘Does this make me your honorary kid sister?’

Expression implacable, those tiger eyes of his gave her a once over. ‘Something like that.’

A swirl of something distinctly unsisterly left a trail of sparkles drifting around her belly.

Courtesy of the forest fires blazing away in Malibu, the sunset down at Venice Beach was breathtakingly beautiful.

‘Nice to see you again,’ Ancient Chinese Man said, gently shifting his deck of tarot cards towards her on his little portable table. ‘I was just about to head home.’

Willa gave him a shy grin. His name wasn’t really Ancient Chinese Man. It was Pete Young. But when Valentina and she had first gone to him after the first of many bottomless brunches some seven years ago, he was rocking a Fu Manchu beard and looked like a dried apple. Willa had hooked him up with some sunblock, suggested he shave the few wisps of chin hair, and, since then, The Very Best Card Reader In The Whole of Venice (according to his sign) was looking a very youthful eighty-seven. She’d put money on him dating the patchouli vendor a few stalls down.

‘You sure you’re okay to stay for one more reading?’

‘One?’ He looked around, presumably searching for her usual tarot-cards-in-arms friend. When he didn’t find her, he closed his eyes in acknowledgement that Val wouldn’t be coming any more. When he opened them, she saw compassion, but not pity. Which was nice. Because she’d been throwing herself a big enough pity party these past couple of months to cover the both of them.

‘Three card draw?’

‘Three cards is good.’

Mind, body, spirit.

He gave her a hard look. ‘Is this a new style?’

She looked down at the outfit that had arrived yesterday in a couple of taped-up Porridge Oats boxes from Scotland along with a letter on yellowed paper with swirly text explaining that ‘it was kindly requested’ for all participants to arrive ‘in authentic garments to ensure THE EXPERIENCE was wholly immersive right from the start’.

It was a bit weird that they wanted her to fly in it, but there’d been so much upheaval in her life these past few days, what were a few extra side-eyes going to do her?

The bodicey bit was nice. It was beautifully embroidered and featured a deep red silk that added warmth to her light sepia-coloured skin tone. Courtesy of the dress, she had some serious boobage on display. To the point she wondered if they’d sent the wrong under-blouse with which to offer her some ‘maiden modesty’. To be fair, she kind of liked how the outfit accentuated her curves in all the right places. Arrowing in on her waist, then blooming out into a huge, petticoat-accented skirt that, with the chunky heels she’d chosen, made her legs looks super long even though they weren’t. It also had a name tag sewn into the waistband that said ‘Moira for Pirates’ in purple Sharpie which had made her wonder if there was an immersive pirate experience too.

‘Cut the deck,’ Pete instructed.

She did as she was bid.

He flipped the first card.

They both sucked in a breath.