LITMIR.BIZ

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yes. But let’s not get excited until I’ve actually met the guy.”

      “He’s the one,” declared Portia, slapping her palm against her desk. “I’m telling you. I’m getting good vibes.”

      Senzeni rolled her eyes. “Yoh, here we go again.”

      Portia’s vibes had developed a reputation in the office. She had vibes about everything, from world events to weather patterns, and she felt the need to share all of them with her employers. Just a few days earlier she’d had a bad vibe about some takeaway Senzeni had ordered when the three of them were working late. Amarava, who was health-conscious and picky about what she ate, stuck to a cup of vegetable soup. Portia had refused to eat a thing, and sure enough, Senzeni had suffered from terrible indigestion for the rest of the night.

      “She had good vibes about Mandla,” Amarava pointed out.

      “We were already together when she met him!” Senzeni protested.

      “Ja, but if I didn’t have good vibes, you would never have married him.” Portia folded her arms and looked smug.

      “Listen to this crazy woman.” Senzeni clicked her tongue. “What are your vibes telling you about our chances of getting some food from S’thandwa’s before two o’clock?”

      Portia closed her eyes and took a deep, theatrical breath. After a moment her eyes fluttered open. “Hhayi khona, Senzi. The queue!”

      Amarava laughed, shaking her head, and returned to her desk. She opened her handbag and took out the tuna and vegetable salad she had packed that morning. She didn’t have time to go out for lunch; she had two women coming in to do a makeover for a magazine, and she had to get ready. Besides, she had no intention of eating the junk Portia and Senzeni called food.

      * * *

      Clement and Olivia’s home was a sprawling estate in Sandton. As Amarava pulled up at the white gate, she felt a familiar pang of nostalgia. Her memory of the flat she had lived in with her parents was hazy, but she had vibrant, wonderful memories of growing up in her aunt and uncle’s home.

      There were times she felt guilty about her good fortune. If her parents had lived, she would never have had the privileges that came with financial security. She would have traded the wealth for her parents in a heartbeat, but she was grateful for all the opportunities her uncle and aunt had given her.

      The gate slid open and she drove into the yard.

      “Hmm,” said Litha, sniffing the air appreciatively. “They’ve just cut the grass.”

      Amarava smiled. The family had two gardeners who made sure the grounds always looked like a little piece of paradise. She parked haphazardly as always, blocking the garage entrance. She grinned at her sister’s impatient sigh. “Relax, Litha. We’re home, remember?”

      They walked up the winding brick walkway to the wide, white-tiled steps, and the front door swung open. Their aunt stood in the doorway, wreathed in smiles. She still looked good for a woman in her fifties, but then again, she had a personal trainer and a nutritionist. Amarava’s heart twisted just a little at the sight of her. Olivia was of average height, with a willowy figure and twinkling eyes. She looked just like Amarava’s mother, except she was wearing a flawless cream suit and heels and Amarava’s mother had been more of a skirt and sandals sort of woman.

      “Girls!” Olivia cried in delight. “Come here and give me a hug.”

      “Did you miss us that much?” laughed Litha, enveloping Olivia in a warm embrace.

      “No, she just wants to soften us up so we’ll offer to do the dishes,” Amarava replied, raising an eyebrow at her aunt.

      Olivia looked at her, all wide-eyed innocence. “When have I ever done that?”

      “Always,” the sisters replied in unison, stepping into the house.

      Their uncle stood in the foyer in his usual golf shirt and chinos. He smiled. “Hello, girls. It’s good to see you.” His hugs were less exuberant than his wife’s; he had never been one for open displays of affection. “Let’s eat now, I’m starving.”

      “Oh, good, you’re here.” Senzeni emerged from the kitchen with an apron on and a large serving dish in her hands. “Ausi Seipati says hi. She was here a few days ago.”

      Ausi Seipati was the family’s former housekeeper. She had been with them for ages, and was like part of the family.

      “Ag, shame. Too bad we missed her,” said Litha as everyone moved to the dining room, where the table had already been set.

      “Don’t worry, she promised to let us know next time she plans to come.” Senzeni set the dish on the table. “Come help me get the rest of the food.”

      “Please tell me you didn’t cook,” said Amarava anxiously, eyeing the covered dish that Senzeni was setting down on the table.

      Senzeni glared at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

      “She must still be traumatised by that cake you baked for Father’s Day,” her father told her, chuckling. “If you can call it a cake. I never tasted anything so terrible in my life!”

      “Tata, I was nine!”

      “Ja, nothing has changed,” he replied, making everyone laugh except Senzeni.

      “Now that we’ve ticked ‘Mocking Senzeni’ off the to-do list, can I get some help in the kitchen?” she asked in an icy tone.

      “Of course,” said Litha, linking her arm through her cousin’s.

      “We wouldn’t want any accidents,” Amarava added with a wicked grin, earning another dirty look from Senzeni.

      The huge kitchen was filled with a delicious aroma. Amarava could remember all the times the three girls had played under the counter, using pots and pans as pretend cars for their dolls. When they saw Ausi Seipati coming they would bolt into the garden, but the abandoned pots always gave them away.

      “Mama cooked,” Senzeni explained, handing Amarava a dish.

      “Really?” Amarava was thrilled. Olivia didn’t cook often. The three women carried the rest of the food to the table.

      The doorbell rang just as Amarava was settling into her chair, and her sister jumped up to answer it. She reappeared a moment later with Senzeni’s husband, a stocky man with an infectious grin.

      “You’re late,” Senzeni chided him.

      “Sorry, s’thandwa sam, I was picking up the wine.” He held up a bottle. “Hey, Ama. I hear you have a hot date tomorrow.”

      “Date?” Olivia’s eyes widened.

      Amarava sighed. She didn’t like to discuss her dates with her aunt and uncle, especially since most of them didn’t lead anywhere. They took a lively interest in her love life, and Olivia especially was always asking whether she was seeing anyone.

      Amarava hoped that some day soon she would bring home a wonderful man, but until then she preferred not to get anyone’s hopes up. “Yoh, some people have big mouths,” she grumbled, eyeing her cousin.

      “Are you still part of that matchmaking club?” asked Clement, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

      “She’ll never leave,” said Litha, taking her place next to her sister. “Tomorrow she has a date with a photographer named David.”

      Olivia beamed. “A photographer! I dated a photographer once.”

      Her husband snorted. “And only once,” he said, making everyone laugh.

      After Mandla had said a brief prayer, the meal began. They had never been a quiet, subdued family; they talked and joked while they ate.

      “Tell us more about the contract with the TV show,” prompted Clement as they dug into their food. “Did they make you a fair offer?”

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