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“Hello,” she says shyly.
“Pleased to meet you,” he says. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”
“Gorgeous,” I say. “Everyone up at the house?”
“Yes, Brandon and Jenny just turned up.”
“Okay, thanks.” I watch the cable car slow as it sinks the last five feet or so, and then open the door.
Catie gets in, I sit beside her, and we wave goodbye to Alan as I press the button and the car rises. I put my arm around her, leaning back and enjoying the view across Lyall Bay.
“Brandon and Jenny are Kennedy’s parents?”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t tell me they were coming.”
“I thought it might scare you away. Everyone wants to meet you.”
Bemused, she nestles against me, eyes wide as we slowly climb. “What an amazing view.”
“Yeah. It’s magnificent up at the house.”
The car rises through thick bush on either side, but halfway up, the trees clear and we can see across to the mid-level building, which houses the indoor swimming pool.
“Jesus,” she says. “A pool?”
I grin, enjoying her shocked expression. “It’s heated.”
Her jaw drops, and stays open as we climb even more, eventually exiting the trees at the point where the top drive meets the upper garages. I open the car door and help her down, and we walk slowly across to the main house.
“Do I look okay?” she asks as we approach the side door.
“You look amazing.”
She smiles, taking the hand I offer as I lead her inside.
She falls quiet as we go into the lobby. This time I take the route through the house. I show her the rumpus room with the billiard table, dartboard, TV and consoles, and stereo system, along with a sofa, beanbags, and cushions; the gym with several treadmills, rowing machines, exercise bikes, and weights; the theater room with a line of La-Z-Boys facing the huge TV screen, with its attached kitchen area to make popcorn and the huge freezer containing tubs of ice cream; and the party room with its own bar.
“I can’t believe you grew up here,” she says, shaking her head. She laughs. “It’s so outside my realm of understanding that it’s like watching a movie.”
“Yeah, I get that. Come on. Let’s meet everyone and get it over with.”
I take her past the kitchen, and she glances in and inhales at the sight of Pierre and his two assistants preparing lunch for us all. “You have your own chef?” she whispers.
“Only at the weekends.” Still holding her hand, I lead her along the hallway and through the sliding double doors at the end, onto the terrace.
Everyone is sitting under the shade sail at a couple of tables on the mosaic floor. Music’s playing—David Bowie’sLife on Mars, which I know will be Dad’s choice. We walk across the terrace, and Dad glances over, then says something, and everyone looks over and cheers, getting to their feet.
“Are you okay with dogs?” I ask as Brandon and Jenny’s Dalmatian runs up to us.
“Of course.”
“This is Pongo,” I say.
“From101 Dalmatians.” She laughs and bends to greet him. “Hello, you.”
Pleased that she likes dogs, I say, “Hey everyone, this is Catie.”
