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The look his mother shot him made it clear that she knew exactly who was behind her daughter’s bout of rebellion.
“But,” Rainne pressed on, “once he’s got it up and running it will be mine again.”
Lake stilled. Now wasn’t the time to tell her otherwise, but the enthusiasm in her voice twisted like a knife in his gut.
“Tell me,” his mother said, “what are you going to do with it?”
Rainne blinked a couple of times and cast a glance at Lake for help before answering.
“I’m going to sell underwear,” she said at last.
“Yes, yes.” His mother threw her waist-length braid back over her shoulder and adjusted the strap on her purple canvas satchel. “For what reason? What cause will this benefit?”
Rainne’s cheeks flushed. Lake couldn’t stand it any more.
“She’s going to make money. That’s what shops do. They provide services for cash.”
His mother gave him a withering look.
“Money isn’t a reason for doing something,” she told him. “Capitalism isn’t a way of life. It’s a disease.”
“Looking after yourself and helping the community isn’t a disease,” Lake said.
“Helping the community by selling underwear?” his mother scoffed.
“We all wear it, Mum—even you,” Lake said evenly.
He half expected Rainne to shout “stop fighting” like she did when he still lived at home. If you could call a bus “home”.
“I’m starting an environmentally friendly range of products,” Rainne said. “I plan to only buy local, use people in the community and recycle as much as I can.”
His mum rewarded Rainne with a dazzling smile.
“Why didn’t you say so?” she said. “You’re starting a cottage industry. You’re making a stand against sweatshops and the cost to the environment by shipping produce halfway around the world when there’s good enough locally. You’re starting a movement, dear.”
“Excellent,” his dad said.
Lake was almost surprised to hear his voice.
Rainne beamed.
“It’s great, isn’t it? Plus, there’s a room in back that Lake uses to teach self-defence. I thought I could run yoga classes too.”
His mum leaned in to Rainne for another hug.
“I’m so proud of you,” she said.
Yeah, right, Lake thought. Maybe Rainne couldn’t hear it, but he could. His little sister was being humoured.
“I brought some of your favourite food,” his mother said as she retrieved an old, multi-coloured woven bag from the bus. “I thought I’d make us dinner.”
“Do you hear that, Lake? Joyce is making us dinner.” Rainne beamed like a kid.
Lake smiled for her. He was pretty sure that the invitation didn’t include their eldest child.
“Yes,” his mother said tightly. “You can stay if you must. I’m making bean stew with organic black rice.”
“As delicious as that sounds, I have plans.”
