Preludes, page 18
“Louisa!” Fred called again, his voice tight.
“It’s dangerous! We were told not to get close to those.” Ben’s voice echoed Fred’s, but Louisa laughed again.
“Come down, Louisa.” This was Fred at his most serious, the voice that had student orchestras quaking in their collective running shoes. “Come down now.”
As Anne watched in horror, Louisa called out, “Spoilsport!” and leapt off the metal beam from a much higher point than she had before. But rather than landing neatly on her feet, she caught her hand on something as she jumped and she twisted terribly in the air.
Once again, the world slowed into that dreadful, fatal loop where action slowed but help was hopeless. Anne watched in horror as Louisa’s body seemed suspended in midair for a moment, quite off-kilter, impossible to correct, and then, just as suddenly, plummeted to the ground below. She landed in a pile on the hard stone-strewn earth, her head making a sickening sound as it made contact.
The horn player didn’t move.
Somewhere by the tables, somebody screamed, and the horror of Dylan’s accident rushed back at Anne, threatening to drown her. The world swam, the sound of her nephew’s head and Louisa’s merging into one dreadful cacophony that turned black and pulled Anne’s stomach to her feet.
No! This could not happen again. She had to act. Memories of Marie’s friend, the doctor, filled her mind, and almost without thinking, Anne reached into her pocket and fumbled for her phone. Numb fingers stabbed at the screen until the number pad appeared and she dialled 911 for emergency services.
“Don’t move her,” she yelled to anyone who would listen. One ring. “She might have injured her back.”
Two rings. Oh, when would someone pick up the phone?
Almost at once, somebody answered the call.
“An ambulance!” she shouted. “Send an ambulance. There’s been a terrible accident!” Louisa was still motionless on the hard earth a few feet away.
A calm voice on the other end started asking questions, that even, measured voice leading her through the information needed. Where were they? Who was the patient? What was her name? Was the patient breathing? Somehow, Anne managed to answer the questions, determined that this time, she would hold herself together. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Her world narrowed to that steady voice and the rush of blood in her ears, staying by Louisa’s side and giving updates on her breathing and responses as requested. Yes, she is breathing evenly. No, she is not conscious. No, her eyelids don’t seem to be flickering. Yes, there is blood under her head. She suspected the questions were designed more to calm her than to assess Louisa, but she kept talking, until at last, the blessed sound of sirens replaced the din in her head.
As the EMTs took over, the world swam back into focus. The black haze that had closed in ebbed gradually backward to reveal Louisa being tended to and moved, so slowly and carefully, onto a backboard, with the paramedics calling out to each other and taking down measurements and vital signs as they worked. Sophia and Jeremy were gathered with the rest of the group, trying, it seemed, to keep everybody calm and arrange for a quick return to town. William was standing apart, talking furiously into his phone. The liability issues must be horrendous for him; she would offer to inform anybody who needed to hear that he had warned them all and that Louisa had acted recklessly. Ben was pacing up and down, hand clenched, and Shep’s fingers fussed with his camera and tablet, but—Anne noted with admiration—he did not take either out.
A presence at her side coalesced into a most welcome shape. Fred. He said not a word, but held out his arms and she fell into them, feeling his distress and his strength in his embrace. There was nothing intimate about this; it would cause no knowing glances. These were two friends comforting each other. But oh, how she needed this comfort.
“You okay, Annie? You were fabulous. I heard you answer those questions, as calm as I’ve heard anybody. You knew exactly what to say and what to do. We were all standing around too shocked to move, and you acted. There’s no one as level-headed or reliable as you.”
“I didn’t feel level-headed at all. I felt about to dissolve into dust.”
“You held us all together. Is this what happened with Dylan?” She nodded, and he gave her another squeeze.
“It was all in my head. It all came back, like I was watching Dylan’s accident again. I was afraid of falling apart again.”
“But you didn’t. You’re a rock, Anne. You might have saved her life. I’m proud of you.”
Anne spent the night in Sophia’s spare room. She promised her friend that she was quite fine to be by herself, but Sophia insisted and she really didn’t feel like objecting. They had a quiet dinner and an early night, and when Anne woke up, it was to the aroma of brewed coffee and fresh cinnamon buns.
“William just called with news about Louisa,” Jeremy announced as he pulled the tray of pastries from the oven. “She’ll be fine. They kept her in hospital in Newmarket overnight for observation, but she’ll probably be released today. Ben took the rental car up there this morning so she isn’t alone, and he’ll bring her home when they spring her. He said he’ll stay the night in a chair if necessary.”
“Thank heavens for that!” Sophia breathed, and Anne concurred. Any sparks of jealousy she might have felt towards the horn player were nothing now. What was important was the woman’s health. “Let me find her address, and I’ll send over a big bouquet of flowers.” Sophia was always so thoughtful.
“And some bubble bath,” Anne added. “I imagine she’ll be achy for a while after that fall. Was nothing broken?”
Jeremy pursed his lips. “Seems not. A scrape on the side of her head, and we know how much those can bleed, but everything else seems fine. She’ll have to sit out the next concert or two until the doctors give her the all-clear, but then she’ll be back to her old self.” He ran a knife between the rows of cinnamon buns and placed one on a plate for each of them, then spread a dollop of cream cheese icing on each.
“Here you go, Anne. By the way, William wanted to speak to you. He said he needed to apologise, although for what, I don’t know. Call him when you’re ready.”
This she did, and was greeted with a sigh of relief. “I am so pleased to hear your voice, Anne. Can you ever forgive me? I should never have suggested that outing. I was up all night worrying about everything. I am so sorry.”
“Sorry?” Her confusion sounded in her voice. “It wasn’t your fault. You warned us all, and she ignored everyone who tried to stop her.”
“And I ignored you. When you said you didn’t want to go up the elevator, I didn’t listen. I see now that in my way, I was as bad as Louisa, thinking that I knew best. Forgive me?”
She nodded, then realised he couldn’t see her. “Yes, of course. You were showing off the site, not catering to me. I understood that. And the others seemed to love it.”
“I’d love to make it up to you, but my schedule is swamped with meetings and business trips. I’ll call when I get back.”
She wished him well, he reiterated his apologies, and they rang off. When Anne finally returned home later that day, it was to find a large bunch of roses in a crystal vase at the concierge’s desk, from William. There were no hard feelings at all, it seemed.
Chapter Nineteen
Parlando
With the new season underway, everybody grew busy. Anne, of course, had her classes to teach and composition students to supervise. Jasmine had a full schedule of students and had only a few hours in the week to meet for coffee, Ben was spending a lot of time with Louisa as she recovered, and William was kept occupied with his various projects.
Between his evening meetings and a couple of trips back to the Caribbean to oversee some issues with his development there, Anne saw him only twice in the course of almost a month. He sent messages and emails, and once another bouquet of flowers to her flat, but the man himself was scarcely to be seen.
Sophia, too, was running about doing a hundred different things. She took her volunteer work seriously and was on the committee for this organisation and that, arranging fundraising lunches and bike-a-thons and poetry readings.
This left Fred as Anne’s main source of social interaction. The classes she taught at the University and her new commission for a documentary short kept her busy during the day, but her evenings often stretched out before her as solitary ordeals to be endured as best she could. Once she arranged to visit Charles and the boys when Marie was out with friends, and a couple of times she attended a show or a play on her own, but it was Fred and his frequent calls that kept her from lapsing into the pastel-hued melancholy that had so often haunted her over the years.
“We have an afternoon rehearsal,” Fred called to say one morning the following week. “We finish at five, and then I have some business to go over with Kevin Walters, but what about dinner afterwards? At seven, maybe? Ben is taking Louisa out. He’s been to see her almost every day since the accident, keeping her company while she’s still on reduced activity.”
“How is she doing? We’re hardly close enough for me to call often, but I did speak to her once or twice.”
Fred’s voice sounded his relief. “She was lucky. She’s been given the all-clear to play in the next concert. Her doctor wants her to stay quiet for a little longer, but in all, she seems fine. She only has occasional headaches, and those, so Ben tells me, are easing all the time. We are all very relieved.” He took a breath, and Anne exhaled with him. “So, dinner?”
“Oh? I’m the back-up plan?” She laughed. “Should I be honoured or offended?”
“Definitely honoured, Anne. My other thought was the baseball game. It’s down to the wire between the Blue Jays and the Red Sox. But if you’re free, I’d rather eat with you.”
“If I’m taking precedence over baseball, then I feel very special indeed.” She was enjoying this easy banter they had recovered. Hopefully Fred would always be a good friend, even if nothing else.
They made their plans. There was a little Chinese place Anne had always loved, a hole-in-the-wall restaurant with the best food she had ever tasted. What it lacked in decor it made up for in flavour, and they could enjoy a quiet conversation while they ate.
She met Fred there as they had arranged. He had his satchel slung over one shoulder. It was stuffed full and Anne could see the tops of the music scores through the gaps at the edges where the flap did not quite close. She had been dabbling at ideas on her own tablet while she waited for him, and she put her device away as he sat down.
“What’s on the program?” She gestured to his bag.
“We’re starting with a suite from Weill’s Threepenny Opera…” He reached into his satchel and opened the flap to withdraw the thick pile of scores. They alternated looking at the music and the menu until, some indeterminate time later, the young woman who served as hostess and waitress alike in this small place brought a tray with their food.
Fred put the music away with a wistful look on his face. “Can’t get hot-and-sour soup on the Mozart, can I? I’d love to have your thoughts on the Schumann. Maybe later…?
At that moment, Anne’s phone pinged from her tote bag. She waved her hand, a sign that she meant to ignore it, but Fred nodded at her. “It’s okay. You can check it. I don’t mind. It might be important.”
“No one ever wants me when it’s anything important,” she returned, but reached into the bag anyway to see who had texted her. “Oh, it’s just William. I can answer him later. We were only confirming some plans for when he’s back in town.”
“Plans?” He looked hurt. “Is this William Barnett?”
“Yes. He’s been away on business.”
The look on Fred’s face suggested the acquaintance was not entirely a pleasant one. The young waitress put the dishes on the table with all due speed and disappeared. When she was gone, Fred continued.
“I didn’t want to ask after the day at the development, but he seemed… familiar with you. Are you dating?”
“We’ve been out a few times.” She picked up her chopsticks, more for something to hold than because she was ready to take some of the food.. “Like you and Louisa were during the summer.”
“Except,” he countered, “I’m not seeing Louisa anymore, even as a friend. It sounds as if you and Barnett are still a thing, if he’s texting you to make plans.”
Now she laid the chopsticks down on the table again. “And if we are?” She took a deep breath. “Look, let’s not ruin a nice dinner. You asked me here as a friend and I am more than happy to be here with you. Let’s talk about something else. But…”
His eyebrows rose in question.
“What do you know about him? About William? We’ve been… acquainted since the spring, and I’ve gone to all manner of shows and walks and whatnot with him, but I hardly feel I know the man himself.”
Fred helped himself to some rice from the large bowl on the table, and then to some of the fragrant dish of vegetables and bean curd. “I never took to him. Even up at his building site, he was more concerned about the photograph than about you not wanting to go up to the platform, and when Louisa was hurt, he was more worried about his insurance than about her. He’s one of those types that’s all about prestige and money.”
Anne gave him an assessing stare. “That’s exactly what he’s supposed to be. That’s what the board of directors is all about. Don’t roll your eyes at me. You know it’s true. That’s how they pay for your not-quite-exorbitant salary. And my less-than-exorbitant stipend.”
He huffed. “You’re right. I still don’t like him. But if you do…”
“I’m just trying to figure him out a bit. I find him charming and well-informed, but I might be missing something. I’m not so blind as to brush off what other people think. Jasmine also gave me that strange look when I mentioned his name.”
“Jasmine Hamilton? What’s her name now? Smith? You mentioned her a while ago. I should drop her a line to say hello. I do remember her a bit.”
“She’d appreciate that, I think. And her problem with William was with her husband, really. Connor worked in finance and had some business deal go bad. William was involved somehow. But that happens, I suppose. It’s just part of the game. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Yeah. Probably nothing.” He finished filling his plate and Anne took her own helpings of the shared dishes. With their bowls full of food, the mood changed. “So, Annie, let’s talk about your symphony. We’re doing another play-through in a couple of weeks, and I had some questions.”
“How is Ben doing? I haven’t heard anything from him in a while.”
Anne and Fred were wandering through the Ontario Art Gallery, which was near the concert hall, before a rehearsal. Anne was not required to be at the practice, but Fred would need to be there in a couple of hours. Not for the first time, she was pleased she had a gallery membership so she could stop in whenever she wished, even for a few minutes or to look at one hall.
Right now, they were wandering through a vast collection of small paintings depicting early life in Canada. The pictures were sometimes poignant, sometimes comical, and always fascinating. Fred stepped back from one particular piece, an indoor scene of a country dance with a fellow on a fiddle and two people doing a jig in the middle of the kitchen.
“Ben! I hardly know how he’s doing, because I’ve hardly seen him. It’s like he’s a different man. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile so much.”
“Are things going well with Louisa, then?” Anne peered at the next picture along the wall. This one depicted a horse-drawn sleigh racing through the snow-covered countryside, as people leapt out of the way.
“It looks like they’re going very well indeed. After the accident, he was there every day to visit her, and she hasn’t glanced at me since. And as for Ben, he’s almost never home. When I’m not at rehearsal, he’s usually out, and when he is in, he’s always talking about her. Perhaps I was wrong. Maybe there is more to her than her French horn. It seems she’s quite a gifted poet too, at least from what Ben tells me.”
“Have you seen her poetry?”
Fred laughed. “I’m afraid it would make little difference if I had. I know music and a bit about art, but poetry? I’m afraid that unless it’s the text for some music I’m conducting, I’m still back at the level of limericks.
There once was a very glum poet
Who tried to get wed but did blow it.
Then he met a musician
Who changed his condition
And now he’s all fun, don’t you know it!”
She laughed. This was the Fred she had missed so much over the years. Funny, bright, confident, but self-deprecating where appropriate. She gave him a playful punch on the arm and he responded with a quick shoulder hug before dropping his arm.
“Also,” Fred dropped his voice, “and I shouldn’t tell tales out of school, but there have been a few nights when he didn’t come back to the apartment. He never said where he was, just sent a text saying not to worry. I can only imagine that he was at her place.”
Anne raised her eyebrows. Fred scowled.
“No, we’re not comparing notes. I never even kissed her, let alone slept with her. I think she was more than ready to move on to someone a bit more… in the game, so to speak. There were no hearts broken when she moved on from me to my friend.”
“So that’s taking up all his time, then? When does she have time to practise?”
They moved on to another wall of the delightful little paintings. Fred exhaled, an audible sound. Besides the two of them, there was only one other person in the room, perusing the pictures on the far wall. Fred’s words wouldn’t be heard. “He’s not busy with her all the time. As much as I’m pleased he’s out of his funk, that would be unhealthy. He’s been exploring the city a lot. I don’t see him much, but there’s evidence of his rambles. A bag of spices from Little India or some fruits I can’t identify from Chinatown sitting on the kitchen counter. He’s also been working on a project…” He let that drop.
“It’s dangerous! We were told not to get close to those.” Ben’s voice echoed Fred’s, but Louisa laughed again.
“Come down, Louisa.” This was Fred at his most serious, the voice that had student orchestras quaking in their collective running shoes. “Come down now.”
As Anne watched in horror, Louisa called out, “Spoilsport!” and leapt off the metal beam from a much higher point than she had before. But rather than landing neatly on her feet, she caught her hand on something as she jumped and she twisted terribly in the air.
Once again, the world slowed into that dreadful, fatal loop where action slowed but help was hopeless. Anne watched in horror as Louisa’s body seemed suspended in midair for a moment, quite off-kilter, impossible to correct, and then, just as suddenly, plummeted to the ground below. She landed in a pile on the hard stone-strewn earth, her head making a sickening sound as it made contact.
The horn player didn’t move.
Somewhere by the tables, somebody screamed, and the horror of Dylan’s accident rushed back at Anne, threatening to drown her. The world swam, the sound of her nephew’s head and Louisa’s merging into one dreadful cacophony that turned black and pulled Anne’s stomach to her feet.
No! This could not happen again. She had to act. Memories of Marie’s friend, the doctor, filled her mind, and almost without thinking, Anne reached into her pocket and fumbled for her phone. Numb fingers stabbed at the screen until the number pad appeared and she dialled 911 for emergency services.
“Don’t move her,” she yelled to anyone who would listen. One ring. “She might have injured her back.”
Two rings. Oh, when would someone pick up the phone?
Almost at once, somebody answered the call.
“An ambulance!” she shouted. “Send an ambulance. There’s been a terrible accident!” Louisa was still motionless on the hard earth a few feet away.
A calm voice on the other end started asking questions, that even, measured voice leading her through the information needed. Where were they? Who was the patient? What was her name? Was the patient breathing? Somehow, Anne managed to answer the questions, determined that this time, she would hold herself together. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Her world narrowed to that steady voice and the rush of blood in her ears, staying by Louisa’s side and giving updates on her breathing and responses as requested. Yes, she is breathing evenly. No, she is not conscious. No, her eyelids don’t seem to be flickering. Yes, there is blood under her head. She suspected the questions were designed more to calm her than to assess Louisa, but she kept talking, until at last, the blessed sound of sirens replaced the din in her head.
As the EMTs took over, the world swam back into focus. The black haze that had closed in ebbed gradually backward to reveal Louisa being tended to and moved, so slowly and carefully, onto a backboard, with the paramedics calling out to each other and taking down measurements and vital signs as they worked. Sophia and Jeremy were gathered with the rest of the group, trying, it seemed, to keep everybody calm and arrange for a quick return to town. William was standing apart, talking furiously into his phone. The liability issues must be horrendous for him; she would offer to inform anybody who needed to hear that he had warned them all and that Louisa had acted recklessly. Ben was pacing up and down, hand clenched, and Shep’s fingers fussed with his camera and tablet, but—Anne noted with admiration—he did not take either out.
A presence at her side coalesced into a most welcome shape. Fred. He said not a word, but held out his arms and she fell into them, feeling his distress and his strength in his embrace. There was nothing intimate about this; it would cause no knowing glances. These were two friends comforting each other. But oh, how she needed this comfort.
“You okay, Annie? You were fabulous. I heard you answer those questions, as calm as I’ve heard anybody. You knew exactly what to say and what to do. We were all standing around too shocked to move, and you acted. There’s no one as level-headed or reliable as you.”
“I didn’t feel level-headed at all. I felt about to dissolve into dust.”
“You held us all together. Is this what happened with Dylan?” She nodded, and he gave her another squeeze.
“It was all in my head. It all came back, like I was watching Dylan’s accident again. I was afraid of falling apart again.”
“But you didn’t. You’re a rock, Anne. You might have saved her life. I’m proud of you.”
Anne spent the night in Sophia’s spare room. She promised her friend that she was quite fine to be by herself, but Sophia insisted and she really didn’t feel like objecting. They had a quiet dinner and an early night, and when Anne woke up, it was to the aroma of brewed coffee and fresh cinnamon buns.
“William just called with news about Louisa,” Jeremy announced as he pulled the tray of pastries from the oven. “She’ll be fine. They kept her in hospital in Newmarket overnight for observation, but she’ll probably be released today. Ben took the rental car up there this morning so she isn’t alone, and he’ll bring her home when they spring her. He said he’ll stay the night in a chair if necessary.”
“Thank heavens for that!” Sophia breathed, and Anne concurred. Any sparks of jealousy she might have felt towards the horn player were nothing now. What was important was the woman’s health. “Let me find her address, and I’ll send over a big bouquet of flowers.” Sophia was always so thoughtful.
“And some bubble bath,” Anne added. “I imagine she’ll be achy for a while after that fall. Was nothing broken?”
Jeremy pursed his lips. “Seems not. A scrape on the side of her head, and we know how much those can bleed, but everything else seems fine. She’ll have to sit out the next concert or two until the doctors give her the all-clear, but then she’ll be back to her old self.” He ran a knife between the rows of cinnamon buns and placed one on a plate for each of them, then spread a dollop of cream cheese icing on each.
“Here you go, Anne. By the way, William wanted to speak to you. He said he needed to apologise, although for what, I don’t know. Call him when you’re ready.”
This she did, and was greeted with a sigh of relief. “I am so pleased to hear your voice, Anne. Can you ever forgive me? I should never have suggested that outing. I was up all night worrying about everything. I am so sorry.”
“Sorry?” Her confusion sounded in her voice. “It wasn’t your fault. You warned us all, and she ignored everyone who tried to stop her.”
“And I ignored you. When you said you didn’t want to go up the elevator, I didn’t listen. I see now that in my way, I was as bad as Louisa, thinking that I knew best. Forgive me?”
She nodded, then realised he couldn’t see her. “Yes, of course. You were showing off the site, not catering to me. I understood that. And the others seemed to love it.”
“I’d love to make it up to you, but my schedule is swamped with meetings and business trips. I’ll call when I get back.”
She wished him well, he reiterated his apologies, and they rang off. When Anne finally returned home later that day, it was to find a large bunch of roses in a crystal vase at the concierge’s desk, from William. There were no hard feelings at all, it seemed.
Chapter Nineteen
Parlando
With the new season underway, everybody grew busy. Anne, of course, had her classes to teach and composition students to supervise. Jasmine had a full schedule of students and had only a few hours in the week to meet for coffee, Ben was spending a lot of time with Louisa as she recovered, and William was kept occupied with his various projects.
Between his evening meetings and a couple of trips back to the Caribbean to oversee some issues with his development there, Anne saw him only twice in the course of almost a month. He sent messages and emails, and once another bouquet of flowers to her flat, but the man himself was scarcely to be seen.
Sophia, too, was running about doing a hundred different things. She took her volunteer work seriously and was on the committee for this organisation and that, arranging fundraising lunches and bike-a-thons and poetry readings.
This left Fred as Anne’s main source of social interaction. The classes she taught at the University and her new commission for a documentary short kept her busy during the day, but her evenings often stretched out before her as solitary ordeals to be endured as best she could. Once she arranged to visit Charles and the boys when Marie was out with friends, and a couple of times she attended a show or a play on her own, but it was Fred and his frequent calls that kept her from lapsing into the pastel-hued melancholy that had so often haunted her over the years.
“We have an afternoon rehearsal,” Fred called to say one morning the following week. “We finish at five, and then I have some business to go over with Kevin Walters, but what about dinner afterwards? At seven, maybe? Ben is taking Louisa out. He’s been to see her almost every day since the accident, keeping her company while she’s still on reduced activity.”
“How is she doing? We’re hardly close enough for me to call often, but I did speak to her once or twice.”
Fred’s voice sounded his relief. “She was lucky. She’s been given the all-clear to play in the next concert. Her doctor wants her to stay quiet for a little longer, but in all, she seems fine. She only has occasional headaches, and those, so Ben tells me, are easing all the time. We are all very relieved.” He took a breath, and Anne exhaled with him. “So, dinner?”
“Oh? I’m the back-up plan?” She laughed. “Should I be honoured or offended?”
“Definitely honoured, Anne. My other thought was the baseball game. It’s down to the wire between the Blue Jays and the Red Sox. But if you’re free, I’d rather eat with you.”
“If I’m taking precedence over baseball, then I feel very special indeed.” She was enjoying this easy banter they had recovered. Hopefully Fred would always be a good friend, even if nothing else.
They made their plans. There was a little Chinese place Anne had always loved, a hole-in-the-wall restaurant with the best food she had ever tasted. What it lacked in decor it made up for in flavour, and they could enjoy a quiet conversation while they ate.
She met Fred there as they had arranged. He had his satchel slung over one shoulder. It was stuffed full and Anne could see the tops of the music scores through the gaps at the edges where the flap did not quite close. She had been dabbling at ideas on her own tablet while she waited for him, and she put her device away as he sat down.
“What’s on the program?” She gestured to his bag.
“We’re starting with a suite from Weill’s Threepenny Opera…” He reached into his satchel and opened the flap to withdraw the thick pile of scores. They alternated looking at the music and the menu until, some indeterminate time later, the young woman who served as hostess and waitress alike in this small place brought a tray with their food.
Fred put the music away with a wistful look on his face. “Can’t get hot-and-sour soup on the Mozart, can I? I’d love to have your thoughts on the Schumann. Maybe later…?
At that moment, Anne’s phone pinged from her tote bag. She waved her hand, a sign that she meant to ignore it, but Fred nodded at her. “It’s okay. You can check it. I don’t mind. It might be important.”
“No one ever wants me when it’s anything important,” she returned, but reached into the bag anyway to see who had texted her. “Oh, it’s just William. I can answer him later. We were only confirming some plans for when he’s back in town.”
“Plans?” He looked hurt. “Is this William Barnett?”
“Yes. He’s been away on business.”
The look on Fred’s face suggested the acquaintance was not entirely a pleasant one. The young waitress put the dishes on the table with all due speed and disappeared. When she was gone, Fred continued.
“I didn’t want to ask after the day at the development, but he seemed… familiar with you. Are you dating?”
“We’ve been out a few times.” She picked up her chopsticks, more for something to hold than because she was ready to take some of the food.. “Like you and Louisa were during the summer.”
“Except,” he countered, “I’m not seeing Louisa anymore, even as a friend. It sounds as if you and Barnett are still a thing, if he’s texting you to make plans.”
Now she laid the chopsticks down on the table again. “And if we are?” She took a deep breath. “Look, let’s not ruin a nice dinner. You asked me here as a friend and I am more than happy to be here with you. Let’s talk about something else. But…”
His eyebrows rose in question.
“What do you know about him? About William? We’ve been… acquainted since the spring, and I’ve gone to all manner of shows and walks and whatnot with him, but I hardly feel I know the man himself.”
Fred helped himself to some rice from the large bowl on the table, and then to some of the fragrant dish of vegetables and bean curd. “I never took to him. Even up at his building site, he was more concerned about the photograph than about you not wanting to go up to the platform, and when Louisa was hurt, he was more worried about his insurance than about her. He’s one of those types that’s all about prestige and money.”
Anne gave him an assessing stare. “That’s exactly what he’s supposed to be. That’s what the board of directors is all about. Don’t roll your eyes at me. You know it’s true. That’s how they pay for your not-quite-exorbitant salary. And my less-than-exorbitant stipend.”
He huffed. “You’re right. I still don’t like him. But if you do…”
“I’m just trying to figure him out a bit. I find him charming and well-informed, but I might be missing something. I’m not so blind as to brush off what other people think. Jasmine also gave me that strange look when I mentioned his name.”
“Jasmine Hamilton? What’s her name now? Smith? You mentioned her a while ago. I should drop her a line to say hello. I do remember her a bit.”
“She’d appreciate that, I think. And her problem with William was with her husband, really. Connor worked in finance and had some business deal go bad. William was involved somehow. But that happens, I suppose. It’s just part of the game. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Yeah. Probably nothing.” He finished filling his plate and Anne took her own helpings of the shared dishes. With their bowls full of food, the mood changed. “So, Annie, let’s talk about your symphony. We’re doing another play-through in a couple of weeks, and I had some questions.”
“How is Ben doing? I haven’t heard anything from him in a while.”
Anne and Fred were wandering through the Ontario Art Gallery, which was near the concert hall, before a rehearsal. Anne was not required to be at the practice, but Fred would need to be there in a couple of hours. Not for the first time, she was pleased she had a gallery membership so she could stop in whenever she wished, even for a few minutes or to look at one hall.
Right now, they were wandering through a vast collection of small paintings depicting early life in Canada. The pictures were sometimes poignant, sometimes comical, and always fascinating. Fred stepped back from one particular piece, an indoor scene of a country dance with a fellow on a fiddle and two people doing a jig in the middle of the kitchen.
“Ben! I hardly know how he’s doing, because I’ve hardly seen him. It’s like he’s a different man. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile so much.”
“Are things going well with Louisa, then?” Anne peered at the next picture along the wall. This one depicted a horse-drawn sleigh racing through the snow-covered countryside, as people leapt out of the way.
“It looks like they’re going very well indeed. After the accident, he was there every day to visit her, and she hasn’t glanced at me since. And as for Ben, he’s almost never home. When I’m not at rehearsal, he’s usually out, and when he is in, he’s always talking about her. Perhaps I was wrong. Maybe there is more to her than her French horn. It seems she’s quite a gifted poet too, at least from what Ben tells me.”
“Have you seen her poetry?”
Fred laughed. “I’m afraid it would make little difference if I had. I know music and a bit about art, but poetry? I’m afraid that unless it’s the text for some music I’m conducting, I’m still back at the level of limericks.
There once was a very glum poet
Who tried to get wed but did blow it.
Then he met a musician
Who changed his condition
And now he’s all fun, don’t you know it!”
She laughed. This was the Fred she had missed so much over the years. Funny, bright, confident, but self-deprecating where appropriate. She gave him a playful punch on the arm and he responded with a quick shoulder hug before dropping his arm.
“Also,” Fred dropped his voice, “and I shouldn’t tell tales out of school, but there have been a few nights when he didn’t come back to the apartment. He never said where he was, just sent a text saying not to worry. I can only imagine that he was at her place.”
Anne raised her eyebrows. Fred scowled.
“No, we’re not comparing notes. I never even kissed her, let alone slept with her. I think she was more than ready to move on to someone a bit more… in the game, so to speak. There were no hearts broken when she moved on from me to my friend.”
“So that’s taking up all his time, then? When does she have time to practise?”
They moved on to another wall of the delightful little paintings. Fred exhaled, an audible sound. Besides the two of them, there was only one other person in the room, perusing the pictures on the far wall. Fred’s words wouldn’t be heard. “He’s not busy with her all the time. As much as I’m pleased he’s out of his funk, that would be unhealthy. He’s been exploring the city a lot. I don’t see him much, but there’s evidence of his rambles. A bag of spices from Little India or some fruits I can’t identify from Chinatown sitting on the kitchen counter. He’s also been working on a project…” He let that drop.
