“Good morning,” Pam and Doris said in unison.

  “Forgive the unannounced and early visit, but I’ve only just received confirmation that we can view several properties today. I was waiting until I knew for sure before telling you,” he said to Pam. “I hope you’re available today.”

  Available? When could they leave?

  “Sit down and join us,” Doris said, her tone indicating that her suggestion was more polite than heartfelt.

  “No, thank you. We’ll have to depart soon if we’re to have time to see all the properties.”

  “We can go for our walk tomorrow,” Pam said to Doris, trying her damndest to sound disappointed.

  Doris nodded. “I hope one of the properties is suitable.”

  Pam bet she did.

  “I hope so, too.” Jasper raised his brows at Pam. “Shall we?”

  Oh, yeah. Pam murmured a good-bye to Doris and took the time to adjust her hat in the foyer mirror, even though she wanted to run from the house. A car waited outside. Drat. Pam had hoped for an enclosed carriage, where they could relax . . . and neck!

  “I borrowed the motor from Oliver,” Jasper explained as he opened the passenger door and offered Pam a supporting hand. He rounded the car and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “Where’ve you been?” Pam said. “I’m going crazy.”

  Jasper chuckled. “I’ve missed you, too. It’s difficult to get away. Oliver’s been keen to introduce me to friends and tradesmen who can help me get a start with my cabinetmaking.” He pulled away from the house. “I think Hortense is eager for us to marry and move. She’s being pleasant and hospitable, but the novelty of my presence has worn off.”

  The novelty of Pam’s presence had worn off for Doris five minutes after Pam had arrived. Hortense, on the other hand, might have an archaic name, but she was kind and sociable, and held her own with Oliver.

  “Have you looked at churches?” Jasper asked. “We can’t move until we’re married.”

  If the historical record was correct, they’d be in their own home after honeymooning in New Brunswick in December. “Doris and I spent two afternoons slogging from church to church. St. Mark’s has dates available in December. It’s small, but cozy.” And where they’d marry. “Elliot wants a summer wedding. If he and Doris act fast, they might get one of the few remaining summer dates.” Doris could have booked their date already, if she didn’t need the almighty Elliot’s permission to sneeze.

  Jasper grunted, then sharply turned the steering wheel.

  “Where are we going?” Pam asked as they turned away from the main entrance and onto a path that led deeper into the Pembleton Estate.

  “To a secluded guest house that’s currently unoccupied,” Jasper said with a grin. “Our first viewing appointment is at 1:00.” He gave Pam a sidelong glance. “I can’t imagine what we’ll do until then.”

  Pam wanted to grab him and kiss him, but her damn hat would get in the way and they’d probably crash into a tree. “I love you, Jasper Bainbridge,” she said, her smile splitting her face. Living in 1910 was proving to be more trying than she’d expected, but being with him made it all worth it.

  *****

  Margaret glanced into the empty study and moved on to Pam’s bedroom. Robin was sitting on the bed, sorting plastic cards into two piles. “What are you doing?” Margaret asked.

  “Deciding which cards to keep. Basically, anything with Pam’s picture has to go.” She sighed. “I should have done this earlier, but I couldn’t face it. I mean, if anyone finds her purse here, we’re screwed, and it’s time to transition her identity to you.”

  Margaret sank onto the bed and put her hand on Robin’s back. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have destroyed the book.”

  “Just because I miss Pam doesn’t mean I think you should go back.” Robin turned and handed Margaret one of the cards.

  Margaret peered down at it. “What’s this?”

  “Your health card. Luckily Pam still had the old-style one, so no photo. It means it’s okay for you to get sick. Not that I want you to.”

  Margaret read the name on the card: Pamela Elizabeth Holden. She looked up. “Do you have a middle name?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “What is it?”

  Robin cleared her throat. “Elenora.”

  Elenora? Then . . . “That’s an old name.”

  “My great-grandmother’s name.”

  “Really?” Margaret breathed. So Robin was related to Victor Tillman’s family; in fact, she was a direct descendant! Should she tell Robin that she’d met her great-grandparents?

  “My great-grandfather’s name was Victor.” Robin’s eyes narrowed. “But I suspect you already know that. You mentioned that he’d gambled all his money away.”

  Margaret cringed. “I meant no offence.”

  “None was taken. At the time, I didn’t know if there was a connection. I knew my great-grandmother’s name because I got it. I had to ask my mother if she knew about a Victor Tillman. Tillman is her name, not my father’s.” Robin’s mouth tightened. “I changed my name. I don’t think he cared.”

  So excessive drinking ran down her mother’s side of the family. Robin had avoided the curse, perhaps deliberately; Margaret had never seen her touch a drop of alcohol. “When will you introduce me to your parents?” she asked, dismayed that she hadn’t already met Robin’s mother, at least. Her father didn’t live in Toronto.

  Robin tensed. “You might meet my mother on my birthday. As for my father, I don’t know. Next time he calls, I’m thinking of saying I don’t want to see him. Pam always thought I should do that, and I probably should.” She heaved her shoulders and tossed a card onto the smaller pile on the right. “You’re around the same height as Pam, but you’re a bit thinner. That won’t matter.”

  It did mean that most of Pam’s clothes were baggy on her, except for a few items Pam had kept that “she hoped to eventually fit into again,” according to Robin. Margaret handed back the card.

  “Have you thought any more about cutting your hair?” Robin asked.

  “I thought perhaps it would be nice to cut it before our night out.” Margaret couldn’t help but smile. Robin was taking her out to dinner before the dance. Their first date.

  Robin smiled in return. “Good.” She dealt with the three remaining cards in her hand, then turned to Margaret again. “After considering the options, I’ve decided we should try to get you a passport. I used to bitch at Pam for never going anywhere. Now I’m glad she didn’t.” Margaret’s breath quickened as Robin ran her fingers through her hair and rested her hand on the back of Margaret’s neck. “You’ll need passport photos, but let’s get your hair cut first. I should be able to get you an appointment next week.”

  Margaret swallowed. “All right.”

  “The only sticky part of the passport application is the references. We can use two of Pam’s friends that she doesn’t see very often. Chances are, they won’t even be called.”

  “What if they are?” Margaret asked, her heart thumping.

  “They’ll answer questions about Pam, not you. The worst that can happen is your application is rejected.”

  Robin sounded reassuring, but she must be worried. Margaret pushed down her own fear, determined to support Robin, not to add to her burdens. “How long will it take to get the passport?”

  “If you applied in person, a couple of weeks. But we’ll apply through the mail.” Margaret quickly nodded. Robin’s forehead creased. “It’ll take longer, but you have a health card and a birth certificate, so there’s no rush. If you didn’t need ID with a photo, we wouldn’t bother with the passport. Not yet, anyway.”

  What would she need for them to marry?

  “Anyway, enough of this.” Robin turned back to the two piles; the sensation of her touch lingered on Margaret’s neck. “I’ll cut up this pile later. The other one is yours. You’ll need a purse.” She chuckled. “Though if you were to try wearing pants, you might decide your pockets are enough.”

  “Perhaps I should try on a pair,” Margaret said.

  Robin whipped toward her. “Really? Or are you putting me on?”

  “I might not like them, but I will try a pair. I don’t know if the ones Pam bought will fit me, though.”

  “Why don’t you start with a pair of sweats, just around the house? Throw on a pair in the morning, so you don’t have to get up at the crack of dawn to get ready to see me off.”

  Margaret would feel more comfortable—and decent—if Robin saw her in a pair of sweatpants rather than in only her nightie, and an extra hour of sleep would be welcome. “Perhaps I will try that.” Her hand went to her head. “Oh, but my hair.”

  “Margaret, you don’t have to look perfect in the mornings. I don’t.”

  Yes, but it was almost impossible for Robin’s hair to appear messy.

  “You always look beautiful.” Robin tapped Margaret’s nose.

  She flushed with pleasure. “Thank you.”

  “Should we start preparing for the dance?” Robin asked.

  “Yes.” Margaret rose when Robin did.

  Robin looked down at the two card piles. “We’ll go through the cards that are yours later. First, dancing! Let’s go down to the exercise room.”

  She dutifully followed Robin downstairs. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she crossed the threshold into the exercise room. She avoided entering it, afraid that she’d double over with nausea and find herself back in 1910 without Robin. For that to happen, Pam would have to read the rhyme, and perhaps be in the drawing room in 1910. But she’d fled to Halifax with Jasper, and apparently they’d started a family. Would she ever want to leave him and their children behind? Margaret and Robin hadn’t yet researched what had become of those in the past. Perhaps she’d suggest to Robin that they do so soon, despite the pain it would cause them. If she could reassure herself that Pam had remained in 1910, she could stop worrying that her life here might end at a moment’s notice.

  Robin slapped her thighs. “We need music,” she said sheepishly. “Just a minute.” She left the room.

  Margaret eyed the door, fighting the overpowering urge to wait for Robin in the hallway. When Mitzy sauntered in, Margaret crouched and held out her hand. “Mitzy,” she hissed, and scooped the cat into her arms when Mitzy came over to sniff her fingers. “I’ll give you a treat later,” Margaret whispered, feeling guilty. For now, she wanted to cling to Mitzy, hoping that doing so would anchor her in 2010.

  Robin returned carrying a rectangular metallic object. She set it on the chair and blew away a layer of dust. “I haven’t used this in ages. I hope it still works.” She unwound the electrical cord, plugged the machine in, and pressed a button. Several lights at the top of the machine came on. “Good.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a radio and CD player.”

  “CD?” Margaret bent and released Mitzy.

  “CDs contain music.”

  “Oh, yes. We’ve already talked about this.”

  Robin shrugged. “We’ve covered so much, I’m surprised you remember any of it. Be back in a minute.” She left again.

  To keep her mind occupied, Margaret peered at the machine without touching it. Robin came back with several CDs. “Will there be a band at the dance?” Margaret asked as Robin inserted a CD into the machine.

  “No. There’ll be a DJ, someone who selects and plays the music.”

  How queer, to dance in a room with no musicians.

  Robin stepped away from the machine and clapped her hands. “Okay. Let’s dance.” Margaret reached for her, but Robin shook her head. “No, stay where you are.”

  “What?”

  “When the music is fast, we dance apart.” She pressed a button.

  Music filled the room, or at least what they regarded as music here. Much of what Margaret had heard sounded like wretched noise, and most pieces included vocals. She was beginning to appreciate the appeal of the more popular songs, though, and even hummed to a few under her breath in the mornings, when Robin had the radio on before leaving for university. “What are the steps?”

  “There are no steps. Just move to the music.” Robin raised her arms and waved them around; her feet and legs moved in time to the beat.

  Margaret stared at her. Surely she should try to mimic her, otherwise what was the point of dancing together?

  “Just swing your hips.” Robin swung hers to demonstrate, making Margaret’s heart flutter. “Move your legs to the beat.” She laughed. “Just move! Step to the beat.”

  Feeling awfully silly, Margaret stepped to one side, then to the other, following the beat.

  Robin nodded encouragement. “Do something with your arms. Do this.” She swung her arms to her left, then to her right.

  Margaret self-consciously did the same, surprised that Robin didn’t burst out laughing. But then, how could she, with her own arms flailing around. Though Robin’s swaying hips were oddly alluring. Margaret watched her, not paying attention to her own movements until Robin smiled and said, “That’s it!”

  She couldn’t help but smile back, despite her embarrassment and confusion. How could Robin praise her? With no steps to follow, apparently simple movement passed as competence. “Will everyone dance like this?”

  Robin nodded.

  So they would all just dance however they wanted? She had to admit that she took pleasure in Robin’s dancing and enjoyed moving to the music, despite her conviction that she must appear foolish. Observing a full dance floor would probably prove illuminating. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about humiliating herself, since she couldn’t see how that would be possible.

  “Sometimes we might dance in a group, rather than only with each other. People generally form a circle.”

  Oh. The thought of dancing across from others intimidated her.

  The song ended. “A slow one,” Robin said when the next song began. “Now come to me.”

  “Are we going to waltz?” When Robin nodded, Margaret held up one hand.

  Robin shook her head. “Hug me.”

  “I thought we were going to waltz.”

  “We are.”

  Margaret didn’t mind giving her a hug before they danced. She slipped her arms around Robin’s neck and leaned into her.

  “Okay, now we move together,” Robin murmured. “Sway.”

  Bewildered, Margaret followed her lead and realized that they were slowly turning in a circle. “Is this waltzing?”

  “Yes.”

  “I like this.”

  She felt Robin’s chuckle. “So do I.”

  *****

  From the corner of her eye, Pam eyed Doris sitting on a nearby chair with her nose stuck in yet another book. Doris read at every opportunity; she obviously enjoyed it more than sewing, embroidery, and other feminine pursuits. This time Doris hadn’t quickly hidden another book when Pam had walked into the room, which wasn’t surprising, since Jasper, Oliver, Hortense, and Elliot were due any minute, and then they’d be off to a swanky restaurant in town for dinner. Since that morning at the breakfast table, Pam had only caught Doris with the other book once; unfortunately she hadn’t glimpsed the book’s title. She was dying of curiosity!

  Hearing heavy footsteps approaching, Pam straightened and clasped her hands in her lap. Oliver and Elliot strode into the room. “Ladies,” Oliver said.

  Pam inclined her head. “Good evening.”

  Elliot frowned, then marched up to Doris, yanked the book from her hands, and glared at her. “You knew when we were expected,” he growled. “Is this any way to greet us?”

  Doris’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “Don’t bother.” Elliot tossed the book onto the table next to the chair and turned to Oliver. “Stupid woman,” he muttered, shaking his head. Oliver shrugged.

  Her blood boiling, Pam looked at Doris, expecting her to speak up, but Doris stared down at her lap.

  “You won’t have time to read when you have a house to run and children to raise,” Elliot said.

  “And a husband to tend to,” Oliver added.

  “Oh, enough.” Hortense had stepped into the room and stood at Oliver’s side. “Reading in one’s own drawing room isn’t a sin.”

  “It is when guests are expected,” Elliot said.

  Hortense’s face tightened at Elliot’s refusal to be conciliatory. “Doris will make a wonderful wife and mother. She’ll know her priorities when she’s married, won’t you, Doris?”

  Doris raised her head and nodded. Pam inwardly winced at her resigned and bleak eyes. Doris could be difficult to read, but not this time. She didn’t want to get married, at least not to Elliot. Why was she engaged to him? It didn’t matter how much money the clown had, she could do better. “Where’s Jasper?” she quickly asked when Elliot opened his mouth to answer Hortense’s question for Doris. God only knew what he intended to say.

  Hortense turned to Pam. “He’s here. He’ll join us in a minute.”

  Everyone but Doris gazed at her, smiles playing on their lips. What did they know that she didn’t? The answer came when Jasper joined them a minute later, striding in with one hand suspiciously behind his back. He nodded to the others, then stopped in front of Pam and extended his other hand. She grasped his fingers, expecting him to kiss her hand and wondering about the reason behind the sudden formality, but he pulled her to her feet and cleared his throat.

  “As you know, P—Margaret and I left Toronto in a hurry, and we left something very important behind.” He moved his hand from behind his back and extended it, a small, gift-wrapped box on his palm. “The bow unravelled a bit on the way. Bella kindly helped me retie it,” he murmured.

  Aware of everyone’s eyes upon her, Pam accepted the gift and unwrapped it. Her breath caught in her throat when she spotted the box inside; she swallowed as she lifted its lid with a trembling hand.

  Jasper dropped to one knee. “Will you marry me?”

  As she gazed down at the ring with its bright red ruby, she recalled a conversation she’d had with Jasper and the others about her favourite gemstones. Jasper had initiated the conversation—sly devil. Fortunately “diamond” wasn’t at the top of her list; this ring was truly hers, not version two of Margaret’s. “Of course I will,” she managed to whisper, then fought tears as he stood, took the box from her, and slipped the ring on her finger as everyone clapped.

 

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