The long grass danced in the breeze. She watched and waited, waited and watched. Hoped that sometime soon she’d be found. The birds rose up from the trees in the distance, turned the sky black with their flight. She rose up, wondering what had disturbed them. She heard rumbling, a groaning and grinding roar. Behind the new houses, the rumbling got louder. Leaves in nearby trees shook, floated to the ground even though they were still green. Could it be? Could the dawn of this glorious new day be the day she was found? The longest game of hide and seek ever, she thought with a wry grin.

The machines rolled into sight, the same ones she’d been watching for months building all the new houses near her hiding place. Trucks and men gathered, shouting to one another. She didn’t care what they said, none of it concerned her. She watched, patiently, as they moved into position. The vehicle with the big bucket, the one that dug up the earth and deposited the dirt into huge trucks finally appeared. She wished she could control it, guide it to wear it needed to be.

The sun blazed high in the sky, she watched the men remove their hardhats and swipe sweaty brows. Now she listened, now she cared what they said.

“We’ll start excavation tomorrow, maybe day after.”

She shrugged, figuring tomorrow or the day after were better than the years she’d been waiting.

*

A week later, she watched as the big machine finally started to dig. Not where she needed them to dig, but close. She watched, listened to the birds, tentative in their perches as though they knew their safe place was in danger. She hadn’t left the area for months, waiting forever for them to work their way to where she rested. She got tired of watching them work, yearned to drift away, just for an hour, or a day. She didn’t have any concept of time, only knew the changing of day to night, summer to fall.

“Bones! Stop! We got bones!”

*

Several days to nights later, she was riding with her bones in a vehicle. She refused to leave, afraid she’d miss something. Finally, she’d been found. Now, she needed to know why. She knew who, when, all the boring details the police would eventually figure out themselves. She wished she could save them the weeks of work, the forensic stuff, but she couldn’t. She could take them straight to the who, she’d be with them when they figured it out. Would ride with them when they confronted him, maybe learn the whys. That’s all she wanted to know. What came after she learned them? She had no idea.

*

“I think I’ve got her!”

She clapped as Detective Thomas Erickson shouted from his chair behind the computer. Tom kept slapping his hand on the surface of his desk, his smile wide and made him even more handsome.

“You got her? Who is she?” Tom’s partner, Eleanor, dashed into the office they shared.

Tom swivelled the screen for Eleanor. “Margaret Aikens.”

Eleanor clapped Tom on the back. Margaret beamed at the two of them, they’d been working cold cases for a long time together, and had managed to figure out who she was a lot faster than Margaret had thought possible. Finally, she could leave her bones, stop visiting that dark lab where forensic people did disgusting things to her remains. She no longer cared what happened to them. Only what happened next.

*

“Quick recap then. Margaret left her parents house at about five o’clock on September twenty-seventh, fifty-eight years ago. It was a Saturday, and she’d been invited to her friend Louise’s house for dinner. She never arrived. Louise was surprised when Mr. and Mrs. Aikens woke her family at midnight, wondering where their daughter was. They called the police more than seven hours after the last time anyone saw Margaret alive. That’s where Detective George Lawson comes in. We have his reports, his notes, and you can tell he took young Margaret’s disappearance very seriously because of the incredible details.”

Margaret nodded her head vigorously. She’d spent hours and hours with George, whispering the name he was looking for over and over. Of course, George hadn’t listened, preferring to do things the hard way.

“I’ve got a name that comes up several times. Arch Benton. George wrote his name with an almost angry force.” Tom held up a piece of paper from the old file, showing Eleanor. “See? The pen ripped the paper on this one.”

“Who was Arch Benton?” Eleanor took the paper. Margaret watched the woman’s eyes fly across the page, back and forth like a pendulum.

“That’s the thing. There’s no clear indication. Just his name mentioned, over and over by family and friends. No clear accusation, no sort of feeling for who he was. The fact that his name came up so often? Leads me to believe George had to tread very carefully around the name, the man. We need to figure out who this Arch Benton was, and why George seems to have interviewed everyone from the most distant relative to those closest to Margaret, but never interviewed Arch.”

Margaret closed her eyes, a serene smile spreading over her face. George had been listening.

*

“Your not going to believe this, Tom. I’ve found him.”

Margaret heard Eleanor’s voice shriek over the phone as Tom answered. She’d been drifting between Tom’s house and Eleanor’s, now she wished she’d stayed a little longer at Eleanor’s. She clapped her hands. Eleanor had succeeded where even Margaret had failed. Try as she might, she’d never been able to locate him. She’d spent time with her parents, had even been at her brother’s bedside when he’d died. That had been hard, meeting her brother as he entered her world, calling her name from the world he was leaving, calling her name as he drifted through the world she was in now. He’d passed into a bright, beautiful light, his hand outstretched for hers, and she’d managed, barely, to resist reaching for him before he was gone, and with him the light.

“Where? Don’t leave me hanging, El.” Tom put his coffee down and sat back. Margaret had to stay close to hear what Eleanor said next.

“An LTC about forty minutes outside the city. A ritzy Long Term Care place.”

“So our guy has money. How old is he? Figure Margaret would’ve been seventy-five if she’d lived.”

“From the little I’ve been able to dig up, looks like he’s eighty. And he no longer goes by Arch Benton.”

Tom got to his feet and paced, making it hard for Margaret to keep an ear on the phone. “How’d you find out? What’s his name?”

“You got time now, or should we wait until we’re on the clock tomorrow to discuss it?”

Tom blew out a breath. “Give me a bit of it tonight. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep.”

“Tidy little package then. His father was that big shot lawyer, the one George mentioned when writing out info about Arch. Seems Arch’s daddy paid big bucks to quietly change his son’s name, had all records of it sealed. Arch Benton disappeared without a trace five years after Margaret disappeared, yet we had no idea how or why. Seems he never left the city. He just became Richard Robertson. His mother’s maiden name and his own middle name. Now why would a perfectly innocent acquaintance of the Aikens’ family change his name and go underground? He lived off trust funds left to Richard Robertson by his father, but as far as I can tell, the Benton’s never mentioned their son again publicly. The five years after Margaret’s disappearance until Richard’s appearance in the world, like he dropped out of the sky, there was little mention of him other than George’s notes. We can safely assume that Benton Sr. was the reason George never interviewed Arch. George’s notes are so careful to elude but never outright say anything about suspicion regarding Arch.”

Tom’s free hand clenched into a fist. “We need to find out if any other women disappeared before Robertson showed up. And if there were any after where Robertson’s name was mentioned in passing. That’s going to take a year to sift through.”

“I’ll run a search using the key names in the cold case archives. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”

Margaret wished she could use a computer, she’d help them search. Anything to get them going to see Arch before the guy died first.

*

Eleanor slammed the door behind her as she entered the office. Margaret came through the door right behind her, just as angry.

“What?” Tom looked up from his computer, apprehension etched on his face.

“We got nothin’. According to the chief, anyhow. He agrees that Arch slash Richard is suspicious. There was no DNA found on the remains that weren’t Margaret’s. At least not enough to matter. The missing homeless women were random and sporadic. Their bodies were never found so we can’t prove they didn’t just simply move somewhere else, died as Jane Does the way they’d lived. Nothing even remotely close to linking Arch to them. No reports from anyone mentioning Arch slash Richard had frequented their area. No DNA to trace because we haven’t got anything to get a DNA sample from. Random bodies found had matching DNA after the eighties, but without a suspect, they’re cold cases too. Even if we worked all of them, we’d never be able to find a link to Arch slash Richard.”

“Just call him Arch. This slash business grates on my nerves.” Tom blew out a frustrated breath. “What else did the chief say? You seem a little too upset considering we expected him to say that.”

Eleanor punched a stack of folders on the filing cabinet. Papers rained down to the ground. “I called the LTC, seems dear Mr. Robertson’s not in good health.”

Tom threw his pen. “How long?”

“Anytime. Though the woman I spoke to let slip that they’re surprised he hasn’t gone downhill faster. Sort of hinted he’s dying in slow motion.”

Margaret wished she could punch like Eleanor, throw things like Tom. She’d waited all these years, searched for whispers of Arch to find him, find out why, only to be denied the chance? “Please, go see him anyways. Let me get my answers before it’s too late.”

Margaret knew it was futile, no one had heard her since her brother in his own passing.

“Here’s what we’re going to do.” Tom gestured for Eleanor to come closer.

*

Margaret floated on air all the way up the interlock path, following Eleanor and Tom. This place was like nothing she’d ever seen alive, and unlike anything she’d paid attention to in death.

“You’re sure this is a Long Term Care place? Looks more like a movie stars mansion.” Tom pressed the buzzer at the door. “Ready, Betty?”

“As I’ll ever be, Fred.” Eleanor smoothed her blouse and patted her hair.

The door swung open and a fresh faced young woman smiled at them. “Mr. and Mrs. Stone?”

“That’s us.” Tom smiled at the woman as he gestured for Eleanor to go ahead of him. They stepped into the large foyer and followed the woman to a desk.

“Normally, I’d have to ask for your IDs and confirm you should be allowed in, but due to the circumstances…” The young woman smiled sadly.

“Thank you so much,” Eleanor whispered. Margaret almost believed the tears were real except she’d seen Tom pinch her.

“Mr. Robertson’s been here for so long and never had any visitors. Never spoke of any family. We wondered…” The young woman trailed off again as they made their way to a sweeping circular staircase.

Eleanor launched into the story she’d given that morning. “My mother always told me my grandfather was dead. Until right before she died, I had no reason to doubt her. Then my mother, on her deathbed, confessed that her father was still alive, that she’d run away to marry my father and never came back. My grandfather tried to find her but she refused to see him. I just want to meet him, you know? My mother wasn’t very kind, but you said my grandfather is?”

“Oh yes, he’s very likeable. Quiet, but always polite. Until you called, I always wondered why I sensed a sadness in him. Now I know.”

“You didn’t tell him I was coming, did you? I’m not sure I’ll tell him who I am. Might be too painful to dredge all that up when he’s so weak already. This is selfish of me, I know.” Eleanor gripped Tom’s hand and Margaret rolled her eyes behind them.

“No, we’ll let you decide if you want to share or not.” The woman led them along a long hallway. The carpet beneath their feet looked lush and rich to Margaret, and she wished she could feel if it were soft. The woman knocked lightly and opened the door. Margaret soared in, froze. The sounds in the room were so loud after the muffled hall. Beeps and whirs and rattling sounds, loud and intimidating.

Margaret drifted to the figure in the bed, hooked up to machines, with tubes running from his arms to bags hanging beside the bed. “Arch.”

Margaret couldn’t reconcile this miserable creature with the memory she’d carried in her mind. “Arch, this isn’t fair, this isn’t how it was supposed to be. You were supposed to be young, alive. Going down in a hail of bullets or something.”

“Mary, you can monitor everything from outside the room for five minutes, okay? Give Mr. and Mrs. Stone some privacy.”

Margaret had almost forgotten Eleanor and Tom were there. She watched as a nurse nodded, followed the young woman out of the room. When the door closed softly behind them, Tom approached the bed with Eleanor beside him.

“Mr. Robertson?”

Margaret worried he was already dead, that the machines keeping him alive had somehow missed that he was gone. But then Arch opened his eyes, the brown almost blue with age like Margaret’s grandmother’s had been.

“I understand you can’t talk to us, but we’ve been assured you can see and hear us.” Tom pulled a paper from the inside of his jacket. “Arch, do you recognize her?”

The man’s eyes widened in surprise at the use of the name. Margaret heard the beeps increase their pace, worried the nurse would come back and shoo Tom and Eleanor out. When the beeps slowed again, Tom held the picture close to Arch’s face. Margaret saw his eyes widen, saw the recognition. She wanted to curse, to scream, to cry. This wreck of a man wouldn’t be able to answer the question she’d waited fifty-eight years for. The question that burned brighter than the white light she’d turned from.

“Arch, you know what happened to Margaret, don’t you? Just nod your head.” Tom kept the picture in the man’s line of vision, and Arch never looked away.

“I hear death bed confessions are good for the soul, old man. If ever a soul needed to score points, it’s yours, here and now.” Eleanor spoke softly, almost gently, but the glint in her eyes made Margaret smile.

Arch glanced at the table behind them, back at them, then at the table again. When Tom and Eleanor continued to watch him, he raised a skinny arm and pulled the mask from his face. “Book.”

Tom didn’t seem to understand the whispered word, but Eleanor and Margaret did. Both spun to look at the table. An old, worn book lay on the table along with a cross and some rosary beads. Margaret read the faded cover, but didn’t understand because the words weren’t in English. Eleanor grabbed the book and lifted it so Arch could see. “This book?”

Arch blinked, his head moving slightly in assent. Eleanor and Tom opened the book together. Margaret stood behind them, reading over their shoulders.

“The writing is so faded.” Eleanor complained, flipping pages. “We’ll never be able to read it.”

“Let me see.” Tom took the book and squinted. “I can make out some of the words.”

“Read it out loud.” Eleanor and Margaret watched Arch as Tom began to read aloud.

“Dad always said there wasn’t a murder that didn’t leave traces. Bragged it was his job to find the traces before the prosecutors, suppress them. I wanted to know the lengths he’d go to. She was easy, Margaret Aiken. Stupid girl got into my car when I offered her a drive. At first, she didn’t seem to mind that I’d driven past her friend’s house. I was going to let her out at the next street when she didn’t react, but then she started to cry. That’s when I got excited. She begged me to stop, to let her go. I kept driving to the hunting cabin. We got there and she stopped crying. Stopped begging. Seemed to accept her fate. I got bored. Killed her, watched her die. When she was dead, I was so angry. She’d died so fast. She should have begged, fought me. But she didn’t. She just muttered her prayers the whole time. And then, she went blank. Such a disappointment. I should’ve let her out of the car, found someone else. I buried her in a field, left. Was home before anyone even knew she was missing. I waited forever for someone to question me. To mention seeing me with her, lots had seen me. I finally told Dad. Cost him a fortune to get people to change their stories, to lie. The cop suspected me, but he couldn’t get enough to charge me. Dad wouldn’t let him question me, said there was no way he’d let his son be bothered by police, that as the best lawyer in the city he’d be a laughingstock if he let him question me. Dad told me how stupid I’d been, picking a sweet girl like Margaret. Said if I had half a brain, I’d have gone for a girl no one would miss. So I did. Dad was right, no one ever suspected me when a prostitute disappeared, or a homeless woman. I didn’t have to work so hard to hide their bodies, but I put in a bit of effort. Weighed them down in the lake, buried them in dumpsters headed for landfills. Just left their carcasses in forests. After Margaret, Dad didn’t trust me. Kept watch. But when he found me with the body of a homeless woman, he made me change my name and I was moved out of the spotlight Dad’s fame cast. Every chance I got, and there weren’t many, I went out to find another. But none of them brought the same sort of feeling Margaret had. Because as disappointing as she’d been, it was a challenge to make her beg again. But she didn’t beg. Didn’t cry. The others were weak, begged until there was no more breath.”

Margaret looked from the book to Arch. She’d waited fifty-eight years to find out she’d only died because she’d cried? He hadn’t picked her, loved her, stalked her. She’d been walking down the street and was a convenient target. So random. Not special, not for any great reason she might be able to reconcile her cruel fate with.

“You killed her just to see if you could get away with it?” Tom stared at Arch, his disbelief mirrored on Eleanor’s face.

“She was only seventeen. She had her whole life ahead of her.” Eleanor whispered, and Margaret thought she might actually be sad, not acting.

Tom flipped the page. “When Dad died, I lost my inspiration. I never killed again after that. I guess because I knew there’d be no one as good as him to save me from jail. But man, what a run. If I had it to do over again? I would’ve done more. Been more. Done it better. But my one regret, the one that’ll haunt me until the day I die? That I didn’t take longer to kill Margaret. I think, if I had tortured her more, had more time, I could have made her beg.”

“You sick SOB.” Eleanor spat the words. “This is your dying day, and after hearing that? I hope you have an eternity to rot, dwelling on all your regrets. No, I hope you relive everything, only the girls don’t die, that they turn on you. I hope when you take your last breath, you see them happy, knowing they’re in a better place, a place you’ll never go.”

Tom lifted the cross and rosary beads. “Are these for show?”

Arch smiled. Margaret saw the faint upturn of his lips, the laughter in his rheumy eyes. He gave them the thumbs up.

Eleanor shuddered. “Evil. Sick. I wouldn’t have begged you for my life either.”

The humour faded from Arch’s features as Tom grabbed Eleanor’s hand. “I’d love to arrest him, but we’re not supposed to be here. We’ll get his DNA postmortem. But we won’t tell the world what a monster he was, why give him that fame? We’ll close the case quietly, match him to as many other cold cases as we can, and let him rot in his destiny without any fame.”

Margaret watched them leave. She had no need to follow them. She’d wait until Arch died. Then she’d figure out what to do. How to find the light she’d turned from.

The nurse and the young woman entered the room. “He’s still hanging in there?”

“Had a little spike when that couple were here, but otherwise the same as he’s been for hours. Stubborn. You’d think at this point he’d be glad to leave the pain behind. Such a sweet guy. Do you believe in Heaven, Mary?”

“I do.” Mary adjusted something on one of the drips. “Surely Mr. Robertson would be thrilled to meet his maker.”

“Mr. Robertson, it’s okay. You can let go.” The young woman patted his hand and left the room.

Margaret had been watching Arch during the exchange. She knew why he was clinging to life. Fear.

Margaret wanted quiet. She didn’t dare leave the room, not for a minute, in case she missed it. She wanted to be there, see him off. Would he go to the light? She wasn’t sure what happened to someone if they weren’t going on, into the light. She shivered involuntarily as a thought flickered. What if he were stuck here, where Margaret was, forever? And because she’d turned away from the light, she could never go on? Had her need for answers cost her eternity in Heaven? One thing she knew; if she were stuck in the same place as Arch, she wouldn’t beg for anything. She couldn’t imagine torturing him the way he’d tortured her, but she wouldn’t let him hurt her.

The machines made different sounds. Margaret waited as the nurse got up to check the bags dripping into the needles in Arch’s arms. He stiffened in the bed, and Margaret kept watch. Finally, finally something happened.

She watched Arch leave the old man. She rose up with him, waiting to see. Arch turned to her, his eyes widening. “Margaret!”

The room filled with light. Margaret felt something she hadn’t felt before. Heat. The light had a flickering quality to it; instinctively she moved away. Arch tried to follow, but the light reached out, caught him. Screaming, Arch held out his arms to her. Margaret couldn’t have touched him if she wanted to. The heat stifled, choked. Margaret watched as flames engulfed him, and with the fading scent of acrid smoke, Arch and the flames were gone.

“Who was Margaret?” Mary whispered, closing Arch’s eyes on the bed below. “God rest you both.”

Margaret looked up, to Heaven. “I’m ready. I hope I can find my way to the light.”

And as fast as the flickering light had come for Arch, the brilliant, blinding pure white light came for her. And this time Margaret went into it.

The house was so empty, so funeral-parlour quiet. My steps echoed as I wandered through, looking for – what? Forgotten shards of a life together crumbled into bits? Signs that this was a dream? There was no fog, no distorting images, only the fog in my head and the blurred vision from my tears. The squeaky floorboards grated my scraped raw soul.

“Are you coming?” Jody, my sister (and sometimes friend, mostly foe), called from the front door.

“Just go, I’ll be there in a sec.” I opened the cellar door with half a mind to go down and check no boxes or broken bits of my heart were left behind.

“You’ve been through the house twenty times already. Let’s go. I’ve got stuff to do.”

I slammed the cellar door, grief quickly becoming anger. “Fine.”

Jody waited until I’d crossed the deck before closing the door on my life. I could break windows, force my way in if I wanted, but for what? The house was a barren wasteland of what once was. “Hurry up; I swear, if you went any slower you’d be going backwards.”

Jody brushed past me and slid into the driver’s seat of her pick-up truck, loaded down with the last of my possessions. The small garden lining the front of the deck, mostly weeds for the past few years, was full of dead leaves. Not a single bloom in sight, no sign of cheer or hope.

I climbed into the truck. Before I’d even reached for my seatbelt, Jody was reversing. “Where are you going to keep your crap? I haven’t got room.”

“Dad said I could keep some in the garage.” I didn’t bother with the seatbelt. Jody was racing out of town like there was a fire to get to; if I was lucky we’d crash, and I’d burn.

“Yeah, because he doesn’t have enough junk.” Jody rolled her eyes as she swerved around a car in her path.

Our father was a hoarder. Not an exaggeration, either. A legit, defined the word, bona-fide hoarder. “Not my first choice, but –”

Jody shrugged as she slammed on her brakes for a red light. “How long do plan on staying with me?”

Translation – how long will your sorry butt be a burden. “Not long.”

“You know I’ll ride your behind ’til you actually get out, don’t you?” We’d just left town and I knew Jody hated this light because it stopped her from standing on the gas and putting miles between her and my town. Not my town anymore, I corrected myself.

I nodded, leaning my forehead against the glass and staring out the window at the countryside. My sister and my mother had fought, actually screamed and almost come to blows, over who had to take me in. Jody lost.

Jody put her hand on the centre of the steering wheel, the horn shrieking louder than a cat whose tail was pinned beneath an attacking coyote. The driver of the car she was honking at flipped her the bird but finally moved. “Most people have friends to take them in.”

My eyes burned but there were no tears left to spill. Friends? I’d thought I’d had some, but turns out doing favours for people doesn’t make you a friend. I tuned Jody out as I tried to figure out what to do next. Get out of Jody’s hair as soon as I could was top of the list, and I hadn’t even officially moved in yet. The truck bounced over a pothole and my forehead smacked the glass.

Jody snorted. “Pathetic. Look, I’ll get the boys to take the boxes and stuff to the garage, better there than Dad’s. Rick’ll bring your clothes into your room.”

I glanced at Jody, searching for the angle. “Why?”

Jody blew out a breath, her dark hair rising off her forehead. “Because anything else right now would be like kicking a kitten.”

*

I lay on the sofa, staring at the water-stained ceiling tiles. The thump-thump-thump of rap, mixed with the twang of country music was a constant, never-ending din in my sister’s basement. The only thing missing was the wailing of heavy metal. Each male in Jody’s house had a different music taste, and each played to win the contest of who listens to crap the loudest. I’d been staying in her tiny make-shift room for a week, and about all I’d figured out in life was that I could tell who was home by the noise.

“Ash, get up!” Jody banged something on the pipes outside my room.

I groaned, rolling myself to sitting position. “What?”

When Jody didn’t answer, I got to my feet. My body protested, aches on pains on stiff muscles screamed with each step. I flung back the shower curtain Rick had hung so I’d have privacy. I heard Jody in the laundry area and followed the sound of running water.

“What?” I repeated my question as Jody shoved dark clothes into the washer and reached for more.

I was about to repeat myself when Jody paused in the act of pulling men’s boxers from a pair of black jeans. “Doug called. He’s dropping by.”

I hated the flash of hope that winked through the darkness in my heart, like someone taking a picture with the flash on in a tunnel. “When?”

Jody’s blue eyes, so like my own, so like our father’s, filled with anger. “An hour or so. You’re pathetic. You’re happy, aren’t you?”

Happy? What was that? Nothing I knew, at least not for a long time. “Hardly.”

Jody put a pair of pants into the machine and slammed the lid. Grabbing the basket of clean clothes from the top of the dryer, she shoved past me. “Do yourself a favour and get mad. This pathetic wounded little mouse routine is getting old, and fast.”

Ignoring Jody, I scrounged up some respectable clothes and went into the tiny washroom beside the laundry room. With the washing machine running the water barely got warm, or else someone had used all the hot water already. I got out and wrapped a towel around me as I tried to comb my hair. The tangles from neglect were as tangled as my emotions. Doug, coming here, to see me? Why was I nervous, excited? I should be furious, like Jody said. Even Rick and the boys said I should get spiteful, soak Doug for more.

My clothes were loose. Not like I couldn’t afford to lose a few pounds, at least according to Doug. I didn’t bother with make-up because the mirror down here was cracked and hard to see in. Besides, I knew Jody would throw a fit if she saw blush on my cheeks, lipstick on my lips, scream that I was gussying myself up for trash.

I slid my socked feet into a pair of Jody’s running shoes (all my footwear were either ripped or slippers) and climbed the steep stairs to the main floor. The music was down to country and barely audible. Either the boys were out and Rick didn’t need to compete, or Jody was home alone and tired of loud. I knew better than to ask Jody if I could make a pot of coffee for when Doug came, so I searched for tea bags in case he wanted something to drink.

“Don’t bother. He’s not coming in.” Jody slammed the cupboard door where I was looking, almost catching my fingers.

“I could make it and bring it outside,” I said, reaching to open the door again.

Jody shook her head. “Said he just needed to ask you something, or whatever. I wasn’t listening, really.”

“Ask me what?” I stared at Jody, biting my lip.

Jody shrugged as she grabbed an apple from the bowl. “How would I know? Why would I care?”

I opened my mouth but closed it when I heard the roar of Doug’s pride and joy coming up the drive. “He’s here.”

Jody rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

I smoothed my long hair and wiped my hands on my pants. “How do I –”

Jody glared at me. “I’d only answer that if I thought you were aiming to make him regret life choices, but since I know better, I’ll leave it as pathetic.”

I heard the blast of classic rock music as he opened the car door. I swallowed the bile rising as I opened the screen door to step outside. “Hey.”

My husband of twenty-three years stood by his shiny car, staring up at me. He was forty-seven years old (five years older than me), handsome as sin, and got better with age, like whisky. Or so Doug said, at least. I could see the paunch hanging over his jeans, the grey at his temples, but they didn’t bother me. I’d fallen in love at first sight, never imagined such a virile and sexy guy could ever look twice at mousy me.

I went down the uneven porch steps, wanting to run into his arms and kiss him. Instead, I stood awkwardly a few feet away. He still hadn’t spoken a word, so I repeated my greeting. “Hey.”

“You need a haircut.” Doug frowned and seemed to reconsider his words. “Sorry.”

Bolstered by the foreign apology, I took a deep breath. “I know. I shouldn’t have skipped my appointment last month with Rhoda.”

“None of my business,” Doug shrugged, and I saw him look into the front seat of his car. I followed his gaze, spotted Crystal. Any hope I’d had caught fire inside me and I felt rage ignite from the flames.

“You brought her? To my sister’s house?” I squared my shoulders, fury fanning the flames. “You’re pathetic. Nearly fifty and you’re running around with a little girl.”

Doug raised his eyebrows at my tone, my words. “What?”

“You’re a sad and pathetic old man trying to feel young by running around with kids.” I pushed my sleeves up and kicked the gravel so that little stones hit his shins.

“Calm down, Ashley. Geez, you’re acting like a lunatic.”

“What do you want, Doug?” I spat his name.

Doug looked unsure what to say because of my temper. I guess he’d expected another puddle of oozing devastation. “I reconsidered – not about us, but about the settlement. I’m not bein’ fair, really. If you wanna sign right now, we can be divorced in thirty days, I won’t contest the last offer.”

I stared at him, open mouthed. He’d fought anything my lawyer asked of him, the smallest pittance I hadn’t even asked for. My lawyer, frustrated at my lack of demands, had made his own. “You want me to sign? You’re willing to give me half of everything?”

Doug’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, of course not. I just thought we could sign off on what your lawyer proposed last time. You know, half my pension and what you put into buying the house.”

The words my lawyer had uttered, over and over, during my apathy, came to me now. “No, Doug. I’m thinking we need to forget mediation and go full throttle on the divorce. I want half of everything. Half of your pension, half of your bank accounts, and half of what you sold my house for. Half your fancy car. You can have the trunk, I just want the motor. Oh, and I want alimony until I find a job that pays a decent wage. You know, because minimum wage is nothing. I gave up everything for you. Now I want you to give up everything for me.”

I started backing away when what I really wanted to do was charge him, punch, hit, maim him. Doug had never seen me mad, and he underestimated my rage. “Well now, that might be a problem, Ashley. Crystal’s pregnant.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled from my gut. “Guess you’re really in it now, aren’t you? Your lawyer fees just doubled since I don’t have a job – because of you – I’ll be demanding you pay for my lawyer, too.”

Doug rearranged his features into the mask he’d worn whenever he wanted to get me to agree to something I didn’t like. How had I never noticed how weak chinned he was? How utterly unattractive? “Babe, come on, be reasonable. You don’t want a child to be born into misery, do you?”

I glanced at the nasty young woman in the front seat, the one who’d known full well she was messing with a married man, my married man. Then I locked gazes with Doug. “I’m thinking you underestimate me, Doug.”

I spun on my heel, darted up the steps. Jody met me at the door. Her high five stung my palm, but I grinned. “Welcome back, Ash.”

“Thanks. Now get the boys to set me up a proper bed downstairs, because that lumpy sofa is gonna kill me.”

*

“I’m riding shotgun with Auntie Ash,” Clint, my oldest nephew, shouted as he ran out of the house.

“I was gonna let you drive!” Jody shouted after him.

Clint skidded on the gravel, his gaze swinging from my brand-new Jeep to his mother’s dusty pick-up truck. His indecision cost him; Brent tore past his older brother and hopped into the Jeep. Clint snatched the keys from Jody’s hand and climbed in.

I led the way down Jody and Rick’s rutted driveway, waving at Rick who was cutting the grass as I passed. “You get to pick alternative rock or eighties and nineties pop music. Or silence.”

Brent, the heavy metal lover, shrugged and started pressing preset buttons for the radio. I slapped his hand when he reached for the volume button. “No louder.”

“You’re really going to move out?” Brent asked, strumming his thigh to the music.

“Yeah. Maybe next month, if your mom agrees with me that this is the one.” I glanced in the rearview and grinned. Jody’s face was pale in the passenger seat, and Clint, new to driving, was being left in my dust. I adjusted my speed so that I wasn’t too far ahead of them.

“I can’t believe you’ve never owned a car before.” Brent stared at me as if hoping to catch me admitting I’d lied.

“Never. Only time I was allowed to drive was when Uncle Doug was drinking, drunk enough to admit he shouldn’t drive.” And then I’d been scared to death, because Doug shouted warnings every minute, scared I’d scratch his baby.

“Do I still have to call him that?” Brent asked with a scowl. “I never liked him much.”

I wondered if the aches would ever stop. I’d resigned myself to life without him, but there were still the lingering feelings that reached out to slap me now and then. “No, you don’t have to call him uncle.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of Doug. Can I call him Uncle Dung?”

I grinned at my nephew, the spitting image of Jody. I supposed of me, too, since Jody and I looked so much alike. “How about just call him Dung?”

“Can I call his new wife Dung-for-brains?” Brent considered as I snorted a laugh. “And the kid Baby Dung?”

“Maybe leave the kid out of it.” I was jealous yet still protective of the unborn baby that symbolized everything I’d lost. Doug kept promising next year, next year we’d start our family. But then he’d say stuff like we needed a bigger house, or work was too busy to think about a family — work he couldn’t have done if I hadn’t worked my tail off to support us both while he went to trade school (which he’d failed twice – once in plumbing, and then his first attempt when he switched to electrician). He’d finally ended up passing, become a master electrician, and we’d been in debt up the wazoo from student loans. Yet Doug had convinced me to quit my job because he was humiliated when his boss told the other guys I was one of the maids working for the service his wife hired. Doug wanted me home, anyhow. I’d taken over all household chores, even cut the grass and shoveled the driveway. We lived in town, within walking distance to everything, so Doug hadn’t seen the need to get me a car.

I’d been divorced for a few weeks and still trying to wrap my head around Doug’s deceptions. The only household chore Doug handled was the banking. He gave me a cash allowance every month and I kept receipts to show what I’d spent money on. He’d complain about the mortgage payments, the household bills, said we barely made ends meet. I’d offer to go back to work, but he’d say no, I wasn’t qualified to do anything outside the minimum wage bracket so what was the point? I should be grateful he supported me. Even his stupid car — I’d had no idea how much he’d spent on it, what it was worth. He’d even lied to me about how much he’d sold our little house for, offered me the money I’d put in on the downpayment and twenty thousand extra. My lawyer had laughed bitterly, even Doug’s lawyer had tried to hide his face in shame for what I was offered for settlement. When the secrets Doug had kept were fully exposed, I’d felt like I’d won the lottery. Best of all was that I’d finally felt absolved of guilt for keeping my own secrets for years.

“Auntie Ash?” Brent cleared his throat.

I glanced at Brent, jerked from my thoughts by his voice. “Sorry?”

“Uh, just that I think we’re almost there.” Brent smiled sheepishly at me and I realized he was right.

I parked in front of the building. Clint parked behind me and I flashed him the thumb’s up when he’d finished a perfect parallel park. Grabbing my purse, I slid out of the Jeep. “Good job.”

Jody, looking green, glared at me. “Don’t encourage him.”

“This is why I prefer driving with Dad. You’re like this hysterical girl or something. Too fast, too slow, too close to the ditch, you almost hit that car passing.”

I hadn’t seen anything wrong with Clint’s driving, at least not when I’d been paying attention. “Tell you what, when we leave, you can drive the Jeep home.”

“Good thing it’s got an off-road feature, you’ll need it with him,” Jody muttered in my ear as we approached the store front.

I pulled the door open, my eyes adjusting to the dim interior. The scent of stale grease and grime wrinkled my nose. “Laurie? You here?”

My realtor, a woman I’d gone to school with, came out of the back. “Ash, hey. Jody? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Jody was swept up in a flowery scented hug and I realized my mistake. Jody hadn’t gotten along with many of the girls in our high school, and the girlier the girl, the less she’d tolerated them. Laurie had been the girliest of them all. Freeing herself from Laurie’s clutches, Jody took two steps back, her forced smile making her look constipated. “Hey, Laurie.”

“Did you use John when you bought the farm?” Laurie’s shrewd gaze pierced Jody. “Happy there? If you’re thinking of selling, I know –”

“Didn’t buy, just transferred ownership from Rick’s parents. Not selling. I’m here to scrutinize for my sister.” Jody shot me a look that spurred me into action.

“Okay, so. Laurie? Mind if I take the tour alone? I mean, alone with my sister and the boys. I want their honest opinion, but don’t want them being, er…”

“She doesn’t want you to influence us.” Brent thrust his chest out proudly. “She values our opinion and there’s nothin’ in it for us.”

Laurie covered her irritation with polished poise. “Right, well, go on then.”

Jody gave the agent a wide berth as we made our way to the back of the store. “You could’ve warned me.”

“I wasn’t thinking. It’s so weird, being back here. Whenever we came to visit, Doug never went through town. Not a lot of Brock peeps where we lived. Now, come on.”

“Show us the living area, first.” Jody averted her gaze from the filthy mess in the back. “Because if you start here, we’re gonna have to say no.”

“I can only show you the one empty apartment. It’ll be mine, but the other one is rented. A single mother with a teenage girl.” I opened the door at the back and revealed a hidden set of stairs. “There’s an outside entrance too, I can seal this one off if I ever decide to move and rent it out.”

“Who’s the girl?” Clint asked as we trudged up the narrow steps.

“I don’t know her name. The mom’s name is Beth Martin, if that helps.” I reached the small landing and put my hand on the knob. I took a deep breath and opened the door, letting the boys and Jody go in first.

“Bright, good space,” Jody mumbled as she went to the double windows where the living room would be. “Good view of the river below. You got a balcony?”

I snorted. “You’re looking at it.”

Brent peered out. “I just see the fire escape.”

Clint opened the window and climbed out. “Oh, er. Hi, Mandy.”

I stood behind Brent and peeked, wondering who Mandy was. I realized Clint had caught Beth’s daughter on their fire escape. Brent snorted. “Clint’s gonna be here a lot.”

“That’s the Mandy? The one Clint’s been raving about for months?” I took a better look at the girl. “She’s cute.”

Jody pulled us over to the kitchen. “Don’t embarrass him.”

“Yeah, Aunt Ash. He’s good at embarrassing himself, he doesn’t need our help.” Brent snickered. “Look, he keeps fixing his hair.”

Jody opened the oven, ran the water in the sink. “Cleaner than downstairs at least.”

“It’s small, I know, but –” I bit my lip as Jody searched the cupboards and small pantry.

“Mom! There’s two bedrooms, come see,” Brent called from the other end of the apartment. “We can spy on Clint.”

“Get out of there,” Jody yelled. “Where’s the bathroom?”

I pointed to the door between the two bedrooms. The bigger bedroom faced the riverside of the building and the other faced the street. The bathroom had no window. “It’s small.”

Jody ran the tap in the sink, the tub, flushed the toilet. She turned the shower on. “At least the plumbing seems decent. Good water pressure.”

“There’s an inline water heater downstairs. Each tenant pays a portion of the water and gas bills. Each unit has their own hook up and metre for hydro.” I bit my lip as Jody continued her inspection, checking closets, bedrooms, ceilings in all the rooms. “The roof is fairly new. Previous owner before the one selling did a lot of upgrades and fixing up in the past ten years or so.”

“Yeah, and current owner is some city slicker guy. Only owned it a few months. Why’s he selling?”

“He owes back taxes or something.” I averted my gaze, heard Jody’s snort. I huffed out a breath as I stared at her smug face. “Fine, obviously you know the whole story.”

Jody grinned. “Yep. The greasy spoon downstairs was a front for a drug ring. You forget the power of Brock’s gossip and news flow.”

I hunched my shoulders. “You don’t think I should buy it?”

Jody shook her head and my heart sank. “I didn’t say that.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I think, for once, you’re being really smart, little sister. I’ve heard Beth Martin’s had a rough go, she’s working hard to get ahead after a bad marriage. She’s determined to make it, and she’s got a decent job at the coffee shop so you’re guaranteed her rent. The little odds and ends store downstairs is fairly new and no one knew if it’d last but it’s holding it’s own, so you got that rent, too.”

Feeling more confident, I nodded. “Glad you think it’s a good idea. I already bought it.”

Jody gaped at me. “What?”

“I’m just here for the keys, to sign some final papers. This is mine, all mine.” I threw my hands out as I spun in circles. “I’ve run the numbers. The place is cheap because of the whole drug guy desperate to sell. The renters will cover bills and property taxes.”

“How will you eat, Auntie Ash?” Brent came out of the big bedroom, obviously bored of spying on Clint and Mandy. “That’s what Dad said, when he and Mom were talking this morning, that you’re smart except that you’ll have to go to the food bank unless you rent the downstairs quick.”

“That’s the other part. I want to open a business.”

*

Excitement and nervous energy kept me moving. Opening day, ribbon cutting with the mayor, photographer from the small Brock news outlet. Half the town would show up because everyone wanted to have first-hand gossip to spread, didn’t want to hear from anyone else what they’d missed. Jury was out on how I’d be received.

“Man, it smells great in here.” Rick stopped by the apartment door and sniffed. “Jody, why doesn’t our kitchen ever smell so good?”

Jody stuck her head out from behind the cabinet she was inspecting. “Careful, or you’ll never smell food cooking in our kitchen again.”

“Ms. Anders?”

I wiped the spotless work surface for something to do. I had slow cookers running, ovens going, stove tops with bubbling pots.

“Ms. Anders?”

“Yo, Auntie Ash. I think Mandy’s talking to you.” Brent snorted as he nudged me.

I glanced up, caught off guard. “What? Oh, sorry, Mandy. It’s been a lifetime since I’ve been Ashley Anders, I guess. What’s up?”

“The health department just finished their final check.”

I swallowed around the lump forming in my throat. I felt like I was walking to the firing squad with each step I took. “Did you, er, get a feeling?”

Mandy shook her head. “I’m sorry. That guy is cranky, hard to tell.”

“It’s fine, Ash. Go on.” Rick patted my shoulder as Jody gave me the thumbs up. Even Clint managed to keep his eyes off Mandy as he nudged me through the door.

The old guy with the clipboard was writing away when I entered the main part. I didn’t want to interrupt so I went to the desk and fiddled with pamphlets.

“Okay, Ms. Anders.” He tore off some papers from his clipboard. “Well done.”

I blinked. “Pardon?”

He smirked as he held the papers, waving them. “Go on, take them.”

I wiped my sweaty hands on my apron before grabbing the papers. My hands shook and I almost dropped them in my haste to read. The papers fluttered and I finally gave up trying to steady them. “I passed?”

“With flying colours. You know your stuff, and I like the extra temperature gauges for cooked foods, freezers, everything. I’d say you’ve gone way overboard, above and beyond, but in my line of work I don’t believe there’s any such thing as too many safety precautions. I know the fire chief gave you an outstanding evaluation, too, for all the CO2 detectors, the smoke detectors.”

Jody joined us, clapping. “I’ll let you have that I told you so.”

I grinned at my sister who’d scoffed at all the extra precautions I’d invested in. “I passed. I can open.”

“I want to be happy for you but I was kind of hoping you’d fail so we’d have to eat everything.” Rick put his arm around Jody and winced when she elbowed his ribs. “Kidding. I was kidding.”

“I’ll get out of here after I hang your certicate.” The old guy shuffled over to the wall I’d shown him. I had all my food handler certificates, my business license, everything hanging in place of pride behind the computer – the computer that I’d enter sales into, the computer I’d crash-coursed how to run a business.

“There’s a bit of a crowd out there. I think I’ll let myself out through the back.” The old guy shook my hand and shuffled into the off-limits cooking area.

“Okay, you still want to speak to the reporter for the local paper? She’d asked for an interview before the official opening, and you’re running out of time. I can tell her you’ll call her later, if you want?” Jody stood on tiptoe to see into the crowd. “She’s there, near the corner.”

“I’d rather get it over with.” I swallowed as Rick knocked on the glass near where Liz stood. She nodded her understanding as he gestured to the back.

“What am I supposed to say?” I gripped Jody’s arm as Brent raced around to let her in. “I don’t even remember her from school.”

“You wouldn’t. She went to school with Doug. Next county over.”

I groaned, feeling my shoulders sag. “Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me? Why’s she working for Brock news?”

“She lives here now, dummy.” Jody rolled her eyes. “Mom set the whole thing up and Liz agreed to leave Doug out of the article.”

“Mrs. Hague?” Liz came into the store area, her face all business.

“Ms. Anders. But you can call me Ash.” I shook her hand as I gestured to a small table. “We can sit down if you’d like.”

“It’s fine. My photographer is taking pictures in the back, guarded by your nephew. He’ll come out here, take a couple of you and the store, then we’ll be on our way.”

I relaxed. “Oh, good. I thought you wanted an interview.”

Liz grinned, pulling out a recorder. “I’m going to record our conversation and pick any relevant bits out for the article. So, Mama’s Little Helper, huh?”

I eyed the device, swallowed. “Yep.”

“Relax, okay? Tell me about your business.”

When I didn’t speak, Jody jumped in. “I’m sure our mother told you everything.”

“Yes, she told me that Ash knew how hard it was for working parents to put decent meals on the table, get chores done.”

“That’s right. Ash is brilliant, honestly.” I gaped at Jody, shocked to my core at the praise.

Liz kept glancing at me but I didn’t have anything to add. “So then, in a nutshell, you sell homecooked meals for families?”

Jody nodded, but I frowned. “It’s more than that.”

“How?”

“Being a housewife for years, I got bored of meat and potatoes. I started watching cooking shows on TV. Started preparing a variety of healthy meals for my husband, figuring one day I’d be cooking for a family of my own. My husband didn’t like leftovers, so I started giving my neighbour our left overs. She worked two jobs, and rarely had time to cook for herself.”

Liz nodded. “I can understand that.”

“When she moved away, I was stuck. I’d have a fridge full of leftovers, no matter how hard I tried to buy only enough for the two of us.” I remembered running plates of food next door when a young family moved in, how appreciative they were. “I’d help out neighbours, sometimes they’d offer to pay me to cook for them, provided the food even.”

“You started a business?” Liz asked.

“No, not really. Just helping out others.” I shrugged. “But I’d listen to them, heard the woes. How hard to find time to cook decent meals, how hard it was to get all the chores done.”

“And you figured you could help?” Liz smiled. “Mama’s little helper. I get it now.”

“But it’s more than just food. I’ve made a deal with the laundromat down the street. Parents can bring their laundry here, and pick it up the next day, folded and ironed. Joint effort, the laundromat will wash and dry when they’re not busy, I’ll iron and fold. My nephews and some of their friends, are willing to cut grass, shovel snow, as needed. I’ve got a whole list of babysitters with references I can give them, help take the leg work out of finding someone.”

“Wow.” Liz’s face lit up. “Where were you when my kids were little?”

Dreaming of a family of my own. I shook my head, pushing the negative thoughts away. “Practicing for the future.”

The photographer came in, snapping a couple of photos. “What’s in here?”

I glanced at the fridge. “Oh, those are sides, like pasta salads and things. You can buy tubs of them, or small serving sizes for lunches. The containers everything is in are microwaveable, dishwasher safe. You pay a deposit on them, and if you want to keep them, they’re yours, but if you bring them back, rinsed out, you get your deposit back. We’ve got industrial dishwashers to wash and sterilize so they can be reused. The precooked meals that can go in the oven to warm have higher deposits because they’re sturdier dishes for the oven. Basically the deposit covers my cost for them, and is refundable when returned.”

“All homecooked meals, all healthy?” Liz shook her head, amazed.

“Yes. And if you want something but we don’t have it, we’ll make sure we get it. Oh, and we also have prepackaged slow cooker meals. All the ingredients needed, with cooking instructions, so you can come home to a freshly cooked meal. We also have order forms, to order a week at a time, ready for pick up. Every day we cook fresh food, various meals, that we’ll freeze if not sold. The theory being that sometimes people end up working late and don’t want to have to grab fast food or preservative laden freezer meals from the grocery store. Call and find out what’s being cooked and fresh that day, or order a frozen choice. If really time crunched, we’ll deliver.”

“Ash? It’s opening time.” Jody went to the door, flipped the sign to open.

I swiped my hands down my sides, smoothing my clothes and wiping the sudden moisture on my palms.

“Lose the apron, Ms. Anders.” Mandy tugged the tie at my back.

“Thanks. I knew I’d hired you for a reason.” I grinned as Mandy tucked the apron under the counter.

I went to the door, unlocked it. The mayor was there, and most of the town by the looks of it. Liz and her photographer slid out beside me.

“Ready?”

I nodded, reaching for Jody’s hand. The mayor beamed at me and the Chamber of Commerce president nodded. They said a few words, none of which I could hear over the pounding of my heart and the murmurs from the crowd. Then it was done, and my little store was packed.

“Do you smell that?”

“I’m suddenly starving.”

“There’s laundry service? I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

I gaped at Jody, listening to the remarks. “Jody, is it just me, or do they sound positive?”

“More than positive. I just heard someone shouting about how you even do holiday meals, they’ll never have to cook another turkey.”

I shook hands, nodded, watched containers fly out of fridges and freezers. Mandy and Clint were running the cash, Brent helping keep the traffic flowing. Rick brought out stock from the freezers in the back when supplies ran low. Jody kept checking on the food cooking, selling almost everything I’d planned to freeze.

By closing time, I was wiped. When the last of the people left, I staggered to the small table and dropped. “What just happened?”

“Mom! Come see!” Clint hollered from the computer.

I watched Jody rush over, prepared myself for a nightmare. Jody swore. “If you’re going to tell me that the system didn’t work, can you just lie to me instead? I don’t want anything to ruin my mood.”

Jody shook her head. “Remember you’re projected totals? You had the minimum you needed to make every day, then you had your fantasy total?”

I stifled a yawn. “Yeah. What about them?”

“What if I told you you’d hit your fantasy?” Jody grinned.

I blinked, stretched. “Not bad at all.”

Jody frowned. “Your fantasy for the month, dummy. You sold your dream goal for the month in a half day.”

I stared at Jody, then scanned the room. “What are you all standing around for? Do you know how much we’ve got to cook to replace what was sold?”

“I’m out of here. I’ve got cows to milk,” Rick snorted as he bent over to kiss my head.

“You need to go through the resumes.” Jody shook her head. “I’ve got enough to do at home, I can’t keep helping you cook.”

“What resumes?” My heart was pounding. A solid week, I’d been cooking for a solid week to make enough food, round the clock, and now? I had to start over.

“These.” Mandy brought me a few pages. “I put them in order, who looked like good candidates. The top one? She’s my old family studies teacher. She retired but she’s bored. That’s what she said, anyhow. Said she never had you in her class, though.”

“I never took it. Never had any interest in cooking.” I laughed as I thumbed through the pages. “I’ll start calling once I get the ovens going.”

“Already cleaned the slow cookers and pans, so you’re set. My mom’s coming down when she’s out of the shower, said she’d give you hand prepping.”

“She’s hired. Tell her to quit the coffee shop. I’ll hire the teacher, your mom, and what’s-his-name, the retired chef guy.” I yawned, pushing myself to my feet.

“I guess now wouldn’t be a good time to discuss expansion plans?” Clint glanced at his mom, then back at me.

I squinted. “What expansion plans?”

“I kept a list of suggestions on the computer. Like housecleaning, errand runners, stuff like that.”

My bones ached. “I’ll stick to meals for now.”

“Right, I’m sure you will,’ Jody scoffed.

“Go home, or start peeling potatoes. And I need someone to get me thirty kilos of ground beef since I won’t be able to get another delivery from my supplier until Monday.” I grabbed the apron Mandy had stashed earlier, paused. “Print out the list. I’ll take a peek when I’ve got the ovens roaring.”

I heard someone rapping the glass, heard Jody curse. I spun around, spotted Doug standing on the other side of the door. I sighed, marched over to the door. The silence behind me grew as I put my hand out. Doug smoothed his hair, his grin lighting his face. I returned his smile, felt it from the depths of my soul. I reached out, flipped the sign to closed, and turned the slats on the blinds, blocking the interior from view.

“Almost forgot. Good thing Doug reminded me.”

Panic filled me as I weaved through the throng of people. I’d slept in, was dangerously close to missing my flight. I dodged weary travelers, tripped over luggage (and the owners) sitting on the floor under corridor windows. Luckily, my best friend had offered to bring my luggage; all I had was my overstuffed carry-on and my purse, both of which were slamming painfully against my hips as I scrambled through the terminal.

“Ma’am, you need to get in line for security.” A guard stopped me as I was about to pass through the final hurdle.

“But – but –” I studied his stern face, panting. “I’ve passed through –”

“Line up starts there.” He pointed at the end of an incredibly long line. My heart sank. I’d never get through in time.

“Please? I’m late. I’m getting married, I can’t miss my flight.” The tears I forced for sympathy blurred my vision as I grabbed hold of his blue shirt front. I saw no trace of compassion in his eyes.

“Guess if it was that important to ya, ya’d have been on time. Now get in line.”

Head down, I approached the line. “Anyone willing to let a desperate woman cut in front?”

Each face I passed looked away when we made eye contact. Desperation and need to get through before my plane took off called for desperate measures. “I’ll pay twenty bucks, twenty bucks for a spot in line. I’m getting married, I need to get on my plane.”

One woman looked thoughtful but her man shook his head, seizing her arm and moving so close to the people ahead of them I hoped they got slapped with a restraining order. “Fifty! I’ll pay fifty, just please, help a desperate bride-to-be out.”

“Over here.”

I spun in a half circle, spotted a tall man waving. Giddy relief filled me as I made a beeline to him, sticking my tongue out at the couple as I went.

Grumblings and mutterings flowed like a wave down the long line. Any other time, I’d be ashamed. Not today. “Thanks. Can I e-transfer you? I don’t know how much cash I’ve got.”

“And how many more bribes you’ll have to pay?” The man, in his mid-thirties, grinned. “I’m Finn.”

I took his large hand and shook. “I’m Tal. Actually, my name is Tallulah, but for obvious reasons I prefer Tal.”

Something flickered in his incredible eyes (were they blue? Green? Captivating, anyhow), and I noticed he tried to hide a smirk. I had no idea why I’d blurted my name like that. Tallulah was reserved for official government forms and banking details. “Yeah, I know. My dad got to name me. My mom was drugged up because of complications and so high when he got her to sign I should be glad he didn’t add lollipop as my middle name. That’s what my mom was craving while she was high. She agreed to sign anything as long as Dad gave her lollipops.”

I wanted to kick myself for babbling, but something about him unnerved me. We moved ahead, getting closer to the final security check. I hoped it was the last one at least. I had minutes…

“What is your middle name?” Finn shifted so I was ahead of him.

“Oh. We don’t know each other well enough.” My cheeks warmed as I blushed.

“I’ll waive the fifty bucks if you tell me.”

Since my bank account was perilously close to double digits, I caved. “Marigold.”

Finn snorted, covered his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“Was it worth fifty bucks?” I grinned, putting my bag and my purse on the counter as we shuffled closer. I freed my passport and ticket.

“Tallulah Marigold. I feel like I owe you money now.” Finn shook his head again.

“That’s why I’m anxious to get married. My last name is Ingalls, my married name will stop me from being TMI.”

“TMI? Ah, Too Much Information. Gotcha.” Finn recovered while I went to the miserable looking security people. My bags went through as I went to the metal detectors.

“One sec.” The large woman behind the desk hit buttons on her keyboard, frowning. “Errol, open the bag.”

“There’s nothing –” I broke off as Errol opened my carry-on. The cranky woman gestured at the wedding gift still wrapped in the bag.

“Open it. Might be a gun.”

“But…no! No gun! It’s a wedding gift from my coworkers.” I had no idea what the girls at work got me, but I had a feeling I didn’t want it opened in the middle of the airport with a thousand people craning their necks to see what the hold up was. I’d almost left it at home but drunk me packed it for something to do on the plane.

Errol ripped the flowery wrapping paper off the rectangular box. The miserable witch chuckled as Errol showed her the contents of the plain brown box. “What? What is it?”

The hag shook her head, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure you don’t know.”

I stared at the phallic device Errol had taken out of the box to show me, confusion warring with dawning horror. “Oh. My. God. No! Seriously? Is that –?”

I heard the laughter first, then the whispers. Like the complaints when I’d cut in line, only now there were titters, giggles, and cat calls. “Throw it out. I don’t want it.”

“You sure? Says it’s state of the art, heavy duty, top of the line pleasure.” Errol read from the large cardboard tag dangling from the base before stuffing it back in the box. I moaned, shaking my head frantically as Errol tried to put the cursed thing back in my bag.

“No, please. Sell it, donate it, take it home to your wife. Give it to –” I stared at the crusty woman across from me, saw the warning in her eyes. If anyone needed a dose of pleasure…I thought better of my suggestion. “Your, uh, next single woman passing through. I’m getting married, can we hurry this up?”

My face was so hot it burned and I was shaking. I could still hear Finn’s chuckles beside me but I refused to look at him. The witch had a heart after all; with barely a smile, she waved me through. The metal detectors didn’t go off (yay!). I grabbed my toyless bag and my purse, glanced at the overhead signs and jogged toward my boarding area.

I made a wrong turn, back tracked. My heart raced and sweat beaded my brow. Every time I spied a plane taxiing down the runway, I was sure it was mine. Resigned, I decided to find my gate and confirm what I knew in my heart already. Then I’d see if I could get a refund, find another airline with another flight later. I staggered into the waiting area I should’ve been in long before. The area was packed but I scanned the crowd as I tried to think what to do next. My jaw dropped when I recognized Joy’s shaggy brown mop of hair, her wire framed glasses, as she stared at her phone. I darted around people, not looking above shoulder height in case I saw anyone from the security check.

“Is there a delay? Shouldn’t you have at least boarded by now? Or were you being a good friend, not going because I wasn’t there?” Joy moved her bag from the chair beside her without looking up. I flopped gratefully (but not gracefully) beside her.

Joy, my best friend of twenty-seven years, raised an eyebrow as she finally looked at me. “What are you talking about? Delay? I got here early, haven’t heard anything about a delay.”

“Were you listening to your audio book and missed the boarding call?” I didn’t see her blasted headphones but why else was she still sitting here? I pulled my phone out and showed Joy the time. “I slept in. We missed the plane.”

Joy frowned as she glanced at her own phone. “You idiot.”

I bristled at her tone. “What?”

“Did you change your time settings last night? I knew I shouldn’t have left you, you were already buzzing.”

“No I wasn’t.” I squared my shoulders defiantly even as the memory crept in. Plastered by the end of the night, I’d decided to be proactive and change my time so I wouldn’t have to when I got to Alberta.

“You set your time two hours ahead.” Joy grabbed my phone and started tapping the screen. “First of all, he’s two hours behind. And second, your phone will update as we cross time zones.”

I groaned. “Karen and I tried to figure it out, like if it was eleven for Hank and not me, it’d be one for him, or whatever the logic was. Okay, fine. I was drunk.”

Joy tossed me my phone. “I reset your settings.”

I leaned against my seat, the hangover I’d woken up with kicking in (the adrenaline rush seeing the time had postponed the worst of it as I’d leapt into action). I dozed until Joy elbowed me.

“Get off me, you’re drooling on my shoulder.”

I wiped my mouth and stretched, feeling slightly better. The waiting area was even more crowded, and the drone of voices from excited travelers were like little hammers hitting my skull. I winced when I spied the couple I’d tried to bribe to let me through. “At least I didn’t pay.”

Joy looked up from her phone. “Hmm?”

I explained, as plainly as I could, the adventure of the morning (omitting the part about the gift).

“How much were you supposed to pay?”

“I offered fifty, but I got off easy. Just told him my name.” I snickered.

“You scarred some hillbilly hick from the prairies?” Joy shook her head, grinning.

“Hank doesn’t live in the prairies, dummy.” I grinned at Joy, waggling my eyebrows as I pictured Finn. “The guy definitely wasn’t a hick, and for all I know he was going to Texas.”

“Alberta is part of the prairies, and it’s Canada’s Texas.” Joy rolled her eyes at me. “That’s why I agreed to come with you. I love Alberta. And fine, not a hillbilly. Oil worker maybe.”

“Hank’s not a farmer. He’s a cattle guy. Rancher? And the guy in line was too put together to be a hick farmer or oil worker.” I shrugged, thinking of Finn’s button down shirt and expensive running shoes. “Hank might be a bit hick, for now anyhow. I figure we’ll try the cow thing, then come back here to civilization and he can get a real job. Plus, there’s cows here. He can have a hobby farm.”

Joy put her phone in her pocket, staring at me with that look she used to give me when I argued with the teacher. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. You know why Hank wanted to marry me. I agreed, because, well…John.” I was about to launch into a tirade about why Ontario was so much better than Alberta, about my reasons for this crazy wedding, when our flight was announced. “Saved by the bell – rather, boarding call.”

Joy picked up her carry-on bag and purse, still staring at me. I slung my purse over my right shoulder, my carry-on over my left, and we followed the rest of the sheep to the boarding gate. The couple smirked when they saw me but didn’t say anything. I wasn’t in the mood to explain more to Joy. She was already ticking me off.

“Thanks again for bringing my luggage. Did you have any trouble getting through?” I asked after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

“No.” Joy kept her gaze on her phone.

I replayed our conversation in my head, wondering what had set her off. Hank was a rancher, I hadn’t realized Alberta was part of the prairies but I’d conceded when she obviously knew more than me. Someone kept clearing their throat and giving little coughs behind me but I refused to turn around because I had a sinking feeling they’d witnessed the whole fiasco earlier.

When we didn’t appear to be moving anytime soon, I huffed out an impatient breath. “Why’d they announce it if we’re just supposed to stand here?”

Joy harrumphed but didn’t say anything else. Deciding to make a last ditch effort to fix things before enduring a four hour flight in angry silence, I sighed. “What’s wrong?”

Joy cricked her neck when she whipped her head around to stare at me. Massaging her neck, she glowered. “You know how I feel about all this. The only thing I support you on is going there to meet Hank. I can’t believe you committed to marrying him simply because he needs a wife, but you did — and now you’re saying you plan to manipulate him into giving everything up to move here?”

I ran my fingers through my hair, smoothing out the tangles. “We’ve been through this a million times. Hank needs a wife, yes, and he’s okay looking. John’s dead, and you said it yourself – I’m still here. I’m ready, finally, to move on.”

“You were ready to move on long before John –” Joy’s face was set in the usual annoyance John’s name evoked, but to her credit, she struggled to compose herself. “Anyhow, that’s neither here nor there. Hank’s what concerns me. You seem to think you’ll supply the wife end of the deal but then you want to change him completely. You saw what he said, raising cattle is in his blood. What are you going to do if there’s no attraction? You swore you cared about him, but honestly? I don’t believe you. I think you’re just lazy –”

“Lazy?” My mouth opened and closed in disbelief.

“Yes, lazy. You want the husband but lack the ambition to actually go out and look for one.”

I pulled my ticket from the side pocket of my purse as we finally started to move ahead. “I’ve been talking to Hank for months.”

“Online. Not even video chats, just emails.” Joy rolled her eyes as she extracted her ticket. “You don’t know if you’ve got any, what’s your word? Chemistry?”

Fury flashed, hot and bright. “You make no sense. None. When I first met John, I told you we were meant to be, the chemistry was intense. You’re the one who said chemistry isn’t all there is to a relationship. Asked me if I could talk to him, be friends with him, because that’s what was most important.”

“Exactly!” Joy’s voice rose several octaves and the couple from the security line turned around nervously. “You had chemistry, but nothing else, and look where that got you. And I never said chemistry wasn’t important, but you needed more than just –”

“Is there a problem here?” A flight attendant wrung his hands nervously as his beady eyes darted from Joy’s miserable face to mine.

“No, no problem. I’m sorry,” Joy apologized, pink spots shining high on her cheeks. I noticed she was apologizing to him, not me.

“Can you get her suitcase? She won’t be flying with us today.” I brushed past Joy to hand my ticket to another attendant.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Beady-eye guy continued wringing his hands.

I snatched my ticket from the woman who was eyeing me nervously. “Fine. Never mind.”

I stormed across the weird tunnel leading out of the airport and into the plane, my stomping causing vibrations. I glared at the ticket in my hand, looking for my seat number.

“Halfway down the row, in the middle.” Yet another flight attendant, this one model pretty and annoyingly happy, gestured when she glanced down at my ticket.

I’d never been on a plane before. Movies and TV shows made them seem bigger somehow, or else this was a smaller plane. I regretted switching airlines to make sure Joy and I got seats together. I struggled to put my bag in the overhead bin and took great pleasure when I realized how much more difficult it would be for Joy, who was two inches shorter. I’d selected the window seat for Joy in a fit of generosity since she was coming with me and would be returning alone. In a snit, I took the window.

I tucked my purse under my seat, and stared mutinously out the window while waiting for Joy, sneaking peeks every minute or two to see if she boarded. Maybe she’d decided to go home? My initial reaction was spitefully glad, but as I watched more strangers enter, I started to regret our fight. Was Joy right? Was I being stupid? Lazy? She had no idea how hard it was to trust a man, to look at him and wonder if he spoke truths or lies. How could she throw John in my face? I supposed Hank could’ve been writing lies, but somehow, I didn’t think so. He’d been honest about the women he spoke to, about his intentions and reasons for them. More honest than he probably should’ve been, and definitely more honest than I’d been. Joy just didn’t get it. I quickly averted my gaze from the entrance when I heard Joy’s voice, stared out the window with a determined nonchalance.

“Thanks again.” Joy, probably simpering to the flight attendant to ingratiate herself to get better service. I hated that about Joy. Her whole honey catching mosquitoes or whatever her saying was. Who wanted to catch bugs anyhow?

Up and down the aisle people were putting their bags into overhead bins. I kept staring out the window, waiting for Joy to sit so I could ignore her better.

“Excuse me, but I think you’re in my seat.”

I jerked my head up. Finn was staring at me, his greenish-bluish eyes twinkling. “Hardly.”

Joy’s head popped up over the seat ahead of me. “I’m supposed to have the window seat.”

My face burned for what felt like the hundredth time. “You’re supposed to be sitting here, yes.”

“I switched.” Joy disappeared behind the seat again and I was tempted to kick it.

Finn sat next to me. “I’m good with the aisle.”

I folded my arms over my chest, taking deep breaths and holding them, exhaling like I’d been taught for inner peace. The top of Joy’s head in front of me was blocking the calm. “Why’d you switch with her?”

Joy popped up again. “Because he’s a gentleman, and because he was scared I’d slap you silly.”

Joy ducked down again before she could see the finger gesture I flipped her. “Defending me? Or protecting her? Because at this point it’s a coin-flip who’d give the better beating.”

Finn leaned close. “After the morning you’ve had, my money’s on you, Tallulah.”

I clenched my jaw as I stared out the window. My mind worked overtime second guessing everything I’d ever done, but especially the last few months. I was about to get married. To a man I’d only seen pictures of. When Finn nudged me, I scowled at him until I realized he was only trying to tell me to put my seatbelt on.

My fingers tightened on the arm rest as the plane started to roll. “I changed my mind. I want off. Can you move so I can get up?”

Finn put his hand over mine, squeezing. “Sorry, it’s a little late for that.”

A voice came over the intercom, I couldn’t understand anything said. “Words, words, words. More words. Words in French.”

“What? What’d they say?” My panic mounted as the intercom clicked off. “Are we going to crash?”

Finn, to his credit, didn’t laugh aloud even though I saw laughter in his eyes. “No, we’re just lining up for take-off.”

The plane stopped rolling. “I can get off now?”

“Uh, no. You’ve never flown before, have you?”

My tummy lurched when the plane moved. “No, but I have been up the CN Tower.”

“This is, er, a little different.” Finn’s sparkling eyes were glued to my face. “Just watch me, not out there. You’ll be fine.”

I did as he said until I felt the plane picking up speed. I tore my gaze from his, watching out the window as the pavement fell away. I guess we left it but I didn’t feel like we’d gone up. “It’s like the ground dropped.”

“Once we’re at full altitude you won’t really notice we’re moving.” Finn patted my hand before releasing it. I wished he’d put it back.

The buildings were below us, becoming tiny pin pricks that faded away as we soared higher, into fluffy clouds. “So, what, we just sit here for four hours?”

Finn sighed, closing the book he’d just opened (I recognized the mystery, had even recommended it to Hank). “I think they put on a movie.”

“What movie? A comedy?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never flown this airline before.” Finn looked resigned to his fate. I knew I was the annoying nervous flyer, but just now I didn’t care. He could blame Joy, it was his fault for swapping seats anyhow.

“What’s your middle name? And is your full name something weird, like Phineas?” I latched on to the thought; it was only fair, he knew mine.

Finn grinned. “Nothing as fancy as yours, I assure you. I’m Finn Alexander Ryan. I’m thirty-four years old, I work in education, never been married but came close once. I had a dog but he died a year ago and I haven’t had the time or energy to get another. I have an aversion to cows, but I like to eat beef.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What did Joy tell you about me?”

Finn snickered. “Nothing about your life. I was sitting behind you in the waiting area, then in line behind you for boarding.”

“That was you coughing?”

“Yeah, I was trying to get your attention. So, why don’t you talk it through? If you don’t mind me saying so, you kinda sounded like you needed to talk to someone unbiased.”

“You don’t want to hear the boring details of my life.” Out of nowhere, I felt tears burn my eyes. “Read the book, it’s much better than my story.”

Finn glanced at the paperback on his thigh. “Nah. I can read anytime. We’ve got four hours to kill.”

I should’ve been nicer to Joy, then I wouldn’t be tempted to talk. “Fine, but just remember, you asked for it.”

Finn nodded, patting my hand. The plane lurched and I gripped his fingers. “It’s just turbulence, it’s okay.”

“All the same,” I smiled apologetically as I kept his hand hostage. “Okay, where to start? John? When I met Joy in kindergarten?”

“Junior or Senior?” Finn grinned.

“Just kindergarten. Where we lived, they didn’t do the whole junior and senior. You started when you were five. We were on the same bus, sat together the first day, and were best friends by the time we came home. Been best friends ever since.”

“Okay, that’s Joy covered. Who’s John?”

I cringed. “My biggest mistake. My first and only love.”

Finn looked like he wanted to say something, but when he kept quiet, I opened the floodgates. “We met when I was twenty-six. Made all my exes seem irrelevant somehow. He was good-looking, charismatic. Kind of like you.”

“I get the feeling I shouldn’t take that as a compliment.” Finn laughed, but his hand twitched in mine.

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that. Just that you’ve been good to me, you’ve got personality, I kinda feel like I connect to you –” I stopped talking and bit my lip, feeling flustered. “Just scratch that part. Where was I? Oh yeah, so he was this great guy, I fell hard and fast.He told me all these things, how he was a freelance photographer, showed me pictures he’d taken from exotic places.”

“Sounds like a great guy so far,” Finn commented when I paused to gather my thoughts.

I gave a derisive snort. “Doesn’t he? By the time I was head over heels, the gold-plating around him started to tarnish. He’d asked me to marry him, but a year later was still refusing to discuss dates. He’d disappear for weeks, tell me he had to work.”

I glanced at Finn, saw his attention still focused on me. What was it about this guy that had me rambling? “He’d stay at my place when he was in town. Joy started to ask questions that I couldn’t answer.”

“Like what?” Finn reclined his seat slightly but kept his hand in mine.

“Why didn’t I ever go to his place? How could he afford to fly all over the place yet never showed me his published work.” I laughed bitterly. “All thoughts I’d been having but hadn’t asked because John didn’t like to be questioned.”

“And you put up with that?” Finn’s eyebrows rose, disappeared beneath the fringe of dark hair.

I glanced out the window into the bright blue sky. When I reclined my seat to match Finn’s, I shrugged. “I guess, in hindsight, I was starting to suspect something was very wrong. He never liked to be asked anything, but instead of changing the subject, he started to get angry, which only made me push harder. The first time he lost it, he put his fist through the wall in my apartment.”

Finn’s hand gripped mine tighter. “That the only thing he punched?”

I peeked at the back of Joy’s seat, saw the headband from headphones over the her head. “At first, yes.”

“What does that mean?” Finn gripped the armrest on the aisle side so hard his knuckles turned white. He shook his head before the stewardess pushing a drink trolly even opened her mouth.

“Let’s just say once he started to unravel, he came apart fast. All at once, I became a stastic, a victim of domestic violence. And with the violence came the truth of who and what he was. He’d been dealing drugs for years. He couldn’t keep up the act anymore, he’d started using what he’d sold to countless other addicts.” I felt such shame, such humiliation. “I didn’t see it, didn’t know. How stupid and foolish, huh?”

“No. When you love someone, you forgive things. Sounds like he was very good at lying, cheating, manipulating.” Finn, tension radiating from him, loosened his grip on my hand immediately when he saw me wince at his tight hold.

“He was the best.” I laughed at the lack of humour in the words.

“Obviously you broke up with him.” Finn’s jaw clenched and unclenched, I felt his anger, but unlike with John, I didn’t recoil because instinctively I knew the rage wasn’t at me, but for me.

“You’d think, wouldn’t you? I stayed. Tried to help him, tried to get him clean.” I tried to pull my hand away, but now it was Finn holding on tight. “He’d fly into rages, hit me sometimes, apologize always.”

“Your friends didn’t try to intervene? Your family?”

“Everyone was busy with life. I was happy for them, didn’t want to be a burden. Made excuses why I couldn’t meet. My parents winter in Florida, live in a trailer every summer. Busy snowbirds, home and away. We’d talk on the phone, but that was normal. Joy was the only one who noticed.”

“What did she do?”

“She tried everything she could. Didn’t I know better, wasn’t I worth more? What kind of friend was I, letting her down all the time because of John? All angles.”

“And?”

“We eventually drifted apart. What could she do, really? One day, I reached out. I was done. I packed up whatever I had left of value. Joy picked me up and I went to stay with her.”

“Why do I feel like there’s more?” Finn stroked the back of my hand with his thumb.

“I wish that was it. But one day, John met me at work, asked if we could talk. Asked me for help.” I tried to smile but couldn’t. “I fell for his lies. Always had. Saw glimpses of the John I’d fallen for. I went with him, got in some decrepit van. We sat in the back, talking. I saw him take something so I tried to leave but the doors wouldn’t open. He popped more pills, snorted something, screaming at me to shut up, stop crying. He hit me, grabbed my purse, took my money. That’s when I found out how completely he’d played me. He was laughing at my gullibility. The pictures he took? Stock photos from some free site. When he’d go away on shoots? Nah, he was hooking up with one of his many other girlfriends. Never brought me home because he had a wife and kid. I was breaking, and he just laughed in my face. Then, when I thought he was going to really hurt me, he stopped. This weird look came into his eyes, and he lay down on the bench seat like he’d passed out.”

“He hadn’t?” Finn spoke softly, his free hand reaching out to wipe my tears.

“I just left him there. Grabbed my purse, my money, crawled over him and fled. I called 911 when I was far enough away, thinking police would arrest him, that maybe if he went to jail he’d get help. I hadn’t loved him in a long time, but I did care about him. That night, at Joy’s, I saw the news. A man had been found dead of an overdose. What if I’d called sooner?”

Finn put his hands on my cheeks, leaning across the seat to stare into my eyes. “It’s not your fault.”

I nodded, closing my eyes. “I know. Logically…the science and facts are that he was dead before he hit the bench seat. But the heart? It doesn’t listen to facts, to police or coroner reports.”

“I’m sorry.” Finn’s simple words went deep.

“Me too.”

Finn and I sat in silence for a long time. I had no concept of time, of anything except trying to get my head out of the past. The ache, the guilt, still lived inside no matter how much time passed. Finn bent down, putting his book away and digging around inside the laptop bag he’d brought. I went back to staring out the window, figuring he had work to do.

“I, uh, brought you this.”

I glanced down at the brown box Finn held out. I stared, stunned. After the emotional barfing I’d done, I erupted into a fit of giggles that hurt my side and had the passengers around us staring. “That’s not mine.”

Finn stuffed the box back into his bag. “I beg to differ. Errol sends his regards, wishes you luck with it.”

I slapped his arm, still giggling. “How’d you do that? I just ripped my soul to pieces, and in one fell swoop you put me back together.”

Finn blew on his knuckles, dusted them off on his shoulder. “It’s a talent. Besides, I told you I work in education. I’m a high school teacher, and when you’ve had to deal with hysterical teenagers caught up in love triangles, well, your story seems a bit boring.”

I pulled my phone free, read the time. “We’ve only been here two hours? Feels like longer.”

“Twilight zone.” Finn hummed the notes from the TV show. “We’re in Alberta, silly. Four hours become two with the time change.”

Instead of feeling relief, dread filled my belly. “We’re landing soon?”

Finn nodded, checking his watch. “About fifteen minutes. Why don’t you sound happy?”

I peeked over the seat, saw Joy was asleep with her head resting on a pillow propped by the window. “Truth? Until about a half hour after we met, I was headed here without really thinking.”

Finn frowned, staring at me with those beautiful eyes. “You’re coming here to get married, aren’t you?”

All my convictions, to myself and everyone else, about how I was doing the right thing seemed to have been left on the ground at Pearson airport. “Oh, God. I’m marrying a man I’ve never met.”

“But you love him, right? I overheard you telling Joy about the emails. You must’ve fallen in love with the guy who wrote them.”

I put my head between my knees, trying to breathe. I felt Finn rubbing my back at the same time he reached over me to grab a paper bag from the mesh pocket on the back of Joy’s seat. “Here, breathe into this.”

I sat up, pinned Finn’s arm behind me. I breathed into the bag until I felt better. “Thanks.”

“Looks like my work here isn’t done after all.” Finn winked, extricating his arm from behind me and holding my hand again.

“I’m in trouble. Big trouble.” I put the bag to my face again and breathed a few more times.

“How?”

“I promised him – Hank. He’s been looking for a wife for a year now. His parents are retiring, giving their kids this huge ranch they run, but only the kids that are married and want the ranch. Hank’s older brother is the only one of the seven of them with a spouse. Hank and his brother are the only ones who want the ranch, his other brothers and sisters only want money, don’t have any interest in working the land. Hank’s got until the end of the year to be married or his married brother’s name is the only one on the title, and his parents give the six others a cash payout.”

Finn shrugged. “I get his angle, what do you get out of it?”

“Promise you won’t judge?” I studied him for a second then laughed. “Never mind. After what you’ve seen today, you’ll be glad to never see me again. Nothing else I say can make me seem worse.”

Finn studied me the way I’d studied him. “I might’ve thought you a bit, er, scattered this morning at the airport, but I figured frantic bride-to-be and forgave that. After what you shared with me? There’s nothing but awe and respect here.”

“Uh huh. You’re well versed in nice things to say to hysterical females. Guess that’s why you’re a high school teacher.”

“Don’t put yourself down. You survived, and you got out. Not many do. But you still had enough heart to try to help. That’s commendable.”

“Certifiable. That’s the correct word. Look at me, a college drop out correcting a high school teacher. That used to drive Joy nuts, when I’d argue with the teacher, or correct them.”

“That’s what makes you an excellent school secretary, being good at standing up to teachers.” Finn grinned. “Now tell me what’s in it for you, getting married.”

I paused. “How’d you –”

“What?” Finn frowned.

Deciding I must’ve said what I did when I was trying to explain the gift at the security desk, I let it go. “In a nutshell?It’s about having a husband without risk.”

“What does that mean?” Finn’s perplexed tone and the funny way he squinted made me smile.

“I started trolling dating sites with my friends, as a joke. Not to make fun of desperate people but to make fun of the narcissists. So many self-absorbed people who had profiles that screamed idiot. Like one guy, he actually wrote that any woman he selected should feel honoured that he found her worthy of him.”

The intercom interrupted. “We’ll be landing in a few moments, folks, The temperature is a comfortable fifteen degrees, and the wind is low. Fasten your seatbelts, thank you for flying with us, and enjoy the wonderful city of Calgary.”

I didn’t do well with French so I tuned the rest out.

“We’re pressed for time.” Finn finished buckling his seatbelt and automatically reached for my hand. “Jump to Hank.”

“One of our friends decided to join. She’d had no luck finding a guy, and was getting desperate. Joy and I encouraged her, but then she’d talk about the losers she met, how they all seemed to want to hook up casually. She mentioned this one, that seemed promising except he was in Alberta.”

“Hank?” Finn guessed.

“Yep. She gave me his email address when she decided to pass because she wasn’t interested in moving. I started out talking to him about why he was looking for a fast marriage. By then, I’d pretty much decided that if I wanted to get married, I’d have to be like those guys who mail-order brides, only I’d be mail-ordering a man.” I felt my cheeks warm but took a deep breath. “Then this guy, this rancher, started going on about his passion for the ranch, confiding that he just didn’t have time to date, all that stuff. And I started thinking, ‘hey, Alberta is a million miles from the bad memories’. We had some stuff in common, too, which was another selling point. At least I’d like him enough. Always seemed to know what to write to cheer me up when I was blue. He’s not much of a talker, doesn’t like the phone, so we mostly communicated via emails. It’s weird though, sometimes he was chatty, funny, other times business-like.”

“Did you tell him about John?”

“Kinda. I just told him that I was with a guy for a couple of years, but he passed away and I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. Figured I’d either tell him or I wouldn’t, I’d decide once we were married.”

“What about love?” Finn stared at me so intently I had to blink and look away.

“Love never entered into the conversation. We were both in this for our own reasons. Him to get half of the ranch he loves, me to avoid falling in love with another frog masquerading as a prince.” I realized how cold that sounded. “Sometimes, in some of his longer letters, I’d think ‘I could really fall for him’. He’s a busy guy, maybe in person, in time, I’d see the guy who wrote the chattier messages, fall for him.”

“And you quit your job? To live here?”

I swallowed hard, feeling even hotter under the collar. “Um, well. Not exactly.”

“Tallulah Marigold Ingalls, did you lie to your fiancé?” Finn, eyes wide, stared at me incredulously.

“I’ll tell you the truth if you promise never to call me that again. Hank doesn’t even know about the Marigold.” I laughed, squeezing his hand. “I’m on a week’s vacation. I’m going to tell Hank that I couldn’t just quit, that I have to go back until at least the Christmas holidays. I’m hoping that I can get a leave of absence for a year, come back. Convince Hank that Ontario is the place he wants to be. Even if he wants a farm, we can figure that out, I can commute.”

“This guy is counting on you to be his wife so he can keep his ranch. You really think he’ll say sure, let’s give Ontario a shot?”

“Now you sound like Joy. I swear, she should marry Hank. She’s the one who calls Alberta Canada’s Texas. She reads all these romance novels about Texas ranchers, but I know she’s thinking Alberta when she reads them.”

“I do so.” Joy’s voice drifted back to us and I laughed. “How much did you hear?”

“The Canada’s Texas stuff. All true, by the way.” Joy tried to peek over her seat but with the seatbelt on she couldn’t manage it. “We’re landing. I’m so excited. I was just listening to an audio book and now you have to know I’ll be staying with you next year for the Calgary Stampede. Maybe I’ll find me my own rancher.”

I winked at Finn and felt a swoop in my belly. At first, I thought it was because he winked back, but then I realized we were preparing to land. I clutched his hand tight as I watched the ground getting closer.

“What if the wheels don’t come out?” I squealed, leaning over to see better.

“We’re fine, you’re fine.” Finn chuckled beside me. “You’ll be fine, probably. Maybe.”

I shot him a dirty look but then the plane bounced and I bit my lip. I realized we were on the ground, and slowing down. “How long does it take to drive here? I’m thinking if I’m going to be a commuter wife, I’m going to have to get a better car.”

Finn laughed but made no comment. When the plane stopped, I unbuckled my seatbelt before the light went off. “I’m so cramped from sitting, I need to stand up.”

“Won’t be long.” Finn pulled his laptop bag free.

“How do you know?” I grabbed my purse.

“I do this flight fairly often.” Finn shrugged.

Before I could ask what kinid of business a high school teacher could possibly have in Calgary, we got clearance to leave the plane. As much as I wanted to stretch my legs, I wasn’t excited to face what lay ahead. “I’m not ready.”

“Come on,” Joy called, getting her carry on down.

“No.”

Finn grabbed his bag and mine, tossed mine onto the seat he’d just vacated. “Let’s go. We’re holding up the line.”

Joy nodded. “We have to go get our luggage, you’ve still got a few minutes to be the stereotypical bride with cold feet.”

Finn slung my bag over his shoulder with his and I followed them off the plane. Each step felt incredible physically, but made my nerves skitter.

We went to the baggage claim just as the suitcases shot down the chute. Joy was closest, so she grabbed mine and waited patiently for hers. I watched Finn as he reached between Joy and I to grab his.

“Murphy?” I felt something akin to dread wash over me as I blinked up at Finn.

Finn pulled me out of the way of the passengers still waiting for their bags. “What’s that?”

“Your tag, it says Murphy. But you said your last name was Ryan.”

“No I didn’t. My middle names are Alexander Ryan.” Finn seemed resigned, but before I could ask more questions, Joy bounced over to us with her suitcase.

Deciding Murphy was a common name, I followed Joy. As we neared the main doors, I tugged on my bag he still had. “You probably have somewhere to be.”

Finn kept my bag on his shoulder as he wheeled his suitcase beside me. When I stopped walking, Joy kept going but Finn stopped, too. “Come on, we’re going to be in the way.”

“Tal, let’s go!” Joy shouted from the doors. “I think that’s Hank. Come on!”

Finn wheeled his suitcase to join Joy. He had my bag, and my best friend, but I suddenly wanted to turn around and get back on the plane. “What the –?”

Joy abandoned her suitcase and came over to grab mine. “God, he’s a real rancher. He’s got cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat. Come see! You are so lucky.”

Lucky wasn’t exactly the word I’d use. Livid, maybe. “Did you know Finn’s last name was Murphy?”

Joy blinked, still tugging me along. “What? Come on.”

Hoping I was wrong, I finally stopped dragging my heels. I kept darting glances at Finn, but he wasn’t looking at me. We went through the door, and sure enough, I spotted Hank. The pictures hadn’t done him justice, he was rugged, handsome, and pure rancher. And I felt nothing. He had a luggage cart and was leaning on the handle with one boot on the lower shelf.

Awkward didn’t describe the feeling. I smiled at the man, but he might as well have been a stranger. Wait, he was a stranger. A stranger destined to be my husband. I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

“I see you met already?” Hank clapped a hand on Finn’s shoulder, and all my suspicions were confirmed in a red haze of rage.

“Excuse us, would you? I need a moment with your lovely brother.” I grit my teeth and tried to smile at Hank but feared I must’ve looked rabid or violent, or both. The words didn’t come close to describing how I felt as I gripped Finn’s arm and yanked. When we were in a quiet corner, I glared at Finn. “Murphy. You’re the city-slicker brother.”

Finn perched on the edge of a window ledge. “Busted.”

“You knew the whole time who I was?” Fury warred with humiliation, humiliation was winning, but coming up from the rear was devastation.

Finn hung his head. “I saw you, frantically trying to get through security and I recognized you from the pictures you sent Hank. Then you confirmed it with Tallulah.”

Betrayal reared its ugly head. “So you planned this whole thing? To sit with me and get the whole sordid story of my life out of me? Did Hank tell you to?”

Finn ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head. “I wanted to tell you. Then I overheard you talking to your friend, figured I’d bide my time. Then you and Joy fought, and I saw my chance to sit with you. I had every intention of telling you.”

“Right. Hard to find a minute on a four hour flight to say ‘by the way, I’m going to be your brother-in-law’.” I snorted, feeling dangerously close to losing my head completely.

“By the time you’d finished telling me about what a jerk John was, what you’d been through, I –” Finn blew out a breath. “When you said I reminded you of him –”

“Little did I know you were as manipulative as him.” I finished the sentence for him.

Finn grabbed my hand as I started to back away. “You might as well hear the whole thing.”

I pulled my hand free. “Whole thing?”

“Hank, he’s not much of a talker. On the phone, or on the computer. He prefers face-to-face.”

I clutched my belly as I bent over, dangerously close to throwing up the bit of water I’d drank that morning. Finn had waved the pretty stewardess off whenever she’d brought the cart around; now I wished I’d had multiple drinks so I could spew them on his fancy running shoes. “No.”

“Some of the emails were Hank. But as you got chattier, he asked me to step in. Not because he didn’t care, but because he didn’t know what to say.”

I stood up straight, staring into his eyes. “I should’ve known. How come I didn’t figure it out?”

Finn came to stand in front of me, putting his hands on my shoulders. Shock kept me from slugging him. “I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t help it, I burst into laughter. “Right.”

Finn’s concerned gaze never left my face. “I wasn’t going to come. I was going to make excuses, that I couldn’t take time off during the school year. Not really an excuse, you know that, working for the board yourself. I’m flying back on Monday, like Joy. I can’t wait to leave, Joy wants to stay but thinks she’ll be in the way. That’s what we were talking about.”

“I bet you can take the same plane back today.”

“I will, if that’s what you want. But hear me out, please? I know I don’t deserve it, but just listen.”

I stared at him as my thoughts raced. Part of me wanted to walk away just to defy him, the other part wanted, demanded, to understand. I glanced over at Joy and Hank. They were laughing at something and seemed happy enough. “Fine. Talk.”

“At first, I agreed to handle the chattier messages because I was curious. Who marries a stranger? I even wondered if you were some sort of gold digger since Hank’s going to be part owner of one of Alberta’s best ranches.”

“I never knew until he, or was it you, mentioned money after the marriage arrangements had already been made.”

“Believe me, I didn’t take long to see that you weren’t interested in money. I knew something had happened, something had you jumping at the opportunity to marry Hank. You made it sound like your boyfriend died, that you lost him tragically and were struggling with the loss.”

“Maybe I did, maybe I wanted it to be true. Much better to have loved and lost them in an accident than the ugly truth.”

“Yeah, well, by the time you’d made your plans with Hank – and yes, those were from him – I’d realized I probably shouldn’t come for the wedding.”

“Why, because you’d slip up and I’d find out?” I snorted, rolling my eyes. “You were right.”

“No. I didn’t want to come because a part of me was falling in love with you. You laugh at yourself, you make me laugh at myself. Or laugh at Hank, I guess. But it was getting so hard to keep emailing you because I wanted to say ‘forget the flight, meet me for coffee instead’.”

Not believing him, I shrugged. “Yet here you are.”

“Yet here I am. I’m not proud of it, but I had to see you. Had to know if the feelings you stirred up were just because it’s easier to feel when someone’s faceless. But then you were frantic, begging for help, and I realized – nope, it’s you.”

“I’d read your emails, then look at Hank’s picture, so confused. I didn’t feel anything when I looked at the picture, so figured the feelings were just reactions to words typed out and put no faith in feeling.”

“But you were still going to marry him.”

“Partly because I’d hoped that the email feelings would merge with the man when we met.” I bit my lip. “But from the moment you flagged me down, I felt more for you than I did for the man in the pictures.”

Finn’s troubled eyes brightened. “You felt it too?”

I heard Joy’s laughter, heard Hank’s responding bark. “So what if I do…did? I’m marrying your brother, that’s what I came here to do. I’m not marrying him then being a cliché, the woman who cheats on her husband with his brother.” I snorted out a laugh. “That’s not who I am.”

“It’s not who I am either.”

“Good, so we agree? We’ll forget this nonsense and you’ll be there for your brother when he marries me? He told me you were always his favourite.”

Finn looked sheepish. “I wrote that. Hank’s got no favourites unless they’re cows.”

I turned my attention to Hank. “He seems to be enjoying himself with Joy.”

“I’ve never seen him so animated. Kinda weird.” Finn shrugged. “But I don’t think I’ll be at the church. Maybe I’ll slip in for the reception, slap him on the shoulder and slip out again.”

Joy glanced over at us and I saw her stricken expression when she caught us watching them. I pondered her reaction, confusion and delight colliding. “She’s smitten.”

“What?” Finn blinked down at me.

“She’s attracted to Hank.”

Finn gaped at me. “I was just thinking the same about Hank.”

“I’ve got a confession of my own. Joy was one of the women Hank was talking to. I guess you know how he’d keep me updated on who he was talking to? I figured out Joy was one of them, talking to Hank behind my back. I kinda told Hank that she was a lush. He knew her as CowboyFan123. Joy just wanted the romantic side, never mentioned anything about Hank to me, and I was ticked she’d tried to weasel her way in and steal him. That’s part of why I begged her to come – partly to get her to finally confess she’d tried to poach him, and partly because I thought maybe she’d meet a better cowboy at the wedding so I could stop feeling guilty for saying she was a drunk. Wanted her to meet someone who’d make her smile the way she is right now.”

Finn’s eyes lit up. “Joy’s CowboyFan? Hank used to talk about her. Never asked me to do his emailing with her. I wondered why she’d disappeared from the list of contacts before they even exchanged pictures. Hank hates drunks since one of his ranch hands was killed by a drunk driver. Is Joy a drinker?”

“She had one glass of wine last night and left in a cab, the most I’ve seen her drink since we were teens. I’m a lush compared to her, and last night was my first night out drinking since before John.”

“So what are you going to do?”

I considered for a second, then smiled at Finn. “Watch.”

I sidled up to Joy and leaned in close. “Hey, CowboyFan.”

Joy’s smile slid slightly, but she didn’t bat an eyelash. “Don’t worry, I’m not poaching.”

“I wish you would.” I spoke through my smile, quiet enough only she could hear. Hank and Finn were slapping each other’s backs, and I wondered if Finn was whispering to Hank.

Joy grabbed my hand and whirled us around. “What are you mumbling?”

“I know about you and Hank. And I give you my blessing.”

Joy shook her head. “It was a stupid fight, tensions were high. We said stupid stuff, no biggie.”

I leaned in close. “I’m mad as heck at Finn, but he’s the brother I’m interested in. Turns out we’ve been emailing for months, only I thought I was talking to Hank.”

“You never said how you felt about Hank, that’s what ticked me off the most. You should be marrying him because you’re in love, not because you don’t want to fall in love with anyone. He deserves that.”

“Did you just hear the words I said? I think I am in love. Just not with Hank.”

Joy’s eyes widened. “No, you can’t do this to him.”

I took a deep breath and dove into the pile of manure I’d made. “I told Hank I knew CowboyFan123, and that she was a lush. I knew he’d cut you from the running because he hates drunks.”

Joy’s temper flared and I took a step back in case she decided to swing. “I am not a lush.”

The few people loitering around us turned to look. So did Hank and Finn. “Part of me was mad that you were trying to poach, knowing what I was up to but keeping your communications secret. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize how you felt about him, if I had, I’d have told him the truth. But you never said a word, and kept encouraging me.”

“He doesn’t know I’m CowboyFan123, does he?” Joy bit her lip, her cheeks pink. “You’re supposed to marry him tomorrow, you told me he desperately needs a wife by December. You can’t ruin his life now.”

“Don’t you worry about him, okay?” I shot her a sly grin as I took a deep breath and prepared to raise my voice. “CowboyFan123, your secret’s safe with me. I’ll never tell Hank I lied to him about you.”

I’d been watching Hank with Finn, watched how Hank’s eyes kept returning to Joy, not me. His brow creased as I made my little announcement. “What? Finn, did you hear what she said?”

The electric jolt I felt as I approached Hank had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Finn putting his arm around me. I glanced at Joy, took a deep breath as I dove deeper into the stink.

“Hank, I’m sorry. I lied. Joy here? I found out she’d been talking to you and I was mad that she wasn’t telling me about you while I was telling her everything. So, er, I lied to you.” I took a deep breath, clutching Finn’s hand for courage. “Joy’s not a lush. And I think she didn’t tell me about talking to you because she felt guilty, but at the same time was falling for you. She’s rode my butt for weeks about how you deserve someone who wants what you want, someone who puts your needs at least equal to theirs. She didn’t talk to me the whole trip here because I’d said I’d convince you to give up the ranch and move to Ontario.”

Hank finally looked at me fully. “I’d never move to Ontario.”

“Joy wouldn’t want you to.” I turned my attention to Joy. “You said it yourself, you want to live here. Want a rancher of your own.”

Joy’s face was redder than I’d ever seen it. She wouldn’t look at Hank. “Shut up.”

I reached for Hank’s hand with one hand as I grabbed Joy’s with my other. “How long do you think it’ll take to decide if you want to get married to each other? Hank, I think, is an easy guess, but Joy? You might need some time. Only it’s September, so you kinda gotta figure that out in four months.”

I released their hands, smiling to myself when I saw their fingers clasp. “Joy can work from anywhere, so I guess I’ll take her ticket and fly back instead. Leave you two to talk.”

I snatched the papers hanging out of Joy’s bag, found her return flight ticket. “You guys go on, get out of here. I’ll take Joy’s hotel room.”

I wheeled my suitcase away from the three of them, feeling sad and happy. Angry, as Finn caught up to me. “You don’t want your bag?”

I snatched my carry-on. “See you around.”

“Want a ride? I’m staying at the same motel as you, and I rented a car.”

I faltered. The plan had been for me to get Hank to drop Joy off on our way to the ranch. I had no idea where the motel was. “How’d you know…never mind, I told you when you were pretending to be Hank. Why’d you rent a motel room? Your parents have their own house on the property.”

“I didn’t want to be around you and Hank anymore than I had to. Plus, I was hoping to get a chance to talk to Joy, find out if I should just forget you or try to steal you from my big brother.”

I stopped walking and the people approaching had to manoeuvre around us. “You what?”

Finn sighed. “Now I don’t have to steal you, just woo you.”

Butterflies tried to take flight in my belly, but my stomach growled. I stared into Finn’s eyes, thinking. “Fine. But start wooing with lunch. I’m starving.”

“Let’s get the car so we can ditch the baggage. Then I’ll take you for the best hamburgers in the world.”

I squinted before nodding. “Fine. Where’re these burgers?”

“About half an hour or so from here. At my mom’s. I’ll call, let her know we’re on our way, tell her I’m bringing her future daughter-in-law.”

I stopped in my tracks outside the rental place. “Not marrying Hank, remember?”

Finn held the door, winking at me. “Ah, but I’m still her son. She just wants us all married, she really won’t care which one of her kids you hook up with.”

“Not even if I go for Mary or Lydia?”

Finn shrugged. “Probably not. But you’re not their type. They like more boring partners, like accountants. They’re both engaged, but refuse to get married until at least January because of the stupid ‘have to get married by December 31^st‘ thing. Always were rebels.”

“But you’re taking me home to meet your mom, want me to marry you? Does that mean you want the ranch too?”

“Did you hear me say that? I couldn’t even type that when I was pretending to be Hank. I hated the ranch. Hated the smell most of all. I’m happy in Ontario.”

I watched as Finn filled out forms and showed his license, paid for the rental car. I had no idea what my future held, but for the first time in years, I felt genuine hope.

When Finn came back to me, I put my hand out to stop him from grabbing his suitcase. “If you ever lie to me again, hide things from me, I’ll feed you to the cows.”

Finn nodded, gave me a soft, sweet kiss. All my senses went into overdrive. My heart sighed. When he pulled away, his twinkling eyes met mine. “Deal. But you should know something. If you want to feed me to any farm animals if I hurt you – and I won’t, which is why I’m telling you this – you need a pig farm. Cows don’t eat people.”

I let him take my suitcase as I followed him out to the parking lot. “Pigs, huh? Well, so long as you don’t lie to me, I won’t have to make friends with any pig farmers.”

Finn put our bags in the trunk of the rental car. When he closed the lid, he pulled me into his arms. “I think I love you.”

“I think I love you, too. And the best part? I’d accepted being Tallulah Marigold Murphy. Now I won’t have to worry about a different name.”

Finn laughed until his lips met mine, then all thought fled, and only feelings remained. Good, sweet, genuine feelings, of hope, of tomorrow, of love and life.

“Gran, Mom’s home, you can go now,” Davey shouted from his perch at the front window. His gran grumbled from the living room, something about finishing her story first. Davey rolled his eyes, bored of the refrain. He watched his mom dig her bags out of the car and ran to open the front door for her.

“Can we go to the park?” Davey bounced on the step as his mother brushed past him.

“Davey, I just got home! Give me a minute.” Davey watched his mother put away milk and eggs, hopping from one foot to the other. “If you’re just going to stand there, put this away.”

Davey took the package of spaghetti and made a face. “Again?”

His mother blew out a breath and the hair on her forehead lifted. He knew when she did that he’d better watch his step. He scuffed his feet down the hall and opened the pantry door.

“Don’t just shove it in there!”

Davey snarled as he found room on the shelf, put the pasta there. “We’ve already got spaghetti.”

“Now you have more.” Gran patted his head as she carried her teacup out of the living room. “You good now, Carolyn? If I leave now, I can be home before commercials are over.”

Davey came back into the kitchen in time to see Gran swing through the door. “Her stupid stories, that’s all she cares about.”

“That’s funny, because I see a bowl in the dishrack, so that means you had cereal for breakfast, and a plate, so she must’ve made you a sandwich.”

Davey was bored, antsy. “I made my own, she just gave me the stuff. Can we go to the park? You promised.”

His mom sat down at the table, a cold glass of water besdie her, and her phone in her hand. “I said maybe we’d go tonight, if you were good.”

Davey picked up his foot to stomp then thought better of it. “I was good. Ask Gran. I played with my legos, and cars, and didn’t bug her during her shows. Well, okay, during her morning game show, but that was only because I couldn’t reach the cookies.”

His mom looked at him, the ghost of a smile from whatever she’d seen on her phone fading as she frowned. “You couldn’t reach the cookies because you weren’t allowed to have any, remember?”

Davey felt his irritation grow. “I didn’t know, but Gran told me. So I had stupid apple slices instead.”

His mother’s attention was back on her phone. “Go play for a bit, okay?”

Davey stormed down the hall to his bedroom, slamming his door as hard as he could. It wasn’t fair. He’d played with all his stupid toys all day, even the ugly cowboy and horse dolls his Gran had bought him at a garage sale. He threw himself on his bed, punching his pillow. It’d been ages, like forever, since he’d been to the park. He didn’t care about swinging or slides but there were bound to be other kids from school there to play with. It wasn’t fair. His mom could go on her phone while she sat waiting for him – she usually did anyhow. What difference did it make if she sat in her car or at the kitchen table? He’d done what she’d said, put away his laundry. He’d only given sass to Gran when she’d tried to make him eat his apples without honey to dip them in. Not his fault his mom decided he wasn’t allowed cookies for a snack anymore.

He glared at the stupid puzzle he’d tried to do, the one his mom bought at the discount store. Missing three pieces? There were only forty to begin with.

He slid off the bed and went into the living room. At least with Gran gone he could watch TV. He found a cartoon and sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, playing with the cars he’d left there earlier. He’d seen this one a hundred million times. He flicked through the channels, stopping when something caught his eye, like a cereal commercial, or loud jingle. His mom said when she was little, there was more to watch, but only certain days and times. All his friends in kindergarten talked about shows he couldn’t get on basic cable. His mom said it was because they were rich and didn’t have a useless ex paying a pittance in support. Davey figured she was right, because his dad was even poorer than they were – he lived in an apartment that was one room, two if you counted the washroom behind the curtain.

Davey found a show with kids playing outside, laughing and chasing each other. The park near his school was way better than the one on the show. He went back into the kitchen hoping his mom would be ready to go.

“Mom, can we go now?” His mother didn’t look up from her phone. “Mom!”

She tapped her screen. “What?”

“Can we go to the park?”

His mother got up and got her charger; Davey’s spirits soared until she sat back down and plugged her phone into the wall. “When my phone’s done charging.”

Davey peered at the screen. Her phone was at 4%. That would take forever and ever and ever. Not fair. “You’ve got a car charger!”

“The car overheats if I keep it running, you know that. It won’t charge if it’s not running.”

Davey wanted to scream, shout, cry, but he knew better. He went back to the living room, watched the stupid kids playing hide and seek. One of them said they had to go home for dinner and left. Alone. Davey watched as the group of kids went the other way to their houses, with no adults. They were his age. His heart started to pound in his chest. His mom always drove to the park, but it only took a minute. She never had time to walk plus she said they could stay longer if she drove. The park wasn’t even as far as the school, so why couldn’t he go alone? He crept to the front door, slid his feet into his old Velcro shoes, and opened the door as quietly as he could.

He tripped on the loose deckboard, almost fell and skinned his knees. He wiped his forehead, grateful he hadn’t. He hated blood and if he’d fallen, his mom would’ve been so angry she might spank him for sneaking out.

He went the long way around, not wanting to risk walking past Gran’s little house and getting caught. He stood on the street corner, trying to remember which way his mom turned when they went to the park. Figuring he better not risk crossing the busy street, he went right and trudged along, kicking stones and empty Styrofoam cups. He didn’t recognize the buildings he passed, but that didn’t concern him – it was hard to get a good feel for where you were when you were stuck in the middle of the backseat in a booster seat.

A bus passed, belching smoke. Davey wrinkled his nose and waved the air in front of his face. He started to wonder if he’d gone the wrong way when he’d been walking for ten hundred years and didn’t see anything familiar. Boarded up stores, a few cars, the distant boom-boom of someone playing a loud radio. He spotted a skinny cat skulking under a rusty car, and snapped his fingers, made a clicking, kissy sound.

“C’mere, kitty-kitty-kitty. C’mere.”

A squirrel ran across the road, and the cat tore off, chasing it into a jungle of tall grass. Davey wanted to stop the cat, but, almost thrillingly, wanted to see it hunt the tree-rat down. Davey ran as fast as he could, jumping over bags of garbage, over an old TV. There was a small building ahead, kind of like the one his dad lived in but in worse shape. The windows were broken on almost every floor, and the cat chased the squirrel around back of the building. Davey felt a stitch in his side so he gave up the chase, bent double, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Mrs. Jamieson would’ve been happy with the running he’d done, she kept telling him faster, keep going, during gym class in JK. He wondered if she’d be his senior kindergarten teacher this year, he could tell her all about keeping up with the cat and squirrel.

Davey wiped his sweaty face with the bottom of his t-shirt. He wanted some cold water to drink, then to dump over his head the way they did during televised sporting events – all sports. Davey thought he might like to be a baseball player, or else football, and that was one of the exciting things, seeing how they swigged water, swooshed more in their mouth, spit, then dumped the rest over their heads.

When the pain in his side stopped, when he could breathe normally, Davey turned in a slow circle. No cat, no squirrel, no street. Just this broken building, and broken pavement covered in dirt. He wondered if people lived there because there were broken bottles and cigarette butts scattered on the ground. This place made his house look fancy. He could hear cars coming from the other side of the building, so he shrugged and kept walking. Maybe he’d just taken a long way to the park.

He’d taken a couple of steps when someone spoke. “Hey, kid, what’re you doin’ here?”

Davey spotted a guy, younger than his mom but still old, like even older than the high school kids who walked past the park to go to the teenager hangout. “I’m going to the park.”

The guy snorted, spit into the tall grass by the stoop where he sat. “What park? Ain’t no park nowhere near here, kid.”

Davey froze, his thoughts spinning so fast in his head his heart couldn’t beat fast enough to keep up. “There’s not?”

The guy sucked on his cigarette, and Davey caught a scent of weird smelling tobacco. Not like what his dad used to smoke before he quit. Almost like a skunk. “Ain’t nothin’ round here but us rats.”

Davey let out a nervous laugh. “You’re not a rat.”

The guy squinted, staring hard at Davey. His eyes were all red, like his mom’s sometimes got when she was crying but lying to Davey saying she had something in them. Shiny, too, like glassy marbles or polished stones. His hair was shiny, too, beneath his dirty ball cap. “You lost?”

Davey shook his head. Somehow, lying seemed better than admitting the horrible truth. “Just took a wrong turn, followed a cat chasing a tree-rat.”

“Skinny cat, black and white?” Davey thought for a second, nodded. “That’s Mama. She got kittens nearby, prob’ly looking to feed so she can feed her babies. Did she catch the squirrel?”

Davey shrugged. “Can I see the kittens?”

The guy scraped his cigarette on the ground to put it out and tucked the butt in his pocket. “Nope. She keeps movin’ ’em whenever she sees a coy-ote. Think she’s in one of the apartments, but I ain’t gonna go messin’ ’round in there, never know who’s up to no good, who’s sleepin’.”

“People live here?” Davey gaped at the guy. “Do you live here?”

“Sometimes. At least ’til they come and tear it down. Whole area is bein’ leveled, but ’til then, sometimes I stay here.”

Davey didn’t like to admit he didn’t know things, but curiosity got the better of him. “Tear what down? What’s level mean?”

“Ka-boom, bang! Poof, gone.” The guy clapped his hands and moved his arms straight in front of him.

Davey thought he might like to see that. “Are they doing it today?”

The guy shrugged. “Prob’ly not, it’s end of the day for workin’ folk. No big equipment, neither. Figure they’d have heavy machines before they do the blowing up. What’s your name anyhow, kid?”

Davey was disappointed. “Davey. What’s yours?”

The guy stood, stretching. He was tall, and as skinny as the mama cat. “Clem. Nice to meetcha.”

Davey shook the filthy hand the guy offered. “Well, I better go.”

The guy pulled his cap off and scratched his head. “To the park. Right. What park you goin’ to? Might be goin’ the same way.”

“The one with the jungle gym, the tall one. The one at the school is lame.” Davey walked along beside Clem, grateful not to be alone. The smells here were like nothing he’d smelled anywhere. Rotting garbage, filth, skunky cigarette smoke, and worse.

“Near the skateboard park? Like across the street a bit?”

Davey shrugged. “Think so. I’ve never been allowed to go there, but the teenagers all hang out near there.”

Clem whistled through his teeth. “You sure got turned ’round real good. Ain’t nowhere near here.”

Davey felt his heartrate pick up again, felt a bit of panic. “How do I get there?”

“It’s your lucky day, lil Davey. I’m headin’ there. Got some business with the teenagers at the skateboard park.”

“What kind of business? My mom says the older kids are trouble, do bad stuff.” Davey kicked a rock and watched it roll into the tall grass beside the cracked pavement.

Clem laughed until he coughed. “Your mom’s smart. But if I tell you why I’m goin’ there, you gotta promise not to tell.”

Davey walked beside Clem, contemplating his choices. Ms. Wilkes, the principal at school, had given his class so much trouble last year because they’d been mean to the supply teacher, and while only Joe had been the one to put gum on her seat, everyone had known and no one told the supply teacher. Davey had felt terrible, the teacher had almost cried, and the principal told them that she was new, brand-new to teaching, and how horrible it was that everyone had kept Joe’s secret, how they should be ashamed of themselves. But Davey wanted to know what went on at the big kid park, wanted to know what kind of business Clem did. Finally, he crossed his fingers behind his back. “I promise.”

“M’k then. My little bro, he’s sixteen. He goes there late at night, and I go to make sure he don’t get into trouble, y’know? Like that he’s not drinkin’, smokin’, stealin’.”

“Do you drink? You smoke, I saw you put the weird half smoked cigarette in your pocket. Do you steal?” Davey tripped on a broken bit of sidewalk, he was staring so intently at Clem.

Clem righted Davey and continued walking. They walked for so long, Davey thought he wouldn’t answer. Finally, Clem took his ball cap off, smoothed his hair, and jammed it back on his head. “I do all that, and more. That’s why I look out for Calvin. Make sure he don’t get into the same sh—stuff I did. Meet the same guys I did.”

Davey didn’t understand, and his confusion made him forget his manners. “Why’s it a secret? Don’t you tell Calvin to stay away from the bad guys? And why don’t you live with your brother? And what stuff, besides drinking, smoking, and stealing?”

Clem groaned. “Shoulda kept my mouth shut. That’ll teach me, huh? Calvin don’t know I’m there. I just watch out, y’know? The guys I’m tryin’ to make sure Calvin don’t get friendly with? They know not to talk to him, but some of ’em are a—jerks. So now and then, I swing by, make sure they’re not talkin’ to Calvin.”

“Is that why you don’t live with Calvin? Is he mad at you because you drink, smoke, steal, and other stuff? That’s stupid though. If I had a big brother, I wouldn’t care if he did stupid stuff, as long as he took me to the park, hung out with me, talked to me.”

Davey thought Clem might be irritated with him because he blew out a breath like his mom did when she got annoyed. “I haven’t lived with Calvin in a long time, since he was like ten. And it’s not Calvin so much as my parents. They said I wasn’t never allowed to talk to him again.”

They were approaching a busy street, not the same one where Davey had been, but somehow reassuring after his stint in the barren wastelands they were emerging from. “That’s just dumb. Maybe Calvin wants to talk to you. Maybe Calvin wants to see you.”

“Dunno. I don’t do the same stuff I did, y’know. I still smoke the wacky, but that’s legal. Like drink is. But don’t do that much, neither. Thought about goin’ back, maybe makin’ friends with ’em. Problem is, ain’t no one wants to help someone out, y’know? Like I been bad, done bad, so I’m forever gonna be bad because no one thinks bad can turn good.”

Davey thought for a few seconds, shook his head. “That’s dumb. My dad, he got a dewey eye –”

“DUI?” Clem snorted and Davey glared at him.

“Yeah. He went to jail and everything. My mom left him because of the dew-DUI. But when my dad came out? He got a job, says it’s not a great job, but if he keeps going, keeps trying, eventually they’ll let him move up. Not really sure what that means, except he’ll make more money. And then he can move into an apartment with real rooms, maybe even two bedrooms so I can sleep over. He doesn’t drink anymore, either. He’s like old, really old, like my mom, but not as old as Gran. I think he’s thirty? Mom gave me a card to give him for his birthday, and it had a three and a zero.” Davey considered his wish, the wish he’d had since his dad went to jail, and decided to share with Clem because while he didn’t understand Clem’s secret, he felt he owed him one. “I’ve got a secret, too. My mom still loves my dad. And he still loves her. I wish they’d get back together more than anything.”

Clem frowned down at Davey as they joined the heavy pedestrian traffic. “You sure you not just dreamin’ there, Dave? Like, don’t most kids wish their parents’d get back together some day?”

“Nah. I heard my mom telling her friend, when I was supposed to be sleeping. She’s scared to tell him, in case it makes him drink again.” Davey wasn’t sure that was exactly what his mom had said to Beth but figured it was close enough. “And my dad? He gives all his money to Mom, as much as he can. He goes to the foodbank so he can give her more. I’m not allowed to tell her though. He bought her chocolate ice cream for her birthday but he made me lie and say I’d found the money in the sofa cushions and it was my idea. I don’t like chocolate ice cream so she believed me that I bought it for her, but I wanted to tell her I’d have bought Neapolitan because then we’d both have ice cream. Dad’s favourite is vanilla, mine’s strawberry, and Mom’s a sucker for chocolate.”

Clem put a hand out to stop Davey from walking when the walk sign started to flash. “Maybe you should just tell your parents, y’know?”

“What, break their secrets?” Davey considered. He’d been tempted, many times, but remembered what the principal said. “Maybe.”

Davey heard sirens, tires squealing. Clem shielded Davey as they backed away, looking everywhere for whatever was the cause of the ruckus.

“Freeze, put your hands up!” A police man shouted from somewhere ahead of Clem. Davey poked his head from around Clem, trying to get a glimpse of whatever was going on. His jaw dropped when he saw the cop had a gun pointed at them. “Let the boy go!”

Two more officers ran at them, one grabbing Davey and roughly pulling him away. Clem’s ballcap flew through the air and landed on the road as the other officer forced him to the ground, handcuffs circling his thin wrists.

“Stop it! Stop it! You’re hurting him!” Davey screamed as the officer pulled him towards a cruiser. “Stop, please stop!”

“You’re okay, son, you’re safe now.”

“I’m not your son! Stop, they’re hurting him!”

Two officers were pulling Clem roughly to his feet. A crowd had gathered to watch. Davey felt tears burning as he fought the officer holding him back, he didn’t care who saw him cry. He heard a car screech to a halt, two more doors slammed.

“Davey! Davey! Thank God you’re okay!” Davey heard his mother screaming as he turned towards her.

Davey, caught by surprise, forgot for a moment the terror. Shock wiped everything else away when he realised that it was his dad, not his gran, with his mom. “Mom? Dad?”

“We’re here, we’re here. What happened?” Davey’s mom knelt in front of him, but his dad strode towards the two cops about to throw Clem in the car. Davey felt sick, his dad was storming like he was going to kill.

“Dad! No! He’s my friend!” Davey broke free of the officer, knocked over his mom, as he ran towards Clem. “Stop!”

The officers tried to block him, but Davey squeaked under their outstretched arms and wrapped his arms around Clem’s waist. “If anyone’s been bad, it’s me. I snuck out, and Clem was helping me get to the park. He wants to make sure the bad guys don’t bug the teenagers, and he’s my friend!”

Davey’s dad put a hand on Davey’s shoulder, staring at Clem. “Davey, let go, okay?”

“Not until the police promise not to take him away.” Davey clung tighter to Clem’s middle. “Make them take the cuffs off, please Dad?”

“We have to fill out a report, get statements.” The officer was talking to Davey’s mom, but he uncuffed Clem. “Don’t take off, make our job harder.”

Clem rubbed his wrists as he nodded. “Whatever. Get off, kid.”

Davey didn’t like Clem’s tone but then he saw where Clem was looking. A group of teenagers were standing on the corner, gawking. One of them held Clem’s hat. Davey thought he might look a bit like Clem, except his eyes weren’t all red and shiny. On a hunch, Davey ran towards them, stood in front of the one with Clem’s hat. “Are you Calvin?”

The guy nodded, still staring at Clem. Instead of grabbing the hat, Davey grabbed his arm. “Come on, come here.”

The crowd was dispersing, all the police cars but for one pulling away. Davey led Calvin to Clem, his eyes on his new friend. Clem brushed his hands through his stringy, greasy hair. “Hey, Cal.”

Calvin nodded, his eyes never leaving Clem. Calvin’s cheek clenched, and Davey started to wonder if he’d made a mistake because Calvin looked like his dad did when he was angry. Then, before Davey registered the movement, Calvin flung his arms around Clem.

Davey stood on the sidewalk, smiling up at Clem. Then he saw Clem’s eyes were red and glassy again, only this time because of tears. Davey wasn’t sure, but he thought maybe they were what his mom called happy tears. Like when she cried at the end of a cheesy movie.

“We still need to fill out the report.” The cop cleared his throat.

“Can we go home? Fill it out there?” Davey forced a yawn. “I’m kinda beat and sh-stuff. Can Clem and Calvin come over? Fill out the report at our place?”

Davey rode in the cop car with Clem and Calvin, insisting he had to to make sure they didn’t take Clem to jail. He watched his parents as the cruiser drove past, hugging on the sidewalk. Who knew going to the park could be such an adventure, and have a happy ending?

 

 

 

 

 

“I got off work early today, for the long weekend.” I spread the blanket my mother had made for Glory many moons ago on the grass beside Dennis. I’d been using the blanket (embroidered with colourful birds and flowers) every single day for two years, never washed it once, and other than fading from sun and rain, it still looked like new. “I’ll sit with you, since I sat with Glory the past few times.”

I put my big purse on one corner, kicked my shoes to the other, and lay down on the edge on the opposite side. I traced my fingers over the letters etched in stone – Dennis Templeman, January 7^th-April 19^th – and felt tears burn my eyes. Thirty-eight years-old when he died, we should’ve celebrated his fortieth over four months ago. “I’m still sorry I didn’t go to Scotland like we’d planned, but I just couldn’t. You understand, don’t you?”

A breeze rustled through the leaves in the trees behind our row. I closed my eyes, let the wind lift my hair and dry my tears. “I knew you would. Maybe in a few years, for my fortieth, I’ll make it there. Probably not.”

The breeze stopped and I heard the birds before I saw them. Cardinals and blue jays, winging through the air from tree to tree. “And hello to you, too, Glory. Mommy’s here.”

I stretched my arm over Dennis’s side of the stone to Glory’s, traced her letters – Glory Templeman, February 3^rd-April 21^st – and smiled at the carved cardinal between her daddy’s name and hers. “You fought so hard, baby girl. I can’t believe you’d be six now. You never got to go to school, but I showed you the pictures I took on what should’ve been your first day of Junior Kindergarten, remember? I think you would’ve liked your school. I drove past on my way here, saw your first friend, Ruthie from down the street, who’d have been in your class. She was playing in the park, I bet she’s excited to be starting grade one on Tuesday.”

The birds flitting overhead soared out of sight, and I felt alone. Two years and four months had passed, yet the grief never faded. Time doesn’t heal anything, not really. Not when your heart is buried six feet below, covered by dirt and grass. I dug my iPad out of my purse, found the movie I’d downloaded for Glory, and set the tablet over Glory’s name so she could watch and listen while I talked to Dennis. I knew anyone who wandered past would think I was crazy, but I didn’t care. I had some things I needed to say, and coming here every day beat the loneliness at home.

“Dennis, there’s something I need to talk to you about. Mark, at work, asked me out again. Of course, I told him no. But I’ve been thinking –” I swiped impatiently at the tear that escaped. “This is so hard. You and Glory are together, and I’m all alone. The tenants I leased the house to want to buy it. I’m thinking maybe I should sell, buy a different house. Move out of the apartment I rented after…well, after you left.”

The gentle breeze brought the scent of fresh flowers, likely from the new grave I’d noticed had been dug the day before. “The house is too big for me, and holds too many memories. Those first few days after the accident, with everyone cramming inside while I sat vigil with Glory, then after, when…” I swiped at the tears streaming freely now. “Those are the memories the house holds. I’ve got the rest in my head, and in my heart, but every time I go near the house, I remember the sad, the bad, the angry. I’m shot back in time, to April two years ago, the worst time of my life. The playset you built for Glory, with the dream we’d have more kids, is still there, but all I see are the empty swings, the unused rope ladder and slides. The couple renting, they’re expecting twins. I’m thinking they should have the house, own it, and fill it with their own happy memories, replace the sad ones I see and feel whenever I’m near.”

The breeze stilled and only the faint drone from the movie filled the silence. The cardinal, a male because he was so vibrantly red and beautiful, flew overhead and landed on a low branch in the pine tree behind our row. I heard his familiar cheer-cheer-cheer, his pretty-pretty-pretty, and the answering song of the female somewhere nearby. The breeze picked up, and the scent of gladiolas filled my senses.

“I’m glad,” I smiled through my tears. “I’ve had my eye on a cute little bungalow near the river, nowhere near as big as our house but it’s so pretty. I think Glory would’ve loved it, you too for that matter. But I have to pick something for me, and I think this is the one.”

I heard the jay-jay call of a blue jay, and the cardinal took flight. “Wonder if they’re friends today or fighting?”

The cardinal landed in the tree the female had called from, and a male jay perched above them. They seemed to be talking. “Glory, you’d love this. They’re friends today. Wonder where the girl jay is?”

The breeze picked up and the birds took to the sky. I watched until the blinding sun blurred my vision. “Go back to your movie, honey.”

I heard the drone of a lawnmower start up, not in the cemetery but one of the houses nearby. “That’s the other thing, the house? Mostly nature gardens. Hardly any grass to cut. So many trees, I could hang a billion feeders. You and Glory could follow the cardinal and the jay, come see me.”

I traced the embroidered cardinal on the blanket. Glory hadn’t even been born yet when Mom gave it to me as a shower gift. Dennis had hung it on the wall until Glory was two, begged us to let her use it. Mom insisted we let her, saying she’d crafted it for Glory, to keep Glory warm, and it was a shame we’d turned it into a showpiece. Glory’s first word hadn’t been mama or dada, but bird. She loved cardinals the best, and the cardinals were always in the cemetery. “I think I’ve said this before, but I think you, Glory, attract the cardinals. I asked the groundskeeper if there’d always been so many pretty birds but he said he didn’t think so. I told Grandma that the jays come because of the pretty cardinals you loved so much. She says I’m crazy, that blue jays and cardinals don’t get along, but every time I’m here, they seem to. I think when they don’t, they’re only playing tag because they’re all friends again the next time. That’s because of you, isn’t it, Glory?”

The music I heard from the tablet was intense, almost spooky, and I figured that’s why Glory hadn’t responded. “Dennis? I don’t want to date Mark, that would be too weird to date someone you knew, but I’m thinking –”

The breeze picked up when I broke off my sentence. “Sorry, sorry. It’s so hard to say. But Dennis? Do you think you could ever forgive me? If I decided, someday, to say yes to a man who asked me out?”

The cloying scent of the gladiolas was as strong as they’d been the day of the double funeral, when I’d laid my husband and my daughter to rest together. “I figured you wouldn’t want me to be lonely. Not that I’m looking for someone. Not that there’s anyone who could ever replace you. I’ve just been thinking, late at night, how lonely I am, how much I miss having someone to hug when I’m sad, someone to share good news with. To go out for dinner with. The mother’s on that on-line grief support group keep saying that I’m still alive, but that I’m not living. At first, I’d log off when they said stuff like that, but now? Now, I’m wondering if maybe they’re right. Did I stop living the day you died? Or maybe it was the day Glory died. It’s like the fog closed in the minute the police knocked on my door, and lately? Lately it feels like the sun is trying to poke through, chase away the fog.”

A fat bumblebee buzzed past my ear, probably on their way to the new grave’s flowers. “I hope your new neighbour is nice, that whoever loved them visits often.”

I rolled onto my back, watching the fluffy clouds rolling in. “Is Glory still as she was? The day she died? Or is she growing up? I’ve asked ministers and priests, all religions, but everyone seems to have a different answer. I want to keep seeing Glory as she was. Inquisitive, funny, smart, and oh-so-stubborn. It hurts to think she might be growing up without me, where I can’t see her.”

The birds were back, the females in the lead with the males cheer-cheer-cheering, jay-jaying, and I smiled. I heard the rustle in the trees behind us, knew they’d landed in the tall pine and not the maple nearby. “That cloud? To the west? It looks like a heart, the way Glory used to draw them.”

“I’m going to call the tenants, Jenny and Tom, going to tell them to go ahead, to get a mortgage to buy the house. I told them I’d get a lawyer to draft up a sale, using the rent they’ve paid for the past eighteen months as a down payment. Once we get that settled, I’ll go back to the realtor and discuss the bungalow. The money from the big house will more than pay for the little one, and I’ll have money left over. I know, I know, I’m a savvy shopper. That was one of the things you loved best about me. I’ll invest the difference, just like I did the life insurance money. No, I don’t know what I’m saving for, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out someday. And if the little bungalow is gone once I’ve sold? It wasn’t meant to be and I’ll stay in my little bachelor apartment a bit longer, until I find my place.”

The birds cheered me on, sang their hearts out. “Glad you guys approve. Glory’s movie is over, I should get going. Mom says maybe I should start coming every other day, but not yet. Maybe soon. You and Glory don’t mind, do you?”

I put my shoes on and got to my feet, the breeze picking up and the birds continued to croon. I shook the blanket out, folded it, and put the iPad back in my purse. “I’ll see you both tomorrow, okay? I love you to the moon and back, forever and a day, always.”

I touched my fingers to my mouth as I knelt over the stone, planting a kiss first on Glory’s name, then Dennis’s. “If I decide to go out with the girls tomorrow, I’ll be here early morning or late evening, otherwise I’ll be here for lunch.”

I meandered along the paved path, taking the long route so I could check out the new arrival. The small sign next to a man’s inscribed name made me smile instead of cry. Together, finally, some ten years after he’d passed. “Look out for her, Dennis. Show her around. You too, Glory. I know all about how hard it is to be in a world by yourself, at least help her find her man. Who knows where he’s wandered while he waited.”

The birds flitted from tree to tree, following me as I made my way to my car as they often did. I passed the small pond with the tinkling fountain, and as I rounded the bend, I bumped into someone, staggered a few steps. “Oh, pardon me.”

The man stumbled backwards, his baseball cap falling off. “I’m so sorry.”

I looked into blue eyes rimmed with black lashes, eyes I’d seen a few times. “Kent, right?”

He scooped up his hat and put it back on, nodding. “Jenna, right?”

I grinned. Two years and we finally knew each other’s names. “I don’t usually come this way, but I wanted to pay my respects to the new arrival.”

“Me too, otherwise we’d have met up at the other end, but likely not bumped into each other. I should’ve known you were here since the cardinals were busy today.”

We fell into step, back along the row he’d come from. “They only come out when I’m here? I see the jays all the time.”

I glanced down at the graves I knew Kent had been visiting. Jason Williams, November 30^th-September 5^th and Kelly Williams, March 1^st-November 30^th. Kent’s wife had died during childbirth twelve years ago, Jason had died of cancer four years ago, at eight. My heart squeezed. “You’re early.”

Kent shrugged, nodding. “I come more often near the dates, you know? Until today, I hadn’t visited since March.”

I wondered if I’d ever reach the stage where a few times a year was enough. “How’re you doing?”

Kent shrugged again. “Gone on a few dates, took up golf. You?”

I snorted. “I’m the same as ever. Although I told Dennis and Glory I might start coming every other day. Mostly to make my mom happy. She’s worried, thinks I’m depressed. I told her that I was depressed, but I feel like this year I’m at least thinking of tomorrow, and the day after. Maybe not next year, but it’s a start.”

“You’ll do what’s right as it’s right.” Kent patted my arm gently. “Like me. I was ready to date but then Jason got sick, and it’s only been the past year or so I’ve been trying it out. Only it’s hard to meet someone who understands. They get jealous when they ask if I still love Kelly, or they get angry that I still bring her flowers for her birthday.”

I patted his arm this time. “That’s what I’m afraid of, too. That I’ll be alone for the rest of my life because the part of me that loved Dennis so much will never die. At least I’m past the point where the thought of being with someone makes me physically ill.”

We both laughed as we wandered along, not in a hurry. “I bought a plot close to Kel and Jase, isn’t that pathetic?”

“Not really the right person to ask saying as I did the same thing. Couldn’t get too close to them, I waited too long, but I got one near the pond. Figured it was as good a place as any.”

“Eleven seventy-two? I’m next door. Funny how that works, isn’t it? The groundskeeper suggested it to me a few months ago, said there were only two left in this section.”

“We must’ve bought at the same time. Glen told me the same thing.” I smiled to myself, thinking how the groundskeeper had hesitated to approach me, how I’d jumped at the chance. Future real estate, my forever home, near Dennis and Glory. “My dad’s near the new arrival, that’s where Mom will go when it’s her time. Figured I’d be close to everyone some day. At first, after I bought it, I was sad. Couples should be together and all that, but then again, parents should never have to bury their children, and I couldn’t have handled knowing Glory was in the ground alone, Dennis in the ground alone. Plus, if I ever do find someone someday, I can be buried with him.”

We walked in silence until I noticed the cardinals and the jays flitting and singing over the gravestones. “We’ve got company.”

“Blue jays were Kelly’s favourite, and Jason loved the baseball team. I used to think they were a sign, when I’d come to visit, a male and a female jay.”

“They are. Don’t sound like you’re doubting it. And Glory loved cardinals. I think the jays are your Jason and my Glory playing together, watched over by Dennis and Kelly.”

Kent walked on without speaking. I wondered if I’d said something to upset him, or scare him. Maybe I was crazy, but who did it hurt, to take comfort from these small signs? “You know something? I think you’re right. The cardinals joined the jays around the time Dennis and Glory showed up.”

We left the cemetery. I recognized his old pick-up truck parked a few aisles over from my little car. “Guess I’ll see you late fall.”

Kent nodded, but before we parted, he put his hand on my shoulder. “Have you got plans tonight?”

I stared at him, confused and surprised. I didn’t know what to say – part of me wanted to say I didn’t, the other part of me wanted to run back to Dennis, throw myself on top of the grave and weep for considering it.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I just thought of all the people in the world, you might understand.” Kent’s eyes were sad, but he smiled. “Plus, you’re really pretty.”

Kent started to walk away. I saw the cardinals in the tree, the male and the female. The pair of blue jays were on a higher branch. “Can I go home and wash up first? Only I expect a decent restaurant if I’m going on my first date in years.”

Kent hesitated. “Only if you like steak. Otherwise I’ll meet you at the coffee shop for a cup of coffee and a doughnut in ten.”

I thought of the steaks Dennis and I had eaten over the years, fallen in love over. “I live in the little building near the steakhouse. Pick me up at seven.”

The birds trilled and sang, fluttered high and soared. For the first time in years, I felt hope blossoming in my chest. The clouds were fluffy and so white against the blue, blue like Kent’s eyes. Four birds flew overhead, soaring higher and higher, and I waved to them, blew them a kiss. “Thanks, honey.”

 

Calliope felt niggles of worry, negative feelings she wasn’t used to and definitely didn’t enjoy. Her only link to the ‘real’ world was her cell phone, and she was staring at the ringing device with dread in her belly. She finally swiped the screen to answer. “Hello?”

“I’m looking for a Ms. Uh, Calleopie? Jones?” The voice was hesitant and stumbled over her name.

“Call-eye-oh-pee. That’s me.”

“Oh good. Ms. Jones?” The uncertainty in the woman’s voice turned confident. “I regret to inform you that your request to lease a unit has been denied.”

Calliope uncrossed her fingers and blew out a breath. She’d been expecting bad news and the confirmation eased her troubled mind. “Right-o, cheerio. Thanks anyhow.”

Calliope clicked the disconnect circle on her phone’s screen and grinned at Mrs. Harper. “Funny how that works, isn’t it? You stress and worry all day, hoping and waiting, dreaming and praying, then you don’t get good news, and – poof – the negative energy floats away.”

Mrs. Harper patted Calliope’s hand reassuringly. “You’ll find your place, I know you will. And like I told you last week, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”

Calliope shook her head, her unruly blonde curls bouncing into her face. “Now, now, Mrs. Harper. I’ve already stayed too long.”

Mrs. Harper moved her wheelchair around the table as Calliope stood up. “If I said I wasn’t ready for you to go?”

Calliope leaned over to hug the older woman. “I’d say it’s not like you to lie, Mrs. Harper. You’ve been generous, letting me stay longer than you needed me, but if I stay too long, we’ll become dependent.”

Mrs. Harper nodded sadly. “You came into my life when I was ready to give up on everything. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me.”

Calliope picked up her backpack, shrugging the straps high on her thin shoulders. “We helped each other. You’ve got my number. As long as my sister keeps paying the bill, you’ll always be able to reach me.”

Calliope knelt to hug the older woman, wiped the tears from her lined face, and kissed her cheek. Without another word, she skipped to the door. With a last wink, she was gone.

*

Calliope sat on a fallen tree at the lake, throwing stones and skimming them across the glassy surface. Thoughts flittered in and out of her mind, much like Calliope herself flitted through life. Until recently, Calliope had been satisfied to drift like wood in water, from shore to shore. The past few months, Calliope had started to think perhaps she wanted more. To put down roots somewhere, the way her sister had. Maybe not to get married, have kids, but to have an address to go with the phone. She could still be a free spirit, couldn’t she, with a home? Somewhere to go when there wasn’t anywhere else?

She skipped the last smooth pebble across the water’s surface, counting ten ripples before the stone succumbed to gravity and Calliope picked up her buzzing phone. “I actually thought you’d have called earlier.”

“Where are you?” Wilhelmina’s curt tone made Calliope smile.

“At the lake.”

“What lake? Where? You turned off the tracking on your phone.”

Calliope slid her feet into her sandals and stood. She did a half turn, scanning the lush green surroundings, the nature unimpeded by society destruction. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I didn’t turn off the tracking, the service here in the wilderness is sketchy.”

“How long ago did you leave Mrs. Harper’s?”

Calliope frowned. “What time is it?”

“Four.”

“Four days and four hours ago.” Calliope skirted around a large puddle from the rain early that morning. “Give or take a few minutes.”

“Calliope Jones, you were supposed to let me know before you left.” Wilhelmina’s angry outburst made Calliope hold the phone away from her ear. “You didn’t get the unit?”

“Nope. Not meant to be,” Calliope shrugged as she thought of the small storage until she’d tried to rent. Her sister had agreed to pay the rental fees until Calliope could figure out a way to pay for it herself.

Wilhelmina let out an exasperated breath. “You haven’t found someone in need yet, have you?”

Calliope hadn’t found anyone since she’d gotten off the bus on the highway and followed her whims into wilderness. Her cell barely worked, and she still had two fully charged battery packs in her bag. “Nope. Kind of glad, recharging my batteries with Mother Nature — though sleeping under the stars isn’t so much fun when it’s lightning.”

Wilhelmina cleared her throat. “I know you said you were done with helping –”

Calliope frowned. “I never said that. I just said I was taking a little break. Maybe find myself a place where I can leave stuff to come back to.”

“Okay, sorry, I misspoke. I know you’d said you were thinking of setting down roots and that’s why you wanted the storage unit.” Calliope grinned knowing Wilhelmina was choosing her words very carefully. Part of her wondered what Wilhelmina wanted, the other part wanted to hang up and wait for her to try again another day. “Since the, uh, new digs fell through, I, er –”

“Should I hang up now?” Calliope let out a low laugh. “This is hurting you.”

Silence stretched, interrupted only by the call of a loon across the lake. “Will you help me? Please?”

Calliope closed her eyes where she stood, trying to block out the negative feelings her sister’s words created. She owed her sister so much, yet wasn’t capable or repaying the debt.

“Calliope?”

Calliope’s eyes popped open. “I’ll be there.”

*

Calliope spotted her sister sitting in her shiny black car before Wilhelmina saw her. She used the extra time to study her favourite person in the world. Her sister’s hair was still dark, but Calliope thought she saw a bit of silver in the sleek strands, or was that a trick of the light? She hadn’t seen her sister in eight years, seven months, and thirteen days.

There was a child’s car seat in the back, but it was empty. So Wilhelmina had come alone. Calliope instinctively knew she wasn’t ready for whatever Wilhelmina wanted.

Calliope tried the door, wasn’t surprised to find it locked. She rapped her knuckles on the glass and was rewarded with the click of locks releasing. As soon as she slid into the car, the locks clicked again. “Hey, Sis.”

“God, you’re filthy.” Wilhelmina’s blue eyes widened in horror. “I’m sorry.”

Calliope waved a hand to waft away the apology. “I cleaned myself up but then no one would stop to give me a drive half the time. The bus driver this afternoon let me ride for free, so that was a bonus.”

“I transferred some money to your account.” Wilhelmina’s hungry eyes stayed glued to Calliope’s face as if feasting. “You could’ve bought a bus ticket from cottage country right to the station.”

“I told you I haven’t been able to get a new bank card since –” Calliope closed her eyes, thought hard. “Before I stayed with Mr. Smythe.”

Wilhelmina’s blue eyes widened, her mouth opened in a comical ‘o’ of surprise. Calliope grinned as she tucked tangled curls behind her ear.

“The people I help sometimes take care of me too, you know.”

Wilhelmina recovered herself, snapping her mouth closed. She went to start the car, realized it was still running, and pulled out of the lot. “The kids are with their father for the night.”

Calliope turned the words over in her head. She didn’t talk to her sister as often as she talked to the kids, but surely her sister or her niece would’ve mentioned if Stephen didn’t live with them anymore? “Right.”

“I was going to take you out to dinner, but –” Wilhelmina cast a sidelong glance at Calliope.

“I’m disgusting.” Calliope beamed, nodding her agreement. “I got rained on two nights in a row at the lake, cleaned off in the lake, washed my clothes, too. Then no one would stop to pick me up, and I got several dust baths from cars driving into the dirt. Oh, and one car hit a puddle and drenched me with muddy spray.”

“You know they do that on purpose, don’t you? Drive on the shoulder to stir up dust?” Wilhelmina kept shooting glances at Calliope.

Calliope shrugged. “Maybe. I choose to believe that they’re swerving to avoid a squirrel or the sun got in their eyes, then I thank the heavens that they missed me. You know, that my guardian angel was looking out for me like always.”

Wilhelmina’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I can’t take you home, the kids and Stephen are having a movie night. Let’s get take-out.”

Calliope shrugged her agreement. She had no appetite, but felt better knowing her sister and Stephen were still married. Being in the city, so close to the ghosts, made her clench in ways that weren’t good for her mind. She watched vaguely familiar buildings and streets pass as they headed out of the downtown core. Calliope and Wilhelmina had lived on these streets as often as they’d lived in the homes of strangers. These streets were what Calliope remembered when other people reminisced about their childhoods, about birthday parties and school trips and family outings.

“Seems a lot more these days.” Calliope hadn’t realised she’d spoken aloud until Wilhelmina tensed beside her. “Never mind.”

“You could’ve been talking about anything — buses, cars, buildings. Yet I knew automatically you were talking about the homeless.” Wilhelmina’s laugh held no mirth. “Just proves that no matter how far from the streets I get, I’m still the homeless girl watching out for her baby sister.”

Calliope studied her sister’s profile, tried to understand the emotions behind the tone. “You sound like you feel guilty or some other silly sad thing.”

Wilhelmina scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. Calliope was amazed the colour hadn’t come off. “I know you said –”

Calliope waited for her sister to regroup, watching the sights as they passed. They were getting on the highway, racing out of the despair and into the money, the hope. Where Wilhelmina had ended up. “Wil?”

“Stephen suggested – I thought…” Wilhelmina glanced helplessly at Calliope. “Will you help Marcus?”

Calliope couldn’t help herself. She started to giggle, then had to clutch her tummy to catch her breath. Giddy relief made the whole thing funnier. “Marcus? Rich and powerful Marcus? Does he need a maid? Because if that’s why I’m here, you can forget it. My housekeeping skills are not my strong suit saying as I’ve never had a house to keep.”

“Are you done?” Wilhelmina tapped her fingers on the steering wheel while Calliope tried to stifle her giggles. They were getting off the highway when Calliope finally swiped her streaming eyes and frowned, confused.

“What’s wrong?”

“Let’s order our food, then we’ll sit and talk. Better I explain properly anyhow.”

Calliope put her hand on her sister’s arm. “Just tell me now.”

Wilhelmina turned into a parking lot with a fast food drive thru and got in line behind a pick-up truck. “Marcus isn’t well, Calliope.”

Calliope felt terrible for laughing. “Cancer? No, probably his heart, he’s always been a work-a-holic. Earns money, then stresses it’s not more money.”

“No, he’s physically fine,” Wilhelmina huffed out in a rush. “Your usual?”

“If my usual is a chicken sandwich, then yes. Oh, and iced tea. Now, if it’s not physical, it’s…mental? Surely not Marcus Graham, the high and mighty.” Calliope tucked her wild curls behind her ears while she waited for Wilhelmina to order. Marcus, Stephen’s cousin, was best man at their wedding. Calliope had enjoyed looking at him, but tuned the rest of him out of her psyche. She’d learned at an early age to ignore appearances.

Wilhelmina rolled up her window as she inched the car ahead in line. “Marcus had, er, a bit of a breakdown last year.”

“Surely he can afford the best doctors and meds. Why are you telling me?”

“Because the doctors don’t help, the medicine doesn’t help. He’s just not –” Wilhelmina scraped her lip with her teeth again. She blew out a breath, sighed. “Quite right.”

Calliope snorted. “What, you mean he’s working non stop, buying up and selling things at a frenetic pace? News flash, that’s Marcus. Whether right or wrong, that’s who he is, Wil.”

Wilhelmina shook her head as she opened her window to pay and took the bag of food and their drinks. Calliope juggled the drink tray, annoyed they’d wasted one for two drinks. When Wilhelmina was done, she pulled ahead to a spot next to a table covered by an umbrella. The car reeked of grease, turning Calliope’s stomach. Wilhelmina opened her door. “I hate eating in the car. Let’s go.”

Calliope left her backpack on the floor of the front seat and followed her sister, carrying the drinks. When they sat down, Calliope sniffed and made a face — the stink of the city wasn’t much better than the grease laden air in the car. She took the bottle of hand sanitizer her sister passed her and squirted some on her hands. “My tummy’s already upset, so let’s talk about something else while we eat. How’re the kids?”

Wilhelmina nibbled a fry, her face lit with a huge smile. “Good. Bobby’s toilet training already, and Wendy started school last week.”

“Wendy said she’d already learned everything and didn’t need to go back when we video chatted after her first day.” Calliope sipped her drink. “Figured she probably had with you for her mother. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t know how to read and write, wouldn’t know two plus two is six.”

Wilhelmina slapped Calliope with a wad of napkins. “I can’t take credit for Wendy, she’s just a sponge learning everything everywhere. She reminds me of you that way. You were so inquisitive, and you were reading like her. Just unfortunate for us that you were limited on materials.”

“I dunno, I learned a lot from public bathroom walls.” Calliope bit into her sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. She swallowed, wiped the mayo from her cheek, and laughed. “Remember that one at the park by the beach?”

Wilhelmina’s cheeks turned pink. “I was trying to figure out how to get us out of there without the CAS lady seeing, and you come out asking what s-e-x meant, and why the illustration on the wall showed two men playing leap frog.”

Calliope laughed harder and choked on a fry. “That CAS lady was horrified. That’s when they tried to split us up because they had no homes with room for two.”

“We managed to get away though.” Wilhelmina’s blue eyes got shiny with unshed tears. “I should’ve let her take you at least.”

Calliope pushed her food away. “Yeah, you should have. Then you could have stopped trying to take care of me so much and taken care of yourself more.”

Wilhelmina pushed her food away as well. “I made a lot of mistakes, Calli. Ruined your life because of them.”

Calliope fanned her face to dry her own tears. “You saved my life. If you hadn’t brought me with you when you ran away, I’d be dead by now. Become like them, probably worse.”

“You wouldn’t have been like them. You’re nothing like them. You were just a little kid, I should’ve left, called the Children’s Aid Society from the phone booth down in the lobby on my way.”

“Oh yeah, because the CAS would’ve been so much better than where I was.” Calliope rolled her eyes. Deciding the talk had gotten too deep, she pulled her food back and picked up the rest of her sandwich. “Now, tell me if Bobby still sucks his thumb?”

Wilhelmina stared at Calliope for a few seconds, opened her mouth, closed it. Calliope shot her a pleading look. “Of course he does. I threw Wendy’s sucky in the garbage when she was his age, listened to her cry for a week but it was gone. How do you stop a kid from sucking on a part of their own body?”

Calliope swallowed the last of her chicken sandwich, thinking. “Tape it down? I still say let him, but you and Stephen are the parents. If it were up to Auntie Cloppy, I’d sit with him and suck my own.”

Wilhelmina laughed as she popped another fry in her mouth. “The kids want to see you so bad, keep asking when they’re going to meet you in real life.”

Calliope shrugged. “I’m here now.”

Wilhelmina stared at Calliope so long Calliope had to look away. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Calli, I –” Wilhelmina scrunched up the fast food bag with their garbage and got up to toss it in the bin. When she sat down, she turned on the seat to face Calliope fully.

“You don’t want me to meet them. I get it.” Calliope forced a smile she didn’t feel to her face.

“God, you’re so infuriating. I’d have brought you straight home with me if it weren’t for Marcus. Stephen’s worried sick about him. We’ve tried to help him, but he’s just…empty.” Wilhelmina put her hand on Calliope’s arm. “Stephen and I don’t get you, you know that. We love you, but we don’t understand. But you’ve got this…gift? Knack? Calling. Even when we were on the streets, you were only a little girl but you’d find the saddest person in the area, and you’d sit with them as long as you could. At least until they smiled. Old men with booze in their pockets, cigarettes hanging out of their mouths, talking to themselves would end up coming out of their haze to talk to you. That’s what you do now, isn’t it?”

Calliope shook her head. “No, not at all. I just travel.”

“And find needy people.”

“I’m the one who’s needy,” Calliope snorted. “Homeless, remember?”

“By choice. You rarely tell me anything, rarely talk to me, but I listen when you’re talking to the kids. Mostly Wendy, because Bobby’s not much into talking yet. You tell her things you wouldn’t bother to tell me. Like how you met Mrs. Harper at the bus station, how she looked so sad.”

Calliope frowned. “I just said I found a friend at the bus station, and I was cheering her up, helping her.”

“Which means she needed you.” Wilhelmina shrugged. “I listen to what you’re not saying as much as what you do say.”

Calliope thought of the older woman. She’d had this desperately sad vibe, and Calliope struck up a conversation with her. Turned out her husband had just died, her kids were too busy to be bothered with her, her grandkids barely knew her. She finally confided in Calliope that she went to the bus station every day, trying to decide whether she should get on one or roll in her chair in front of one. “You’re right, I do have a knack for finding needy people and we use each other.”

“Use each other? What do you get out of it?”

“Food, shelter.” Calliope thought hard. “Some of them give me bus fare when I leave.”

“You’re a liar, but I’ll let it pass. You’ve got a good heart, Calliope. And I need you to reach Marcus. No one else has, and I’m not sure anyone else can.”

Calliope slurped the last of her iced tea, kept slurping the ice. “What if I can’t?”

Wilhelmina snatched the cup out of Calliope’s hand. “Honestly? He’s tried to kill himself. Please, Calliope? We don’t know what else, who else, to try.”

Calliope stood up and brushed some of the dust off her shirt. “I’ve always been a sucker for please.”

*

“How far the mighty have fallen.” Calliope stared at the two-storey house Wilhelmina parked in front of. “Didn’t he used to live in a McMansion somewhere?”

“This house was part of the breakdown. Sold the big house and bought this one.” Wilhelmina shook her head.

“Still bigger than anything I’ve been in.” Calliope grabbed her backpack. “Are you sure I shouldn’t go wash up somewhere first?”

Wilhelmina reached into the back seat and grabbed her purse. “What, like in the sink at the fast food place? No, you can shower here.”

They got out of the car and Calliope followed her sister up the walk. The fall blooms were being choked out by weeds and the grass needed mowing. Wilhelmina rang the doorbell. The door swung open, and a tall, handsome man stood to the side. He stood like an expressionless statue, no irritation, no curiosity, no disgust at Calliope’s filth.

Calliope gaped at Marcus. This was the man who’d drank too much and hit on Calliope half-heartedly throughout the reception? His eyes were dull, lifeless. He’d lost a lot of weight and his track pants were dangerously close to falling off. “Hey Marcus. Remember me? Calliope? The one who slapped your face at the wedding eight years, seven months, and twenty-two days ago?”

Marcus glanced at her but didn’t react. Wilhelmina was staring at Calliope. “How’d you know that?”

“I left almost a week after the wedding, that was the last time I saw you. I just added the days after the wedding.” Calliope shrugged, her eyes roaming the foyer. Spotlessly clean.

“Can we come in?” Wilhelmina’s worry was palpable. Calliope studied Marcus again.

Marcus closed the door behind them and led them into the house. The furniture in the formal living room was light, and Calliope suspected, very expensive. “Could we sit somewhere there’s dark furniture? Only I’m a bit dirty.”

Marcus’s eyes flicked over Calliope. He shrugged and they followed him into the kitchen. Calliope had the heebie-jeebies. The house was too neat, too organized. Like no one lived there, not even dust mites.

“Can I use the shower?” Calliope decided cleaning up would give Wilhelmina a chance to brief Marcus on the real reason they were there.

Marcus shrugged but still didn’t say a word. Wilhelmina’s concerned gaze never left Marcus as she spoke. “Upstairs, middle door on the left is the main washroom. The bedroom connecting to it should be free if you want to put your bag in there.”

Calliope studied Marcus’s face for any sign of emotion, but he remained blank. She hurried up the wide staircase and found the washroom. There was no soap or shampoo in the shower (there was a separate jacuzzi tub but nothing there, either). Calliope gazed at her reflection and her concern doubled. She looked a mess, worse than some of the homeless she’d known. Marcus hadn’t batted an eye.

She found what she needed under the sink and washed herself and her clothes beneath the hot water, reveling in the luxury. After hanging her clothes to dry on the rack, Calliope forced herself to turn the water off, grabbed the fluffy towel hanging on the shower door, and stepped out onto the mat. She used her comb, wincing at the snags in her curls, as she pulled out clean clothes (Mrs. Harper had washed her entire wardrobe before Calliope left and Calliope hadn’t worn any of them while she was at the lake). She’d have to find a used clothing store and get some new shoes. Her flip flops were not only held together by duct tape and glue, they’d be useless now that summer was almost over.

She opened the door to the bedroom Wilhelmina had told her to use and jumped. “You scared me!”

Wilhelmina put her finger to her lips, went to the door leading to the hall and peered out. Closing it behind her, she approached Calliope. “Well?”

“Are you sure he didn’t kill himself and that’s just an imprint left behind?” Calliope huffed out a breath.

“He’s not getting better.”

“Talk about stating the obvious. What does he do all day? Does he go to work at least?”

“We don’t know. He doesn’t go to work, he’s on leave. He’s pretty much holed himself up in this house, and never comes out. Stephen used to come by every couple of days but he was getting too depressed so we started coming every weekend. The kids hate it, they find him scary.”

“What happened? Level with me.” Calliope threw her bag on the chair under the window.

“We don’t know. He won’t talk to anyone.”

“Girlfriend? Did she dump him?”

“Not that we know of. He wasn’t seeing anyone seriously in –” Wilhelmina scraped her teeth over her lip. “Ever.”

“We’ve got that in common at least. Although I don’t date. He obviously did at one time.” Calliope took her sister’s hands in hers. “I’m not sure I can help him, Wil. Usually I get a vibe, a sense, but it’s like he’s not there.”

Wilhelmina let out a nervous laugh. “You saw him, he’s there.”

“But he’s dead inside. His eyes are lifeless.” Calliope squeezed her hands. “I’m not sure I can help.”

Wilhelmina’s shoulders sagged. “Calliope, please? At least try?”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t try,” Calliope squared her shoulders. “I’m just not promising anything.”

*

“I made pancakes.” Calliope slid the plate in front of Marcus closer. She might as well have stripped naked and done the jitterbug for all the notice he gave the plate. “Maple syrup or corn syrup? My sister says I’m whackadoodle because I like corn syrup on waffles and pancakes, that it’s a sin that as a Canadian I don’t like maple syrup, but there you have it. Or don’t have it, since you have no corn syrup. But there’s jam.”

Calliope had searched the pantry, the cupboards, when she’d started making breakfast and ended up finding an ancient jar of strawberry jam in the fridge. Now she struggled to open it, found the lid didn’t want to turn. She glanced at Marcus but he stared past her so she got up and put her full force behind the effort. She was rewarded with the lid turning. She opened it, searched for fur, found none. She sniffed – smelled like strawberries. Calliope shrugged, stuck her spoon in and scooped clumps onto her pancakes.

She’d made herself tea because she hadn’t found the coffee. Marcus hadn’t touched his, or the juice she’d put out, nor did he touch the pancakes. “They’re good, I promise. A friend taught me a long time ago.”

They ate – rather, Calliope ate – in silence. She tried not to be rude by staring at him but she still couldn’t get a feel for where he was at mentally. By the time she’d gone to bed the night before, she’d been tempted to cut him just to make sure he bled.

“Your grass needs cutting. You got a lawnmower?” Calliope had used a push mower a couple of times, figured she’d tackle that chore. She needed fresh air, sunshine. Anything but the grey, gloomy atmosphere in the house. “I’ve got to earn my keep.”

Marcus shrugged and Calliope decided to interpret it as a yes. Wilhelmina had lied to Marcus, saying Calliope needed somewhere to stay because their house was cramped because of the kids. Calliope scoffed at the lame excuse for her presence – Wilhelmina knew the holes Calliope had found shelter in.

Calliope finished her food, her tea, and put the dishes on the counter. “Right, well, sorry to interrupt your incessant chatter but I’d better go find the mower.”

Marcus nodded curtly. Calliope went outside to the shed she’d spied from her bedroom window. She was disappointed when she tried the door and found it unlocked – she’d been looking forward to picking the lock. There was a lawnmower like the one Mr. Clark had had – easy peasy, lemony squeezy! Calliope wheeled the mower out of the shed, made several unsuccessful attempts to get it going and was about to give up when she tried once more. The engine engaged, Calliope looked up and winked at Mr. Clark, and pushed the mower towards the front of the house. Someone had cut the grass over the summer – probably Stephen – but not recently. The mower kept bogging with the long grass.

She was just pushing the mower to the side when it died. “Darn.”

“Out of gas?” The male voice startled Calliope and she spun, searching for the source. Instead of Marcus, an older man was watching her from his own yard.

“Either that, or she’s dead.” Calliope grinned.

“You got more?”

Calliope tried to remember if she’d seen a gas can in the shed. “You know something? I don’t know.”

“Hold tight, be back in a jiffy.”

The older man hurried out of sight and Calliope did as she was told. She grinned at the gnomes hiding in strategic places around the man’s yard. When he came back with a jerry can, she pointed at the gnomes. “You’ve got quite the eye for where to put them. I like the one with the fishing rod by your sprinkler.”

“Not me. My wife. Don’t get me started on the fairies she’s hidden everywhere.”

Calliope clapped her hands when she spotted one dangling from a tree. “She looks like she’s flying.”

“Aye, that’s the idea,” the man grunted as he filled the lawnmower’s tank. “That oughtta do it. That’s all I got of mixed fuel.”

Calliope had no idea what mixed fuel was but figured she didn’t need to know. “Well, thanks. I’ll get Marcus to bring over some money.”

“That his name? He’s not much for conversation. Don’t worry about the gas, we’re just happy to see it get mowed. I offered to get my grandson to do his when he does mine, but the guy, Marcus did you say his name was? He didn’t really give a clear answer.” The old man scratched his balding head. “Been here almost a year and I don’t think he’s said two words to my wife or I.”

“You don’t know him well then? Does he have much company?”

“Just a couple with kids come by every weekend. Don’t stay long. Them and delivery people.”

“That’s Stephen, Marcus’s cousin, and Wilhelmina, my sister. I’m staying here for a –” Calliope broke off. She was going to say awhile but the way things were going, she’d be gone within days. “Bit.”

“Well, I’m George, and my wife is Violet. If you need anything, call on us. Unless it’s during the news. We don’t like to be interrupted during the news.” George winked. “That’s when we’re eating. Lunch time, and dinner time.”

“I’m Calliope, and same goes. Except you can drop in during the news, I never watch TV.” Calliope stuck her hand out and shook George’s. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Only neighbourly.” George scratched his head again. “Maybe you can spark some interest in the lump in there. Doesn’t seem interested in much.”

“That’s the goal.”

*

It hadn’t taken Calliope long to notice Marcus seemed to like everything in order. She’d taken to moving things around, just to watch Marcus come into the room and put them back. At first, she’d thought OCD, but Marcus didn’t seem to have any other compulsions. So she rearranged every time she entered a room, waited for Marcus to start yelling, cursing, something to show he felt anything at all. So far, he’d just put everything back without a word.

Calliope let her inner slob reign. She left dirty napkins on the table, dirty dishes scattered on the counters. Marcus picked up after her without complaint but Calliope thought she’d seen a flicker of emotion in his eyes. That’s why she stayed, the signs of life beneath the mask. Wilhelmina agreed not to bring the kids around, or Stephen, until Calliope got a read on the man. So Calliope did video chats from the closet upstairs so Wendy couldn’t guess where she was. Wilhelmina had dropped off a huge bag of clothes and some shoes for Calliope, taken her to get a new bank card, but other than that Calliope hadn’t ventured farther than George and Violet’s front porch.

Calliope countered the silence and boredom by Googling on her phone. A search on Marcus Graham revealed less than she already knew. Rather than discouraging her, she challenged herself to learn more about him however she could. She’d taken to searching his bedroom whenever he was sleeping on the sofa downstairs. She’d learned nothing other than he didn’t seem to sleep in the bed (she’d put a piece of thread on the two pillows days ago and it hadn’t moved).

Calliope huffed out an irritated breath when she entered the room for the fifth day in a row. Ears straining for sounds from downstairs, she crept into the ensuite washroom and opened the medicine chest, the last unchecked place. “Now we’re talking.”

The cabinet shelves were lined with bottles. The names on the labels meant nothing to her, so she took pictures and decided to Google them somewhere else. She put the bottles back, closed the cabinet, and crept down the stairs.

Sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, she Googled each medicine and the dosage. She felt her concern escalate with each new discovery. She’d stumbled into some heavy stuff. Maximum dosages of anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medicines, prescriptions to combat side effects from the regimen of drugs. Calliope had never gone to conventional school, at least never for long, but even she knew that he was overmedicated. She studied the pictures again, this time searching for the doctors. There were four different doctors. How many psychiatrists did he have?

Calliope Googled them. One was a family doctor, one a psychiatrist, and two were unspecified, working out of a mental health clinic. Did they know he was taking so many different pills, know about each other?

Marcus shuffled into the kitchen. Calliope smiled up at him as she quickly locked her screen. “Good nap?”

Marcus grunted. Calliope took that as a positive sign. “Can I get you something to eat? Drink?”

“Why were you in my medicine cabinet?” His voice was gruff, almost rusty.

Calliope was so shocked to hear him speak she forgot to lie. “I was snooping.”

“Don’t.”

Calliope regained her composure. “Why are you on so many different pills? Some of them are hardcore stuff.”

Marcus poured himself a glass of water from the dispenser on the fridge door. Calliope figured he was going to ignore her, go back to pretending she wasn’t there. “Marcus?”

He reached into the small cabinet above the tall fridge, so tall Calliope hadn’t looked in it because she couldn’t reach. He pulled out a handful of bottles. “Those are old. I take these.”

Calliope felt her cheeks warm. Of all the things she’d studied the labels for, the dates hadn’t been one of them. “Right, well, that’s me looking stupid then, isn’t it?”

“Next time you want to know something, ask.” Marcus put the pills back and shut the cabinet doors. He shuffled across the kitchen.

“I’ve tried, you don’t answer.” Calliope whispered the words, but she thought maybe he’d heard because he hesitated before continuing out of the room.

*

Calliope came back from George and Violet’s with slices of pie for Marcus and herself for dessert. Now she just needed to figure out what to make for dinner. She stopped halfway across the foyer, sniffing. What was that smell?

Every other step she took she inhaled. Garlic? Onions? Yes to both, but what else? She’d left Marcus with an uneaten grilled cheese when she’d gone out to visit a couple of hours before, so it wasn’t residual lunch odours. What was it? She heard the clang of a pot, a muttered curse. Calliope took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen. What she saw made her freeze in her tracks.

Marcus, wearing a white apron, was stirring something on the stove while waving his hand around like he was trying to flick off a leech. “What are you doing?”

Marcus slammed the spoon on the side of the pot before putting it on the stove. “Burnt my hand.”

Calliope set the pie down and went over to peek in the pot. “What’s that?”

“Homemade spaghetti sauce, or it was until I fell asleep. Think it’s burned beyond repair.”

Calliope picked up the spoon and licked the middle where a bit of dark sauce still stuck. “Yep. Definitely beyond repair.”

Marcus twisted the knob to turn the burner off. “Want to go out for pizza?”

Calliope hated dining out, but Marcus hadn’t left the house since she’d been there. He ordered everything online. “Sounds good.”

Calliope pulled on a sweater under the pretense of changing. She didn’t want to go, dreaded what lay ahead. She played with her phone for a few minutes, saw the battery was low and plugged it in. As she left her room, another thought hit her – some of the meds she’d looked up said not to drive or operate heavy equipment. In the weeks since she’d snooped, she hadn’t been brave enough to check what he still took.

She found Marcus at the door to the garage. He’d showered, put on pants and a sweater – a nice change from the sweat pants and faded t’s. Calliope hid a smile when she realized she was right, he had been regaining weight. At least she’d succeeded at one thing. “You good to drive?”

He nodded and opened the door for her. Calliope’s knowledge of cars could be summed up with a paint palette. “Oh, you’ve got a black car.”

“Yep. I had a red BMW, but I sold it. Now it’s the black Chevy SUV.” A faint smile flashed before his face settled into the dull mask Calliope was used to. “You want to drive?”

Calliope shook her head, her curls springing and bouncing around her face. “Can’t. Never learned how.”

Marcus pulled the hand holding the keys back and swerved to get in on the driver’s side. “Never?”

Calliope opened her door and climbed in. “Never.”

Marcus pressed a button on a remote clipped to the visor and the garage door opened as he started the vehicle. “Is your heart set on pizza?”

Calliope buckled her seatbelt. “Unless you want fish I’m game for anything.”

“You don’t like fish?” Marcus pressed the button as they drove down the driveway.

“I’ve eaten way too much tuna in my life.” Calliope made a face. “Sardines, too.”

Marcus copied her cringe. “I’m not obsessed with fish, but canned fish is nothing like good fish. How about Chinese?”

Calliope thought of the smells wafting out of the Chinese food restaurant near where Wilhelmina and Calliope had once called home. “Never had Chinese but it always smelled so good.”

Marcus stared at her while he waited for a light to change. “You’re serious.”

“Sometimes. But I’m telling the truth when I say I’ve never had Chinese food. Except rice. I’ve eaten a lot of rice. And pasta.” Calliope thought of the shelters, the soup kitchens. “Soup, too.”

“Is that why you nuke me a bowl of soup every day at lunch but never have any yourself?” Marcus changed lanes and signalled to turn at the next street.

Calliope nodded. “I don’t mind homemade soup, sometimes I eat that, but I just can’t do the tinned stuff.”

Marcus pulled into a nearly empty parking lot. “We’re early for the dinner rush. Best time to go. All the food is fresh.”

Calliope studied the sign. “Fire Breathing Dragon? Is it spicy stuff?”

“There’s some spicy stuff, like General Tso chicken, but most isn’t.” Marcus opened his door and got out. Calliope swallowed, took a deep breath, and tried to open the door but her hand refused to pull the handle. Marcus frowned into the car when Calliope didn’t join him and immediately hurried over to the passenger side. “Sorry, I should’ve held the door for you at home, too. Been a long time, I’m out of practice.”

Calliope shook her head, her curls swinging into her face, her eyes. She ran her hand through riotous curls, trying to tame them. “Not that.”

Marcus looked completely bewildered. “Calliope? If you want pizza –”

Calliope willed herself to her feet, forced a smile to her lips. “I’m fine, it’s okay.”

Marcus cast glances at Calliope every couple of steps. Calliope continued to inhale, exhale, her eyes glued to the sign. “You know I’ve got no money, right?”

Marcus grabbed her upper arm. “Is that with this is about? This is my treat, my way of thanking you for…everything.”

Calliope felt her face relax a bit, hoped her smile didn’t look so tight. “I’m just not used to this.”

Marcus held the door for her and Calliope was engulfed in smells and sounds. Memories flooded her; smelling the Chinese food place on hot summer nights in the only home she’d had when she was little. She’d sat at her open window, praying for a breeze, and when one came, it brought the scent of heaven. Her tummy’d rumble, hunger clawing her insides, and then there’d be shouting from within the apartment, sounds of breaking glass and skin-on-skin slaps, and she no longer wanted to feast.

“Calliope? Are you okay?”

Transported to the present, she nodded. “Smells so good.”

They followed a tiny Asian woman to their table for two, near the first long table. The woman nodded her head, smiled kindly, and left.

“Shall we?” Marcus gestured to the long tables.

“What?” Calliope had been about to sit down.

“It’s a buffet. We have to get our own food.” Marcus grinned.

“Seriously?” Calliope felt the nerves leaving her. She wouldn’t have to ask a million questions about what to order, how to order. She could just go to the tables and take what looked good.

“All you can eat, so you can go back as many times as you want.”

Calliope felt her jaw drop. Living a feast of famine existence, she felt like she’d just walked through the pearly gates. Marcus handed her a warm plate from the end of the row, and they slid them along the rail, Calliope eyeing each dish in wonder. She gave herself a bit of everything, even a fried shrimp and a crab leg.

“Our plates are pretty full.” Marcus hadn’t taken a bit of everything, but he’d piled his plate high with lots of a few choices. “Let’s go eat this, then check out the other options.”

Calliope followed him to their table. She set her plate down and waved Marcus off when he made to pull out her chair. “Don’t be silly.”

Calliope’s senses were on overload. Savoury, buttery, creamy, tangy. Each morsel she tried was a whole new experience. “This, what was this again?”

“Lemon chicken.” Marcus grinned as Calliope let out a moan of pleasure. “My favourite.”

“I keep thinking this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten, then I try something else and that’s the best thing ever.” Calliope wiped her mouth and sipped the water that had appeared while they were getting their food.

Their next trip, they went for traditional Canadian food – prime rib, potatoes, gravy, Yorkshire pudding. Calliope added a heaping spoonful of lemon chicken and more shrimp on impulse as they passed.

Calliope was filled to bursting. “No more, no room.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smile on his lips. “You’re sure? There’s still the dessert table.”

Calliope’s eyes opened wide. “I’ll just come, have a peek.”

Calliope had never experienced such divine treats. She wanted some of everything but only took some of what appealed most. Calliope sat down, undid the button on her jeans as she picked up her fork to try the cheesecake – blueberry first. “This is incredible.”

“You like cheesecake obviously.” Marcus grinned as he bit into a puffed pastry.

“Good thing because I took so much of it. Thanks for splitting the pieces with me.” Calliope waved her fork at Marcus’s plate.

“You really had to twist my arm, but I’m a nice guy, so…”

Calliope grinned. Now that she was full, sleepy and content, she realized the Marcus she was with now was not the Marcus she’d been living with for several weeks – and certainly nothing like the Marcus she’d met at the wedding. “Can I ask you something? When I first came to stay with you, you didn’t seem…”

Marcus’s smile vanished, and he straightened in his seat. “Let’s not right now.”

Calliope studied him for a second before nodding her consent. “You want to know why I hesitated? In the car?”

Marcus relaxed, nodded.

“I was having a panic attack. At least, I think that’s what it was. I’ve only been to a proper restaurant twice, and only with Wilhelmina. She ordered everything for me because she knows what I like.”

Marcus kinked his neck – he’d been about to throw his head back and laugh then seemed to realize Calliope wasn’t joking. “I had no idea.”

Calliope smiled to show him she wasn’t insulted. “I’m not very up on things, you know? My sister gave me a phone years ago, and I didn’t know how to use it. I met a teenage boy at a shelter and he taught me. Then she sent me a smart phone, and I felt so stupid trying to work that. A young mother I met at a bus station taught me the basics. Now I Google everything I don’t know, but Google wasn’t much help when I asked how to eat at a pizza restaurant. I’ve had pizza before, so figured I’d just order something with pepperoni and an iced tea.”

Marcus gestured to the server for the bill when she came to clear away the last of their empty plates. “Then I threw a monkey wrench, brought you here instead.”

Calliope smiled shyly. “I’m glad you did. I always wondered if Chinese food tasted as good as it smelled, now I know.”

Marcus tapped his card on the device the waitress brought and stood. “Let’s get out of here.”

Calliope followed Marcus out of the restaurant, wondering what he thought of her. Marcus opened the car door for her, waited until she was seated before closing the door, then went around to get in the driver’s seat. “I usually like to go for a walk after a big meal. Do you want to go home, go to bed? You look wiped.”

“Like a walk around the block?” Calliope sat up straight in the seat, excited.

“Or the park near my house. There’s a great walking trail there.”

Calliope wriggled in her seat. “I’m in.”

They drove in comfortable silence and he parked in a large lot. “Not many cars tonight.”

Calliope smiled to herself when Marcus seemed disappointed she’d let herself out of the car before he could get to her. “Which way?”

Marcus grabbed her hand as he pointed. “This way.”

They walked along a narrow, paved path. “So many trees! You can’t smell the pollution here, or hear the cars.”

“That’s what I love about this place. Like a whole different world.” Marcus gestured to the trees beside them. “You wouldn’t suspect that there’s a major highway on the other side of those woods. Tell me what makes you look so sad when you talk about smelling Chinese food?”

Caught off guard by the sudden interrogation, Calliope tensed, tried to pull her hand away, but Marcus held tight. She stared up at him, her mind whirling. Finally, she nodded. “I’ll tell you everything if you agree to do the same.”

Marcus tensed beside her as they walked. After a few minutes, he let out a resigned sigh. “Quid pro quo, huh? I guess it’s only fair.”

Calliope didn’t want to admit she wasn’t sure what that meant, but guessed he’d agreed so she expelled a deep breath. “How much about my life have you learned from Wilhelmina?”

Marcus shrugged. “I know your parents are dead, that you didn’t have an easy childhood, but honestly? She doesn’t say much about her past, and Stephen told me that the present is all we need to worry about.”

Calliope nodded. “Figures. I don’t know if my parents are dead, though if Wilhelmina said they are, maybe she found out somehow. They were…not nice people.”

Marcus frowned down at her. “Not nice, how?”

Calliope shrugged. “They drank, a lot. Beat each other, hit us. Wil mostly. There was this Chinese food restaurant across the street and I used to keep my window open, hoping to catch whiffs of the food. I dreamed about the food. Pretended the food bank offerings were dishes I saw people carrying out of the restaurant every night. Whenever I could, I’d salvage an unbroken bottle, take it to the store to get a dime. I was saving my money so I could go there, find out what was so tantalizing about the smells.”

“Why’d you stop saving up?”

Calliope wanted to change the subject, find an interesting tree to distract him, but remembered their deal. “I’d saved up like seven dollars or something, and I asked Wilhelmina if she’d take me there to get something the next day. She said she had some money, too, so we’d both eat like queens. My mother overheard, told my dad, and he whipped us both, took our money. He’d only ever beat me a few times, usually Wilhelmina would do something to make him angrier and he’d beat on her worse. But because stealing his bottles for money was my idea, going to eat at a restaurant was my idea, he beat me worse than ever. Wilhelmina called him names, hit him, but he kept on beating me. Even my mom told him to stop, she’d never done that before. When he pulled his belt off, his pants fell down, and Wilhelmina went nuts. Hit him over the head with a bottle. He fell down, stayed down. Our mom went crazy, crying. Wilhelmina just cleaned me up and slept with me that night. Early the next morning, she woke me and we left.”

Calliope hadn’t realized they’d stopped walking, didn’t realize she was crying, until Marcus wiped her tears. “Where’d you go?”

“Wilhelmina had packed her backpack with clothes for us. We took buses from our city. Said we needed a bigger city to hide in, we ended up here. Every few months, CAS would find us – sometimes the shelters would call them or people would see us panhandling and call. We’d go into a foster home for awhile, but most of them weren’t nice. Whenever they started talking about splitting us up, Wilhelmina would sneak me out and we’d move to a different area of the city.”

Marcus gaped at Calliope. “How old were you?”

“I was seven, Wilhelmina was fifteen when we left.” Calliope shrugged. “Wilhelmina saved my life, my sanity, though I didn’t understand it at the time. She taught me everything she could, and we went to the library a lot so we could both learn. Usually in the winter, to keep warm. In the summer, we snuck into pools and parks, places like that. I only went to school when in a foster home but I think I learned more than most kids. When Wilhelmina was about twenty, she decided to approach one of the shelters we sometimes went to, and they helped her get a place to live, a job. I tried, oh, how I tried to live with her, but I just couldn’t. When I was thirteen, I ran away. She found me, brought me home, said I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to do, so I stopped going to school. A year after that, she got in trouble because I wasn’t going. By the time I was fifteen, I’d figured out that I wasn’t cut out to live a life like hers. She worked, hard, and hated her job. She wasn’t happy, but she kept going. I thought she was crazy. So what if she could afford to buy a few pieces of clothes brand new, never worn by anyone? The cost was too high. I took off again, this time somewhere she couldn’t find me. I missed her so much but I just didn’t want that life. That’s my story. Now, what’s yours?”

“You were at her wedding. I remember meeting you, hitting on you.” Marcus grinned as if trying to lighten the mood, but Calliope saw sadness in his eyes.

“I’d gotten into the habit of sending Wilhelmina post cards from wherever I was, if I was anywhere for any length of time. She’d drive to the address I said I’d been at, trying to find me. She always missed me by a day or two. I never knew how hard she searched until she got to Mr. Clark’s. I’d stayed with him because he’d been sick and was still weak. He relapsed while I was with him, and I stayed longer. When Wilhelmina showed up, I refused to leave. Mr. Clark needed me. Wilhelmina went and got me a phone, said she’d only leave me alone if I promised to keep it on at all times. Mr. Clark died shortly after; I went to a shelter, a teenage boy there taught me how to use it. She called me one day, asked me to come because she was getting married. I went, stayed a few months, left just after the wedding.”

“Why’d you wait over eight years to see her again?”

Calliope raised an eyebrow. So he had been listening that night. “Because it hurts too much to see her.”

Marcus stared at her in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Calliope shivered as the wind picked up, swirling fallen leaves around their ankles. “Because she’d given up so much for me, done so much for me, and every time I needed her, she’d put me ahead of herself. You have no idea the sacrifices she made for me. What taking care of me cost her. Before we hit the streets, she used to talk about being a lawyer. Because of me, she had to settle for answering phones at a law office.”

Marcus pulled Calliope along, heading back to the car now. “But she met Stephen at the law office. And you know she became a teacher, don’t you?”

Calliope stopped walking. “What?”

“She wouldn’t marry Stephen until she finished her degree, got a job. Made him wait years.” Marcus frowned at Calliope. “You didn’t know?”

Calliope didn’t answer. They walked back to the car at a brisk pace, shivering. The temperature was dropping fast, and neither of them were wearing jackets. When Calliope slid in, Marcus closed the door, and she took the few seconds of silence to decide if she was angry. When Marcus got in, he glanced at her before putting the key in the ignition and cranked a knob next to Calliope’s knee. “Heat. Only takes a second.”

Calliope turned as much as she could on the seat. “Wilhelmina probably didn’t tell me because she felt guilty, which is dumb. I’m happy for her. What kind of teacher is she?”

Marcus reversed out of the spot and started driving. “Little kids. In a low-income area, that’s all I know.”

Resting her cheek on the seat, she smiled. “She’s probably the best teacher they’ve ever had. The kids, and the school. She taught me everything.”

Marcus pulled onto the street Calliope knew his house was on. “I never thought about it before, but after everything you’ve told me I’m going to say I bet you’re right.”

Calliope sighed her pleasure. “Finally. Finally, I can stop feeling bad, like I ruined Wil’s life, ruined her chances of becoming a lawyer someday.”

Marcus laughed as he pushed the button on the visor and pulled into the garage. “She never said she’d ever wanted to be a lawyer, and she calls Stephen’s colleagues stuffed shrits. Says Stephen’s the nicest, most honest, and coolest lawyer in the world, the exception.”

Marcus closed the garage after he shut the car off. Calliope unbuckled and slid out. “She told me that he’s a good guy, helps people write wills.”

Marcus held the door into the house for Calliope. “Yep, boring stuff.”

“Unlike you, who buys stuff high and sells low or something.”

“I dabbled in stocks, yes.” Marcus shook his head as they went into the kitchen.

Calliope plugged the kettle in, eyed the pie. “Worked up an appetite yet? I promised Vi I’d let her know what we thought of her raspberry pie, she tried a new recipe.”

Marcus stared in disbelief. “Seriously?”

Calliope winked at him. “Homeless, remember? I haven’t had many opportunities in life to eat as much as I just did, but being homeless, you learn you can always find room for more if it’s offered, especially treats.”

Marcus grabbed two plates while Calliope made the tea. She didn’t want to push him for answers, but now that he’d finally uncorked the bottle, she thought it best to keep the momentum rather than risk him sinking back into robot mode.

“You drink a lot of tea,” Marcus said, picking up his cup. “You don’t like coffee?”

Calliope shrugged. “I’m not used to having choices, but when given one, I’d choose coffee. You don’t have coffee, so I drink tea. Better than the lake water I was drinking before I came here.”

“I’ve got a Keurig. The little containers in the cupboard are single serve coffees. I’ll show you how to use them in the morning.”

Calliope scooped up a bite of pie, sniffed it, then popped it in her mouth. “This is amazing.”

Marcus grinned at her and copied her, sniffing first. “Not sure why you smell every bite, but I’m fascinated watching you eat every time.”

Calliope swallowed another bite. “Bad habit. I’m so accustomed to sniffing food before I eat to make sure it’s not bad. Which is dumb, because when you’re starving, you usually aren’t picky. Unless it’s definitely rotten. Slightly off doesn’t usually make me sick.”

They finished their pie in silence. When they were done, Calliope got up and took their plates, rinsing them in the sink.

“You can clean up after yourself,” Marcus joked, sarcasm tinging his tone.

Calliope shot him a look over her shoulder. “Always do, except I noticed you kept moving stuff back if I moved it. So I took it one step farther, hoping you’d yell at me, tell me to leave, something to show emotion.”

“I almost did a few times, especially when you overheated the tomato soup and left the mess.”

Calliope sat down again, leaning into the table. “Why didn’t you?”

Marcus shrugged, not making eye contact.

“What did you call it earlier? Quid pro quo or something? Your turn.” Calliope put her hand on his and squeezed.

“It’s getting late and –”

“Nice try. Neither of us gets up to an alarm, so start talking.”

“Wendy’s a spitfire, isn’t she? I hear you talking to her from your closet. Guess you don’t want her to –”

“Marcus, I’ve stripped my soul naked and offered it up in sacrifice. Please?” Calliope uttered the word that was always her own undoing.

Marcus kept his hand in Calliope’s as he stood. “Fine. But let’s go sit in front of the fireplace. Not cold enough to bother with the furnace, but the fire will take the chill out.”

They went into the formal living room, the one she’d only been in once. Marcus flicked a switch, and Calliope watched flames come to life. “Wow.”

“Gas fireplace. Cleaner and easier than a wood one.”

They sat on the two-seat sofa in front of the fake fire. “What do you want to know?”

Calliope thought for a minute, let the questions form clearly in her mind. “I’ve got a million of them, but maybe if you just start talking about what happened last year, you’ll answer them before I ask.”

Marcus stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed his left foot over his right ankle. “Need to go back longer than that. Stephen was like my big brother, since neither of us had siblings. Our mothers are sisters and best friends, so we were always together. Our dads were hard working good guys – both passed away within a year of each other. Stephen and I both ended up in our father’s fields – Stephen as estate lawyer, me as an accountant. I played the stock market, that’s what you were referencing, only it’s buy low, sell high.”

Calliope nodded as she curled her legs under her and faced Marcus fully. “And you made a killing.”

“I did, yes. And I became obsessed with making more, and more, and more.”

“Did you lose it all?” Calliope knew the world was full of money hungry people, and she’d pegged Marcus as one. Being just a hungry person, Calliope tried to understand when Wilhelmina explained Marcus’s life to her, but in the end, she’d summed him up as one of the rich people who didn’t see the hungry, or if they did, looked down on them with disdain. The people who didn’t have a lot to give were the ones who dropped coins into their cups when Calliope and Wilhelmina sat on street corners, rare for the affluent to so much as bless a homeless person when they sneezed.

Marcus shook his head. “My mother used to say I was like Midas, everything I touched turned to gold. The past few years, she stopped saying that, started saying things like when was I going to get married like Stephen, have kids like Stephen. She loves being ‘auntie-grandma’ to Wendy and Bobby, but she wants her time to be Nana.”

Calliope drifted in life, but she’d given up the streets, only stayed in shelters when she was desperate. She’d befriended hundreds of people, learned early that there were times to ask questions and times to listen. She let Marcus gather his thoughts without saying a word.

“I’d answer her with stupid things like ‘when I’ve made enough’, or ‘kids suck the money out of you’. I’d never thought about a family, not really. Figured Stephen could provide that for my mother as well as his.”

Calliope watched Marcus watching the fire. His misery was so palpable she wondered if she were imagining the weight pushing her down with him. Suffocating her.

“Some people ruin their lives with drugs, with drink. But money…stocks can be as addictive, like gambling in reverse. I pushed everyone away, or at least stopped responding to them. Even my mother. I was constantly watching the market, or researching new companies entering the market. The only people I talked to were my small circle of like-minded friends, and most of them were online. I missed out on promotions at work but didn’t care because I already had more money than I’d make in a lifetime working. Then one day, Stephen showed up at my house – my big, fancy house where I had a maid, but lived alone and never socialized. He was furious. My mother might have breast cancer, why wasn’t I there for her?” Marcus glanced at Calliope when she gasped, clutched his hand in hers. “She didn’t, but no one knew yet, they were waiting for the biopsy results. I stood there, in the foyer ten times bigger than the one here, and felt something cold wash over me. Stephen asked me when was the last time I’d spoken to my mother. I couldn’t tell him, so he told me – Christmas. This was in July. Seven and a half months, and I hadn’t talked to my own mother. Did I know Wilhelmina had a little boy four months ago? I stood there, trembling, trying to remember if I’d even known she was pregnant. Did my money keep me warm at night, or did I at least date? And I realized it had been forever since I’d gone on a date, been interested in anyone. He said a whole lot of things that night, some of them mean, some of them ugly, all of them true.”

Calliope sniffed, squeezing his hand. Marcus reached over, touched her cheek, pulled his hand back and showed her the tear. “You’re crying for me? Or for what I did to others?”

“Both,” Calliope whispered, rubbing her face on her shoulder.

“That was the start of…whatever happened to me. At first, I played changed man, out to prove I could be both good son and money man. Mom didn’t have cancer, so I sent her and Stephen’s mom on a cruise to celebrate. That Christmas, I lavished the kids with gifts that my maid bought, swearing they were perfect for an almost one-year-old, and a three-year-old. Took Stephen to hockey games, gave him my tickets when I was tied up – code-speak for didn’t want to go. Then I made a huge gamble, put half of my money in one stock. My circle thought I was nuts, but like my mom used to say, I’m like Midas. I made a killing in less than six months when I sold the stocks weeks before they tanked. Ken, one of the few people from our circle I’d met offline, had become like family. He watched my stocks, my risks, and sometimes copied me. I didn’t know he’d invested shortly after me in the new software company. I made my killing, more than tripling my original investment, and got out. The stocks went up in value a bit more, but I was already researching the next big up=and-coming company. I’d mostly forgotten the software company when it tanked hard and fast. I gloated about getting out when I did, bragged about my instincts because everyone else had still been shouting from the rooftops to invest more. Then I got a call from Ken’s estranged wife. Ken had lost everything, the fool had tried to one-up me and invested all-in. When it tanked, hitting pennies, it killed him. Massive coronary, dead before he hit the floor.”

“You didn’t know, not your fault. I’m so sorry,” Calliope felt the tears burning her cheeks, felt Marcus’s grief and sadness as if they were her own.

“Whatever had washed over me when Stephen had shown up at my door? It washed over me again, suffocating me this time. I went to the doctor, he gave me pills. I couldn’t breathe. More doctors, more pills. You saw the medicine chest, you get the picture. I sold the house, the cars, all except the Jag. Impulsive decisions I didn’t understand. I couldn’t stop thinking about Ken. He’d lost it all, not just money, but family, friends, everyone except the sharks like us. His wife was the last to leave him and I was sure my family was fed up with me, too. One night – rather, one day — I started drinking. The movers were coming the next day to move me here. I went into the garage, sat in the Jag I was trading in the next day, wrote out my thoughts, trying to figure out what was going on in my head, trying to understand. Drank, wrote, drank. Started the car because it was cold, still trying to make sense of what I was feeling, what I was doing. Kept drinking. My thoughts were more jumbled, more confused. I wrote stupid stuff, didn’t write the one thought that answered it all – Ken. I didn’t deserve any of my things. I kept putting nonsense as if my thoughts were wrong. I finished the bottle of whisky but still I sat there. I’d taken my anti-anxiety pills, my anti-depressants, and I was so tired.”

Calliope heard the pain in his voice, the grief. “You didn’t try to kill yourself.”

Marcus shook his head, his face almost expressionless. Calliope was reminded of the robot she’d been living with for weeks. “No. But everyone, including police and ambulance, thought I’d tried. I didn’t bother to correct them, didn’t bother to tell anyone. The movers found me in the garage when they showed up to start packing, called 911, and I was in the hospital for weeks. The doctor that took over my care changed my prescriptions. I came home in a fog. The meds numbed me. I liked them. I didn’t feel, didn’t need to think. In my haze, I let Stephen set up standing orders with grocery deliveries, the bills came out of my accounts automatically, I didn’t need to do anything. The only thing I did was clean.”

Calliope stifled the sobs trying to break free. She held his hand tighter, wiped her eyes on her shoulders. “What changed? You were different tonight. Today – you tried to cook.”

Marcus turned his head to stare at Calliope. She thought he wouldn’t answer her, but he finally sighed. “You.”

Calliope blinked. “What?”

Marcus pulled her until she was sitting across his lap, his arms around her. “I was in this fog, going through motions but not thinking at all, comfortable. Then you show up, disgustingly filthy, and I saw you through the haze. Every time I turned around, you were there. Talking, making a mess, just breathing. Everything was still a fog, but you were like sunshine breaking through the clouds. I stopped taking my meds, slowly. Weaning myself off them. I wasn’t overcome with confused thoughts anymore, instead I was curious – about you, mostly. Annoyed – who was this butterfly flitting around my house making a mess, shoving sandwiches at me? I finally stopped taking my medicine altogether the day after I’d figured out you’d found the old bottles. I didn’t want to scare you off, so I kept quiet, observed. Saw you making friends with my neighbours, heard you talking to Wendy from the closet. As infuriating as it was cleaning up after you, I liked it. Liked having you here. Enjoyed listening to your incessant chatter.”

Calliope tensed when Marcus’s eyes locked on hers, bore into hers like he could see her soul. She thought about jumping up, running away, but his blue eyes kept her pinned. Her pulse sped up, her heart skipped a beat. She’d seen people kiss on the streets, knew the look in their eyes just before they did, and she thought she saw that look in Marcus’s eyes. She put her hand on his shoulder, forced a smile to her lips. “My work here is done.”

Marcus blinked, pulling his head back. “What?”

Calliope got to her feet, tamped the sadness inside down. “Wilhelmina asked me to come. She and Stephen were so worried about you, you know. She asked me to try to reach you.”

Marcus stared at her in disbelief. “I don’t understand.”

Calliope dug deep for strength, deeper still for courage. She started to back slowly from the room. “Marcus, you’re going to be okay. If I stay, you’ll start to need me, and that will defeat the purpose. Get back into the real world, start living again. Stay away from the stock market.”

Calliope reached the hall. “You’re off your meds, you’re talking, feeling, seeing again. You’re stronger than you were when I got here, you’ll get stronger still as you get out there and live your life.”

Marcus got to his feet. “You’re leaving?”

Calliope nodded, willing her heart to stay whole for a few more minutes. “You don’t need me here anymore.”

“I do need you, don’t say I don’t.” Marcus’s tone was bordering on pleading.

“Then I’ve already stayed too long.” Calliope spun on her heel and ran up the stairs. Her bag, always packed and ready, was on the chair. She unplugged her phone, her battery pack, and slipped them into a side pocket. The clothes Wilhelmina had brought for her were folded in the drawers, she’d text her sister when she got wherever she was going to let her know she’d left with what she’d come with. Except the shoes. She’d packed a sturdy pair of running shoes, and would wear the other pair when she left.

Marcus was waiting for her at the front door. She memorized every inch of him as he stood there, waiting. “Now I know why your bag was always packed on the chair.”

Calliope nodded, her hands jamming into her jean pockets. “Can you give George and Violet their plate back? Tell Vi the pie was awesome. Only don’t take it over during the news –lunch or dinner.”

Marcus nodded, cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Calliope faltered as she approached the door. “Why?”

“You’d just scraped yourself raw for me, and I unburdened on you right after. Overwhelmed you. I misread things, thought –” Marcus shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Thought what?” Calliope knew she should just go, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave yet.

“That…” Marcus shrugged, his face becoming a mask. “Nothing.”

Calliope huffed out a breath in exasperation. “Don’t. Don’t do this to me, to yourself.”

“Do what?” A glimmer of something – annoyance? Impatience? – flashed in his eyes.

“Shut up, shut down. You’re off the meds, you’re back in your head. Don’t put the burden on me, make me responsible for keeping you there. I’m not strong enough. For the first time, since you told me about Wilhelmina becoming a teacher, I’m weightless. Let me be free, don’t replace that load with a new one. Tell me what you thought.”

“I thought you felt what I felt. Thought maybe I’d finally found someone who understood me, got me, and still liked me.” Marcus laughed to let her know he was, at least partly, joking about the last bit. Calliope smiled as her heart ached. “I’m sorry if almost kissing you is what scared you off.”

Calliope closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “One final piece I didn’t mention, but since you held up your end of the deal so well, I’ll toss it in as a bonus. I’ve never kissed anyone before. Believe it or not; being on the streets for most of my life, I’ve managed to get to the ripe old age of thirty-two without ever having a boyfriend. Lame, huh?”

Marcus’s face split into a wide grin that lit his eyes. “I’m thirty-seven and can’t remember the girlfriends I’ve had. There weren’t many, but they also weren’t memorable. At least not enough to keep me from the stock market.”

Calliope reached up to pat his face. “You’ll find her, the woman who can keep you from losing yourself in money.”

Calliope worried he’d say he already had. She backed away and stuffed her feet into her shoes, not looking at him, not letting him have a chance to speak. “Well, you take care.”

Marcus put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “Let me come with you?”

Calliope couldn’t help herself. She giggled. “You, on the streets? The Midas touch guy? You wouldn’t last a night.”

Marcus shrugged. “I could try.”

“No.” Calliope felt the smile slip off her face. “Just like I couldn’t live in structure forever, you couldn’t handle living anyplace forever.”

“Is that what you want? To be homeless forever?”

Calliope thought of the storage unit she’d considered living in. “Not necessarily homeless, but this is all I know. I need to be free, maybe come back someplace of my own now and then, but out there, helping.”

Marcus stared at Calliope until she felt flutters in her tummy. “What would you really want? The one thing that would keep you rooted to one spot?”

Calliope snorted. “What, like if I found a magic lamp and rubbed it, and a genie popped out?”

Marcus considered. “Yep. You’ve got three wishes, but you have to be honest, and you can’t wish for more wishes.”

“That’s easy.” Calliope waved her hands excitedly. “I’d find a place, like where I was before I came here, at the lake but no one was around. Then I’d give the shelters my number, and they could send me sad people, hurting people, needy people, and they could come and stay with me until they got their happy back and knew where they wanted to go, then they could go, find other sad people to send in their place.”

Marcus held up a fist. “One, you want property on a lake. Two, you want to help sad people. What’s the third?”

Calliope locked eyes with Marcus, bit her tongue as she started to say ‘you’. She shrugged, broke eye contact. “I’ll save the third for a rainy day.”

“I thought you’d have said a Chinese food restaurant on the lake.”

Calliope thought Marcus knew what she wanted to say, silently thanked him for letting the moment pass. She snapped her finger. “Maybe not on the lake, but near the lake, a Chinese buffet whenever I wanted. That’s the third wish.”

“Can I kiss you good-bye?” Marcus asked as he held out a jacket for her. “It’s cold out.”

Calliope shrugged out of her backpack, put the coat on, grateful she wouldn’t be cold. That’s the one thing she hated about her life, the winters. She resettled her backpack on her shoulders, still considering his request. Finally, she nodded. Marcus leaned in, dipped his head, and lightly touched his lips to hers. Calliope felt her heart shiver, her toes curl, and finally understood the looks on lovers faces after they’d kissed. She almost wished she’d run out the back door, not had this last minute talk, could head out free and clear never knowing what she was missing. How she longed to curl up in front of a fake fire, talk for hours, sleep, only to wake up and do it all again. She pulled her head back, patted his cheek, and skipped out the door.

*

Calliope crunched through the dead leaves and shallow snow, her arms laden with wood she’d gathered. She kicked the door of the small cabin. “Mr. Vincent? Mrs. Vincent?”

The door swung open and Calliope hurried in. “I’ve got your wood. You can have a nice fire tonight. I smell snow coming.”

“You can smell snow?”

The deep voice caused Calliope to drop the logs she was stacking near the woodstove. She whirled, stumbled. Marcus was closing the door behind her.

“Where are –? How’d you –? What the –?” Calliope scanned the empty cabin, but the elderly couple she was staying with were nowhere to be seen.

Marcus sat down on the sofa, picked up a half-drank cup of coffee. He’d obviously been there awhile. “The Vincents are outside, playing with the kids. Your sister brought me – she found you with the tracker on your phone. Oh, and I think I’ve just bought this cabin, the whole trailer park, and in case you didn’t know, there’s a Chinese food place out on the highway.”

Calliope flopped on the squashy chair she’d come to think of as hers. “Whoa. Wait, hold up, what?”

“Seems I found a genie in a lamp, and turns out our wishes were the same.” Marcus set his coffee down, got up to kneel in front of Calliope. “Well, I don’t know the first thing about finding sad people, but you found the Vincents and were making them happy. Just seems I was able to do it better than you, because now they can winter in Florida, and come back here every spring to soak up the rays by the lake or the pool without having to do any of the work. The only condition they had was no drugs – you don’t do drugs, do you?”

Calliope glared at Marcus. “No!”

“That’s what I thought. They said they’ve had a rough go lately, seems their campground is a fledgling business since they aren’t as young as they used to be and can’t keep up. I asked them how they felt about sad people, homeless people, and sad, homeless people. They said people can’t be sad in such a pretty place, but they didn’t care if they were sad when they got here. And since I’m letting them live in the trailer for free whenever they’re not in Florida, they figured that made them homeless, too.”

Calliope tried to stand, but Marcus was in her way. “I need to get up.”

“Hang on. I’m not done yet.” Marcus put his hand over Calliope’s.

Calliope stiffened in her seat. “Why are you doing this?”

Marcus squeezed her hand. “Because I can. I’ll still pay the Vincents some money, if this isn’t what you want, because that’s all they really want – the freedom to go south every winter. But I researched the area, the land, before I came here – you’re not the only one good with Google. There’s a few other spots, but I’ll be honest – this one felt right. I trust my instincts.”

Calliope felt her jaw drop. “What if I said I wanted a house downtown? A mansion?”

Marcus shrugged. “If that’s what you want. But I still want to keep this place, too.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

A flicker in his eyes reminded Calliope of the recent past and she regretted her choice of words instantly. “I was, but the doctors couldn’t fix the crazy. You fixed the crazy. Now the only crazy is that I’m crazy in love with you.”

“How do you know?” Calliope whispered, her hands enfolding around his larger ones.

“I know because I’d do anything for you, go anywhere for you. I want this place, but if it’s not what you want, I only ask that we come here sometimes, check on the Vincents, and we’ll go wherever you want to go. I know it’s love because someone from my circle sent me a stock tip and I thanked him, said my good-byes to the group, and left. I told my mother about you. She’s thrilled, by the way, but you should know I’ve never told my mother about any woman in my life before. I am assuming here, but I think you feel something for me too, because Wendy asked me why Auntie Cloppy keeps asking her about Uncle Marcus, and when she can’t tell you, you make her go ask her mother. Plus, my instincts tell me you love me almost as much as I love you.”

Calliope frowned. “Maybe your instincts are wrong.”

Marcus stared at her. “My instincts are always right. Right?”

Calliope shook her head. “I’m sorry, but they might be this time. You see, I think I might love you more.”

Marcus’s face lit into a huge grin. “Oh, and I lied. Your sister brought the kids, and Stephen, I drove myself. I wasn’t sure where you stood on cars, so if you don’t want a vehicle, Wilhelmina will drive the SUV back for me.”

Calliope glared at him. “Would you stop talking and kiss me?”

Marcus laughed for a full ten seconds before he obliged her wishes. Calliope’s heart sighed, filled to bursting, content, finally.

I’m the owner of a très successful fast-food chain. I’m still not sure how it happened other than I was tired of fried everything or carb laden so-called healthy options. Next thing I knew, I’d become an entrepreneur, president of a corporation that sold franchises of my fast food and blundered my way into a whirlwind of fame and fortune. I was also a fraud because seriously, how does a college drop out end up running the fastest growing fast-food chain in the country? I’m the empress, the queen, the supreme ruler of Chic Cuisine (Choose Healthy Instead of Crap). Our menu grows daily, but our most popular dishes are lemon chicken on jasmine rice or stir fry vegetables with your choice of meats, tofu, and rice (price varies depending on options). I have staff, a lof of staff. I don’t know what half of them do. I’ve got a team of lawyers doing lawyer-y things. Basically, I’ve collected a whole lot of smart people over the past couple of years, and they’re the ones who’ve made Chic Cuisine what it is now. I’m just the lazy chick who was tired of eating grease every day.

“When will you be back in the office?” My secretary (yes, I have my own secretary, and she’s a living, breathing person, not an AI thing in my pocket) demanded as I left my office (and yes, I’ve got a huge office with two windows and a ping pong table hidden by a fancy sheet in the corner).

I froze, my mind whirling. Marcy looked nothing like my mother (Marcy’s a stunning brunette, Mom’s a chunky dirty blonde), but she still had the knack for making me feel like I was a bad girl skipping out on my homework. “Uh, tomorrow? About ten?”

Marcy sniffed her displeasure. “Where shall I say you are if Mr. Quartermain calls again?”

I stared at Marcy helplessly. Who? “You’ll figure something out, you always do.”

Marcy tapped her keyboard with her perfectly manicured hands. “I’m not sure I can keep him calm much longer. You’ve been avoiding him for three weeks.”

I sighed, sitting on the edge of Marcy’s desk. “Right. Well, schedule him in for tomorrow at eleven. What does he want, anyhow?”

Marcy’s eyes opened so wide I could see the whites all the way around the brown. “Seriously?”

“Give me a hint.”

“Marshall Quartermain is the head of your legal team. The one who saves you from lawsuits, from liability claims, basically, he’s kept you from going broke for the past year.”

I grinned, snapping my fingers. “Old guy with the fluffy cloud hair!”

Marcy nodded stiffly. “Yes. He says it’s urgent that he talks to you about the franchise expansions.”

Relief flooded me. “Get Doug to meet with him today. Doug’s one of the brains behind the scenes, he’s good at making decisions. Or, if Doug’s tied up, Duncan or one of the others.”

“You’re sure?” Marcy shook her head. “You’re not even curious about what Mr. Quartermain has to say?”

“Not in the least.” I stood, stretching.

“Very well.” Marcy picked up the phone and dialled someone. I waved as I slid out of the president’s area and took the private elevator to the underground lot. Free at last. That had been the longest four hours of my life.

*

I parked my car in the back of the restaurant. Daphne’s jalopy was here already, but I wouldn’t know if Liz or Blanche were here until I went in because they took the bus. I grabbed my purse and slid out of the Prius. Not my first choice for a car, I wanted an SUV, but my PR guy insisted I get either a Tesla or a Prius to keep up the image. What image? I just wanted healthier choices on the go.

I blinked several times when I got inside, trying to adjust to the dim interior. The hostess smiled a welcome, but before she could speak someone started shouting.

“Vicky, over here.” I shrugged at the hostess as I went over to the table where Liz and the rest of my friends were seated. “Why are you late? Did you have to sign off on some stock deal or something?”

I glared at Liz. “I’m not late. You’re early. And no, I was playing solitaire and lost track of time.”

Daphne snorted as she grabbed an herbed biscuit out of the basket in the middle of the table. “Glad you’re working hard unlike the rest of us lazy bums.”

Blanche bristled. “I am not lazy. I had two doodles and a long haired chihuahua waiting when I got in. Then a long-haired cat came in needing to be shaved because her fur was so matted.”

“Yeah, speak for yourself, Daph. I had to send one of the senior’s off in an ambulance because she fell over and broke her hip doing a warm up stretch. Then I had to sit down to negotiate a new lease for the studio.” Liz grabbed a biscuit and bit in aggressively.

“Okay, fine, I’m the only lazy bum. All I’ve done is chat on the phone with entitled Canadians who want better internet service for their dollar. Do you know one guy actually told me that he wanted proof that we weren’t spying on him, recording his Google searches?” Daphne shook her head as she picked up her water. “I asked my supervisor if I should start an investigation because he was so convinced we were tracing his online footprints.”

“Probably high and been Googling food.” I took a roll and nibbled. How many carbs? Who cared, they were the best herb and garlic rolls in the world.

“I hope so, but I flagged him just in case.” Daphne sipped her water. “So, how’s Ms. Moneybags?”

I hated the digs about my success. I hadn’t foreseen this, hadn’t planned this. “You could’ve joined me, you know. Still can, anytime.”

“Riiight,” Liz rolled her eyes. “Chic Cuisine could start up an exercise while you wait trend. I can see it now – Liz’s line of exercises to do while you wait for your tofu salad.”

“And I could start up a whole new definition of doggy bags. Specially prepared food for your fido, and the take-out bags can double as poop and scoop bags.” Blanche giggled at the thought.

“I guess I could head up the telephone hotline. You know, for the panicked callers who need to know if they just had five or six hundred calories, and how many grams of fat.” Daphne smiled.

“Don’t forget net carbs,” I added, shaking my head. “Who knew so many people were just waiting for sauteed vegetables in a hurry?”

“Seems kind of a sham, to be dining at a steak and seafood place.” Blanche glanced around the room. “I bet none of these people have ever had anything juiced but clamato for the caesars.”

The waitress appeared with a wide smile and mile-high teased hair. “Can I get you anything?”

“How about a menu?” Blanche raised an eyebrow.

The waitress frowned. “Oh, my bad. Can I get you ladies a drink while I grab the menus?”

Blanche nodded as she ordered for each of us. “And hurry. Some of us have to get back to work.”

When the waitress left to get our drinks, Daphne sighed. “I’m done for the day.”

“Must be nice. I’ve got a class coming in at six. Five-to-ten-year olds, for yoga. The room will smell like farts within ten minutes, and I won’t be able to get them to stop giggling. Then I’ve got the beginner adults. They’re not much better than the kids.” Liz picked up another roll.

“I’ve got the girls doing the rest of the appointments while I run out to the accountant. Here’s hoping we show a profit this month.” Blanche crossed her fingers.

My phone vibrated and I glanced at the display. Marcy. I hit do not disturb. “Sorry.”

“Probably need you to taste test the newest health shake.” Liz grinned. “Or have they finally nailed the apple-cinnamon smoothie?”

I squared my shoulders as I took the menu the waitress offered. “That was one of our first releases. We’ve got most of the drinks worked out, for those that want a drive-thru juiced blend or protein shake. Even have the line-ups down. There’s like a dark chocolate something or other for around Easter, Cinnamon-something for October, Peppermint and ginger options for Christmas. Now we’re figuring out desserts.”

“What, how to make a kale cake?” Daphne snorted, sipping her pop.

“Flour-less and sugar-free fruit cake? I can save you the trouble – chop up some melon and strawberries, put it in a bowl, and cover.” Blanche sipped her coffee. “You could get really fancy and drizzle bitter chocolate over it.”

“Count me out then. I still have a bad taste in my mouth from trying the 90% cacao chocolate Vicky tricked me with last time we taste tested.” Liz picked up her tea and sipped.

I felt my temper rising. They acted like I was this health food guru girl who wouldn’t let milk chocolate touch my lips, but the truth was, I was still the same person who got movie popcorn and Twizzlers when we went to the movies. I’d just been sick of fries, subs, and pizza as my only fast lunch options. “You guys were on board when I first started Chic Cuisine.”

Daphne leaned across the table to pat my hand. “We still are. We’re just teasing you, keeping you real.”

I pulled my hand free as I sat back. “You guys act like I’ve changed, but I haven’t. I have no interest in the inner workings. I still don’t even know how this happened. I’m still the girl grilling chicken in the food court and struggling to make enough to pay the rent to the property people at the mall.”

Blanche rolled her eyes. “Except you could buy the mall now.”

I pushed my chair back. “I offered you. I asked you guys if you wanted to help me start my little business, but you said you’d rather die than work in the food court. Then, when they approached me about going bigger, I asked you if you wanted to form a company with me, and you all said no. Now you do nothing but make fun of it, of me?”

I walked as fast as I could to the washroom, hoping like hell I wasn’t crying yet. Anger and hurt roiled with a dollop of self pity swirling through the mix. I grabbed a wad of toilet paper as soon as I went into the washroom and leaned against the sink, staring at my reflection. I still got my hair done by Judy, the same blonde highlights in my dirty blonde hair that I’d been getting since high school. I still bought my make-up at the same store in the same mall I’d opened my first Chic Cuisine. I’d added a couple of new stores for the professional clothes I had to wear for certain things, but my fancy dresses were from the same stores I’d always shopped at. I still endured family dinners at my parent’s house every Sunday – I say endured because I was usually hung over from partying with the three women I’d just run off on.

The bathroom door opened and I slid into the stall before looking to see if it was friend or foe – though at this point, I wasn’t sure there was a difference between the distinctions.

“Come on out, Vic, it’s me.” Daphne thumped on the stall door.

“Go away.” I sniffed, dabbing my eyes.

“Don’t make me shimmy under the door the way I did two weeks ago when you locked yourself in the stall, drunk.”

“We both had to shimmy out because the lock was broken. I wasn’t that drunk.” I opened the door as I stepped out.

“True,” Daphne grinned. “But you broke the lock.”

I flipped her the bird as I leaned against the counter. “What do you want?”

“In. And don’t worry about Liz and Blanche, they’re just jealous. They don’t want to ride your fame and glory, they’re just jealous that you stumbled into a pit of gold while they’re struggling to make their dreams come true.”

“What does that mean?” I knew what Daphne meant but I was just cranky enough to play petulant child.

“Which part? The part where I’m asking for a job, or the part where I’m telling you that Liz and Blanche are struggling because they’re jealous of and happy for you and don’t know how to deal with the conflicting emotions?” Daphne leaned against the wall across from me and crossed her arms over her chest.

I felt my forehead crease as I considered. “You want a job? Do you want to head up PR, Marketing, HR? Name your department, it’s yours. Or at least half, because I’ve got some good people in there already.”

Daphne shook her head, laughing. “I’m not equipped to do any of that. I can do customer service calls, stuff like that.”

Frustration rose up again and I punched the counter behind me. “That’s what I’m saying – I’m not equipped for any of this either. But here I am, President, or CEO, or whatever my title is. With people running everything for me because I don’t have the first clue how to do it myself. Even my secretary understands more than I do – and wants to know more. She should be my boss.”

“So? Stop doing it. Sell it, step down, whatever. After you get me a job answering phones somewhere.”

I shrugged. “I still want a say in what Chic Cuisine is, what they do next, I just don’t understand the ins and outs, the bigger and more tedious stuff. When everyone started hounding me to sell, I was fielding offers from everywhere. If it weren’t for a few good people jumping in to help, I’d still be slogging away at the mall. The bottom line is that I didn’t want to sell to anyone because they were talking about adding stuff that’s already out there to the menu. Cutting back on the healthy in favour of bigger profits. That’s the only reason I go in every day – to make sure the roots stay the same.”

“Why don’t you go back to working the original location then?” Daphne shrugged.

“Honestly? I didn’t love it. I just hated the same food every day, or rather, the same lousy choices. And the only reason I’m still doing this is like I said – I want to control what’s on the menu board. I love the way it is now – vegan, vegetarian, low carb, keto friendly choices. Something for everyone and not a deep fryer in sight. I dragged my heels over the juicing thing but then realized I was being dumb and let that happen, but I put my foot down on the totally vegan suggestion.”

“Vicky, Vicky –” Blanche swung through the door, her hand on her chest. “There’s that very good-looking guy looking for you. Liz just waved him over while I came to get you.”

I groaned. “Mark or Luke? Got to be Luke, Mark’s not that good looking.”

Blanche and Daphne pushed me out of the washroom while I kept mumbling under my breath. “Can’t even go to lunch with my friends, what’s so important, anyhow?”

Liz was alone at the table. I scanned the restaurant, but didn’t see Mark, Luke, or anyone remotely handsome enough to fluster Blanche. I sat down and picked up my water.

“There you are!”

I heard the deep voice, saw Liz’s hands smoothing her hair. The glass slipped from my fingers and hit the ground – after spewing the contents all over the table and my lap. “Duncan.”

“Vic – er, Ms. Carter? We need to go.” I saw the twinkle in his gray eyes as he used my last name. I wished I could think of something witty to say, but I just stared at him. His dimple winked in his cheek, and I was sure he was laughing behind the cool, professional mask. “Now.”

Duncan was – what was he? Vice President, I guess. Between him and Doug, everything was handled and ran the way it should without any help from me. “I’m just having lunch.”

“Something more urgent has come up.” Duncan grabbed the cloth napkin and started to wipe my pants then seemed to think better of it when he almost touched my wet crotch. He passed the napkin to me to clean myself.

“Daphne, call me later. Sorry to run out, girls.” I winked at Daphne and shot a cool smile at the other two. We hadn’t even ordered yet – let them pay for their own drinks and food if they wanted to stay.

I followed Duncan out of the restaurant. “What’s up?”

Duncan headed for my Prius. “I’ll explain on the way.”

I paused outside the car. “Where’s your car?”

“Doug dropped me off on the condition that I brought you back to the office. I figured me coming to get you was better than a wailing Doug.”

I slid into the car and waited for Duncan to get in. “Why’s Doug wailing?”

“You haven’t signed a bunch of contracts and papers that have to be filed by today.” Duncan slid the seat back before doing up his seatbelt. “Don’t you ever go in your inbox?”

What inbox? “That’s what I have you and Doug for.”

“Some things you have to deal with yourself, you know.” Duncan grinned as I pulled out on the street.

“Why? I hired you and Doug, Mark, Luke, and Cassandra so I didn’t have to do the boring stuff.” I honked at the taxi that cut in front of me.

“You’re the one who opted to stay in control – rightfully so, so don’t bite my head off – so that means there are certain things that only you can do.” Duncan drummed his fingers on his leg. “Everything passes through one of us first, but the final say is still yours and you haven’t been keeping up your end.”

I signalled to turn into the underground lot and stopped to wait for the long line of cars to pass. “You guys must think I’m so dumb. I can only imagine what you say when I’m not around.”

Duncan stared at me and I felt heat on the back of my neck so I turned my attention back to the traffic. “Marshall gets the most annoyed, and Doug. Doug because he’s terrified he’s going to make a bad decision and you’ll put nerdy little man on the menu. Marshall’s used to corporate snakes and cut-throat business types, so he doesn’t get your whole ‘meh, whatever’ attitude.”

I started to turn. “Marshall is the old guy with the hair like a cloud, right?”

“Yes.” Duncan snorted out a laugh. “Better than the Einstein description, but not much.”

I parked the car and we walked over to the elevators. I called it my private elevator because there were three together at the main entrance, and a single one here. Chic Cuisine took up the whole seventh floor. Mark had been talking about getting us more space but I loved where we were.

Duncan pressed the button as I put my pass back in my pocket. “What’s going on, for real, Vicky?”

I watched the numbers above the doors marking our progress. “I hate this. I am not this person.”

Duncan’s eyes filled with compassion. “I know. I went to school for four years to be this guy, but I’m still over my head half the time.”

We strode past Marcy who was on the phone and I let us into my office. “Yeah, well, at least you graduated. I dropped out of college because I hated the medical secretary course. I’m a fraud – I still eat pizza, burgers, just not every day.”

I dropped into the cozy seating area next to the ping pong table and wiped my leaking eyes. “I’m only hanging on to the title because I know if I give up control, the money people will demand more profit and not care about the same things I do. All they care about is the bottom line.”

Duncan settled in the seat next to me. “What do you want, Vicky?”

“For someone else to do the stuff, and just consult me before they make major decisions. That’s it. Oh, and to listen to me, consider my ideas, and figure out whether we can make them work or not. But I don’t want the boring stuff that comes with the control.” I bit my lip and stared at Duncan for a second. My shoulders hunched as I finally admitted the truth to myself. “That’s not true. I want to understand this stuff. To understand what all these heads of whatever do, why Marshall always looks like the company is about to collapse at any minute when we’re making profits and selling franchises for as much as established chains.”

“Start showing an interest then. Show up for meetings, stop letting everyone just dismiss you when you aren’t sure what’s going on.” Duncan patted my damp leg. “At least let me teach you the basics, so you don’t get that glassy look in your eyes when the topic goes into foreign territory.”

I sat up straight. “Would you? Teach me?”

Duncan stood up and went to a bin on my desk, grabbed a huge stack of papers and a pen from the cat shaped cup Blanche had given me for Christmas five years ago. “Let’s start with signing these, then we’ll get to the crash course.”

“I can always tell the ones Marcy gave me because she puts little sticky notes with arrows where I need to sign.” I scribbled my name.

“Don’t you read what you’re signing?” Duncan asked, his jaw slack. “You might’ve just agreed to sell hormone injected beef patties.”

I stuck my tongue out. “This one was about switching to compostable cups and containers.”

I glanced, signed, skimmed, signed and initialled. Duncan got up to leave. “You’re going?”

“I’ll be back in an hour unless you’re done first, then you come find me. I’ve got a couple of things to deal with before I’m done for the day.”

I watched him leave (I’m a woman, he’s got nice buns), then returned to the tedius work. Anything I didn’t understand or agree with, I put aside like I usually did. I’d get Marcy to deal with them. My pen started to run out of ink, so I shook it vigorously. Still didn’t work. I got up to grab a new one, and grabbed another stack that were in the bin beneath the papers Duncan had given me. I might as well do all the work while I was motivated.

The door to my office was ajar and I heard Doug and Marcy talking. “She’s in there? Right now? Seriously? Working?”

“Yes, Doug. Been in there for at least an hour. Mr. Reynolds brought her in like you wanted.” Marcy’s cool tone was laced with amusement.

I watched the door, and sure enough, Doug’s face peeked in at me. “What’s up, Doug?”

“I, uh, need the contract for the –”

I rifled through the signed stack. “The agreement to work with Organically Yours?”

“Um, yeah. How’d you –?”

“Marcy puts red arrow stickies to let me know its urgent.” I held up one of the arrow sticky notes I’d stuck to the table after signing.

“Right. Well, thanks.” Doug took the papers from me and was backing out of the office when a thought popped into my head.

“Who’s in charge of promotions?” I sat back, thinking of lunch.

“Depends. What are you thinking?” Doug leaned his slender frame against the wall.

“My friend, she’s got a yoga studio. That’s where I was when Duncan came to get me – meeting with her about maybe doing a line of videos or something. Still a work in progress, but I wanted to talk to –” I frowned mid exaggeration. Who? “Whoever would be in charge of that.”

“Probably best to talk to Luke, marketing’s his gig. Are you thinking of backing her? Then Marshall, or Cassandra in finance.”

I recalled everything Liz had said, and leaped. “No, we were discussing ways to pass the time waiting. We could do a short demonstration video to play on TV’s set up at the entrance, in line, at the counter waiting for food. If there’s demand for more, we could sell a series of videos to do at home, or give out a code at checkout if they want to access a video online. Kind of a ‘dollar a pose’ promotion.”

Doug clapped his hands, crumpling the papers he held. “That might be brilliant, or lame. Talk to Luke, he’ll let you know.”

“Can you –” I thought of what I’d said to Duncan. “Never mind. Just remind me to talk to him tomorrow. I’ve also been meeting with my other friend about maybe branching out to pet food. Like raw food that people can take home for their pets. The compostable doggy bags could double as scoop bags.”

Doug frowned. “Talk to Luke, Mark, everyone. Are you coming to the meeting tomorrow?”

“Oh yes. What time is it?” I feigned knowledge of the meeting. It was probably in one of my unread emails.

“Nine.”

“I’ll be there.”

Doug staggered out of my office, his hand on his heart. “See you bright and early then, boss.”

“Stop calling me that!” I shouted, grinning when I heard Doug cheering.

Another half hour passed and I’d almost finished when I heard a knock on my doorframe. I glanced up and saw Marcy staring at me. “Done for the day?”

Marcy nodded, stepping in. “What happened to you when you peed your pants?”

I blinked in confusion. “Pardon?”

Marcy pointed at her own lap. “You were a little soggy when you came in. Figured you’d peed yourself.”

“No, I spilled my water,” I grinned, feeling my thighs. “Dry now.”

“That’s all it took? For Mr. Reynolds to dump water on your lap?”

“Guess so,” I nodded. “I know you think I’m a flake, but I’m going to try to be better from now on.”

Marcy sat on the seat beside me. “I’m glad. Mr. Reynolds certainly worked his charm, or his magic, or whatever on you. This keeps up, I might win the pool.”

I frowned. “What pool?”

“There’s two, actually. If you start to take the business seriously in the next ten years, I win.”

“And if it’s longer?”

“Then I lose to Vera in HR. She’s got you down for her retiring before that happens. Everyone else had more faith.” Marcy winked.

“What’s the other pool?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. “When I’ll sell?”

Marcy studied me for several seconds. “No. No matter how bored this whole thing makes you, I know you’re determined to keep Chic Cuisine on the straight and narrow. They tried to start a pool about you taking a pay-out, but I nixed it.”

Touched, I patted Marcy’s hand. “Thanks. So what’s the pool then?”

“How long it’ll take for you and Mr. Reynolds to get together. I may be married, but I’m not dead. He’s hot, almost as hot as my husband, and we’ve all seen the way you two look at each other.”

My face warmed. “I’m sure you’re imagining things. Well, see you tomorrow.”

Marcy made no move to leave. “You want in? Five bucks he asks you out end of the year. That’s the last option left. Everyone else has already picked their choice of timelines. Just so happens, I’ve got this week. Vera got last pick, which was the week before Christmas.”

“Yes, well, put me down for never.” I picked up the next paper to sign, put it back down again. “I’ve got a friend who has been doing telemarketing stuff for a few years. Her latest job is with an internet company. She refused my offer to run communications or whatever, but do you know somewhere that would suit her that also has an opening?”

“I’ll call Vera tomorrow. Tell her to fax her resume to me, I’ll pass it to whoever Vera suggests. I’m thinking Vera will scoop her up, or pass her to Luke. They’re both looking for someone who can communicate well. Vera needs a new secretary,and Luke needs someone to field calls.”

I fished my phone out of my purse. “Here, can you text Daphne the fax number? Tell her to send her resume attention Marcy.”

“You know I’m off the clock, right?” Marcy muttered as she took my phone. I saw the ghost of a smile on her lips.

I finished signing the papers I was holding as Marcy put my phone down. “She said ‘OMG, for real? Faxing now’.”

Marcy stood up and was at the door when another thought struck. “Hey, Marcy?”

“Yes?”

“Why do you call Duncan Mr. Reynolds, and Doug and I by our first names?”

“I call you Vicky because you threatened to fire me if I didn’t stop with that Ms. Carter BS, and –” Marcy’s face flushed. “I call Doug Doug because he’s my husband and I feel ridiculous calling him Mr. Benedict.”

Whatever I’d expected Marcy to say about Doug, it wasn’t that. “Huh.”

“What can I say? I’m a lucky woman.” Marcy turned on her heel and left me gaping after her.

I was halfway through my emails when Duncan came in. “Wow, you’re still here. I’m impressed.”

“What can I say? I’ve decided to learn.”

Duncan eyed the empty bins. “Did you put them through the shredder?”

“Ha, ha. No, they’re all in Marcy’s in-tray. She can deal with them while I’m in the meeting tomorrow morning.”

Duncan sat in one of the wing chairs across from my desk. “Wow. You’re really serious?”

“I think so. I’ve got a few things to discuss tomorrow, or should I schedule another meeting?”

“If it’s about the yoga stuff or doggy bags you mentioned to Doug, you can probably get away with dropping the news then set up meetings with everyone who needs to be involved.”

I nodded as I shut down the computer. “There’s another thing. I want to split the company, fifty-fifty.”

“With who?” Duncan frowned.

“Well, more like I’ll keep a bit higher, split the rest amongst you, Doug, Mark, Luke, Cassandra. Anyone I’m forgetting? That’s been here holding my hand and picking up my slack since we went huge?”

“Marshall will tell you to retain fifty-one percent to keep controlling interest.” Duncan shook his head. “But you’re being silly.”

“Why? Chic Cuisine would be nothing without you guys. I was the naïve and ignorant dreamer working a tiny fast food place until some corporate sharks tried to take me over. If you guys hadn’t reached out when I posted that letter to the editor with an all-call for help, I’d be lamenting that I had nothing to eat on the go but burgers, subs, pizza, or trendy processed crap.”

“This is your vision. We’re just helping you keep it real.” Duncan shrugged.

“That’s what I’m saying though. I couldn’t have fought them off without all of your help. When we met in my parent’s basement, because my tiny apartment was too small, you guys were the ones to tell me what needed to be done next. When I was overwhelmed, confused, lost, you guys picked up my slack. This company is what it is because of everyone else helping me keep it real. So, please? Let me – rather let Marshall – draw up papers for a partnership with whoever wants in. What do you say?”

Duncan stood. “If that’s what you want. But you’re not off the hook. We’re starting tonight, the crash course in learning your business.”

“You’re still willing?” I grinned as I stood and walked towards the table where my purse was.

“Of course. I must say I feel a whole lot better about asking you out now.”

I grabbed my purse from the table. “What?”

Duncan flushed. “I wasn’t actually going to ask the boss lady out yet. I’d figured out my game plan. We’d start with dinner, discussing the basics. Of course, we’d be off topic more than on, which would lead to coffee after. Then repeat tomorrow, say at lunch. Then dinner again, because we just can’t seem to keep on the subject. Oh, and just in case you were wondering? I planned my strategy with Luke months ago, just been waiting for you to get around to taking an interest. Didn’t want to weasel in with the boss, have people thinking or saying I’m only with you because you’re the owner. Didn’t want you to think I was only interested because you’re the boss. I’ve been interested since the night I met you at your parents.”

My purse slid out of my hands. “Is it insider trading if I say you have to ask me out before the week is up? Only Marcy has this week in the pool and I kinda feel I owe her.”

Duncan considered. “What week did you have?”

I big my lip. “Never.”

“Well, Doug’s been a huge help to me, only fair that I help his wife win.” Duncan’s gray eyes twinkled and his dimple winked. “Vicky, will you go out to dinner with me?”

My tummy fluttered. “Do you like steak and seafood?”

“That’s where I was when your friend ran off to get you – in the back, begging a roll off the cook.” Duncan pulled me into his arms for a hug.

“Perfect. We’ll start the crash course tomorrow night.” I winked as I studied his handsome face. Just like the first time I saw him, when he and the others answered my SOS, I felt breathless, hopeful, and just a little in love.

 

Daisy juggled Dylan on one hip and her wallet, phone, and keys in her free hand. The cashier scanned the items on the belt. Daisy frowned. “The crackers are on sale, aren’t they?”

The cashier shook her head, still scanning items. “Last week they were.”

Daisy felt her face flame as the line behind her shifted impatiently. “Can you remove them then?”

The cashier, a bored teenaged girl, paused her robotic motions. “What?”

“I don’t want the crackers.” Daisy heard the woman behind her mumbling.

“Why?” The girl frowned as she searched the bag for the box of crackers.

“I just don’t want them.” Not for full price, at least. Daisy hated this store but it was her only option without driving miles out of her way, wasting gas to save a few cents.

The cashier shrugged and removed the crackers, then put the box on the counter beside her. She eyed Daisy, and moved the box farther away. Daisy’s face burned with humiliation. Did she look that desperate that the girl thought she’d try to grab them?

Dylan fidgeted and Daisy struggled to keep him upright in her arms as she watched the totals of each item scanned with an eagle eye. “The bread is two for four dollars.”

The cashier sighed and picked up the phone beside her, keyed in a couple of numbers. “Bakery, call till three, bakery, till three.”

The cashier continued to scan items as the line behind Daisy got longer. No one called. Daisy needed bread, but didn’t have enough for the price scanned. Or maybe she did, because she wasn’t getting the crackers but if she’d known they weren’t two-for-four, she’d have bought just one loaf of the cheaper bread.

The cashier finished scanning and stared at Daisy.

“You might want to try them again? Or call someone?” Daisy pretended she couldn’t hear the grumblings of the people behind her, couldn’t hear the mutterings.

“Mama, go!” Dylan fidgeted even more and Daisy dropped her keys trying to hold him.

“In a minute, baby.” Daisy watched as the cashier picked up her phone again, turned her back to whisper into the receiver.

“Is this going to take long? I’ve got to get back to work.” The woman in line behind Daisy demanded. Daisy turned, wondering if she were talking to her or the cashier. “What’s the hold up?”

Daisy’s head pounded. Dylan grabbed a handful of hair and tugged, making it worse. “Stop it, please, baby.”

“Go! Go! Mama!” Dylan kept tugging her hair, bringing tears to Daisy’s eyes. She set her wallet and phone down on the counter, trying to extract her hair from her son’s clutches.

The cashier hung up and shrugged at Daisy. “One sec.”

“Can’t you ring me through while you wait?” The woman barked impatiently.

“No, ‘cuz the transaction isn’t done.” The cashier shrugged, studying her fingernails.

“There are four empty registers! Can’t you ring us through one of them while you wait?” The man behind the woman next in line argued.

Daisy was waging an internal battle – pay full price for the two loaves of bread, or have the cashier take them off and come back another time for the cheaper bread – when the manager came over. “The bread and the crackers were on sale last week. The sale ended two days ago, on Wednesday, but the signs should’ve been removed the night the sale ended. I apologize for the inconvenience. I’ll override the system, and put them through at the sale price.”

Daisy wiped her teary eyes, finally extracting Dylan’s pudgy hands from her hair. “Uh, thanks.”

Daisy opened her wallet and pulled out her cash as the manager finished up. “Sixty-one seventy-five.”

Daisy passed him the three twenties and the toonie from her change side. “Thanks.”

Daisy dropped her wallet and phone in the bag with the bread, looped her arm through the three plastic bag handles, and hurried out of the store, her face finally starting to cool. She got to the car and put the bags on the backseat, Dylan into his car seat. She was about to get in when she realized – her keys were still on the floor by the cashier.

Her car doors didn’t lock, so she’d have to unstrap Dylan and bring her groceries back inside to get them. The man who’d shouted gave her a nasty look as he got into his pick-up truck. Daisy wanted to sit down, right there, in the sweltering parking lot, and cry. Sob like she hadn’t in years.

“Mama, hot!” Dylan cried, arms and legs flailing.

Daisy bit her lip, scanning the lot. No one was around. Maybe she could hide her groceries so she only had to bring Dylan back in.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Daisy looked up and saw the manager heading her way. He held her keys up. “Oh, thank you! I was just debating hiding my groceries and getting my son out of his car seat.”

The manager reached her and put the keys in her hand. “I’m really sorry about –”

“It’s fine. The store was busy and a difficult customer certainly didn’t help things along.” Daisy felt her eyes fill with tears again and mentally cursed herself.

“That’s no excuse. Obviously my staff haven’t been doing their job. The signs are supposed to come down the night the sale ends, and the new ones go up. That’s when the staff even bother to show up.” The manager ran a hand through his dark hair.

Dylan started crying, temper tantrum mode engaged. Daisy huffed out a breath, feeling her humiliation and worry knot inside, then burst apart. She opened her mouth to say no problem, instead she spewed the shrapnel from the force of the explosion. “Maybe if you hired adults who cared instead of teenagers who only care about who’s party they’re going to tonight, or if they can redo their nails after work you wouldn’t have these problems. Maybe if you hired responsible people that showed up for work you wouldn’t have fifteen people trying to check-out at the only open register. If you didn’t price gouge, the single moms wouldn’t have to watch every item scanned and catch the errors.”

Daisy swiped angrily at the tears and hated herself for losing her cool, but the rage and humiliation kept spewing, just like Dylan’s. “I just spent the last of my money to buy those groceries, those bloody crackers were the only treat I could afford for my kids, and yet I’m supposed to feel gratitude that you honoured the posted prices? Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to have people complaining because you have to nickel and dime the store? Of course you don’t.”

“Mama, go! Hot!” Dylan screeched from the car. Daisy closed his door and opened hers.

“Okay, baby, okay. We’ll go now.” Daisy didn’t bother to look at the manager. She put her key in the ignition, turned it. The car started, shuddered, stalled. “No, no, no.”

The gas gauge showed a quarter of a tank, but Daisy had suspected it was broken. She mentally calculated when the last time she’d bought gas and groaned. That’s why she had an extra twenty bucks – she hadn’t bought gas.

The manager was still standing beside her car when she opened the door. Daisy didn’t look at him. How much more humiliation could she face today? “Come on, Dylan. Let’s go for a walk.”

Dylan slapped her hand when Daisy reached in to unstrap him. “No, go!”

Daisy’s phone rang, so she reached across her son and extracted it from the bottom of the bread bag. She stood up, glared at the manager before answering. “Hello?”

“The kids are driving me crazy. Where are you?” Daisy tensed when she heard her father’s cantankerous bellow.

“I’m coming, just uh –” Daisy locked eyes with the manager and turned her head to whisper. “Ran out of gas at the grocery store. We’ll be there soon.”

“The girl is crying, and the boys is bleeding. Fell off his bike.” Her father’s accusing tone made Daisy feel like she’d been the one to knock Jake off his bike.

“Why’s Taylor crying?”

“How should I know? She’s always crying, ain’t she?” Her father muttered his annoyance.

Daisy felt the cramping in her belly and the pounding in her head as she tried not to show her pain to the manager. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Daisy disconnected the call and turned around, forcing a smile to her face.

“Do you need a ride somewhere?” The manager asked, as Dylan began to scream again.

Desperate, Daisy nodded. “Please.”

“You unhook the car seat, I’ll go get my car. Give me five minutes.” The manager hurried towards the store and Daisy felt awful for shouting at him.

“We go now?” Dylan asked, sniffling.

“Soon. We’re going to go in a different car.” Daisy unhooked the car seat before unhooking Dylan. “We need to put your seat in the nice man’s car, then strap you back in, okay honey?”

Dylan wrapped his pudgy arms around Daisy’s neck and buried his face in her shoulder. She felt his tears dampen her shirt. The tantrum was short but had taken a toll. Dylan usually gave his all to a fit, burned himself out fast. He’d be asleep by the time they got home.

Daisy eyed the clean Honda as the manager parked beside her. “Do you know how to anchor the car seat?”

“Uh, no.” The manager scratched his head.

Daisy peered into Dylan’s face. “Can you go to the nice man so Mommy can move your seat?”

Dylan studied the manager before nodding sleepily.

Daisy couldn’t believe that Dylan went willingly, calmly, into the manager’s arms. He looked awkward jostling Dylan in his arms as she quickly transferred the car seat to the Honda. She grabbed her groceries and put them on the floor in front of Dylan’s car seat. She extricated Dylan from his arms and buckled him in the seat. “Thanks for doing this, uh –?”

“Robert. Robert Keller. What’s your name?” Robert opened the passenger door for Daisy.

“Daisy. Like the weed.” Daisy smiled wryly.

“Daisy’s aren’t weeds, they’re wildflowers.” Robert grinned as he closed the door.

Daisy felt a pang thinking of her mom. Her mother used to say that daisies were flowers that people didn’t know they wanted until they saw their happy little faces show up in their gardens. Her dad used to say they were wildflowers, just like Daisy was a wild child, and her mother would slap his arm, saying Daisy wasn’t wild, just free, like the flowers.

“Hot,” Dylan mumbled from the backseat.

Robert started the car and turned on the AC. “It’ll cool off quick, Champ.”

Dylan looked over at the heap parked next to them. “Bye bye, hunk o’ junk.”

“That’s what my dad calls the car,” Daisy explained with a grin. “Hope you don’t mind, but she’ll have to sit there until I can get some gas.”

“No rush.” Robert pulled out of his spot. “Where are we headed?”

“Concession 2. I’ll point out the house when we get there.” Daisy felt her face flame. “I can’t remember the number. Like 1, 305 or something.”

If Robert minded the long trip out of town he didn’t let on. “Were you really going to walk?”

Daisy nodded. “What other choice did I have? I’ve got an old umbrella stroller in the trunk, I would’ve strapped Dylan in there and put the groceries on the handles. Done it before, a couple of times.”

“H-hot,” Dylan hiccupped from the backseat.

“I agree, Champ.” Robert peered into the rearview mirror, nodding.

“Unfortunately Dylan’s getting too big for the stroller, his feet almost touch the ground, it’s so low.” Daisy put her hand on Robert’s arm. “You better go back, I’ll need it to come get my car.”

Robert didn’t slow. “Call the store when you’re ready, I’ll have someone come get you.”

Daisy thought of the various employees she’d intereacted with whenever she’d been in the store. “Uh, no thanks. No offense, but I can’t see any of them being thrilled with chauffeur duty.”

“We deliver, you know. I’ll just send the delivery guy.”

Daisy knew she’d never accept. “I’m sorry I lashed out at you, even if everything I said was true.”

Robert snorted. “Er, apology accepted, I guess.”

Daisy glanced back at Dylan, who was falling asleep. “You have to admit, your employees leave a lot to be desired.”

Robert nodded. “Believe it or not, it’s hard to find people to work in this town.”

Daisy let out a bitter laugh. “I’d never treat anyone the way I get treated.”

“Then why haven’t you applied?” Robert shot a look at Daisy as he drove outside town limits.

“I have. Several times. The old woman at the counter keeps saying you’re not hiring.” Daisy leaned her pounding head against the headrest. “Story of everywhere in town.”

“Are you new to the area?” Robert sped up as the speed limit increased.

“Kind of. My dad bought a house here about two years ago, when my mom died. He’s not real pleased with me and my kids moving in, but –” Daisy bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to divulge so much. “I’ve been staying with my dad a few months.”

“Your dad is Ray Wheeler?” Robert raised an eyebrow.

Crap. Daisy nodded. “Since you know my dad, you should know I’d greatly appreciate a lift to the concession before you dump me out of the car.”

“Ray’s not that –” Robert cleared his throat. “I see where you get your temper from. Not just normal red-headed temper.”

Daisy groaned. “You do know him.”

“That’s probably why you’ve never ordered groceries. Ray Wheeler is banned from the store.”

Daisy nodded. “I figured, when he complained about having to drive to the next town to get food. He never used to be like this, you know? He and my mom were normal people. He was a bit crankier than some, but not like he is now. He’s bitter because my mom died. Blames everyone, even me. Says if I’d been around more, I’d have seen the signs, but I was too wrapped up in –”

Robert darted a look at Daisy. “Wrapped up in the kids?”

Daisy bit her lip again. “My ex. The kid’s father.”

“You’re not married now?” Robert stopped at the traffic light at the highway.

Daisy blew out a heavy breath. “We were never married. I had Jake, then Taylor, when things were good early on. Then he got…nasty. Made my dad look and sound like a gentleman. I left him, got a place on my own with the kids. He came back, fooled me again by being there for me when my mom got sick, died. I wised up, but not before –”

Robert nodded his understanding as he started driving when the light turned green. “I get it.”

Daisy felt her emotions, usually so controlled, rise up again. This time, she let out a sob. “No, you don’t. You have no clue.”

Robert turned onto the second concession and pulled over at a dirt path. He turned in his seat, passing her a tissue from the glovebox.

“Thanks for the lift.” Daisy wiped her streaming eyes.

“We’re not there yet but I figure you need to get this out before you go home to your kids, and to Ray. That can’t be easy, dealing with –” Robert shook his head. “Sorry.”

“It’s not. He’s so miserable all the time. I hate leaving the kids with him but sometimes I have to. He’s actually good with them, just tells me how horrible they are.” Daisy wiped her cheeks again. “The kids love him.”

“Then that’s a bonus. Where’s your ex?”

Daisy shrugged. “Last I heard, jail. His mom sends me child support every couple of weeks. Not much, but it’s all she can afford. She lives in Newfoundland, feels responsible. Her other kids are all good, you know? Says to me that she doesn’t know where Steve gets it from, his bad side.”

Robert passed another tissue to Daisy. “I think everyone has the potential. Every day, we make choices, some of us choose wrong.”

Daisy nodded. “Like Steve. He didn’t want to work, said I was a fool slaving away at the coffee shop. Why would he want to work for minimum wage when he was worth more? But then he couldn’t find a job, or if he did, he didn’t keep it long because he was cocky. My cousin babysat for me while I worked at two jobs, he could never keep one. When I left him the first time, he was getting into shady stuff. When my mom got sick, it was too late to save her. I took a leave from one of the jobs so I could help my dad as much as I could with her. Steve came around, watched the kids so I didn’t have to pay my cousin to babysit anymore. That’s when I made the mistake of thinking that we could try again. Not because I loved him, but because it was easier to work one job, not have to pay a sitter.”

Robert frowned. “You had Champ even though you didn’t love Steve? I’m sorry – none of my business.”

“You opened this can of worms, you might as well get the full blast. Yeah, though I thought maybe my feelings were love. I was messed up, my mom had just died. I ignored the doubts, the worries, life was so hard, it was just easier to keep going with what I had. Then he got caught with stolen goods, drugs, a gun. The kids were with him.” Daisy bit her knuckle to stifle the sob. She glanced back at Dylan, made sure he was still asleep. “I had to work so hard to prove I wasn’t part of his lifestyle. His mother came out from Newfoundland, backed me up. I finally got the kids back about six months after Dylan was born. When my mat leave was up six months after that, my cousin said she couldn’t take all three kids, couldn’t handle a baby. I figured I’d come up here, stay with my dad until I could find a job. Only I can’t find a job. And I can’t afford my own place. My dad’s on a pension, he supports himself okay, but can’t afford to support all of us.”

Robert was quiet, and Daisy felt horrible for unloading on him. He was probably thinking of ways to get rid of her politely, all while banning her from the grocery store. “Where have you worked?”

Daisy, caught off guard, raised her eyebrows. “Pardon?”

“What kind of jobs have you had?”

“Oh, well, nothing exciting. Coffee shop, fast food, counter stuff. I waitressed when Jake was small, but had to stop because the bar was open so late, and I started at the coffee shop so early, with a couple of hours in between both jobs day and night. I was exhausted, and pregnant with Taylor.”

“Where was your favourite place to work?” Robert shook his head. “Let me rephrase that. If you could have any job in town, where would it be?”

Daisy shook her head. “Doesn’t matter, no one’s hiring.”

“I was born and raised in this town. I know everyone. Where would you work if you could work anywhere?”

Daisy shrugged. “Anywhere. A job is all I want.”

“And I know I can get you a job. I just want to know where you’d love to work.”

Daisy shrugged. “I liked waitressing for the tips, but not a lot of places that need day servers. Jake’s starting school in September, I’d like to see him at night. I used to think the bank would be good, but I don’t have the right clothes. Same thing for being a receptionist. So I guess we’re back to fast food stuff, which this town doesn’t have a lot of options for. Or the grocery store, but you’re never hiring.”

Robert was quiet for a couple of minutes, and Daisy felt the little balloon of hope that had swelled in her chest deflate. She was stuck in small town Ontario with no job, no prospects, a single mother living with her grief stricken father, and zero means of escape. She had a pittance coming in from her kids’ grandmother for support for them, which she spent on them only, except the twenty bucks she put in her tank to drive around looking for work once a week.

“I’ve got a couple of options. Will your dad watch the kids for an hour?” Robert sat up straight in the driver’s seat, glancing at Daisy as he shifted into drive.

“Uh, yeah, probably. Only thing that makes him happy, even if he complains about them after.” Daisy shrugged.

Daisy remembered her dad was banned from the grocery store, so she wasn’t surprised when Robert pulled into the long gravel driveway without directions from her. The Wheeler reputation preceded her.

Robert took Dylan while Daisy unbuckled the car seat and grabbed the groceries. Dylan never woke up as Robert adjusted him in his arms and took the grocery bags from Daisy.

“Mommy, mommy, we’re having chicken fingers for dinner.” Taylor raced to the door, her brother right behind her.

“Thought you said you’d be here soon –” Ray stopped in his tracks when he saw Daisy standing in the door next to Robert. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“I told you I ran out of gas. Can you take Dylan? He’ll sleep for awhile yet because he wouldn’t nap this afternoon.” Daisy took Dylan from Robert and passed him to her father, who took him down the hall to Daisy’s bedroom. “Taylor, Jake, you want to take the groceries to the kitchen? Put the milk in the fridge, I’ll deal with the rest when I get home.”

Daisy handed the bread bag to Taylor and the other two to Jake. “Wait, pass me my wallet and phone, first, Tay.”

Taylor dropped the bag and Daisy winced as she leaned on the bread to find Daisy’s things. “Where’re you going, Mommy?”

Daisy shrugged. “I don’t know. To get a job, I hope.”

Robert grinned. “When your mom gets home, she can tell you all about her new job.”

“No one’s hiring,” Ray came back without Dylan. “You check the ads in that crummy paper every week, nothing.”

“I know a couple of places might be,” Robert shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“Mommy, you should probably change. I can see your tear marks.” Taylor put the bread bag over her shoulder and raced off for the kitchen.

“Do I look that bad?” Daisy winced.

“Worse.” Ray shrugged. “Go wash your face, change your shirt. You got Dylan’s snot on your shoulder.”

Daisy set her keys, wallet, and phone on the small table before she tiptoed into her room and pulled out a clean t-shirt without waking Dylan. In the bathroom, she changed, washed her face, and brushed her hair. She found her black pants on the counter and changed, figuring they’d look better than faded jeans.

“Better?” Daisy asked as she returned to the men standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Not hard to improve on cat-dragged-in slop.” Ray shook his head. “Go on, get out of here.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Kids? Be good for Grandpa.”

“They don’t know how to be good,” Ray grumbled.

“We will, Mommy. Grandpa said we could paint some rocks after dinner.” Jake returned, holding the bag of milk. “Grandpa, can you put this away? I’m scared of jiggling the jello you made.”

Ray and Jake headed back to the kitchen, Ray muttering under his breath. “Never said not to jiggle it, I said not to poke it or it won’t set right. You just don’t wanna put the milk away.”

Daisy grinned at their retreating forms as she picked up her phone and wallet. “Where are we going? My resumes are in the car, can we stop to grab them?”

“No need.” Robert held the screen door for Daisy and they made their way to the car. “Your dad seems to enjoy the kids. Told me Jake’s learning to ride without training wheels.”

“Not easy to do on a dirt road,” Daisy sighed. “But yeah, he’s teaching him, says Taylor can use the training wheels on the bike he picked up at a garage sale last week.”

They set out towards town, Daisy wondering where they were headed but too nervous to ask. “Won’t you get in trouble leaving the store for so long?”

“That’s the beauty of running the store your parents own. You can get away with taking time off.” Robert winked at Daisy.

“Oh, God, you own the store. My little outburst is even more embarrassing somehow.” Daisy cringed as she stared at Robert’s profile. He was handsome, in a casual kind of way. Not like Steve, who’d been handsome with his swagger and self confidence, but unattractive once Daisy really saw him for who and what he was. Robert had dark hair, blue eyes, and a smile that soothed.

“My parents own the store. I’m not allowed to buy into it until I have a family. And don’t be embarrassed, you nailed everything I’ve been saying for years. Once I do own the store, I’ll be free to make a lot of changes. Until then, I try but no one takes me seriously unless my parents are in. But we do not price gouge, you were wrong about that. We’re a small town grocery store with no corporate parent. We can’t buy container ships of goods at cheap prices, we buy small orders as needed from the suppliers so our prices are high, therefore the store prices are high. Usually when we have a sale, we’re selling for our cost and making nothing.” Robert stopped at the traffic light on the highway.

“I know how it works, trust me. I’m sorry for lashing out at you. Consider it a mini breakdown or something. I’m usually very nice.”

“I know. I’ve seen you around a few times, in the store and in town.” Robert shot her a sheepish grin as he stepped on the gas when the light changed. “You usually buy one loaf of bread. I wondered why you’d grabbed two.”

“The sign –” Daisy laughed when she remembered her scene earlier. “I’d love to not watch every item scan through, to not have to worry about everything to the penny, but I had sixty-two dollars in my purse, and I took an hour to buy what I bought, because I had to keep putting things back, picking up others. Turns out, I had that much because I’d forgotten to put twenty in my gas tank.”

Robert slowed as they entered town limits. “Your dad can’t help you?”

Daisy sighed. “He is helping me, as much as he can. He sold the house he and my mom owned and bought the place where he is now. Went from small city convenience with no yard to big yard in small village. The place he’s in now cost more than he got for the other house, so he used his investments to avoid a mortgage. His pension covers property taxes, bills, and groceries for him. He’s been buying a lot of extra food since we’ve been here – chicken fingers aren’t in my budget.”

Robert pulled down a small driveway between the bank and the salon, headed for the rear parking. “Is he happy here?”

Daisy shrugged. “You’ve met him, does he seem happy to you?”

Robert snorted. “Not really.”

“He wanted away from the memories, but the problem is, they’re in his head and he can’t get away from them. He likes a bit of land, but it’s lonely. He’s not a social guy, so he’s not really met anyone in town. Mom was the churchgoer, so he doesn’t even have that outlet. I think he likes the area, but he wanted quiet, so he went outside town. If he had it to do over, I think he’d either have stayed put, or bought in town here.” Daisy opened the car door when Robert pulled the key out of the ignition. “Where are we going? I already told you the bank’s not hiring.”

They walked along the sidewalk to the street. “You’ll see.”

Daisy hesitated as Robert opened the door to the real estate office. “Are they hiring? Do they need a cleaner or something?”

Robert shook his head, stepping aside for Daisy. She froze when she saw the miserable woman from the grocery store. “Elaine, this is Daisy, Daisy, Elaine.”

Elaine’s smile turned froxy when she recognized Daisy. “Robert?”

“You know everything and everyone. Who’s hiring?” Robert sat down in one of the chairs in the waiting area across from Elaine’s desk. Daisy stayed near the door.

Elaine’s cool expression warmed as she looked Daisy up and down. “That depends. I know a few places might be looking.”

“Really?” Daisy gaped at the woman. “Anything, anywhere. In town preferably, but I can commute to one of the other towns if I have to.”

“Well, Sheila’s quitting the medical centre, so they’re looking for a new secretary there. Georgia’s going on mat leave, so they’re looking for a secretary for a year, but then Mildred’s retiring end of the year, so might be that you can take over for her permanently. That’s at the vet’s. The new restaurant will be looking for a waitress once they figure out how to let Linda go. Can you drive a school bus?”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so.”

“You’d know if you had a bus license. Shame, they’re always looking for drivers. There’s a high turn over at the coffee place on the highway but there’s a reason no one sticks. Have you asked your aunt if she needs someone?”

Robert shook his head. “I will if you let me down but so far you’re winning. Who do you know at the medical centre that has a say in hiring? Or the vet’s?”

Elaine looked Daisy over again, her eyes narrowed. “Better the vet, I think. The medical centre is a bit harsh sometimes. Judge-y, you know.”

Considering the way Elaine had huffed and puffed behind Daisy, she thought the statement was a bit laughable. “I can get some better clothes and a haircut.”

“No, no, honey. I know who your dad is, he bought the Henderson’s old stead. Let’s just say your dad isn’t Dr. Greg’s favourite patient. I’m sure he’d forgive you, not hold your dad against you, but all the same. Let me make a quick call.” Elaine put a headset on and pressed a few buttons on the phone.

Daisy sat down beside Robert. “Is this for real?”

Robert’s blue eyes twinkled. “Elaine knows everything, and if she doesn’t, she makes it up until she knows it. Safe to say she didn’t cut you slack today because she’s heard the stories about your dad, but she’s the first to stand corrected when she’s wrong about someone. She’s on the phone, that’s her way of letting you know she’s been corrected. If she didn’t like you, she’d have simiply sent you to the coffee place on the highway. Which, like she hinted, is a nightmare.”

Daisy crossed her fingers as Elaine chatted away. “What if I suck? At being a secretary?”

“Can you read and write?” Robert paused while Daisy nodded. “You’re friendly, do you like animals?”

“Love animals. Dad and I were just saying it’s a shame we don’t have pets, but we’re barely feeding the kids right now.”

Elaine pulled her headset off. “Okay, I tried to wangle more, but starting salary is only thirty-seven. Benefits in three months, once your probation is up. Three weeks paid vacation a year, five paid sick days. Now, what else? Oh yeah, you have to be willing to work at least one Saturday morning a month. Rest of the time is either eight til four thirty, or nine to five thirty, half hour unpaid lunch.”

Daisy blinked. “Pardon?”

Elaine frowned. “I know thirty-seven K a year isn’t much to live on, especially since you’ve got a kid –”

“She’s got three,” Robert interrupted.

Elaine’s eyes filled with compassion. “That’s really not enough, but the bright side is that if you get through probation, you get a raise. Georgia said it’s close to forty, but didn’t know exactly. She gets more because she’s been there since high school but that’s what she was told to advertise. Plus, with Mildred retiring, might be a bigger jump faster.”

“Forty thousand?” Daisy swallowed hard. “I worked two jobs at one time and was lucky if I made thirty.”

“Between you, me, and stock boy, Georgia thinks you can get more if you play your cards right. Got me for a reference, got the grocery guy, need one more good reference.”

Daisy racked her brain. “I got on well with my boss at –”

“No, they won’t care about that. Let me call someone.” Elaine pulled her headset back on.

“Is she for real? That kind of money in this small town?”

Robert chuckled. “That is small town money.”

Daisy sat back in her seat, her jaw hanging slack.

“Okay, that’s settled. Got your aunt on board, she’s going to be the third reference.” Elaine winked at Robert. “You got a resume?”

“In my car at the grocery store.” Daisy shot Robert an I-told-you-so look. “Who’s your aunt?”

“She owns the flower shop.” Robert sat up in his chair.

“She’s also the mayor.” Elaine rolled her eyes at Daisy. “No matter. I’ll whip you up a new one, send it to Georgia in twenty minutes. You should hear tonight, at least by tomorrow.”

Daisy looked at her phone, saw it was already six. “They won’t get it today.”

“Georgia and Mildred work those hours. The evening students work until eight.” Elaine was already typing on her computer. “Now, where’ve you worked?”

Daisy answered all of Elaine’s questions while Robert sat there patiently. When they were done, Elaine printed off a copy of Daisy’s new resume.

“I’d hire me,” Daisy grinned, reading Elaine’s work. “Mine is dull compared to this.”

Elaine brushed imaginary lint off her shoulder. “Like I said, you should hear back tonight, or tomorrow. If you don’t, come see me. I don’t usually work Saturdays but I said I would tomorrow as a favour.”

Daisy walked out of the real estate office with Robert. “That really happened, right?”

Robert laughed. “She’s a steamroller. Even my aunt takes orders from Elaine, and she’s the mayor.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Robert shrugged. “Didn’t want to sound like I was bragging. She’s my mom’s sister. We’re only a small town, it’s not like she’s mayor of Toronto or anything.”

“Still, pretty impressive. I don’t know how I can thank you. I actually feel –” Daisy paused, considered her words. Hopeful? Optimistic? “There’s a lot of things. Like for once life is going my way, you know? I was turned down for each of the three post-secondary education choices I’d applied for, and since then just felt like I was getting by, getting through life.”

“You’ve done more than get by, look at your kids.”

“They’re great, but they’d be great no matter what. I can’t take credit for them, look at their father.”

“Sure you can – you’ve been their anchor.”

“They were in CAS.” Daisy felt the familiar shame rise up to choke her.

“Because of what their father did, but they’re back with you because of what you did.” Robert opened the car door for Daisy.

“Do you have kids?” Daisy asked, peering up at him. He shook his head. “Then how can you say that? They’re great despite anything I’ve done.”

Robert closed Daisy’s door and went around to the driver’s side. “You’re right. I don’t have kids, and I don’t really know you. But I’ve seen you with your kids at the store, walking on the street, and hearing your story today? Your kids show no signs of your struggles. That’s what parenting is all about.”

Daisy smiled to herself. “If things keep looking up, maybe one day I’ll be able to do the family thing properly. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to have a normal picket-fence life.”

Robert shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the parking spot. “You want more kids?”

Daisy nodded. “I’m only twenty-eight. I love being a mom, love my kids, but would love to try again with a true two-parent setting. I mean, I know a lot of guys would run when they hear three kids, but once Dylan’s older, might be easier to find someone who won’t be so scared off.”

Robert was quiet as he pulled out on the road. He pulled into the gas station and Daisy wondered if she’d said something wrong. She waited while he went inside without a word, replayed what she’d said. She couldn’t recall anything that would’ve upset him, unless her asking him if he had kids had been the cause.

Her phone rang. “Hello?”

“Could I speak to Daisy Wheeler?” A man’s voice, one Daisy didn’t recognize, set her pulse skittering.

“Speaking.” Daisy closed her eyes, crossed her fingers.

“Hi, Daisy. I’m Lee Davidson, the veterinarian in town. I’ve just seen your resume Elaine sent over. I’m sure Elaine filled you in. Georgia’s going on mat leave soon, and we’ll need someone to fill in for her.”

Daisy waited for the ‘unfortunately, you’re not what we’re looking for’ remark, but it didn’t come. “Yes, Elaine mentioned that.”

“Excellent. Then when can you start? I’d prefer Monday, but if you need more time –”

“I can start Monday.” Daisy bounced her feet on the floorboard, grinning to herself.

“Excellent. We’ll see you at nine on Monday.”

Daisy let the phone slide out of her sweaty palm. “Holy cow. Holy smokes. Holy Toledo. Oh boy. Oh wow. Oh, my God.”

Robert opened the car door and slid in. A little smile played on his lips. “Good news?”

Daisy burst into tears, sniffling. “What have I done?”

Robert’s eyes widened as he patted her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I said I’d take the job. What have I done?” Daisy swiped at her eyes. “I haven’t cried so much since my mother died, you must think I’m such a flake.”

Robert turned the key in the ignition. “I don’t. Think you’re a flake, I mean. But what happened? You looked happy when I came out.”

“Lee Davidson just hired me. I start Monday morning. I’ve never been a secretary before. What have I done?”

Robert pulled out of the gas station. “You’ve got yourself a job, that’s what you’ve done. Don’t worry. Georgia’s worked there since high school, she’ll train you up. Mildred’s good, too, she’ll help however she can. You’re in a small town, people are different here. There’s room for error you know.”

Daisy pulled herself together. “You think so?”

“I took you to see Elaine, didn’t I? I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t think you could do anything the town might need.”

Daisy was silent for a few minutes. She looked up, saw they were pulling into the grocery store. “Did you need to go finish up your work? I can walk home.”

Robert shook his head and pulled her car key out of his pocket. “I grabbed this on our way out.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “I have no gas, remember?”

“Why do you think I stopped at the gas station?”

Daisy followed Robert out of the car. “I didn’t see you buy gas.”

“You were on the phone. This should do you a couple of days, then you can go back and get more. I told Roger that you were good for the money, to let you fill up, that you’d pay up on your first pay day.”

Daisy looked at the huge red jerry can in Robert’s trunk. She threw her arms around him. “You’re like this knight or something. You keep saving my butt.”

Robert hugged her back, and Daisy was suddenly aware of him, his strength, his heartbeat beneath her cheek. She felt her face flame and pulled out of his embrace. “How can I thank you?”

Robert carried the can to her car and fitted the yellow nozzle into it. He poured the gas into her tank without speaking. Finally, when he’d drained all the gas from the can, he stepped back and looked at her. “There’s uh, one thing you could do.”

Daisy nodded eagerly. “Anything.”

“Ask me why I didn’t offer you a job.” Robert put the gas can in his trunk and turned back to face Daisy.

She blinked in confusion. “Okay. Why didn’t you offer me a job?”

“Because as understaffed as we are, I’d rather go out to dinner with you one night. I figured if you worked for us, it would be awkward to date the boss.”

Daisy couldn’t help herself. She threw her head back and laughed. “That would be awkward.”

“There’s one other thing you can do for me.” Robert’s twinkling blue eyes made Daisy’s heart skip a beat.

“What’s that?”

“Go out to dinner with me? My cousin owns this really cute family restaurant, and she’s always saying it’s a shame I can’t come in to eat because I’m a bachelor. I figure you’ve got the kids, so I can finally check it out properly.”

“It’s a date. When?”

“Tomorrow? I work until two, so I’ll pick you all up at about five? I guess your dad can even come, as long as he promises to behave.”

Daisy wrapped her arms around him again, kissed his cheek. “It’s a date.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Like those annoying “we interrupt this program” pre-emptive news flashes, there are nights that sleep is sidelined by bizarre thoughts. We’ll save the whole ‘the world is doomed, my life is a mess and falling apart” thoughts for a deeper day when I’m up to facing them. Tonight’s kaleidoscope of troubling thoughts borders on the side of absurd.

Crazy thoughts, like the hardest things to say (You’re right, I’m sorry, and we’re out of chocolate – oh, and crayon, which I didn’t realize was hard to say at all until my kids informed me that I actually say ‘crown’, not crayon). Then there’s the whole water isn’t wet thing – how can it make things wet, but not be wet? This is usually when the first trip to the bathroom occurs.

I often use the whole ‘can’t hear me shouting from the same room, but I swear, they can hear a flea fart three doors down’ complaint about hubby, or the kids, but at night, that leads to a whole ‘do fleas fart?’ debate. With myself, of course, because everyone else is sleeping. This can morph into ‘do bugs pee?’ (which often leads to the second bathroom visit).If the bugs continue to plague my thoughts, I inevitably get itchy. Which eventually rolls around to – you guessed it – do bugs get itchy? Is that why flies always look like they’re rubbing their hands greedily? Are they really just scratching their little fly appendages? They might want to buy lottery tickets.

Why does my dog sniff his butt after he farts? Is he thinking ‘dang, I smell goooood’? Or is he thinking ‘hey, I don’t remember eating a dead, rotting cow carcass’? Then he’ll wake up, scratch himself, and we’re back on the whole flea thing again.

It blows my mind that my husband can sleep while my thoughts are so troubled. I’ll listen to the sound of his deep breathing, and wonder if I can accidentally on purpose drop a piano in the room or something, just so he wakes up and stops taunting me with his peaceful sleep sounds. If I pushed him out of bed, could I fake the whole ‘wwwhhatt wuz that?’ fake wake up thing? Then he can tell me if fleas fart. Or why we don’t have chocolate.

The cat will start his whole ‘song of my people’ routine, which leads me to think I might not feed him anymore when his bowl is still full. Like seriously, does he sit there and count the kitty bits in his full bowl and say, ‘you know what, there should be 783 kibbles here, but I’m only counting 782…Mmmmmmooooommmm!!! I’m gonna starve!’ No wonder he never wants to go outside (not that he’d be allowed) – there’s no food dish out there.

Speaking of running out of things – I do not understand people who run out of toilet paper. How can they not get all worried, need therapy, when they’re down to their last few rolls? We came close during the whole hording Covid thing, and I’m still haunted by it. Seriously. We were down to our last package. We considered a home equity loan to buy a jumbo package on the black market. Fortunately, Costco brought out a skid as we were walking away, dejected at first, then elated when we saw the security team guarding the rolls. We raced to the checkout and drove the 45 kilometres home to stash them in our safe before driving back to finish our shopping.

Bathroom trip number 3…all good on the TP front here. Toss, flip the pillow, turn. Why is qumquat such a weird word? Why does awkward look so…awkward? Why do some people cringe when you say ‘moist’? Squeegee. I love that word. Some people play air guitar, I play air spelling, complete with rubbing my hand to erase mistakes.

Awww, I just heard an ice cube being born in my fridge. Man, I’m thirsty. Better not drink anything though, don’t want to have to pee again. I don’t get horsepower. Have you seen those Clydesdales? Five of them can pull down a barn. One horse can run faster than most cars, I don’t get how cars need 450 horsepower to do anything. A barn surely weighs more than a car. Or does it? How much do barns weigh?

Shoot, I forgot to plug in my phone. Can’t use the charger that came with it, because I don’t have one of those stupid USB-C blocks. Why did my phone come with a useless cable and no block? And why do I have to buy an adapter to use wired headphones? How much more difficult does Apple have to make my life before I switch to android? How much money does Apple make? Do they do this stuff just to see how far they can push us?

What time is it? I can’t tell if my eyes are open or closed, so that’s a good sign. Open, closed, open – ha, tricked me, one eye was open, the other was closed.

Hey, I remember in English class, my teacher said that every five characters was a word. For the rest of my school career, I wrote everything using the longest words possible (why use dull, which isn’t even a full word when I could use unsharpened, which was more than two words?) Now I’m paranoid that my drabbles (stories with exactly 100 words) are lies. Was the five characters really a thing, or was he just giving me a rule of thumb? What does rule of thumb mean, anyhow? Oh, man, this could get ugly. Mental note, check Google tomorrow, see if drabbles are literal words, so things like I and a, count as one word versus the five character thing. Darn you, Mr…what was his name again?

Shoot, I have to pee. I should’ve drank some water. But I’m comfy. But if you don’t get up and go, you’ll fall asleep only to wake up to go. Then what if you can’t fall back asleep? But what if I can’t get comfy when I get back? Are you comfy now? Exactly.

We need milk, bread, paper towels, and maybe pick up some more toilet paper. What else? Not eggs, not butter. There’s something, what was it? No, we don’t need napkins. Toothpaste?

I wonder if I won anything on the lottery tonight. Wouldn’t that be nice? I could be lying here, sleepless, and rich. Or at least won a free ticket.

It’s getting lighter out. I haven’t slept yet. I’ve been to the bathroom how many times? Five? Six? Seventy? Oh, wait, my eyes must be open if I can see it’s getting light out. Close them! Close them right now! I can’t. They won’t stay closed. Why? So not fair.

Hubby’s got to get up in a couple of hours. Finally, I’m getting sleepy. Thanks for taking this wild journey with me, listening to my crazy thoughts. If you can answer any one of the million questions, leave a comment. Now I’m drifting off…

Chocolate! That’s what it was! Now what were the other things we needed?

 

For those who aren’t familiar with Drabbles. They are precisely 100 word stories. The titles don’t count for the overall word count, but they cannot exceed seven words. Here are twelve I’ve written for fun.

~~ Despairing Desperation ~~

“Gimme another.” The bloodshot eyes pierced Jill’s heart.

“You’ve had enough, Joe.” Jill hated this.

“You don’t control me.” Joe picked up his glass and slammed it down on the bar. “C’mon.”

Jill locked eyes with Stan, tilted her head towards Joe. He nodded as he approached.

“Joe, how’s it hangin’?” Stan put an arm around the old man’s bony shoulders.

“Lil’s gone y’know. Gone.” The old man’s eyes filled with tears. “Got nothin’ left.”

“You got us.”

Joe glared at Stan. “Got nothin’ else.”

Stan shrugged. “Your glass’ll stay empty ’til tomorrow. Lil’s home then.”

“One more? To celebrate?”

~~ Dealing in the Dark ~~

Darting a glance towards the mouth of the alley, Fred grabbed Carl’s sleeve. “How much?”

Carl assessed Fred’s desperation, calculating. “Hundred.”

Fred jumped as a raccoon dove into the dumpster. “Too much. Please, how much for $50?”

Carl snorted. “Didn’t risk everything to get a shipment to give it away, dungbrains.”

Fred’s eyes filled with terror and he put a hand out to stop Carl leaving. “I’m good for it, you know I am. How much you got? I can get you more clients.”

Carl reassessed greedily. “You know that many junkies? Got coke, meth…”

Fred whistled. “Get him, boys.”

~~ Saints Abound ~~

The sandcastle was suddenly covered by shadows. Timmy shielded his eyes and groaned. The bullies assessed his work.

“Hey, loser,” Johnny sneered. Timmy knew his hard work would be destroyed.

“Don’t make me call the Saints,” Timmy warned.

Johnny made a ‘get a load of him’ gesture and lifted his foot. “What? You think saints are gonna swoop down and save your baby butt?”

“Saints protect me!” Timmy shouted. Booming barks and thundering feet a second before massive Saint Bernards cleared the trees, running to Timmy.

“Call off the hounds!” Johnny pleaded.

Timmy petted Goober. “Say sorry.”

“Sorry!” Johnny cried.

~~ Baby Makes Three ~~

“911, ambulance, police, fire?”

“My wife, baby!” Derek shouted.

“What’s your location?”

Derek bellowed the address, clutching Mel’s hand.

“Hurry!” Mel panted.

“Hurry!” Derek repeated. “I can see the head!”

“Gotta push! Need. To. Push.”

“No!” Derek screamed. The operator tried to calm him.

Mel lifted her legs and pushed, beyond caring what Derek said. She tried to remember their training, but instinct took over. Sweating and grunting, Mel pushed. Blessed relief as the baby shot out.

“I did it! A girl!” Derek stared in wonder as paramedics burst in.

Mel, exhausted, rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you did it alright.”

~~ Nobody Has a Name ~~

“Who’re you?” Charlie asked the old woman.

“Sit down and eat.” The woman pointed at the tuna sandwich.

Charlie’s rheumy eyes watered as he sat down. Charlie wasn’t hungry. He pushed the plate.

“C’mon, Charlie. Eat for Martha.” The old woman patted his shoulder.

Martha? Something clicked in his foggy mind, and he reached for the sandwich. The tuna stuck to the roof of his mouth. “Where’re my teeth?”

“Out for repair.”

Charlie considered for a minute before nodding. “Who’re you?”

Charlie saw tears in her doe eyes. “Martha?”

She kissed his cheek.

“Who’re you?”

Martha smiled sadly. “Nobody. Eat.”

~~ Mommy’s Little Devil ~~

“Mommy? Is that a baby in her belly?”

Beth’s face warmed. She looked across the bus at the pregnant woman. “Yes.”

“How’d the baby get there?”

“Later,” Beth hissed.

“Mommy, was I in your belly?”

Beth nodded, her jaw clenched.

“How’d you get me out?”

“Not now.”

“Did you poop me out?”

Beth coughed to muffle Brittany’s voice. “No.”

“How’d I get in? Did you eat me?”

Beth slid lower in her seat. “Please, I’m begging.”

“Now can I get a kitten?” Brittany’s shrewd eyes assessed.

“Anything, just stop!”.

Brittany sat back in her seat, winking at the pregnant woman.

~~ Lost ~~

“We’re lost.” Katrina grabbed Gwen’s arm.

“Not lost.” Gwen tried to walk but Katrina held tight.

“We are. We’re too good to be lost. You’re so pretty.” Katrina went from watery eyes to adoring gaze.

“You’re drunk. We’re not lost.” Gwen linked her arm through Katrina’s and guided her.

“Doesn’t matter if Doug dumps me, I just need my bestie.” Katrina stumbled and Gwen caught her. “See? I’d have broken bones but you saved me.”

They broke through the trees and tumbled onto the grass. “She belong to you? She’s all yours. Wandered into our campsite claiming to be lost.”

~~ Our Time Together is Done ~~

“I want a divorce.” As Art spoke, a newsreel of their life together played in his mind. Liz, radiant, on their wedding day, babies born, pets buried, fights ending in tears, or laughter. Lost jobs, promotions won, dream vacations, nightmares, late night parties, all night worries. Health scares, broken hearts, broken bones, healing wounds, scars that faded, scars still pink and fresh. Holding one another up, or kneeling together. Tears of laughter, of sorrow, of anger, of frustration. He wiped his eyes, and looked at Liz for her reaction.

“You say that every time. Now get rid of this junk.”

~~ Not Daddy’s Girl Anymore ~~

Some days seem longer than others. Today felt like an eternity already.

“How do I look, Daddy?”

I swallowed hard. “Radiant.”

Anna’s grandmother’s dress, her mother’s tiara, her new family’s veil covering her beautiful face. “You ready to give me away?”

I shook my head. “Never. I’m ready to share you, though.”

Anna linked her arm through mine. “You were the first man I ever loved, Rob’ll be the last.”

“Unless you have sons.” I cleared my throat.

“Like you, I’ll always see them as my babies.”

Rob waited to receive her, eyes full of love. Anna was his now.

~~ In the Dark ~~

Lightning lit the room seconds before thunder crashed. The lights went out.

“Great.” Jared muttered, tossing the remote.

“I was about to make popcorn.” Delia got up and went to the window. “Raining hard.”

“How can you tell?”

“Lightning keeps flashing, dummy.”

They used the flashlights on their phones to gather candles, matches, and snacks. Settling on the sofa, Jared put his arm around Delia.

“Do you remember the last time we did this, just sat and talked?” Delia snuggled in close.

“Been y–” The lights came back on and Jared reached behind him to flick the switch. “Years.”

~~ Fancy’s Free ~~

“Who’s the best girl in the world?” Lydia asked the dog while she waited for the light to change. Fancy barely lifted her head, but thumped her tail feebly.

Lydia reached over, stroked the soft fur, tears filling her eyes. The car behind her honked.

“You’ll be all better soon,” Lydia promised as she pulled into the vet’s lot.

They were early, so Lydia helped Fancy out of the car and walked her slowly around the yard. The door opened, and Lydia stifled a sob as they entered.

The needle was in. “Run free my girl, until we’re together again.”

~~ Welcome Wagon, Regina Style ~~

Regina used to bake cookies and cakes for new neighbours. Forty years later, she was the new neighbour. No one knocked to welcome her, no one waved in passing. Her kids said she’d be happy with no worries maintaining a house. Regina was lonely.

Regina baked up a storm with no one to feed. She packed up her goods in empty moving boxes and made her way up the street. Cookies for the kids, cakes and pies for the parents. Within the hour, everyone was outside, talking to Regina, to each other.

“That’s better. Now I feel like I’m home.”