Page 25 of The Second Ending
“Thanks.” Gordon took a drink of his beer, and Ashleigh began to wish she had one, too. “Hopefully, as I said, it will all come out as a big mistake in a computer file, and we won’t need to do anything. But that doesn’t solve a more immediate problem. If the arts centre has to close, we need to find new rehearsal space. I’ve got a couple of feelers out—”
“Oh! There, I might be able to help. Or, I might know someone, anyway. A friend of mine does construction and development.” Could she call him a friend? Yes, perhaps she could. “Have you heard of Marcus Fredericks? I don’t know how much your business and his intersect.”
Gordon smiled. “I do know him. I’ve worked with him once or twice. Decent guy. We don’t know each other well, but I’m always pleased if it’s one of his projects. He doesn’t cut corners and always plays fair. There’s a lot to be said for that.” He paused. “Marcus has come to a couple of concerts this year, hasn’t he? He asked after you, if I recall.”
Ashleigh stared hard at her hands. “We were… were close, once. A long time ago.”
“He didn’t look like someone who only wanted to revisit old memories.”
“Well… I don’t know. But I can call him and ask if he knows of any space that might do for rehearsals.”
“Thank you.” Gordon raised his beer glass in a toast. “Here’s to a quick and easy solution to this rather difficult problem.”
Ashleigh mirrored his gesture and took a deep gulp of her soft drink.
The ringing phonedragged Marcus out of his spreadsheets. Who was calling him? No one phoned when he was working at home in the evenings. Shelley knew not to bother him unless something absolutely dire was happening, and then she sent texts or IMs. His mother phoned on Wednesday nights, and his brother only messaged or emailed him.
He blinked the rows of numbers and formulas out of his eyes and looked down at the display on his phone. SDC Legal. Who the hell was that? Was someone trying to sue him? Bastards…
But wait… he knew that name. That’s where Ash worked. He cleared his throat and picked up the offending device.
“Marcus?” Her voice was tentative. “It’s Ashleigh. Ashleigh Lynch.” Like he needed a reminder. He’d only thought of her every night for eight years.
“Ash. It’s good to hear your voice. Everything alright?”
Did he sound friendly enough? Open? Warm, even?
She didn’t slam the phone down, so he must have done something alright.
“I’m fine. Everything is fine. Well, maybe not everything. I’m sorry to bother you at home, but I’ve got a situation with the choir, and I’m hoping we can talk. You might be able to help.”
“Uh, sure.” He saved his spreadsheet and rolled his chair back. “What’s going on? Give me a moment to close this program and my attention is all yours.”
“You’re working? I’m sorry. I can call back.”
“No! Please, it’s fine. I’m happy to talk to you. What’s up?”
Ash started three sentences and got only two or three words into each. “It’s a bit sensitive. Can we talk in person? You can come to my office, if you like, or I can meet you somewhere.”
“Come here. I’ll put on some tea. What time is it? Six. Have you eaten? No? I’ll arrange for food. Do you still like Indian? You’re the one who introduced me to it, and I’ll never forgive you.” He laughed, in case she thought he was serious. “I mean it. When can you get here?” He gave her his address, near where they used to live.
There was a moment of silence. “I’m at the office. It’s not too far. If I leave now, I can probably be there in twenty minutes.”
“Great. I’ll see you in a bit.”
He hung up and caught a glimpse of his reflection on his computer screen. What was that ridiculous smile doing on his face? Idiot.
But his heart sang,She’s coming over, she’s coming over, she’s coming over!
He placed an order for delivery with his favourite restaurant, raced down to the living room to make sure it was suitable for company, and paced up and down like an eager schoolboy until, at last, he heard her tread on the outside stairs and the tentative knock at his door.
She was here!
Marcus listened intentlyas Ashleigh told the sad story about the Queen City Arts Centre. The pain in her eyes was evident. She liked Elise and didn’t want the singer to be guilty, but she loved her choir, and desperately hoped they wouldn’t be left with nowhere to rehearse. “Do you know of any space that might be suitable, anywhere in the city?”
He stopped himself from promising to build her something, just to make her happy. If it were possible, if it would have made her smile, he’d have put the building up all by himself. Instead, he promised to ask everyone he knew if they had suggestions. They were in the middle of this conversation when the food arrived, and they came to a tacit agreement to change to a more cheerful topic while they ate.
He led her to the dining room. It was more of a nook than a separate room, set off from the large modern kitchen and the living room by two half-walls that lent the area both space and a feeling of cosiness. It also let him adjust the lighting, and he served out the paper tubs of curry and rice under the warm glow of the modern chandelier.
