by Gilead, Kate
But the face…the face is identical to Nancy’s.
“Ahhh…it just hit me,” I say, gesturing to the two sisters.
“Yes, we’re twins,” Nancy says, looking puzzled, as if I should know that.
“Yep,” Cora says, grinning at my expression. “You didn’t know Nancy had a twin?”
“No, she never mentioned it.”
“I didn’t?” Nancy looks up and to the side, trying to remember. Her hair looks soft and freshly washed, and her brown eyes are bright and clear today. “No, I guess I didn’t. Well, now you know.”
“I guess there’s a lot I don’t know about you, Nance,” I remark, while noticing to myself that Heart doesn’t resemble her mother or her aunt at all.
She snorts. “Yeah, regular Mystery Woman, that’s me.”
“This is kind of interesting. Twins, one with a Latina name and one with an English name?”
“You got it,” Cora says. “Our father is Spanish. Our mother is British. She got the gringo name,” Cora laughs.
“Gringa,” Nancy corrects her.
“Whatever,” Cora says, shrugging. To me, she says, eyes twinkling, “You’re thinking Heart doesn’t look like us, aren’t you?”
“I…actually, yes. Was it that obvious?”
“No, I’m a mind reader,” Cora jokes, making Nancy snort and roll her eyes. “No, everyone remarks on it when they see us all together. Heart takes after her father.” Unwrapping a plastic fork and using it to spear a sushi roll, Cora pops it into her mouth. “Mmmm,” she moans, eyes closing as she chews. “Fresh sushi is so yum!”
“Here, Kyle,” Nancy loads up a plate and holds it out to me. “Grab that other chair. Heart, you can sit on my bed.”
“You’re looking great today, Nance. I can’t even tell anything happened to you,” I remark, taking a seat with my plate. “Looks like you’re using your left hand almost normally.”
“Mmm, oh yes. I’m making daily progress. The doc said if I keep doing this well, they’re going to kick me out or start charging me hotel rates.” She laughs, then lifts her chin towards Heart. “Oh and, thanks for keeping me updated about how your first week went, honey. I knew you were the right choice for the job.”
Heart smiles, glancing at me before looking back at her aunt. “Thanks for being so organized in the first place. All I had to do was clear the backlog. It’ll be smooth sailing now.”
“Good.” Then, she gives her blanket-covered leg a little slap. “Oh, right! Kyle, I want to apologize for somehow forgetting to mention to you that my replacement is…” she gestures at Heart, “…my niece.”
Cora glances at me, smiling.
“It’s okay. You’re still recovering. Forgetting certain things is to be expected. It’ll get better.”
“Still. It’s a big detail to leave out.”
“Well, you had a lot on your mind, sis,” Cora says, patting Nancy’s hand.
We all munch our sushi contentedly for a moment.
“Here’s another thing I don’t think I ever mentioned is how close I came to turning down the job after you interviewed me all those years ago.” Nancy says with a grin.
Cora and Heart look at her, surprise registering on their faces.
Surprised myself, I say, “No…nope. You never mentioned that, either.”
“Yes, it was a close thing. It was because you were so young. Only twenty years old! Remember I asked you how old you were?”
“Yes, that I do remember. I also remember being a little annoyed that you asked…although, I could see why, even then.”
“I was forthy-three then, you know. Needing something stable. Rather feeling like my best years were behind me, frankly. And, all I knew about tech start-ups then was that they fail more than they succeed.”
“That’s true for any new business,” I reply. “But I never doubted that RS&T would take off.”
“No, I could tell that you didn’t. You were determined. You believed in yourself. That’s why I took the position. Even though your office then was so…God-awful.” We both chuckle at the memory. “Remember how noisy it was? That walk-up in the strip mall over a Jiffy Lube!”
“God, yes. Hey, did I ever tell you,” I counter, “that the only reason I got that office space was by bartering my services with the building owner? I had to run miles of cable through mouse-infested walls and ceilings all over that place. But that way, he could offer broadband internet access to all the tenants. And raise their rents, of course.”
“No, you didn’t tell me that. I figured that you were in there because it was the best you could afford at the time.”
“It was. I had so little money. But I had to have an office for appearances. And I knew I had to use the money I had to hire the best assistant I could find. You made me look more legitimate Nancy, with your professionalism and hard work.” To Heart and her mother, I say: “She used my logo to design our letterhead and business cards. She standardized every procedure we have. All the reporting, all the charts and brochures. She got all the accounting organized too. Selected the business program, interviewed new employees, all of it. The works. She kept me out of trouble with the tax authorities and made the banks take my business more seriously.”
“Even in that awful office, it was all kinds of fun back then. Getting things off the ground. Exciting,” Nancy says. “Those were good days.”
We smile at each other. “You helped me build the foundation of my business, Nance. I was very lucky to have you.”
“I do remember you telling me, back then, that you weren’t too sure about working for Kyle,” Cora reminds her. “I wasn’t too sure either. I remember you saying the office was so small and noisy it was hard to concentrate sometimes.”
Chuckling, I say, “That’s why the owner gave me that particular office in trade. He couldn’t keep any paying tenants in there anyway. I also had to install and troubleshoot a network at one of his other properties, and wire his house too. It was worth it though. The money I saved there went to Nancy’s salary. Within a year, we moved to a more legit office.”
“Yes. I remember that move. And I remember the next move, too…into Bay Street. What a proud moment that was.”
I glance up and see Heart looking at me, her eyes soft. “This is cool, hearing about how you started out,” she says.
We smile at each other.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Cora and Nancy shooting each other a grin.
We finish up eating and Nancy starts telling Heart and Cora stories about the problems we had in the Jiffy Lube office, as Nancy calls it. Heart gathers the used dinner plates and utensils, placing them neatly back into the take-out bags for disposal.
A nurse bustles in, greets us, then asks how Nancy’s doing in that too-loud voice that nurses always seem to use. After taking Nancy’s vitals, the nurse announces that it’s time for Nancy to go for her walk around the floor.
“I had therapy today. I don’t need to walk,” Nancy grumbles, winking at Heart.
“You’re going,” Cora says. “I’ll take you. We have stuff to talk about anyway.”
That’s obviously our cue to leave.
“Okay, Auntie,” Heart says. “We’ll leave you to it. I love you!” She bends to kiss Nancy good-bye. “See you at home, Mom.”
“Okay sweetie. You have your keys? Okay, good. Your dad’s over at Murray’s, and I’m not sure what time I’ll be home. They let me stay until midnight the other night, well past visiting hours.”
“I’m sure they appreciate the help,” Nancy says. “If you ask me, you should get a paycheck.” To me, she says, “Thanks again, Kyle, for dinner. It was lovely. I really can’t express how much I appreciate it.”
“Yes, thank-you Kyle,” Cora says, beaming.
“My pleasure. It was nice meeting you, Cora. Night, Moneypenny. Stay well!”
“Hey…if you don’t mind my saying so, I think you two should go somewhere together and do something fun. Relax. It’s launch week! You deserve it.�
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“Oh, Nance,” Cora scolds softly. “They may have other plans, you can’t tell them…”
“Actually, I was just thinking the same thing,” I say, looking at Heart. “If I can get away with that twice in the same day, that is.”
Nancy and Cora look at each other and grin.
Biting her lip, Heart meets my eyes, and lo and behold! Is that a blush I see rising on her cheeks?
Sure looks like it. Damn.
Why does that excite me so much?
“Fortune favors the bold, boss,” Nancy says impishly. “Now, shoo! Go have fun.”
Chapter Seven
Heart
The hospital corridors are so crowded with visitors coming and going that we don’t say much until we get back outside.
The sun is lowering in the sky, casting that mellow golden glow over everything. It’s lovely, making even the grimy remains of snowdrifts look not-so-bad.
“Ah, yeah, spring is coming,” Kyle says. “Bring it on! Look how nice the light looks.”
“Yes, it’s so pretty! Makes me feel hopeful somehow, especially after such a long winter.”
“Amen to that.” We take a flight of concrete steps down to the parking lot. “Your mom seems cool,” Kyle says. “And damn, am I ever glad to see Nancy looking so well.”
“Thanks, and me too. I wouldn’t put it past her to be on her feet in no time.”
We walk to the car in companionable silence. Kyle uses his keyfob to unlock the car doors and we slide into our seats.
“So, that was my family,” I say, looking at him. The gentle light of the sun on his face makes him even more handsome, if that’s possible. “Or, most of ‘em. My dad’s the only one you haven’t met.”
“No siblings?”
“Nope. My parents were older when they had me and I think one was enough. You?”
“Nope. I was a spoilt only child,” he jokes.
He puts the key into the ignition, glances at me, then stops, leans back and just looks at me, a smile playing across his lips.
“What?” I say, smiling back.
Pause. The smile flickers, then comes back.
“You’re beautiful, that’s what,” he says, softly, his gaze moving over my face.
Ba-boom, there goes my heart again.
Heat rising to my cheeks, I bite my lip to try to get control of myself.. “Th…thank you,” I stammer. “You’re quite attractive your own self, you know.”
“Thank you.” He looks away, smiling, then looks out at the parking lot before looking back at me. “Now that I’ve monopolized you again, I have to admit, I don’t quite know what to do with you.”
The innuendo makes us look at each other out of the corner of our eyes, then laugh.
“I’m not too sure myself,” I say.
“We could take a quick flight to Paris for the weekend,” he says.
“Nah,” I say. “Thanks, but, I have to study.”
“Oh, right. Okay. I’d say dinner and drinks, but we already had dinner. So, just drinks?”
I wag my head back and forth undecidedly. “I would, but, I guess I find sitting in a bar drinking kind of…boring. No offense!”
“None taken. It is boring. If I can’t impress you by sweeping you off to Paris, what will do it? Dancing? Movies? Rollerblading? A walk in the park?” Eyes sparkling, he adds, “Shucking our clothes and running naked through Nathan Philips Square?”
“Holy...what?” Giggling, suddenly I remember something. “Hey, didn’t they used to do that in the seventies? Streaking?”
“Well, I didn’t,” he replies, “but I wasn’t born yet. Otherwise, I’d have been the Streak King.”
“Oh, you’re an exhibitionist, are you? Good to know,” I laugh.
“Well, hmm, Seems we’re at an impasse…oh, wait.How about that driving lesson?”
“Now? Uh…well, sure, okay.”
“Great.” He starts the car. “As I mentioned, the car’s at my dad’s place. He might be home, I dunno. You cool with that?”
I shrug. “Of course. You met my family already, so, why not?”
Putting the car in gear, he pulls smoothly out of the spot and steers towards the exit, saying, “All-right-y then. It’s not far.”
* * *
Staying off the main roads, Kyle takes us through a dizzying series of residential streets, most of them densely populated with older homes.
It’s an area I haven’t been in very much, and like most neighborhoods in the city proper, the homes are nothing like cookie-cutter suburbia.
We pass everything from low-rise apartments, to townhomes, to row houses, to semi-detached duplexes and sturdy brick bungalows.
And, like a lot of side-streets, there are so many cars parked in front of the homes, it makes a tight squeeze when passing oncoming vehicles.
In addition, it seems that every street has the occasional incongruent McMansion seemingly plunked down into the middle of it, sticking out like a sore thumb.
“I’ve never been down this way,” I say, neck craning to look at all the homes. “And I thought I knew the whole city, pretty much.”
“This is my old stomping grounds,” he says, “and even I haven’t been down every street.”
“You seem to know where you’re going, though,” I observe. “You don’t use your GPS.”
“Thanks to the city planners back in the day, everything’s laid out in the cardinal directions. All you need to remember are a couple main streets and you can get yourself back on course if you get turned around.” He glances at me, his eyes gleaming good-naturedly. “That’s handy to know when you’re navigating as a driver in Toronto.”
“Right, but I’ll probably stick to my Google maps,” I say. “When someone else is driving, I never pay attention to where we’re going.”
“I don’t think anyone does. But it’s good to be able to rely on the computer between your ears, rather than external tech that can vanish if the power goes out.”
“That seems like an odd thing to say for a guy who built a tech company out of nothing,” I reply.
“That’s what a lot of people would think. But a lot of tech people get sick of it, you know? They know how intrusive it really is. How little privacy there is, regardless of what we’re told by these corporations.”
“Yeah, but I think there’s a lot of hype about it. Who’s tracking us…you mean the companies, or the government, or what? I know there’s a lot of conspiracies out there, but they don’t really track people…do they?”
“Yes, I’m afraid they do. Governments and corporations work hand in hand for that information. It’s priceless, to them.”
“Huh. I can see it for ads, but, how can the government, even with all their resources, keep tabs on everyone?”
“Good point. They can store the data, but they can’t make use of it without the help of AI. There aren’t enough people to do the job and people…well, people make mistakes. And right now, AI just isn’t reliable. Normal everyday people really have nothing to worry about.”
“Phew,” I say. “That’s good.”
“Yeah. The government and the bigger players are more interested on getting dirt on each other.” I shrug. “It’s nothing for the average person to lose sleep over,” he adds.
“I hardly think about it,” I say.
“Well, it’s good to do some basic security stuff. For example, I disable the tracking, the mic and erase history on my iPhone as much as I can. There’s nothing I hate worse than talking about, I dunno, say, taking a vacation in Marseilles, only to start seeing ads for that on my Facebook page the next time I log on.”
“I don’t have Facebook on my phone anyway,” I tell him.
“It doesn’t have to be for ads to appear on your desktop,” he says, “but, never mind. I wanna have fun, not think about tech right now. We’re almost there, anyway. I wanted to show you something on this street…look, check that out.”
He slows down and points at a tall, narrow home comin
g into view. Covered in a salmon-colored stucco cladding, there are long, tall windows on both floors, with the lower portion of each window being covered with an ornate black railing.
“That’s where my mother grew up,” he tells me. “Except, back then, it was a decrepit older home with one of those basements you couldn’t stand up in without banging your head on a beam.”
“Oh, they tore it down and replaced it.” I turn my head to look at it as we slowly pass it by. “There’s no yard whatsoever. It’s all house and driveway. Still, it’s nice. It looks like something you’d see in Venice or somewhere.”
“Good eye. That’s where that style comes from. Italianate architecture,” he says. “It doesn’t fit in with the rest of the street, but it’s a handsome looking house and worth probably three million dollars in today’s market.”
We cross a major intersection, and, after a few more turns, drive into a neighborhood that looks and feels like a different city.
For one thing, there’s nearly no traffic. All the homes on this street sit on big lots, and they’re all ranch-style bungalows or brick, single-family homes. All sit back from nice big lawns and they all have generous back yards as well.
And there are very few cars parked on the wide streets.
“Here we are,” he announces, pulling into the driveway of one of the ranch-style homes. He flips his sun visor down and presses a button on a garage-door opener that’s clipped to it.
The garage door trundles up to reveal a bright red, old-model VW Golf with a rag-top.
“Oh, Dad’s not home,” he remarks. “His pick-up is usually parked in the other space.”
We get out of the car and go into the garage. “Here she is,” Kyle says. “My first car. A 1986 Mark I VW Golf. I had it modified it into a convertible about five years ago.”
I walk around the car, taking a look at it. “Oh my God, it looks so…squared-off! I haven’t seen one of these in, I don’t know, years I think. Since I was little.”
“These cars were old when you were little,” he says, coming over to where I’m standing. “It was old when I bought it, for that matter.