Page 56 of The Woodcarver's Model
“Well, we had a nice time. He didn’t stay over.”
“What! Why?” she shot back.
“It was a fun time and let’s leave it at that.”
“But I wanted you two to hit it off so I could show him off. Sometimes you are so selfish.”
He knew she was just kidding, partially.
“Look, let me make it up to you,” Rob consoled. “Lunch at that Yorkville restaurant you’ve been talking about. We’ll go and out-snoot the snooty staff and make them hate us even more when we tip them well.”
“What are you up to?”
“Can’t I take my best friend out for lunch without an ulterior motive?”
“No. But I’ll let you get away with it this time.”
He smiled. “Good. I’ll pick you up at noon. Oh, and pack some things. You can crash at my place for a few weeks. And don’t worry about the cops. I think everything’s all cleared up.”
“Where to this time?”
“I’ll tell you at lunch.”
The next day, Rob was on Air Canada Flight 195 bound for Victoria.
* * * *
Rob arrived at the Broughton Street offices of Vancouver Island Publishing at 10:25 when he knew Cedric Craddock would have just arrived but would still be in a good mood before the cares of the day wore him thin.
Rob entered the main office to find it unstaffed. Brenda was not at her spot. Her coffee cup by her keyboard was still full. Perhaps she had stepped out to the washroom. Undaunted, Rob headed towards the inner office door, which he found ajar. He could hear Cedric on the telephone.
“What kind of idiot puts that sort of thing in writing? Do you have any idea what would happen if those fools on the island got a hold of something like this? And on Ministry letterhead?…Honestly, McCutcheon, if you hadn’t picked up the bar tabs for half of your constituents, I don’t think you would ever have been elected. We’ll talk about this later.”
He hung up. Rob knocked and entered. Cedric quickly put down a piece of paper, which Rob presumed was the subject of the phone call, and shifted a file folder to cover it.
“Mr Hanson? What are you—did Brenda show you in?”
“No. There was no one at the desk so I took the chance that you might be in.”
“I thought you’d be back in Toronto by now.”
“No. Still around,” Rob said.
Cedric smiled. “So, what can I do for you?”
“I was curious about my article forWest Coast Travel.”
“Oh. What about it?”
“Well, first off, the photo of the image of Gabriola Island from the ferry should have been credited to Kyle Marshall, not me.”
“Oh dear,” Cedric replied, “we can’t have that happen. We have a reputation for accuracy that is unparalleled.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“That would have been a mix-up on Brenda’s part. I’ll have her correct the online version immediately. She’ll contact Mister…”
“Marshall,” Rob offered.
