It was only a twenty-minute paddle by kayak downstream to Jay’s place, but he would ride with Mimi in her car. Before they left, she helped him move the table from the kitchen to the bedroom. It was surprisingly heavy. They laid it upside down on the trapdoor and piled the vacuum cleaner and a couple of chairs on top. It was the best they could do. Then they carried his kayak up to the enchanted little house. He wasn’t going to leave it outside.
“Sorry for the mess,” she said as she moved all the debris from the passenger seat to the back. She almost cried with relief when she saw everything was still there: her cell phone, iPod, and the new camcorder. Not because of the value of these things-well, not just because of the value-but because seeing them there restored something of the golden feeling she had felt when she first arrived at the place so little time ago.
“You look a little freaked,” he said.
She tried to shrug it off. “It’s just my stuff,” she said. “I love my stuff.”
Her little red-and-black car, her colorful tangle of clothing strewn all over the backseat-her room away from home. And she felt very far from home now. She phoned her mother right away, at the office. She was tied up in a meeting, so Mimi left a message with the secretary. “Tell her I’m here. Tell her everything is fine.” There was nothing else she could say. Not yet. Jay raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well…” Then she sat in the driver’s seat for a moment, dazed.
“Not phoning Dad?”
“Screw him,” she said.
Another long moment passed.
“What’s the matter?” said Jay.
She meant to laugh, because it was a pretty crazy thing to say. But before she knew it, she was crying again, surprising herself probably more than Jay. Then she swore a bit, pushed her hair back off her face, and got herself together. He patted her shoulder, saying stupid, gentle things, until she pushed him away and finally managed to laugh.
“Jesus!” she said. “Enough with the big-brother routine!”
She wiped her eyes and spun the Mini around, heading back out toward the road. She glanced at him as she turned onto the Upper Valentine.
Her brother. Jesus!
They were quiet for a long time on the ride before she said, “I can’t believe he never told me about you.”
And Jay laughed. “Yeah, a bit of a kick to the ego,” he said.
“I didn’t mean that!”
“I know, I know. Take it easy. But like I said, I’ve never met my father, let alone talked to him. No birthday cards, nothing.”
They drove a fair bit farther still before Mimi said, “That’s something he’s good at,” she said. “Leaving people.”
There was a tall cedar hedge bordering the front of the Pages’ half-acre lot on the north bank of the Eden River a few minutes out of town. The driveway curved leisurely to a turnabout in front of a modern house of floor-to-ceiling glass and honey-colored stone, one story high, with a roof of cedar shakes and set on a well-tended lawn, splendid with maple, willow, and butternut trees.
The path to the front door wound through a flower garden of irises and poppies, the borders brimming with blossoms Mimi didn’t know the name of but that were pink and purple and lavender and cream. A tilting stone Saint Francis looked down in a saintly way at a stone toad sitting in a patch of white alyssum, which held the saint’s gaze with amphibian reverence. Jay unlocked the door and turned off the security system.
“Ah, the tranquillity of country living,” said Mimi.
Jay shrugged. “We never even used to lock the doors until last fall. We had a break-in. My mom lost some jewelry.”
Mimi shook her head. “What is this, the crime capital of Canada?” It was meant to be a joke, but from the expression on Jay’s face, it hit a little too close to home.
Inside was deliciously cool, a cool blond house. It was open and airy. There were maple floors and creamy yellow walls, butterscotch trim, and everywhere was light. The same honey-colored stone as outside formed a wide and impressive fireplace. It was comfortable, lived in. Mimi’s mother had hired an interior designer to make their apartment look lived in. Tastefully lived in. This was the real thing. As tired and freaked out as she was, Mimi was instantly happy to be here and slightly jealous.
She sat across a kitchen island from Jay while he started grinding up coriander seeds with a mortar and pestle. By turning, she could look out the front windows, which she did regularly.
“This is going to be worse than my interview at NYU.”
“Take it easy,” said Jay. “They’ll like you.”
So she stopped looking over her shoulder, but after a moment she sagged on the maple countertop and rested her head in her arms.
“Why don’t you take a shower?” he said.
“Do I smell that bad?”
“Uh-huh.”
She retrieved some clothes from the car, and he showed her to the guest room, where there was an en suite bathroom. She emerged fifteen minutes later in a sparkly silver halter top and a denim skirt and resumed her seat across the counter. Jay was rubbing a lemon against a zester. The smell made her feel cleaner still.
“How are we going to handle this?” she asked.
“How about I tell them you’re my muse?”
“Ha-ha.”
Then Jay got some salad things out of the fridge and put her to work.
Finally, a boxy, black SUV pulled up beside the Mini, and a slim woman in her mid-forties got out, gathered some groceries from the back, and came inside, singing “Hello” from the front door.
Joanne McAllister was wiry, probably a runner, Mimi guessed. She was wearing a dark gray pinstriped suit over an oxblood-colored blouse. Her chestnut-colored hair was shoulder length, her eyes bright and inquisitive, her smile puckish.
“Jo,” she said. “I’d shake your hand, but-”
“Let me help,” said Mimi, taking a bag of groceries from her. “I’m Mimi.”
“Thank you,” said Jo. She dumped the salmon in the sink and leaned on the counter facing them. “Well,” she said, “you two got everything under control?”
Jay glanced at Mimi and they shared a look. “We’re okay,” he said.
For a moment Jo held Mimi’s eye, then she smiled as if to say, Something is going on here, but I guess you’ll tell me when you’re good and ready. Then she turned back to the sink and washed her hands to get the fish smell off them. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, “until I am out of these clothes, I will not truly be able to get into a festive spirit.”
“Yeah, like we’re so festive,” said Jay.
When Jo had gone, Mimi asked, “What does she do?”
“She runs the town,” he said.
“She’s the mayor?”
“No. She hates the mayor. She’s an administrator. She says her job is to follow the mayor around with a trash bag, cleaning up after him.”
Jo joined them in the kitchen in mauve sweats, and soon everyone was busy.
Then Lou arrived in a vintage green Mustang, though when she emerged, she looked to Mimi like the last person who would ever tool around in a sports car. She was big. She wore a sharply pressed pale-blue button-down shirt with the tails out, pressed blue jeans, and Birkenstocks. Her one concession to femininity was a pair of dangly earrings. The giveaway was the stethoscope around her neck and the little black bag. A house call, thought Mimi. And who knows, a doctor might be needed.
Lou didn’t seem like Marc’s type, Mimi thought, apart from the fact that she was a doctor and he was always attracted to money. But when she met Lou up close, she saw a face as perfectly round as some doyenne from a Renaissance painting, with creamy-colored skin, chocolate-brown eyes, thick eyelashes, and a smile worthy of La Gioconda herself.
Lou took Mimi’s hand warmly and looked so frankly into her eyes that Mimi felt nervous as a kitten for a moment. Then, strangely, she felt all her nervousness fall away. She was afraid, suddenly, that she might cry again. Did the Canadian border guards mysteriously strip you of your chutzpah once you crossed over?
“I have the oddest feeling about you,” said Dr. Lou, standing back appraisingly. There was nothing discourteous in the comment. Her voice was friendly, but it was alarming nonetheless.
The three housemates stood around the kitchen island staring at Mimi in silence for a good few heartbeats. Her eyes darted from one to the other of them but always came back to Lou. She seemed just like a doctor coaxing a reluctant patient to elucidate her symptoms, explain more fully about the ailment that had brought her here.
“I hope that doesn’t sound rude,” said Lou.
“No, it’s okay,” said Mimi. Then she swallowed hard and asked, “What do you see, Doc?”
And Lou looked closer still. “It’s your eyes,” she said. Then she smiled. “And maybe something about your license plate?”
“What’s this all about?” asked Jo, but nobody paid her any attention.
Mimi clutched at her skirt, a little frantically. “Did you… did you know about me?”
Lou shook her head very slowly. Then she reached out and gently smoothed a wet fringe of hair back from Mimi’s forehead. “No, honey, I didn’t know about you. But I’d know those eyes anywhere.”