Chapter Six
Orson
She appreciates my sense of humor, then? That makes me smile as I follow her down the hill toward the commune.
I admit that I’d half-expected to see a kind of medieval settlement, with dirt tracks for roads, ramshackle houses, filthy kids playing with sticks and hoops, and dogs and chickens running wild.
Instead, the small town, while definitely having a medieval feel, looks well planned and maintained. Neat roads form a simple grid system around a central village green with a duck pond in the center. A few shops line one side of the green, while on the other is what looks like a village hall, possibly a chapel although there’s no cross on the top, and a couple of other larger buildings. Behind them are several rows of small cottages that are hardly bigger than the villas our guests stay in at Midnight. But they’re all surrounded by a decent patch of land, with mown lawns, painted fences, flower borders, and veggie patches. On one side, there’s a large vegetable plot, so they obviously grow their own, and I can also see a couple of cows in the nearby field, and several goats. There are chickens, but they’re in a large coop.
They’re obviously modernized here—there are Sky dishes and my phone has a signal and Scarlett mentioned they have computers with the Internet in their communal library. The cars are newish, just not ostentatious. But there’s a sense of peace about the place that speaks of another time, before the craziness of the modern world became the norm.
I follow her down the slope and through the gate at the bottom. “There,” she says, stopping, “you delivered me safely. You can go now.”
“I told you, I’d like a tour.”
Her brows draw together. “Please go. ”
“Why? I’m serious. I want to look around.” The truth is that I’m intrigued. It’s clear my father hasn’t told me the whole truth about Kahukura. He’s always painted Blake Stone, his family, and the commune with crazy paint, but Scarlett’s recent comments have suggested he’s offered a highly fictionalized account, which puzzles and angers me at the same time. I’m not sure what’s the truth and what’s made up, and I want to discover the reality for myself.
She glares at me. “I—” Immediately she stops as someone calls her name from behind her. We both turn, and I see a slightly younger version of Scarlett jogging up to us. She has the same build and the same color hair, although she sports a quirky pixie cut.
“Hello,” she says, slowing as she nears us. She gives Scarlett an amused look. “Who’s this, and why are you both soaking wet? Has it been raining?”
“I fell in the pool,” Scarlett says.
“That explains why you’re wet…”
“I rescued her,” I tell her.
Ana grins. “That was kind of you. She does have a habit of getting herself into strange situations.”
“I’m beginning to realize that.”
“I’m standing right here,” Scarlett says crossly. “Orson, this is my sister, Ana. Ana, this is Orson Cavendish.”
Ana stares at me, and her smile slowly fades. “Cavendish?”
“Spencer Cavendish’s son,” Scarlett adds.
Ana’s mouth forms an O. Her gaze slides down me slowly, from my tie, down my shirt, all the way down my trousers to my shoes, and then slowly back up.
“No forked tail,” I announce. “And no horns either.”
“I beg to differ,” Scarlett says sarcastically. “Come on, then, if you want to look around.”
“You’re giving him a tour?” Ana asks, astonished.
“He wants to check out the enemy so he can make fun of us more accurately,” Scarlett says.
“That about sums it up,” I reply.
Ana’s lips twitch, but I can see she’s puzzled. “Dad wouldn’t be happy knowing you’ve let him on the premises,” she says.
Scarlett looks down at her sandals for a moment. Then she lifts her chin and says, “Well, Dad’s not here anymore, and we’ve got to get on without him.” She marches past her sister toward the central buildings .
I give Ana a quick smile and say, “It was nice meet you,” and stride out after Scarlett.
She’s walking quickly, and I fall into step beside her.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine.” She slows down, then stops. “Would you rather my sister shows you around?”
I stop too and frown. “No, why?”
“I just wondered. I don’t mind.”
“I don’t want your sister. I want you.”
She meets my eyes again. We study each other for ten seconds. Then she drops her gaze and starts walking, and I join her.
She clears her throat. “So this is the main communal area around the green. This is the Haven.” She stops outside the building that looks like a chapel.
“It’s a place of worship? For what religion?” Dad has inferred they follow some kind of New Age wacky paganism here.
But Scarlett says, “Anything and everything. We’re not a religious-based commune. Any faiths are welcome. We have Christians of all denominations, a few Muslims, one Jewish family, pagans, a Hindu couple, several Buddhists… Many aren’t religious at all.”
“What about you?”
“If I tell you, will you mock me?”
“Almost certainly.”
She gives me a wry look. “I’m guessing you’re not religious?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“My dad is far too practical to have faith in anything or anyone except himself.”
“What about your mother? Was she?”
I look away, across the green. “She was Anglican. She told us some of the Bible stories when we were young. But Dad didn’t want us to go to church—he said we should make our own minds up when we were adults.”
“I can understand that,” she says, surprising me. “When you’re not religious it makes sense to feel that you shouldn’t force children to think the way you do. But religion brings a lot of people comfort. And it’s good sometimes to give children structure and a strong moral code.”
“You don’t need religion to do that. ”
“No… that’s true. But most people are comforted about the thought of there being more than what we can see around us.”
“I dunno. What’s around us is pretty amazing. Snowflakes and sex and all that. I don’t know why there has to be more.”
Her lips curve up. “Snowflakes and sex?”
“First amazing things that came to mind.”
“Well at least you put snowflakes first.”
We both laugh. “Come and have a look,” she says softly, and she goes up the steps and pushes open the door.
I follow her inside. The Haven turns out to be a hall with white walls, light-wood furniture, and high windows, including one rather beautiful stained-glass window that’s decorated with religious symbols from all religions, with a table at the front. There are chairs and bean bags, and a low table with paper and coloring pencils for the kids, with their drawings pinned to a large board. Two huge displays of fresh flowers on either side of the front table bring a splash of color. There’s also a stand for votive candles, incense holders, and several bookcases.
“Our library of wisdom,” Scarlett says as I wander over to it. It contains a carefully curated selection of religious texts, philosophical treatises, and explorations of spirituality from across lots of different cultures.
I pick up one and show it to her with a raised eyebrow. It’s called Reveal Your Inner Goddess.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she says.
I laugh and put it back. “I like the fact that it caters for all religions.”
“We believe everyone’s faith is important and valid here.”
I think about that as I follow her out of the Haven, into the bright sunshine.
“This is our town hall.” She opens the door of the big building next to the Haven, and I follow her inside. It’s a basic community hall, with white walls, polished wooden floors, exposed beams, long benches and tables and stackable chairs, and a noticeboard near the door. Handmade tapestries hang on the walls, presumably crafted by members of the community. Pots holding more fresh flowers are placed at regular intervals along the walls.
Open doors reveal smaller meeting rooms off to the sides. “The Elders meet here every evening,” she says. “I saw them last night to put forward your proposal.”
“Oh?” It’s the first time she’s mentioned this. “What did they say? ”
“They’re interested in your offer. They want me to report back on our meeting today, and then they’ll discuss it.” She looks down.
I tip my head to try to see her face. “Do you get a say in it?”
“We trust the Elders to make the decisions for the commune.”
“I get that. But you own the land now, right?”
She frowns. “Technically.”
“So you should have the final say on what happens to it.”
“It’s complicated.” She turns and starts walking, and I fall into step beside her. “This is the retreat,” she says, and she stops before the largest building. “Come on.”
I hesitate, though. “Are you sure? If this is a sanctuary for abused women and children, the last thing they would want is a strange guy wandering through the corridors.”
Her gaze scans me, and then her expression softens. “You wanted to see all of it, right? It’s important that they don’t think they’re coming here to get away from men. Men make up half the population of the world, and the vast majority of them are good people. They need to reestablish trust by connecting with the good ones, that’s all.”
I blink. “And you’re including me in that group?”
Her eyebrows lift as if she’s surprised herself. Then she gives me a quirky smile. “Looks like it. I don’t think you’re a bad person, Orson. Just misguided.” The smile turns mischievous. “Anyway, you’re with me. You’ll be fine.” She gestures with her head for me to follow her.
Stunned at that little revelation, I go inside with her.
We walk slowly through the building. There’s a big meeting room, classrooms for group workshops, and smaller offices for one-on-one counseling. A gym with a space for yoga, ballet, and Jiu Jitsu classes. I discover that Scarlett herself runs many of those. A kitchen backs onto the vegetable patches, and she tells me that everyone is encouraged to spend time helping out there, because they believe a connection with nature is integral to healing.
“We run a mind, body, and spirit holistic healing program,” she says as we slowly climb a central staircase to the next floor. “Physical healing is obviously important in cases of abuse, but healing the mind and the soul is also essential. Relationships are all about the balance of power, and in the cases of most of these women, they feel as if they’ve lost all their power. We try to help them regain some of that control over their lives by showing them how to eat better, exercise, and meditate, as well as to help them deal with some of the more practical aspects of their situation.”
“You offer legal and financial advice, right?”
“Well not me personally, I’m clueless about that side of things. But yes, some of the members of the commune are experts in those fields, and they offer their help if needed.”
We get to the top of the stairs, and she shows me around. It’s like a hotel, with individual rooms for the women and children, playrooms for the kids, and spotless bathrooms. As we’re walking along the corridor, a woman comes out of a room with a teenage girl. She sees us, stops, and takes an involuntary step back. I stop walking, horrified to think my presence had that impact on her.
But Scarlett just smiles and says, “Morning, Tina, morning Bella! Are you heading down to lunch?”
Tina, the mother, gathers herself and nods. “We’re going to make a sandwich.”
“We had some Brie delivered with the groceries earlier, and some fresh cranberries, so Julie’s made some cranberry sauce. That would make a nice sandwich.”
“Ooh,” Bella says, “yum.”
“This is Orson,” Scarlett says, resting a hand on my arm. “He’s a friend of mine. He lives nearby, and he’s visiting the commune. I’m betting he’d add chips to his sandwich. Am I right?”
“A sandwich isn’t a sandwich without at least six ingredients,” I reply.
Scarlett rolls her eyes. “I knew it.” The other two chuckle.
The girl looks down at Scarlett’s wet dress and my wet pants and whispers something to her mum.
“Scarlett fell in the Waiora,” I tell them. “And I tried to be the white knight and jumped in to save her, then fell over myself.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Scarlett says. “He was very heroic.” She smiles. “Come on, I’ll take you around the rest of the commune now.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say to Tina and her daughter, and they both wave goodbye as Scarlett and I head downstairs.
“You think I was heroic?” I say as we go outside.
“I was playing to the crowd.”
I snort, and her lips twist. She steers me to the next building, which turns out to be a large communal kitchen and dining hall.
I look briefly inside. “You all eat together? ”
She nods. “It’s a major part of being in the commune. We take turns preparing the food and clearing up afterward.”
“Not sure how I’d feel about that,” I say, letting the door close. “I like cooking my own food.”
“You cook?” she asks as we continue on.
“Sometimes. Why are you smiling?”
“I thought you’d have had your own personal French chef bringing you your every whim.”
“I do sometimes,” I admit. “If I’m entertaining. But mostly I cook for myself.”
“Where do you live?”
“In an apartment in the city. And I have a suite at the Midnight Club too. I divide my time between the two.”
“I thought you’d have had a mansion somewhere with tennis courts and swimming pools and a staff of thirty to wait on you hand and foot.”
“I don’t live in Downton Abbey,” I point out.
“I’m going to call you Sir from now on,” she teases.
“Ah, I wouldn’t go down that road,” I advise. “I’m having enough trouble keeping myself restrained as it is.”
She blinks and stares at me, obviously bemused.
“Never mind,” I say, stifling a laugh. “But yeah, I don’t think I’d like to eat communally. What if you fancy something different from the day’s meal?”
“Well, you can prepare your own food, of course. But most people find it easy to just have what everyone else is having—pasta, casserole, whatever.”
“How often do you go to a restaurant?”
“I’ve never been to one.”
I stare at her. “Sorry, what?”
“Scarlett!” A guy in his early sixties with grey hair approaches us and smiles.
“Hey George,” she says. “Orson, this is George Bush—no relation to the US President—he’s the commune’s financial expert. George, this is Orson Cavendish.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I say, and we shake hands.
“Scarlett giving you the tour, is she?” he asks.
“Yes, I asked if I could have a look around.”
“You’ve been to the Waiora?” He glances at our wet clothes .
“And surveyed the water,” I say cheerfully.
He chuckles. “So Scarlett has mentioned our request?”
She glares at him. “No, I haven’t had the chance yet.”
“Request?” I ask.
“He’s talking about your offer,” Scarlett says stiffly.
“We’re interested,” George says. “But we don’t think it’s enough.”
I lift an eyebrow. “You don’t think that offering five million more than what the land is worth is enough?”
George clears his throat. “Developing the Waiora would be financially beneficial to you and your resort, and it would also smooth over any issues with the local iwi.”
I hold his gaze for a moment. We both know that fifteen million was more than generous.
I look at Scarlett, irritated at being blindsided. Why didn’t she tell me about this earlier?
“Do you support this?” I ask her.
Gradually, her face matches her name, and she lowers her lashes to shield her eyes. Oh… George’s outspokenness has embarrassed her. She didn’t want to sell to the Cavendishes anyway, and it looks as if the thought of haggling is causing her to curl up and die inside.
But she says, “Yes.” No doubt duty is forcing her to back them, even if she disagrees. “We need the money,” she adds. “For the commune.”
George frowns, clearly annoyed that she would share that.
“It must be tough having to organize all the finances of the commune,” I say. “Do you have any help?”
George meets my gaze and holds it for a moment. Then he looks away and says, “I don’t need help. I know what I’m doing.”
“Well,” I say softly, “I’ll think about it and talk to Scarlett.”
“The decision will be made by the Elders of the commune,” he says, looking back at me.
“The land is Scarlett’s,” I point out.
His cheeks flush. “That’s just semantics.”
“Not really. It’s the legal position.”
“Please,” Scarlett says, “don’t argue. George is right. The Elders have the final say over what happens here.”
George nods. “I’m going to the city. Scarlett, do you want anything?”
“No, thank you. ”
“Come and see us tonight, okay?” he says to her.
She nods. “Of course.”
We both watch him walk away.
Scarlett glances at me, and then we continue walking.
“Why did you ask if he has any help?” she asks.
I slide my hands into my trouser pockets as I think about how to answer. “Do you know if the commune has any kind of audit system?”
“What do you mean?”
“Does anyone else check the books? Or does George do it all on his own?”
“He does it on his own. He’s very competent.”
“I’m sure he is. But it’s always important to have financial systems checked by an independent party.”
“Why?”
I frown at her. Is she really that naive? “To make sure the books aren’t being cooked.”
“Cooked?”
“Altered.”
She stares at me. “George would never do that.”
“Sweetheart, I understand that the success of the commune depends on everyone trusting everyone else, but if you are going to make a decision about your land, you need to take off your rose-tinted glasses.”
She looks astonished. “What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m just saying it’s not a great idea to have one person in charge of a company’s finances.”
“Because you think everyone can be tempted if the price is high enough.”
“Absolutely.”
“That’s bullshit.” Her face flushes. “I trust every single one of the Elders.”
“That’s commendable and sweet.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m five years old.”
“Then don’t act like it. I’m an expert in finance. I run my business with my best friend. I’ve known him since high school and I’d trust him with my life, and vice versa. But we still have an independent company come in to audit us. It helps us trust one another—it doesn’t destroy the trust.”
She blinks. That’s hit home .
“It’s none of my business,” I say more gently. “I have no skin in the game where Kahukura is concerned. If you want to trust George with your money and the future of the commune, it’s nothing to do with me.”
She gives me a wry look. “That statement wasn’t loaded by much.”
“Maybe a little. Look, do you know any other accountants?”
“No.”
“I’d offer to do it myself, but I don’t think anyone would appreciate that. If I was to send my friend your way, would you put it to the other Elders that you’d like an audit done?”
Her jaw drops. “I… don’t know… it’s not my place…”
“Of course it’s your place. You’re a democracy here, right?”
“I don’t know the technical term,” she says stiffly. “The Elders are elected by the rest of us.”
“Are other members allowed an input?”
“We can attend Elder meetings, but the Elders make the final decisions.”
“So it’s Elder Council Governance rather than a Guided Democracy.”
“I guess…”
That makes it trickier. Some ‘intentional communities’ involve individual ownership and autonomy, where members rent their own houses but share meals, chores, maintenance of the communal areas, and possibly values and ideology, with the intention of fostering a sense of community and belonging. Kahukura obviously takes it one step further, though. I’m guessing its members form a fully income-sharing community that practices egalitarian decision making, with no one person in charge. And I’m getting a prickling feeling that tells me the lawyer was right—they’re struggling financially, and that’s why George and the others are pressuring for a higher price.
“You own the land, Scarlett,” I say. “And as a member of the commune, and as a human being, you have the right to ask that the people who are in a position of trust are doing their jobs.”
She looks puzzled. “I suppose.”
I realize that if she’s grown up here, and she’s not been to university, she’s probably never been taught to question.
“I’ll get Kingi to call you,” I say. “Have a chat to him and see what you think. I want to help, if I can.”
She stops walking and lifts her gaze to mine. “Why? ”
“I… don’t know,” I say honestly.
“We’re enemies,” she says. “Aren’t we?”
I frown. It’s true that our fathers were. And before I met her, I would have agreed with her.
But she’s standing before me with her huge eyes and wet dress and a fucking rosebud in her silky brown hair, and I realize I can’t think of her as an enemy at all.
But she turns and walks away before I can answer, and I bite back my retort and follow with a frown.