Page 40 of Love's a Script
Mary had been sure she’d never talk to Ruben again, but now she needed him.
When Ruben had suggested sledding to Soledad, a thirty-five-year-old dermatologist and self-professed winter sport fanatic, for their first date, he’d not anticipated how much he’d wipe out.
“Good thing we didn’t go skiing,” he said, shaking the snow from his shoulders.
“You would’ve needed full body armor to survive,” Soledad teased.
They stripped out of their snowsuits when they reached their cars and then drove to a nearby café with kitschy, mismatched furniture. After placing their orders at the front counter, Soledad excused herself to the washroom while Ruben looked for a place for them to sit. He’d just claimed a spot near a window when his phone chimed with a text.
Hey, it’s Mary Neilson, it began, and for moments that was as far as Ruben could read. I’m sorry to bother you and understand if you choose to ignore this. But is it possible to get the information for the private investigator you mentioned?
Ruben knew this message was the last thing she’d wanted to send, so her father’s situation must’ve escalated.
Absolutely, he replied. My PI contact is a careful person, so he’ll need to vet you first before he’ll work with you.
How long does the vetting process usually take? she wrote back.
Ruben sensed her urgency, but unfortunately, his PI contact wasn’t one to be put on a deadline. He told Mary as much, but also added, Let me see what I can do.
Soledad arrived at the table shortly after, and he put his phone away. Their hot chocolates with bobbing marshmallows were delivered, and they continued with their conversation where Ruben nodded, smiled, and asked questions but never fully re-engaged. The date ended with a vague assertion that a nice time was had, and he entered his car and immediately messaged his PI contact, who went by the initial E, on an encrypted messaging app.
He got home and forced himself to go on about his afternoon and not wait by his phone, but yet he didn’t turn on music or the TV lest he miss the PI’s reply. He also nearly fell trying to get to his phone when it buzzed, only to find a notification prompting him to write an assessment on the date he’d been on. It was close to dinnertime when Ruben finally received a call from a blocked number.
“I don’t do rush jobs,” E said to him, his voice rough like those were the first words he’d spoken all day.
“I know,” Ruben said simply.
There was a pause. “You cashing in that favor I owe you?”
“I am.” Of all the tasks Ruben could’ve solicited help with, sussing out a possible catfish was pedestrian work for E, leagues beneath his skill.
“I’ll send you the location and meet time,” E said. “Don’t be late.”
The line went dead, and a calm settled over Ruben, knowing whatever Mary needed to know would be found.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The instructions for the PI meeting had been plain. Mary was to drive to Basin Reservoir—a location reserved for ice fishing this time of year—leave her car in the parking lot of the provincial recreation area, and walk across the frozen lake to the third ice fishing shack where she’d meet the investigator who called himself E.
It was a weekday morning, and the sun had barely risen when Mary arrived at her desolate destination. She sat in her vehicle for several minutes, building up the courage to exit into the cold. Finally, she took a galvanizing breath, grabbed her purse, where a manilla envelope filled with her father’s details safely sat, and left her car.
She trudged through the snow, against the biting wind, past the naked trees, until she reached the edge of the lake. She could just see the ice fishing shacks—old, small, four-seater airplanes that had been hollowed out—fifty meters in the distance. As she gingerly crossed the lake, her thoughts turned to morbid things like falling through the ice and a bobcat attack from behind.
Mary debated calling her sister to keep her company and allay her worry, but the entire reason for Hattie’s absence was she couldn’t leave her kids while her husband was away on a work trip. What kept Mary moving instead was the possibility of her father’s future despondence.
When she arrived at the small aircraft, she entered from the opening at the side of the plane, grateful to have at least escaped the brute wind. It had been gutted of anything that made it suitable for aviation. There were three sealed ice fishing holes down the middle and a bench along each side of the plane for people to sit.
She didn’t spend too much time marveling at the novelty of the space and took a frosty seat and tried to attune her senses to someone’s approach. When she at last heard the soft crunch of footsteps, Mary tensed, tightening the grip on her car keys between her knuckles. The stranger she expected to appear in the opening of the plane was actually Ruben in a winter jacket and jeans roughly stuffed into snow boots. The relief made her momentarily dizzy.
“What’re you doing here?” she asked.
“Sorry, I thought that was clear in my texts,” he said. “E doesn’t know you and couldn’t do his usual background check, so I’m here to vouch for you.”
“Right. Yes, you probably did mention that. I’ve just been spaced out recently. Come in.”
She scooted over on the bench, and he lowered himself beside her, blocking the draft from the opening even more.
“It gets cold in here after a while,” he said, shaking out the blanket he’d brought with him and offering her a section.
