Savoir Faire

Scene One – A chance encounter

Kate pulled her bicycle out from beside Wulfie’s house, muttering to herself, “Good grief, that beast gets more difficult to deal with every day. Yesterday, he wouldn’t come out. Today he wouldn’t go in. At 150 pounds, that’s a lot of work! I think he likes being difficult. Good thing he’s such a cute and gorgeous Great Dane.” She shook her head, “Come on, Merlin. Let’s go get some food.” Kate patted the worn, leather seat of her old classic bike which she named Merlin, the other magnificent beast in her life. She mounted Merlin and headed off to Kensington Market.

Enjoying the early afternoon sun through the old maple trees that line both sides of the boulevard, Kate lifted her feet off the pedals, holding them straight out in front as she glided down Palmerston. “What a lovely day,” she thought.

She crossed College Street and lined up behind the other cyclist waiting for the lights at Bathurst to change. The streetcar beside them was offloading passengers. As the streetcar doors closed, Kate could hear someone shouting inside. He sounded pretty frantic. Her light changed, she shrugged and she started off.

As she turned down Bathurst, Kate thought she heard her name being called. She stopped, looked around and gasped, “Thomas!” Quickly she turned around and tried to get Merlin going, but was so discombobulated she couldn’t keep her grip on the pedals.

Thomas caught up to her and straddled Merlin’s front wheel preventing her from moving.

Out of breath Thomas eked out, “Kate, wait. I just want to talk.” He panted as he silently compelled his heart rate to slow down. “I miss you.”

“Thomas, what are you doing here? You left. With Stephanie. You moved to Oslo or somewhere far away. Far away from me,” Kate said tersely. “With Stephanie, your wife, if I may remind you, you’re married.”

“I’m well aware,” Thomas said, his breathing and heart rate almost back to normal. “The Oslo project  is finished, as is my marriage. Stephanie is still in Norway. She’s not coming back. My marriage is over.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kate said flatly. “I wish you well. Please let me get on my way.”

Thomas stepped aside and released his grip on the handlebars. “Can we meet for coffee? Just to talk, catch up. I’ve got to go. I’m back at the university and have a class shortly.”

Kate drew in a deep breath, looked into his deep brown eyes. Sighed and said yes.

“Great!” Thomas said. “Tomorrow afternoon, Café Diplomatico, 4 o’clock, okay?”

Kate nodded. Thomas leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Until then,” he said quietly.

“See you then,” she whispered.

Thomas turned and headed off quickly to the university. Kate stayed put.

“What have I done, Merlin? What was I thinking? How can we meet to ‘just talk’? Or how can I? I still love that guy, inside out and backwards. I know it’s been more than a year, but heck. I was sooo taken with him. We were so perfect together. And then…” she drifted off. Snapping out of her daze, “Oh, Merlin, why am I talking to you like this? We’re just meeting for coffee. I’ll be okay.”

Her cell phone started ringing. Kate rummaged around in her bag finding it just as it went to voicemail. The call was from Etienne. She listened to the message. Smiling she texted a reply – Of course, Etienne. I’ll be there shortly, I was just heading to Kensington.

Kate tossed her phone back into her bag, turned Merlin around and headed to Jaz’s café.

Scene Two – News for Jaz

The little bell above the door jingled as Kate entered. “Be right with you,” Jaz called from the kitchen.

There was no one else in the café. “It’s just me,” Kate called back, adding, “Kate,” in case Jaz didn’t recognize her voice.

“Kate, what a welcome surprise,” Jaz said as she entered the café.

“I’ve just stopped in to pick up some sweet treats. Etienne apparently has a guest over for tea. They’re sitting in the garden. So apparently, I’m making tea,” Kate chuckled. “Good thing I wasn’t out of town or busy or something. They might have been waiting a very long time.”

“Yes. Yes.” Jaz said, dropping her happy ‘welcome customer’ tone. “Oh, Kate, I’m in big trouble. Serious, serious big trouble,” Jaz said. “I’ve been on the phone all morning with innumerable horrible, vile, nasty people. They want to put me out of business!”

“What!? Who? Why? What’s going on, Jaz? Start at the beginning.”

Clearly distraught, Jaz took a deep breath and started, “When I wanted to open the café, I needed some start-up cash. A friend,” miming air quotes. Jaz went on, “I use the term very loosely. Anyway, this alleged friend introduced me to a fellow who could arrange financing. I went through with it. Signed papers and everything. He was a lawyer, supposedly, so I just assumed everything was legit.”

“What’s happened now?” Kate asked.

“The guy that put up the money, or rather his vile, evil accomplice called to say that the deal’s off. They need the money for another project, and I have to pay everything back in full by the end of the month!”

“Oh wow. That’s awful. Have you spoken to Harper? Do you have the original paperwork, contract you signed?”

“Harper! Of course! Why didn’t I think of that!? I’ll call Harper now. She’ll figure something out.” Pulling out her phone, she dialled Harper.

When Harper picked up, Jaz dove right in, “Harper, I need help. I’m in deep s**t. You’re on speaker. Kate’s here with me.”

“Hi, Kate. What’s going on, Jaz? What do you mean by ‘deep s**t’ exactly?” Harper asked, shifting to her legal beagle voice.

Jaz explained her unpleasant situation and wretched morning of calls. “Basically, I have to come up with $100,000 by the end of the month or I’m toast.”

“Calm down, Jaz,” Harper said. “Let’s think about this logically. You have all the paper trail… contracts, letters, emails, anything you signed?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure I can dig everything up. It’s been five years. I never ever thought I’d need all that stuff again.” Jaz responded.

Harper interjected, “You were introduced to a slimy, sleaze bag. From what you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound like you’ve done anything wrong. Except maybe trusting the wrong person. You have all the paperwork. We’ll figure out a way to squash this greaseball. It may take a while, but we’ll work it out. Trust me.”

“Thank you, Harper,’ Jaz said. “But what am I going to do by the end of the month?”

“I’m not sure, yet,” Harper said.

“I can help,” Kate said quietly.

“What was that Kate? I forgot you were there,” Harper said.

Jaz turned to Kate, bewildered, “Kate, what do you mean?”

“I have the money. I can give you the hundred thousand.”

“Kate! What do you mean? You have that kind of money!?” Jaz exclaimed.

Kate nodded. “It’s a long story. Family money, not mine. Well, mine… now. Unhappy strings attached. Skeletons in the closet and all that. Let’s not go there now.”

“Kate, you’re an angel. You’d be willing to lend me that much?” Jaz asked.

“If it’s okay with Harper, from a legal perspective. Harper?” Kate asked.

“It’s fine by me, legally. Kate if you’re sure? I can draw up paperwork. We can talk later. I’ve got to go. Big meeting. Talk later.” Harper disconnected.

“Oh, Kate!” Jaz cried out as she pulled her into a massive hug. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Are you sure?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure. I’ve said so already… a couple of times,” Kate said pulling out of Jaz’s anaconda-like grasp. “We’ll sort out something reasonable with Harper. It’ll take me a couple of days to work through the legal stuff at my end, but we should be good before the end of the month.”

“Aw, Kate, very generous of you,” Jaz said.

Kate cut her off before she could say anything else, “Enough said. I’m glad to do it. The money’s just sitting there. The trustee will be thrilled that I’m doing something with the money. Air quotes around ‘thrilled’.” Kate sighed.

“Wanna talk about it? Or maybe some other time?” Jaz asked gently.

Kate shook her head. “Let’s talk pastries, instead.” Kate smiled.

“Absolutely. Whatever your pleasure, on the house,” Jaz said.

“Oh, thank you, but not necessary,” Kate said.

“I insist,” Jaz stated. “No discussion.”

“Thank you. That’s kind,” Kate said. “Those little tarts look lovely. Six of those? You choose which ones.”

“Perfect. Excellent choice,” Jaz said. “So, Etienne has a friend over for tea. Lady friend?”

“I have no idea. All I know is that he’s in the garden enjoying the company of a friend and would I be kind enough to prepare tea for them.”

“Kind of odd, no? Him asking you to serve tea? In your garden?” Jaz asked as she packed the little tarts into a box.

“No. Well, odd maybe, but he lives in the house, too. It’s not just my garden. And they’ve probably got sherry or vermouth going. It would be difficult for him to walk back to his place, make tea and carry it out…”

“Right. You’re a good egg, Kate. A really good egg. Probably solid chocolate.” Jaz smiled broadly.

As Jaz was tying a ribbon around the box, Kate said, “I saw Thomas again today. Spoke to him this time.”

Jaz stopped mid-bow, “I beg your pardon? What did you say?” she asked gently.

“I was on my way to the market. Thomas must have been on the College streetcar, saw me and got off and came running after me. He just wanted to talk. He’s back from Oslo. Stephanie’s left him. She’s still in Oslo. He wants to meet for coffee—”

“You said no, right?” Jaz interjected.

Kate was quiet for a second. “No,” she pondered. “No. That might have been a better answer.”

“You said yes!?” Jaz questioned.

Quiet again for a second or two, Kate nodded. “Tomorrow afternoon at Café Diplomatico.” Kate said looking down at the pastry display. “I want to, Jaz, I want to talk to him. Things ended so badly. It’s been so long. I’d like to hear about Oslo, what he’s been up to. I like him, Jaz. I really do. Still.”

Jaz finished tying the bow and handed the box gently to Kate. “Understood. I’m here if you need to talk. Take care of yourself. And thanks again for the loan. You don’t know how much it means to me.”

“Thank you for understanding… and for the pastries. I’m sure Etienne and guest will enjoy them,” Kate said as she turned to leave.

Scene Three – Old acquaintances

Kate left Jaz with her delightful box of tarts. She rolled Merlin up the walkway to her flat. As she emerged from the walkway, she saw Etienne sitting at the garden table with his guest, Elise, the lovely woman she met the other day with Wulfie.

“Wow,” thought Kate. “That’s a coincidence. Etienne knows Elise. Remarkable.”

“Ah, here she is now. My niece, Kate,” Etienne said to Elise. He waved to Kate, as she parked Merlin by her stairs, and called out, “Bienvenue, mon petit chou! Come meet my friend.”

When Kate reached the table, she greeted them warmly. “Hello, Elise. How lovely to see you again. I didn’t realise you knew my uncle. Wonderful!”

“Yes, we’ve known each other for years. Etienne is a lovely man. A wonderful friend,” Elise said kindly.

“Indeed he is,” Kate said smiling at Etienne. “Elise and I met the other day when I was bringing Wulfie home after our walk. Wulfie was quite taken with the charming Elise. Here,” she said, “I brought some lovely tarts from Jaz’s bakery around the corner. I’ll go make tea and bring out some plates and things.”

 Scene Four – News for Harper, too

Harper put down her cell phone and sat back in her chair.

“Wow. Poor Jaz. Rough going. But, Kate? Kate has a hundred thousand dollars?” she murmured. “Just sitting there?”

She sent Jaz a quick message asking her to pull together all the relevant documents – the original agreement she signed, emails, notes, anything else she can find – photograph any originals and email it all to her, as soon as possible.

“Right. Off to this mysterious big meeting,” Harper sighed, grabbed her pen and notebook and headed down the hall.

Martin’s office door was open. He waved her in, pointing to the chair opposite his desk.

“Thanks for coming. Close the door, would you?”

Harper sat down. “Sounds ominous.”

“Quite the opposite, I hope.” He slid a thick folder towards her. “Wellington Entertainment.”

“The production company?”

Martin nodded.

“I thought its founder was already being prosecuted.”

“He is. This is the civil action against the auditors they hired originally. We’ve been hired to represent Wellington in its lawsuit against them. I’d like you to lead it.”

Harper opened the folder. She knew the broad outlines. Successful productions, ambitious expansion, a founder whose photograph had appeared almost as often as those of his leading actors. Then new management arrived and discovered how little the financial statements resembled the company’s actual finances.

“How far along?”

“Document production is well underway. There’s a team waiting to bring you up to speed.”

“And the auditors’ position?”

“That they were deceived. False records, concealed agreements, employees actively hiding what they were doing.”

“They probably were deceived,” Harper said. “The question is what the auditors should have caught at the time.”

Martin smiled. “Exactly.”

He reached across and turned to a marked page.

“This transaction, for instance. Recorded as a sale of production rights. Several million dollars in revenue. There’s a separate agreement requiring Wellington to return the money under certain circumstances. That requirement doesn’t appear anywhere in the documents given to the auditors.”

Harper read the page, then the next. “Man, this raises a lot of questions.”

“Yup.” Martin settled back. “I thought you might enjoy this.”

Harper looked up. “Enjoy might be a bit strong.” Harper closed the folder. “Who’s the senior on our team?”

“Bob Watson.”

“Good. I’ve worked with him before. Would you ask him to pull all the agreements together, including every version we have. I want to see what changed.”

“I’m sure he’s working on that now, but I’ll mention it when I let him know you’re on board.” Martin made a note, then put down his pen.

“One other thing. The partnership vote was yesterday.”

Harper’s hand stilled on the folder.

“Unanimous,” he said. “Congratulations.”

For a moment, she simply looked at him. Then she smiled.

“Thank you, Martin.”

“You’ve earned it. We’ll make the announcement at dinner tonight.”

“I’d better go home and find something suitable to wear, then.”

“I suspect you’ll manage.”

Harper stood, gathering the folder and things. “A partnership and several boxes of other people’s questionable decisions. Quite an afternoon.”

At home, Harper slipped into her favourite LBD and turned to put on her earrings. She caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled. “Partner. At last.”

Her cell phone rang on the bedside table. An unfamiliar number.

“Hello?”

“May I speak with Harper Bond, please?”

“Speaking.”

The woman introduced herself as a solicitor and explained that she was calling about a private family matter. Harper sat on the edge of the bed, one earring still in her hand.

“A family matter?”

“Yes. Before we continue, I need to confirm a few details.”

Harper answered the questions, watching the time on the bedside clock.

“Thank you,” the woman said. “Are you somewhere you can speak privately?”

“Yes. What is this about?”

“The child you placed for adoption has asked us to contact you. He would like to meet you.”

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.

Scene One – The ballerina’s secret

Kate gave the box a delicate shake and something rattled out from under the ballerina’s perch. A single thin wedding band slipped loose and rolled around the case. Still, the ballerina didn’t spin. Kate poked gently around the dancer’s base and pulled out a folded card which released an even more delicate ring. Slowly, the tiny dancer came to life as the first rusty notes of Für Elise tinkled out, tentatively, achingly, completing a pirouette. Kate smiled and silently applauded the hesitant performance.

Slipping the rings over a finger, Kate gently pried open the card and read:

 

“Wow. An invitation to a wedding celebration … from more than sixty years ago,” Kate whispered as she tenderly turned the card around in her hands. “And double wow. That address—I live on Palmerston. I wonder if anyone living at 352 now knows who this family is… or was?”

Scene Two – The gathering

Brrr-i-nng. Brrr-i-nng. “I hate the sound of that bell,” Jaz muttered to herself.

There was loud banging on the door and a rattle of the doorknob. “Hey!” Kate exclaimed. “Is this some exclusive joint? You trying to keep the riffraff out?!”

Jaz laughed and flung the heavy oak door open again. “You’re here. Marvelous! C’mon in.” She greeted Kate with a big hug. “Riffraff are very welcome here. Exclusivity is overrated.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Kate retorted. “I was down the street a bit when this extraordinarily stunning woman, Catherine Deneuve incarnate, stepped out of a limo near your place. Seemed very exclusive to me. I did a double take when I realized it was—”

“Moi!” interrupted Harper merrily as she flung her arms in the air, making her presence unmistakable. “It was just an Uber, not a limo,” Harper countered. “I’m not that exclusive.”

“Oui! Oui! Bien sûr, c’était toi,” Kate exclaimed as Harper strode over to greet her.

Kate laughed as Harper pulled her in for la bise—a quick brush of both cheeks, perfectly Parisienne.

“You’re back! Wonderful! Bienvenue! How was your trip?” Kate asked.

“Let’s have some wine, mes amies. I’m absolutely at least a glass or two ahead of you both,” Harper urged. “And let me tell you all about Julien—I mean Paris—so ravishing, enchanting and delicious. Merveilleux!”

“Which was ravishing, enchanting and delicious, Julien or Paris?” Jaz asked.

“Both!” Harper replied with a devilish laugh.

Scene Three – Rings and possibilities

Banished from the kitchen, Kate and Harper were sitting on the purple velvet Chesterfield sofa. The magnificent, regal piece was surrounded by masses of floor cushions and footstools loaded with throws and pillows. It was the only piece of furniture in the room with arms and a back. Comfortable, enormous and well-loved.

As Jaz completed the final touches to dinner, they chattered away. Harper continued to regale them with tales of Paris, with much emphasis—and no luscious detail spared—on the spring fling she’d had with an exquisite young French artist named Julien.

Kate got up to set the table. Jaz passed her the plates, napkins and cutlery. Turning back to the kitchen, Kate said, “You’ve given me four plates and things, Jaz.” She tried to hand the extra back.

“It’s okay. Go ahead and set for four.” Jaz grinned impishly as a loud thud resounded from the balcony. A heavy construction plank landed on the balcony railing, Jake’s solution to the inconvenient gap between his balcony and hers.

A pair of tan deck shoes leapt off the plank onto the balcony. Jake emerged from the forest of potted plants, dusted off his jeans and faded blue linen shirt. He ran his hands through his damp, blond sun-streaked hair, tucking the loose, curled ends behind his ears.

“Oo-oooh,” Harper exclaimed. “Are we having a little dessert with dinner?”

Jaz giggled.

Kate and Harper stared with intrigue as a beaming young man entered through the balcony door. “Good evening, ladies! I hope you’re all well,” he called out warmly. The women returned the greeting delightedly. Jaz introduced Jake as her new neighbor.

“He moved here a few weeks ago. He’s from Australia.” Jaz sputtered a bit, suddenly nervous. She was apparently a little embarrassed now that Harper knew they were more than just neighbors. Blushing, she blustered on, “Well, he was born and raised in Australia. Spent time in B.C. He works in construc—”

“Ja-az, let the boy talk,” Harper interrupted and winked lasciviously.

Jake was about 25 years old, handsome and clearly a welcome addition to the dinner party.

Bright, casual conversation flowed throughout dinner, interlaced with gentle teasing and sensual innuendo. They sprawled on Jaz’s jungle of cushions and ottomans around the coffee table, which was actually a large oval dining table whose legs Jaz sawed off. Set with flowers and colorful candles, mismatched plates, napkins and flatware, the table was a marvelous jumble of riches even before the meal was served.

Dinner was delicious, abundant and, as always with Jaz, a feast for the senses. The air was thick with the lingering earthy warmth of the spinach and chickpea tagine—cinnamon and cumin, ginger, smoked paprika and a whisper of saffron. Alongside was a platter of grilled, spiced chicken and bowls of cucumber and carrot salads. All followed by fresh, tangy mango and raspberry gelato. Every mouthful hummed with spice and the slow unfolding of Morocco’s deep, intoxicating flavors. Sublime.

Harper entertained with luscious French trifles that bewitched her audience. The group relished every detail, interrupting with questions and the occasional salacious aside.

During a momentary lull, Kate piped up, “I made a couple of interesting discoveries at Salmagundi this afternoon.”

“Oh, do tell,” Jaz insisted.

“Yes,” Harper added, “let’s hear some other worldly stories from that marvelous potpourri of Étienne’s. Earthly, yet otherworldly. And somewhere other than Paris, for a change.”

“You know, even though I’ve worked with Étienne for years, there’s always something new to discover,” Kate said. “Anyway, I’m dusting and poking around, checking things out. I came across a charming little box covered with a carving of a jungle full of monkeys. It was light, so I, of course, thought it was empty.” Jaz and Harper issued little gasps, having heard some of Kate’s Salmagundi stories before. “I cracked it open to see. It wasn’t empty… inside was a dried-up monkey’s paw.” Bigger gasps escaped from the gathering. Kate smiled, slightly relishing the effect of her story.

“I didn’t open another thing. Until later, when I spotted an old jewelry box. This, I thought, might be safe to get nosy about. I opened it and it was a regular old jewelry box… ballerina, Für Elise and velvet lining. It was lovely.” Kate sighed. “Unfortunately, it was pretty much broken. The tune was a little rusty. The beautiful little ballerina did not spin. The velvet lining was crumbling and peeling. So sad. I poked around a bit to see why she wouldn’t pirouette and found these.” She laid the card and rings on the table.

Gentle cries of “Oh, wow,” “Beautiful,” and “Fascinating” came from around the table. Then the questions started. “Who are these folks?” “Why both rings in the box?” “Right. And not on folks’ fingers?” And of course, “What are you going to do with them?”

“I know, right? Amazing,” Kate responded. “The only thing I do know is that this wedding celebration, from 60-odd years ago, was in a home right here on Palmerston.”

Jaz picked up the card. “Hey. You’re right, that’s just up the street. Literally what? Ten houses, or something? Incredible!” she said.

“How romantic!” Jake said. “Imagine the possibilities. They eloped and lived happily ever after on some glorious, foreign, tropical island. Leaving everything and everyone behind.”

Harper offered another possibility. “The groom got cold feet and jilted the girl at the altar.”

“Or the bride came to her senses and she backed out,” Jaz countered.

“Wised up. Right. You go girl,” Jake agreed. They all laughed.

After a moment of reflection, Kate said, “Maybe I’ll just stop by the house and see if the current resident has any connection. Knows anything about this—Oh!! Wait. I just remembered I met a woman this afternoon just up the street. I’d just finished walking Beowulf.” She paused and looked around the table. “Her name was Elise.”

Scene Four – Paris follows Harper home

“What a lovely night,” Harper said.

“Mmm, and that dinner, yum. Typical Jaz. Fabulous Jaz,” Kate added. “Welcome home, again, Harper. I’m glad you had such a fabulous time in Paris. You deserved every minute of it.”

“Thank you, darling. And you! What a delightful mystery you’ve uncovered. Keep me in the loop. I want to know every detail,” Harper responded. She leaned in; they shared a quick hug and la bise good night.

Kate unlocked her trusty steed and turned north towards home.

Harper stepped into her waiting rideshare. She greeted the driver and sighed as she got comfortable in the back seat for the ride home.

As the car pulled into her condo building’s wide driveway, she spotted a man lurking in the shadows. She tensed a bit as she was about to open the car door. She stopped. “Would you give me a moment, please?” she said to the driver. She reached into her bag, pulled out her cell phone and dialed the front desk.

“Good evening, The Lighthouse Condominium, front desk. Max Barton speaking, how may I help you?”

“Good evening, Max. This is Harper Bond. I’m outside in a Uber and there’s a fellow loitering in the shadows here. He’s making me a little uneasy. Would you mind meeting me at the door?”

“Yes, of course, Ms. Bond. Coming now.” She watched as Max stepped out from behind the marble counter and crossed the grand lobby.

As Max opened the tall brass and glass doors, Harper stepped out of the car, smiling gratefully at him. Just then, the man burst from the shadows and rushed toward Harper, arms stretched wide. She shrieked and recoiled. Max leapt forward and brought him down in a linebacker tackle.

“Harper! Chérie! Mon amour!” the man cried, struggling in Max’s grip.

Shocked, Harper called out, “Julien? JULIEN?! What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to see you! I missed you!” Julien said in heavily accented English.

Still rattled, Harper said, “Max, thank you. It’s okay. I know this man. You can let him go. He’s not a threat. Just a massive surprise.” Harper sighed.

Harper and Julien gathered themselves, said good night to Max and headed up to Harper’s penthouse suite. There was no one else in the elevator, but Julien and Harper didn’t speak as they sped up 46 stories. Harper unlocked her door and invited Julien into her sleek, modern home.

It was a corner suite, its floor-to-ceiling windows facing south and west, with spectacular views across Lake Ontario. Sailboats and motorboats dotted the water, ferries crossed to the Toronto Islands, and on a clear day you could see right across the lake. Sunsets were often magical. Harper never tired of the vast view.

Her furniture and décor were minimalist—mostly black and white, with leather, marble, and glass—quite masculine, yet elegant.

They talked awkwardly for a bit over a glass of wine. After a while, Harper asked firmly, “Julien, what are you really doing here?”

“I’ve come to be with you, mon amour, bien sûr. Why else?” Julien responded, apparently surprised by her question.

“What do you mean ‘to be with me’, exactly?” Harper asked without hesitation.

“Is my English not good, chérie? To be with you. You and me together,” Julien replied, grinning joyfully. He held up his hands, pressed his palms together and interlocked his fingers in a solid grip. “Ensemble.”

Harper stared in disbelief. Her brow furrowed, her mouth slightly ajar. Beneath the disbelief, though, was the tiniest hint of delight.

Scene Five – Foreplay, apparently

Jaz paused for a moment before her bedroom door to survey the after-dinner chaos remaining in the living room. The table was still strewn with napkins, wine glasses, a couple of wine bottles and other miscellanea. The cushions were in complete chaos… not all that different from her norm. Jaz loved the riotous tableau of color and texture. It was an almost exact representation of herself.

Jake grabbed Jaz’s hand and pulled her into the bedroom, closing the door after them.

“Hey, hey, heeey, slow down, Cowboy,” Jaz said. “Uh, do you have cowboys back home?”

“Yeah, we do. Jackaroos,” Jake replied.

“Well, okay, Jackaroo. How ’bout a little attention to detail before, umm, diving in… jumping in or whatever you Australian cowboys do?” Jaz asked.

“Hmm, you’re right, of course. A little foreplay is always in order,” Jake admitted. After a little pause, he asked, “Buuut, haven’t you already had a full day of foreplay? All the prepping of that magnificent meal?”

Jaz thought for a moment, then said, “Oooh, aren’t you a clever, sexy devil. I’ve really been playing at the fore all day, haven’t I? Chopping, slicing and dicing for hours. Spicing and herbing, testing and tasting, tasting and savoring and savoring… More chopping and slicing and—”

Jake took over. “And dicing, chopping, chopping and chopping… Oh, yeah. Ooh, yeah, YEAH… yu-u-um. Yes… YES!”

After a brief pause, Jaz teased, “Hmm. I’ll have what he’s having.”

Laughing, giggling and the rustling of bedclothes ensued.

Scene Six – 352 Palmerston Boulevard

It wasn’t that late, but the night was dark and eerily quiet. This, combined with Kate’s encounter with the monkey’s paw, had her a little spooked. There was not a soul on the street as she rode home. Beyond the distant city noise from College Street, the only sounds were the rattle of Merlin’s frame and whir of his wheels.

The address was a little more than halfway between Jaz’s and Kate’s, up Palmerston. She slowed as she approached the house. She’d lived in the area for years and loved and admired the neighborhood every time she passed through.

She dismounted and rested Merlin against the lamppost in front of the old Matheson residence, 352 Palmerston Boulevard, one of the aging beauties on the street. Still grand and graceful, but it had not borne the passing of time well.

The same was true of the grounds. Barred by a black iron fence, the front yard was overgrown with weeds and tangled garden remains. Small stone pillars held the fragile, rusted gate almost upright on its hinges. Even in the dark of night, the house and grounds were clearly neglected, tired and worn.

Kate leaned lightly against the stone gatepost, slipping into the parties of yesteryear, big band music flowing through her mind. Imagining a dance, Kate rested a hand on the creaky gate. The security lights flared to life, yanking her out of her reverie. Heart pounding, she stumbled back, grabbed Merlin and flew home.

Scene One – Jaz

“Brrr-i-nnng. Brrr-i-nnng.” The abrasive sound of the old twist doorbell rang out, always impatient. “I’m coming! I’m coming!” Jaz called as she stumbled out of her bedroom. Wearing only grey sweats and a sports bra, she wrestled with her tangled, Western U hoodie. One arm completely inside out, the other only partially right way around. She managed to get it on wrong way out, as she clambered over the colorful piles of floor cushions and ottomans which filled her living room. She squawked, scowled and swore when she stubbed her toe on a footstool and tugged impatiently at her sweatshirt.

“Brrr-i-nnng. Brrr-i-nnng.” “I’m coming!!” she shouted again.

Growling, she managed finally to get her sweatshirt on right side out. Jaz yanked the black hair elastic off her wrist, swiftly wrapped her mass of black, wavy hair up into a messy bun, stopped for a moment by the kitchen, and inhaled deeply, savoring the heady aromas from the Moroccan tagine simmering away on the stove.

Calmed by the deep breath and delicious smells, she looked back at the bare-chested young man who tumbled out of her bedroom after her, t-shirt tossed over his shoulder and struggling to pull on grey sweatpants. Jaz strode backwards towards the front door, flapping her hands to shoo him out the balcony door. “Hurry. Hurry,” she whispered sharply, smirking to herself as he hopped from one leg to the other trying to shove his bare feet into his shoes. Giving up, he pulled open the balcony door and waved a quick ‘see ya later’ at Jaz, with the hand that held his socks and runners, and leapt out onto the balcony.

Jaz yanked open the heavy oak door greeting Harper with glee. “Harper, welcome home! Ooh-la-la! How was Paris?” She embraced her friend warmly.

Scene Two – Harper

“Fabulous!” Harper purred, leaning around Jaz, craning to get a better look at the balcony where she spied a backside clad in a pair of Juicy Couture sweats disappear into the forest of potted plants Jaz called her kitchen garden. Crooking an eyebrow questioningly, Harper asked, “A little dessert before dinner?”

Embarrassed, Jaz ushered Harper in, as she giggled, “Indeed. And how sweet it was.” She followed Harper’s gaze to check that her visitor had made a successful escape. “Come on, let’s have some wine and you can tell me all about Gay Paree!”

Harper, indeed, had the look of classic Parisian chic. She wore well-fitting jeans, a crisp, white shirt, a bold, red pashmina and red suede Hermès ankle boots. Her infamous Jackie O shades held her deep, chocolate brown hair away from her face. Tall and incredibly striking in appearance, her Athenian features reflected her elegance and her formidable corporate lawyer presence.

Harper swept into Jaz’s home. “And you can tell me all about what you had for dessert,” Harper teased.

Scene Three – Kate

Beowulf spotted somebody walking down Palmerston Boulevard and simply sat. Kate was partway up the walk at the other end of his leash. She was jerked to a complete stop by Beowulf’s sit. One leg flew up in the air. One arm outstretched behind, her wrist tangled in the leash, Kate spun around on tiptoes. Finally she landed face-to-face with the mountain of a dog. He licked and slurped her adoringly for the performance. A canine equivalent of a standing ovation?

“Wulfie!” she squawked as she struggled to move him toward the house. “Come on, you beautiful beast! Time to go home.” Kate leaned over the giant Harlequin Great Dane, rubbing his ears and head. Following his gaze up the boulevard, she spotted what had caught his attention. An elderly woman, well dressed in a somewhat dated look, but couture, nonetheless. She was tiny, slightly bent with age, yet carried herself with a frail, faded grace. The woman wore an elegant, pink, vintage Chanel suit with navy trim. Her navy pill-box hat was set at a slight, jaunty angle. She proceeded slowly with the aid of a walker.

Kate held firmly onto Beowulf, ever the hero, but unpredictable. She wasn’t sure if it was the walker or the candy-pink, chew-toy-like image of the small woman that likely bounced around in his head that he lusted after, but at 125 lbs, he could easily demolish both with hugs and kisses. Beowulf was sure to devour either of them. He was a good boy. He adored people and toys and anything that resembled either.

Beowulf’s excitement grew as the woman slowly drew closer. Wriggling around on his spot as the woman approached, he slapped Kate up the side of her face with his enormous, wet tongue several times. “I have to stop using the lemon verbena moisturizer when I walk Wulfie. He likes the taste way too much.” She sighed to herself, dodging the beast as he tried to go in for seconds and thirds.

Beowulf jumped to his feet and barked in a happy, friendly greeting. A “C’mon, play with me,” bark. “We can roll around on the grass. I have a nice lawn here and a bigger one out back.” He was prancing excitedly from one paw to another, tail and bum wagging wildly.

“He’s very friendly,” Kate called out. “He loves to greet people. He’s just so-o-o big. Wulfie, sii-i-it.” Beowulf sat, still vibrating with excitement. “Good boy,” Kate said, rubbing his head as she moved to hug him between her legs. Beowulf, panting, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, began to calm down. Kate kept gently cooing to him, rubbing his head and ears.

The woman stepped closer, offering her white cotton gloved hand for a sniff. “Aren’t you a lovely boy?” she said calmly a few times.

Relieved that he didn’t mistake her for the giant chew toy, Kate echoed, “Yes, he is a lovely boy.”  Making introductions, Kate said, “This is Beowulf, Wulfie for short. I live in the neighborhood. Not here, though. I’m just walking this big, beautiful beast,” she said. “I’m Kate, by the way.”

“Well, Beowulf, you are an extraordinary creature—a strong, courageous hero, I’m sure—protecting the neighborhood from squirrels,” the woman chuckled.

Kate laughed, “Indeed. Squirrels, acorns, and the occasional runaway juice box.”

“Wonderful!” she exclaimed gently. “Nice to meet you both, Kate. I’m Elise. Have a lovely afternoon. I hope we meet again,” Elise said, giving Beowulf a goodbye caress.

“Thank you. You too, Elise,” Kate replied, hugging Beowulf tightly as he squirmed to deliver his farewell.

Kate toiled to coax Beowulf into the house. When she finally succeeded, she kissed the creature goodbye and made her way outside.

Kate pulled her own beast out from the side of the house—a baby blue vintage Reid three-speed.

“Merlin, my trusty steed,” Kate said, patting the old, tan leather seat. She mounted her bicycle and pedaled down Palmerston Boulevard.

Scene Four – Jaz

Jaz was in her element, stirring, smelling, tasting. Adding a pinch of this and a dollop of that. Bliss.

Harper’s voice cut in sharply. “Jaz, where’d you go?! Here I’ve been waxing poetic about my adventures in Paris and you haven’t heard a word I said, have you?”

“No, no, Harper, I was listening, honest,” Jaz grumbled.

“All right then, what is the name of my Parisian lover?” Harper demanded, laughing.

“Um… er…  uh… it had something to do with cooking,” Jaz muttered. “Ganache, brioche, basil, consommé, al fresco, chiffonade—oh! Chiff, Chip, Chas. No! Julien!” she exclaimed.

“Finally! Though really, Chiff? What kind of a name is that?” Harper asked.

“Well, you know chiffonade, julienne, brunoise,” Jaz said loftily. “It’s all cuisine to me.”

Scene Five – Kate

Kate loved this time of year with all the early shades of green everywhere. The first bursts of color from spring blooms—snowdrops, hyacinths, daffodils—peeking through the delicate greens in the front gardens all along the street.

Kate swooped along the boulevard, feet up in the air off the pedals every once in a while. Clad in Chucks and Lululemon gear, absentmindedly sailing along the way.

It was a lovely spring day. The warm, early afternoon sunlight was filtering through the canopy of old maple trees that shaded the charismatic street. This mile-long stretch of Palmerston was a charming enclave in Toronto, bound at each end by stone and wrought iron gates, Bloor Street to the north and College Street to the south. Both sides of the boulevard were lined cheek to jowl with late Victorian red brick homes. Not quite mansions, but grand and majestic, nonetheless. Old-fashioned cast-iron lamp posts ran along the sidewalks. A peaceful elegance still lingered here, a whisper of the past breezing through the street.

Leaving the quiet neighborhood, Kate rode east along busy College Street for a few blocks, then south through the chaos of sounds and colors that was Kensington Market. Fruit and cheese shops, bakeries, aromatic spice stores, a multitude of cafes and restaurants, the market was always bustling. She crossed Spadina Avenue through Chinatown and on to the few blocks of Baldwin Village.

A small collection of late Victorian storefronts, most now updated and converted to chic restaurants, bistros and cafes, Baldwin Village continued to house a few older businesses, including an old antiques and curiosities shop called Salmagundi, where Kate worked a few afternoons a week.

Pushing open the store door, Kate was welcomed by the mellow ring of the brass doorbell, the rich aromas of cigars, cardamom, and coffee. The warm air was filled with scent of sandalwood, old books and dust, and strains of Édith Piaf singing La Vie en rose.

Kate’s sensory reverie was interrupted by Étienne’s warm greeting, “Ah, bonjour, Katherine, mon petit chou! Comment ça va?”

“Bonjour, Étienne! I’m well, thank you. And you?” Kate replied. She hung her jacket up on the rack behind the desk and bent to give Étienne light kisses on each cheek. “Coffee’s hot, shall I pour you a cup?’

Kate inhaled the rich aroma of the coffee infused with cardamom.

They chatted for a bit, before Kate turned her attention to the shop and began her vain attempts to tidy piles, stacks and collections of items.

Soft spring light shone through the store windows. It was early afternoon, too early for any hint of sunset to be in the light, but there were shades of red, orange and yellow glinting on objects in the shop. The hints of green, blue and purple gave away the secret of the aged, stained-glass transom panel above the entryway.

Admiring the glints of light, Kate absentmindedly dusted the various relics, trinkets and treasures as she wandered the shop. Salmagundi was a curiosity shop, packed to the brim with antiques, objets d’art and regular old, odd objects—a myriad of kitsch and curios. Established in 1916 and nestled in Baldwin Village, Salmagundi was owned by Kate’s great-uncle, Étienne Beaufort de Orléans, for many years now.

She ran a feather duster over shelves, between stacks of books and plates, inside and over vases and jars, pulling out her damp cloth when a smudge needed to be removed, her dry shammy when a quick polish was required. This weekly undertaking felt like an abundant scavenger hunt to her. There were prizes and treasures everywhere, and her goal was to find them all. She did tire of the pursuit some days most often after happening upon one too many a horrific objects—a dead tarantula, a stuffed rat, a shrunken skull—before finding a treasure—an old family photo, some rare coins or antique jewelry.

This was one of those days. She had lifted the lid of one box carved with delightful little monkeys playing in a jungle scene. Gently lifting the lid, she shrieked at what was inside—a shriveled monkey’s paw. She snapped the lid closed loudly.

Étienne called out from behind a gentle curl of cigar smoke, “Chérie? Are you all right?

“Oui. Oui. Merci. I’m okay,” she replied. “I just found a-a-a thing, a thing in a thing… Again.” She shuddered. “You’re quietly, gently going around dusting, opening bits and bobs, finding little treasures and then BOOM this thing or some other wretched thing pops up. Su-u-uch a delight,” she added with unnoticed sarcasm.

“Yes, it’s like a little magical kingdom, isn’t it?” Étienne empathized. “You never know what’s going to turn up.”  He looked at his watch. “Bon! Time for me to go. The game of Pétanque waits for no man,” he said as he stood. Folding his newspaper on the table, he knocked the ash off his cigar and laid it to rest on the heavy brass ashtray.

He was a robust man in his eighties. His appearance depicted some bygone era.  His thick mustache, long sideburns, and mostly absent hair were bright white, the telltale vestiges of his ginger-haired youth. He slipped on his Burberry trench coat and lifted his fedora from the rack.

“Have a lovely evening, ma puce. Wish the ladies well for me. And you’ll have to tell me all about Harper’s Parisienne adventures, salacious and otherwise. Not a detail to be excluded, especially of the former.” He winked expressively. Etienne kissed Kate on the forehead. The bell above the door sounded as he left.

Kate chuckled to herself over Étienne’s insatiable appetite for all things French and his deep interest in Harper’s affairs. She continued with her housekeeping, adjusting the displays here and there, potentially bringing more disorder than order. Pausing to admire her new arrangements, she spied a little sparkle peeking out from between some stacks of books. She reached in and gently maneuvered out a small, old jewelry box.

Kate turned the box in her hands and gently wound the key on the bottom. Then, given her earlier encounter with the monkey’s paw, she very tentatively pried open the lid as the notes of Swan Lake sounded haltingly. The delicate ballerina was perched, ready to pirouette, but did not. Kate poked gently around the base to discover why the ballerina wouldn’t spin. “Oh, you poor thing. Is your leg broken? Wait, what’s this?” She pulled out a small, folded card wedged under the figure. Still the ballerina would not spin.