Scene One – The Julien invasion

Harper sighed heavily as she sank into the back seat of her Uber. She pulled her phone from her briefcase and began scrolling through the day’s news.

“Long day?” the driver asked.

“Hm? Sorry, did you say something?”

“I just asked if you’d had a long day.” He glanced at her in the rear-view mirror. “You let out a pretty world-weary sigh when you got in.”

Harper shook her head. “I didn’t realize. Yes. Well, an ordinary, everyday long day. Thank you for asking.”

She turned her attention back to her phone. The driver got the message and kindly left her in peace.

After a few minutes of catching up on the news, Harper lowered the phone and stared out the window. She was looking forward to getting home more than she cared to admit. Shoes off. A glass of wine—or two. Something easy for dinner. Thai, perhaps. Sushi. Yes, maybe sushi.

Most of all, quiet.

Julien had seemed to understand the night before. His arrival had been such a shock. Sweet, certainly, but really—who flew almost four thousand miles on a whim? Still, he appeared to have contacts in Toronto and clearly wasn’t hurting for money. He would be fine. They could see each other. Perhaps have dinner next week.

That seemed manageable.

Harper closed her eyes and let herself rock gently with the car as it moved through the last of the rush-hour traffic.

She woke with a start when the car stopped.

“You’re home, miss.”

“Oh. Thank you. I must have dozed off.” Harper gathered herself, checking automatically for her phone and briefcase before opening the door. “Thank you. Good evening.”

Still a little foggy from her brief nap, she bade Max good evening in the lobby and headed for the elevator. By the time she reached her floor, she was fumbling for her keys.

“Oh, my. I must be more tired than I thought,” she murmured. “Shoes off. Wine. Couch. Quiet. In that order. Fabulous.”

She opened the door.

“Whoa!”

The swinging jazz sounds of Zaz’s Je veux blasted through the condo.

“What the f#*k?!”

“Oh, chérie!” Julien called gleefully from the kitchen. “You’re home! Merveilleux! Bienvenue!”

He reached for his phone and lowered the volume. Zaz faded politely into the background.

“Isn’t she wonderful? Zaz. I love her.”

“Yes. Yes. Terrific.” Harper dropped her briefcase by the door. “Julien, what are you doing here? Never mind that—how did you get in?” Added to the invasion, he actually had the audacity to welcome her home. To her own home.

He beamed at her.

“Making you dinner, chérie.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

Harper took in the kitchen.

Her kitchen.

Her normally pristine, ordered, entirely predictable white kitchen was covered with bowls, pans, chopped herbs, open packages, bottles, spoons, knives and what appeared to be half the contents of the St. Lawrence Market.

She turned back to him.

“How did you get in?”

Julien shrugged. “The concierge remembered me from last night. I chatted with him. I had groceries. I told him I was making you dinner.” He spread his hands as though this explained everything. “No problem.”

“No problem?”

Harper stared at him.

“Julien, I made it very clear last night that this—this invasion, this intrusion—is making me very uncomfortable. And now you’ve talked your way into my condo?”

His smile faltered.

“You have made yourself very unwelcome, Julien.”

“Moi? Unwelcome?” He put both hands dramatically to his heart. “Ce n’est pas possible, chérie.”

He produced an exaggerated pout, fluttering his hands against his chest as though his wounded heart might actually escape.

Harper said nothing.

Fuming, she kicked off her shoes and stomped barefoot into the kitchen. She flung open the refrigerator and reached automatically for the bottle of Chardonnay she always kept on the bottom shelf of the door.

It wasn’t there.

“Where is my wine?”

Julien glanced over his shoulder. “Ah. That. I used it for the sauce. I brought more, but I haven’t put it in the fridge yet.”

He reached toward a box of wine on the counter.

“I’ll have red.”

Harper pulled a fine Shiraz from the wine rack beneath the counter, opened it and took down one glass. One.

She poured herself a healthy portion, cleared a small space amid the chaos and set the bottle and glass down. Then she dragged over a stool and sat without looking at Julien. She knew she was behaving badly, but didn’t care.

She lifted the glass for a sip and took a substantial swig instead.

Julien quietly took down another glass and reached for the Shiraz. Harper silently slid the bottle closer to herself. He paused, looked at her and wisely retreated to his cooking.

“I’m making Coquilles Saint-Jacques and sole meunière,” he offered after a few moments.

Nothing.

Julien returned to his preparations. For several minutes the only sounds in the kitchen were the clink of utensils and the low murmur of Zaz from his phone

“I have news,” he finally said.

Harper continued studying her wine.

“I may have an opportunity for an exhibition of my work in Montreal.”

He waited.

No congratulations. No smile. Nothing.

“I leave tomorrow for introductions and planning meetings.”

This time Harper looked up.

Only for a second, but Julien caught it.

Relief.

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone on this trip,” he continued. “There are several meetings planned. The exhibition would be in September, but there’s much to do beforehand.”

Harper said nothing.

“Harper?”

He rested his hands on the counter.

“Chérie, what can I do? I know this is too much. I was excited. And I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon. I wanted to surprise you with a lovely dinner and my fantastic news.”

His voice trailed away.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

“Congratulations,” Harper said quietly.

She held the bottle of Shiraz out toward him.

The polite thing would have been to pour him a glass herself.

She wasn’t quite there yet.

 

Scene Two – Another mystery for Kate

Another glorious spring day. Kate and Merlin glided down Palmerston Boulevard in the mid-morning sunlight filtering through the fresh green leaves of the old silver maples.

She slowed as she approached 352, then stopped completely when a mail carrier stepped through the gate of the old Matheson mansion. The very same gate that had spooked her the other night when she’d leaned against it and set off the security lights.

“Good morning,” Kate called, dismounting her bike.

No response. She stepped a little closer. “Good morning.”

“Oh! Good morning.” The man looked up and smiled. “Sorry. I was in my own little world. Didn’t realize you were speaking to me. Can I help you with something?”

“No worries. Thank you. Actually, you can, if you don’t mind. Does the Matheson family still live here?”

The mail carrier, an older gent, looked a little surprised by the question.

“Well, I guess it’s no breach of confidence or privacy or anything like that. The Mathesons are pretty well known in the neighbourhood. Yep, this is the old Matheson house. Just Miss Matheson left now. All the others are gone. Never married. Lives here with her caregiver, Miss Jacy. Fine women, both of them, in their own ways. Miss Matheson keeps pretty much to herself. Miss Jacy’s the complete opposite. Loves to chat. Loves company. In fact, I was just sitting with her nattering over a cup of t—”

He stopped and shook his head.

“Good heavens. I do go on sometimes. Haven’t switched off my Miss Jacy gab session yet, I guess. I do apologize.”

“No, no. No apologies, please,” Kate said. “I asked the question.”

“Now that you mention it, why did you ask about the Mathesons?”

“Oh, I was just interested. I found something in an old curiosity shop that mentioned the family and their home here on Palmerston. I live just up the road and hadn’t heard the name until recently. Curiosity got the better of me.” She smiled.

“Ah, right. Well, I best be on my way. Have a good day.”

“Thank you. You, too.”

He turned and continued up Palmerston, raising a hand in farewell.

Kate stood for a moment in front of the Matheson house, lost in thought. Again she imagined the dinner parties and soirées that must once have graced the rooms of the elegant old mansion.

Miss Matheson. Still here. And Miss Jacy. Interesting.

She sighed, remounted Merlin and headed down the boulevard.

As she approached College Street, Kate prepared herself for the onslaught of city noise and traffic.

Then she saw him and screeched to a halt. “Thomas!” It came out half whisper, half cry.

He was crossing Palmerston, looking for a break in the traffic to get across College.

Kate jumped off her bike and dove into the hedge next to her, dragging Merlin along with her.

Her heart hammering, she crept across the adjoining lawns, using Merlin as a thoroughly inadequate shield until she reached the lane beside Jaz’s house.

There, safely out of sight, she stopped. “Thomas,” she whispered. “What on earth is he doing here?”

She leaned against the wall, willing her heart to slow down.

“I thought they moved away. He didn’t see me, did he?”

A pause. “No. He couldn’t have.” Another pause. “What if he did?” Kate closed her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

 

Scene Three – Jaz in chaos

Finally feeling calmer, if no less bewildered, Kate tucked Merlin safely away in the lane and headed up to Jaz’s apartment.

She rang the bell. “Good grief. That’s a dreadful noise. How does she stand it?” She waited. Thumping and rumbling came from somewhere inside. Kate rang again, cringing at the sound.

Suddenly the door flew open. “What?!” barked a dishevelled Jaz.

She blinked. “Oh! Kate. Sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Sorry to arrive unannounced. I was in the neighbourhood—”

“Come in. Come in.”

Kate hesitated. “If this isn’t a good time—”

“No. Yes. No.” Jaz stepped aside. “Well, come in. Maybe you can help.” Her shoulders slumped. “I can’t find my cell phone.”

“Oh, dear,” Kate said, knowing exactly how attached Jaz was to it.

“Tell me about it.”

Jaz dove into the Chesterfield and began throwing one colourful pillow after another into the air.

“Oh, don’t just stand there!”

Kate froze.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Jaz stopped. “Kate, I’m sorry for shouting at you. I’m just so frustrated. I know I had it yesterday afternoon, but then Jake… and then dinner with all of you…” She stared into the middle distance for a second. “I just don’t know where it is.”

She shook herself like a wet dog, took a deep breath and spoke with exaggerated calm.

“Maybe you could search the kitchen for me, please? I’ve already been through it once, but maybe I missed it. Maybe it’s under something. Or in a pot. Or—OH!”

Kate waited.

“The freezer! Maybe I put it in the freezer!”

Jaz pointed urgently toward the kitchen. “Check the freezer.” Then she stopped, gave Kate a weak smile and tried again. “Please. Would you check the freezer for me? And maybe the rest of the kitchen?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you.”

Jaz sighed and turned back to the Chesterfield and its massive collection of pillows.

Kate searched the freezer. Then the refrigerator. Then, because this was Jaz, the oven, microwave and dishwasher. She started opening cupboards and drawers.

“Jaz?”

“Yes! What? Did you find it?”

“No. No luck yet. Sorry. I just wanted to tell—”

“Well, keep looking. It HAS TO BE HERE. It has to be here somewhere.” Jaz dropped to her knees to peer beneath an ottoman. “My life is in that phone. My business is in that phone. Everything. EV-ER-Y-THING is in that phone.”

“Okay,” Kate said quietly.

“Thank you,” Jaz sighed. “And I’m glad you’re here, Kate. Really. I’m grateful for the help. And the company.”

She smiled weakly and disappeared behind another load of pillows.

Several minutes later Kate straightened.

“Hey. I have an idea.”

Jaz’s head popped up from among the cushions and ottomans.

“What? What?! What?!!”

“Why don’t we call your phone from mine?”

Jaz smacked herself on the forehead. “Doh! Brilliant. Perfect. I knew you had to be here for a reason. Where is it? Gimme your cell. Please.”

Kate pulled her phone from her bag. Jaz stared at it. “What is this? A dinosaur?”

“I know, I know. It’s old. Give it here. I’ll call.”

Kate flipped open the phone and dialled Jaz’s number. “It’s ringing.”

Jaz wandered around the apartment, head tilted, straining to hear.

“I don’t hear anything,” she whispered.

Kate walked toward the balcony door. “Have you searched out here?” She slid the door open. Faint electronic strains of Meghan Trainor’s All About That Bass floated in from somewhere outside.

Jaz shot through the doorway and spun around slowly like a weathervane, trying to locate the sound.

“Oh, it’s gone to voicemail,” Kate said. “I’ll dial again.”

“It was definitely coming from out here someplace.” Jaz grinned. “Yay! Double yay!”

“It’s ringing.”

Again, All About That Bass whispered through the air.

“Over here!”

Jaz leaned over the balcony railing toward the house next door. “It’s coming from Jake’s place!”

She stared across the gap. “What on earth? Why is my phone at Jake’s?” Then she stopped. “Ohhhhh.”

Kate looked at her.

“The sweats.”

“The sweats?” Kate queried.

“My Juicy sweats. Jake wore them home yesterday… accidentally” Jaz replied sheepishly.

Jaz was already struggling to manoeuvre the heavy construction plank propped against the balcony wall.

“A gift from Jake,” she groaned. “Uugghh. He figured this would be… ugh… more convenient.”

Kate jumped in to help, and together they wrestled the plank across the gap and into the brackets Jake had installed on both balcony railings.

Jaz stared at it. Then down. Then back at the plank. “All right. Here goes nothing.” She climbed onto it. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Kate watched as Jaz crawled slowly across, muttering the entire way. Finally, she reached Jake’s balcony, scrambled off the plank and stood shaking.

“You okay?” Kate called.

“Yeah.” Jaz swallowed. “I’m just terrified of heights.”

She looked back at the plank. Wowsers. Not doing that again.

“Call my phone again, would you? Please?”

“Sure.” Kate dialled. “It’s ringing.”

“Got it!” Jaz yanked open Jake’s back door. “Where are you, you little devil?”

The ringing stopped. “One more time, Kate!” Kate with dialled again.

Music sounded from Jake’s bedroom. Jaz ploughed into a pile of clothes on the floor.

“Aha!” She hauled out her Juicy sweatpants. “There you are.” She reached into the pocket and retrieved the phone.

“I have it, Kate!”

She addressed the phone, “You’ve caused me no end of grief looking for you.” She tapped the screen.

“Now let’s see what we’ve got, shall we?” Jaz immediately began scrolling through texts, emails and voicemails, making sure she hadn’t missed anything urgent.

Still reading, she went out Jake’s front door, down two flights of stairs, across the lawns and back up two flights to her own apartment, returning calls along the way.

She walked through her door without looking up.

“You found it,” Kate said quietly.

Jaz jumped. “Kate!” She stared at her. “Oh. I forgot you were here.”

Kate said nothing.

“Sorry. Yes. Thank you for your help.” Jaz was already looking at her phone again.

“Jaz, I really wanted to—”

“Oh, darn!” Jaz frowned at the screen. “Upper Crust can’t make their delivery tomorrow. Drat!”

“Jaz, I need to tell you—”

“Double drat! The TAG order was short eggs and butter. Oh, wow. That’ll really muck up my week.”

“I saw Thomas,” Kate said quietly.

“Uh huh. That’s nice.”

Kate stared at her. Then she stomped her foot.

“JAZ! Did you hear me?”

Jaz jumped. “Wha—?” She finally looked up. “What did you say?”

Kate glowered at her. “I saw Thomas.”

Jaz froze. “Thomas Thomas?”

“Yes. Thomas Thomas.”

“When? Where? Didn’t he move away? Italy? Norway? Someplace far away? What’s he doing back? Is his wife back, too?”

Kate opened her mouth.

“Why on earth didn’t you tell me?” Jaz demanded.

Kate closed it again. She stared at Jaz for a long moment. Then, utterly bewildered, she shook her head, gave Jaz a weak smile and shrugged.