Page 94 of Just Trouble

Trust Sierra to call me on that.

“I might stay.” There. I said it out loud and the world didn’t end.

“And if you don’t, what? I call you in Berlin when I need a hand?”

“You could. Not everything is urgent. There are tech solutions.”

I can almost hear the wheels turning as she weighs the possibilities. “And what else do non-dads do?”

“Talk. Listen. Share experiences.” I shake my head. “You do know that I am making this up as we go along, since I’ve never had the honour of being a non-dad before.”

That makes her smile. “Teach me to ride your motorcycle.”

I laugh, because she’s a born negotiator. “That’s up to your mom and probably has to wait a few years.” I think of a counter-offer. “I can teach you to play the guitar, though.”

“All right,” she says, to my surprise. “But I’m staying with my friend Lila in Toronto each week until the end of classes, then she’s coming here.”

“Aren’t you coming back on weekends?”

“Yes. On the bus. It’s kind of cool.”

I know she means taking the bus alone, because there’s not much cool about the old bus that limps from Toronto to Havelock and back a couple of times a day.

“Saturdays then,” I say on impulse. “On Una’s front porch so someone can watch over us and make sure there’s nothing creepy going on.”

Her eyes light up. “Deal.”

“You have a guitar?”

“No.” She’s wary again, suspecting that I’ll renege.

“I’ll lend you one of mine, but if you bust it, you’re buying it.” This is nonsense. I’ll buy another guitar, and if she has any interest, she can keep it.

“Okay!” For a heartbeat, I see a little girl, all optimism and excitement, then the jaded teen is back. She bolts into the restaurant, moving a little too quickly to disguise her reaction. I’m getting up to leave when I realize that Sylvia is hovering inside the door. From the look on her face, she’s been listening.

“Thank you, Luke,” she says softly and I nod. “Maybe what you’ll be is a mentor.”

I look at her, surprised but liking the sound of it. “Maybe. And if you ever want me to talk to Mike, let me know. It wouldn’t be the first time we disagreed about anything.”

“It’s my war, Luke, but thank you.” And she gives me a hug, a sweet platonic hug, and I know irrevocably that we’ve never been this close before. My body is indifferent to the feel of Sylvia and the scent of her, and that’s a good thing.

Instead of one-and-done, I’ve become a one-and-only guy, and that suits me just fine.

I’m also a man with a mission.

Stand back.

23

DAPHNE

Is it the end or the beginning? Two weeks after Merrie’s arrival in town, The Carpe Diem Café has its soft opening. Friends and fans, interested townspeople, anyone whose curiosity was piqued by Noah’s coverage of the biggest event in Empire in years will be crowding through the door. No doubt the bistro will be full. The menu is posted outside the door and I’ve watched people stop to look all week long. There’s a building sense of excitement that can’t be ignored.

I’ve been watching for Luke, as you might have guessed, but he might as well have left town already. I haven’t caught one glimpse of him.

I tell myself I’d better get used to it.

He has sent me several messages a day. Sometimes, they’re links to new interviews with him or with Merrie. One day, there was a feature in a Toronto daily on the new café. Sometimes, they’re pictures of the interior coming together, or photos of Merrie’s recipe testing. I came back from an errand to Havelock to find several wonderful sandwiches on my desk Tuesday and Mrs. Prescott looking like judgement. My dad had already demolished his and cheerfully recommended the honey-baked ham on olive bread with Merrie’s muffuletta olive relish andprovolone cheese. I called Luke to thank him, got his voice mail and left a message. Later, he sent me an emoji of a smiling face with a heart.

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