Page 59 of Just Trouble

I pull out my phone and start sharing phone numbers. There’s the guy who painted my house inside and out, the woman who tiled my bathroom and kitchen, the contractor who moved a wall for me. Luke grabs a pencil and paper, sketching the dimensions of the interior as the two of them talk, then locating elements and details. I find a kitchen supply in Havelock with the search engine. Luke wants to have the windows replaced—one is cracked and the others are single pane—as well as the door. We confer over who might be able to do that.

Merrie, meanwhile, has been scrubbing down the rest of the counter with fearsome energy. It wouldn’t dare refuse to gleam by the time she’s done.

The aesthetic of Merrie’s vision-board reminds me of Willow, so I call her and she comes over to consult. She and Merrie confer, then she goes back to Jim’s shop. She comes back in thirty minutes, her phone loaded with pictures of furniture. In the meantime, we’ve emptied Dad’s car, and Merrie has squirreled everything away upstairs until the renovations are done.

Willow’s grabbed pictures of some hammered copper panels that Jim scored at a sale but hasn’t known what to do with since, and Merrie is thrilled by the possibilities. “Are there enough to top the whole bar with copper?” she asks and Willow starts measuring.

“Who could do that?” Luke asks me, leaning closer as I do a search on metalworkers and artists. I want to touch him more than I’ve wanted anything in a while, but he doesn’t touch me. He talks to me and listens to me, soliciting my thoughts and considering my views. Even without touching me, he’s making me burn for more of what we did the night before.

It’s dark outside the windows by the time we stop for breath.

Luke’s stomach growls audibly and he apologizes for it. “Tacos?” he says. “The truck should be open tonight.”

“What about the Chinese smorgasbord?” Merrie asks and Luke looks surprised that she even knows The Golden Lotus exists.

“I’ll call Phil.” I do and he’s open. I tell him what we’re doing and he’s immediately interested. “Any chance you could join us for dinner?” I ask and Merrie nods so hard that her curls seem to have a life of her own. “Merrie wants to ask you about suppliers.”

“It’s a dead night, but could you come here?” Phil says. “My mom’s a bit restless and I don’t want to leave her.”

I ask, they nod agreement, and I tell him so.

“Any special requests?”

“Tell him to make what he’d eat, given a choice,” Merrie says. I tell Phil and he laughs.

“You mind spicy?”

“Of course not. Bring on the heat.”

“Oh, I will. Give me forty minutes. I do have a couple of orders to get out the door.”

“See you then.”

And so it is that in a little more than half an hour, we’re all walking down the street together, talking as if we’ve been friends forever. The enthusiasm is palpable, and the smell that wafts out the door of The Golden Lotus is divine.

Mrs. Chang rushes forward to urge us toward the best table, just the way she did when we were in high school. She might be lost in those days again, but she’s as charming and sweet as ever. Phil manages to convince her that this is a friendly dinner and she joins us at the table, dictating to everyone to take more as if we’re family.

We don’t need a lot of encouragement. The food is awesome. I’m sure that none of these dishes are on the menu. The dumplings are the best I’ve ever had. Merrie and Phil are apparently kindred spirits, and she’s making notes on her phone as he tells her about the mushroom guys just outside of town and the best place for heritage green vegetables. She wants to know what’s in every dish, her passion for food impressive.

And the whole time, I’m aware of Luke beside me, passing one dish or another, his gaze catching mine once in a while. He smiles at me then, like we’re co-conspirators in some great plan and I feel almost like we are.

Or we could have been, if I hadn’t been afraid.

Is it too late to change my mind?

14

SYLVIA

Empire is so much more dismal than I remember.

I almost turn around when Queen Street comes into view, empty and abandoned, wet with spring rain. We might have driven off the edge of the world. Sierra was bouncing the whole way from the city, complaining when her cell phone service gave up, vibrating with impatient energy until finally she fell asleep.

I’m glad she’ll miss my disappointment in this first glimpse. There were also changes to the countryside on the drive down from the 401, but I expected that. There are still fields on either side of the road, still old farm houses and barns, some falling into disrepair. One change was entire subdivisions of new houses, looking modern and out-of-place amidst the fields. I can almost hear Una complaining about the failure to protect valuable farmland.

There are windmills, too, lots and lots of them. They’re also sleek and modern, huge silver structures spaced across the fields at regular intervals. They turn lazily in the early evening, some turbines stopped completely, looking alien on the land I used to know so well. It’s flat here, flatter than I remember, strikingly flat after Toronto’s ravines and hills.

I roll down the window and welcome the familiar smell of manure being spread on the fields. Perfume of my childhood. I hear Una calling itChanel Number Fiveand smile.

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