Secret North

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  “That’s not true. We’ve known each other seven years. At least think about it,” I urged. “It might be amazing.”

  “It might also be a train wreck.”

  “Bente, you live with Ivy and the squealers,” I pointed out. “The worst train wreck would be an improvement.”

  She kissed me chastely. “I’ll think about it.”

  ***

  The only thing worse than leaving Billet-doux unmanaged for two days was having my business partner step in and take charge.

  The daytime manager, Noelle, gave me the heads up at the door. “Charli’s in your office,” she warned, skipping to keep up with me. “I told her that you wouldn’t be pleased, but she didn’t listen.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Stopping suddenly was a mistake. She nearly ran into me, like an overenthusiastic puppy. “Was there something else, Noelle?”

  There was usually plenty where Noelle was concerned. She was very … keen. In the year that she’d worked at Billet-doux, she’d tried a hundred times to catch my eye. I wasn’t completely immune to her charms. She was a very pretty blonde with blindingly white teeth, enormous energy and a fondness for the word ‘super’. I liked to look at Noelle. I just had no desire to touch her.

  “No.” She hit me with her stun gun smile. “I’m just super glad you’re back. Everyone missed you.”

  I glanced around the quiet restaurant. Two girls were setting tables and there was a guy polishing glasses behind the bar. None of them looked super excited to see me again.

  “Well, I’m back now.” I walked away before she could speak again.

  Noelle wisely decided against following me. Perhaps she knew what was about to go down. I threw open my office door expecting at least a second or two of expressions of terror, but I got nothing. Charli sat at my desk, staring at my computer as if she had half a clue what she was looking at.

  “Get off my chair.”

  “No. It’s my chair too.”

  “I want a chair,” came a little voice out of nowhere.

  My eyes scanned the room. “Where is she?”

  Bridget’s little hand popped up from under the desk. “I’m here.”

  “Don’t you two have anything better to do than hang out in my office?” I grumbled.

  Charli didn’t pay me so much as a sideward glance. “We’re just here to use the printer, then we’ll be out of your hair,” she declared. “Ours is out of ink.”

  “My daddy broke it,” volunteered Bridget.

  I dropped my keys on the desk. “So nothing work related then?”

  Charli’s giggle sounded positively evil. “Not unless you count princess colouring sheets as work.”

  Bridget’s head popped up. “Did you do the blue one?” she asked. “I love the blue one.”

  “None of them are blue, Bridge,” muttered her mother. “That’s the whole point. You’ve got to colour them in yourself.”

  “Do you have pencils, Ry?” asked Bridget.

  “No.” I scooped Bridget off the floor and put her down by the door, hoping her mother would follow. “I’m sure you have plenty of pencils at home.”

  Charli glanced at me. “Are you trying to get rid of us? Noelle already tried, super hard. She’s very territorial, Ryan. It’s super scary.”

  It was impossible not to smile. “It’s only scary if she thinks you’re a threat.”

  “Me?” Her eyes never left the computer screen. “Ugh. I’ll stick with your younger, hotter brother, thanks all the same.”

  “You do that, Charli,” I agreed. “I really do have work to do.”

  She let out a sigh, swivelled her chair and grabbed a handful of papers off the printer. “Okay, okay. We’re going.”

  “Thank you.”

  As soon as she moved I took her place on the chair, fearful that she’d change her mind. Charli slung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed Bridget’s hand. “Where have you been, anyway?” she asked. “We haven’t seen you in days.”

  I wiggled my eyebrows. “On a date.”

  She abandoned her daughter and dumped her bag on my desk again. “With Bente?”

  I nodded, sliding her bag toward her suggestively.

  “For two days?” she asked.

  “She’s amazing, Charli.”

  She narrowed her brown eyes, tilting her head. “How amazing?”

  I leaned back in my chair. “On a level of one to chocolate cake?”

  “She could be chocolate cake girl?” Her voice rose, making her sound eerily like Bridget.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing where it goes,” I replied. “That’s all I’m telling you.”

  She put her hand up. “Say no more.”

  “I appreciate that you’re respecting my privacy,” I replied formally.

  “I’ll just call Bente for details.” She took Bridget by the hand and slipped out the door, only to poke her head back in a second later to offer up a parting shot. “And you know I don’t respect you, Ryan.”

  14. DUMB PRINCESSES

  Bente

  I didn’t go straight home. Dealing with Ivy could wait. I’d had a blissful two days and wanted to tell someone who’d actually be happy for me, so I walked the short journey to Charli’s place.

  The only fault with that plan was that she wasn’t home. Adam answered the door.

  I looked him up and down, quickly concluding that he was on his way to work – or a GQ magazine shoot. He was dressed for either.

  Someone should’ve given Fiona Décarie an award when her boys were born. She’d knocked it out of the ballpark twice when it came to producing gorgeous looking men.

  “I can come back,” I offered.

  “No,” he replied, jingling a bunch of keys in his hand. “Stay if you want. The girls should be back any minute. I have to go, though.” He checked his watch. “I have a meeting ten minutes ago.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course.” He glanced back into the apartment. “Just try not to knock the tent over.”

  I looked past him, spotting a bed sheet canopying the lounge. A row of dolls lined the couch and a kiddie size table and chairs was set up underneath. “Cute campsite.”

  “It’s not a camp,” Adam corrected. “It’s a school for dumb princesses.”

  I held both hands up. “I don’t even want to know.”

  He chuckled darkly. “Probably not. I’ll see you later, Bente.” He made a dash for the elevator. “Have fun in class.”

  “Wait,” I demanded. “Are you calling me a dumb princess?”

  He hit the button on the elevator and turned back, grinning. “Not at all. Last I heard she was recruiting teachers.”

  ***

  Charli and Bridget arrived home soon after. I was glad to see them. The dumb princesses lining the couch were beginning to creep me out.

  “Hey.” I jumped to my feet.

  “Hi!” beamed Bridget, bolting toward the couch. “See my girls at school?”

  “I do see them,” I confirmed. “They’re all so pretty.”

  The little girl threw herself over the arm of the couch. “They need work,” she said, making me laugh. She ducked under the sheet, freeing me to seek grownup conversation in the kitchen.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” said Charli. “You’re just the girl I wanted to talk to.” Her tone led me to think she was in possession of more information than she should’ve been.

  “You’ve spoken to Ryan already?”

  She began searching through her bag. “I’ve just come from Billet-doux. He was almost human. I’m guessing you’ve got something to do with that.”

  “It was so good, Charli,” I said wistfully.

  She stopped rummaging to glare. “Don’t give me details!” She looked appalled. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Not that part … although that was good too.”

  “Stop right there!”

  “Okay, no details,” I promised, crossing my heart. That left only one thing to tell her about. “He asked
me to move in with him.”

  Her brown eyes bugged at the news. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. I’m serious.”

  Charli pulled a pile of papers out of her bag and called Bridget over. “Colour them in, okay?” she instructed. “Don’t rip them up, Bridge. I mean it.”

  Bridget took them. “Small ripping?”

  “No ripping,” she repeated.

  The little girl took off back to her classroom tent.

  “She’s going to tear them, isn’t she?” I asked.

  Charli let out a sigh of resignation. “Into a million pieces, probably.”

  With Bridget occupied, we were free to sit at the table, drink tea and deconstruct Ryan’s crazy offer.

  “I think it was a spur of the moment suggestion,” I told her.

  Charli shook her head. “Ryan doesn’t make spur of the moment decisions.”

  “How else would you explain it?”

  Her bright eyes bored into me. “He thinks you might be chocolate cake girl.”

  Coming to Charli for advice probably wasn’t wise, mainly because of the language barrier. Fairy-speak confounded me. Normally I’d overlook it and move on, but in this instance I needed to know what she meant. “Charli, just step back onto my planet for a minute and tell me what you mean.”

  “My daddy likes cake,” announced a little voice from the next room.

  Charli wiggled her eyebrows. “Ryan does too, apparently.”

  I leaned back, defeated. “This isn’t helping,” I complained. “I came here for advice, not a lesson in desserts.”

  “You’re asking me for advice?” she asked incredulously. “Even my kid doesn’t come to me for advice – and she’s four. Her father’s the sensible one. Go to him.”

  Frustrated, I scrubbed both hands down my face. “Tell me what to do, Charli,” I practically pleaded.

  She stared at me for a long time, deliberating. “If you already knew the answer, what would it be?”

  I shook my head, feeling hopeless. “I don’t know.”

  “It might be the best five minutes of your life, Bente.”

  Charli’s habit of putting a romantic spin on everything wasn’t helpful. I didn’t want five minutes with Ryan. I’d had five minutes with him before, and then spent the next five years recovering. I wanted something more substantial with no need for recovery time.

  “Would you do it?”

  “With Ryan?” She screwed up her face. “Hell, no.”

  “Because he’s selfish and fickle and conceited?” My shoulders slumped as I prepared for her answer.

  “No.” She laughed. “Because he’s Ryan.”

  ***

  I’d avoided facing Ivy for hours but couldn’t put it off any longer. I didn’t even make it to the front steps before she ambushed me. Clearly she’d been lying in wait. The hanging plants she was pretending to tend to had been dead for years.

  “Ryan Décarie?” she screeched, throwing her watering can over the edge of the porch. “Really?”

  I trudged up the steps like a tired old woman. “Yes, really,” I muttered.

  Ivy beat me to the door, swinging the screen open so hard that it smashed against the house. “He’s not welcome in my home.” She spoke with absolute contempt. “I have impressionable children in this house.”

  I almost laughed. If her children were any more corrupt, they’d be in jail. There was nothing Ryan could teach them. I pushed past her. “Fine. I won’t bring him here.”

  My sister had obviously been preparing for a fight. Agreeing with her seemed to mess with her game plan. She’d run out of words. “Fine,” she agreed, almost calmly.

  “So we’re good?” I asked, wondering why she had me bailed up in the hall.

  “Why aren’t you at work?” she asked, getting a little off track.

  “I got fired.”

  Her eyes widened. I braced myself. “He got you fired?”

  I pushed past to the kitchen, uselessly trying to escape. “Ryan had nothing to do with it. How could he get me fired?”

  Ivy was hot on my heels. “I wouldn’t put anything past him,” she snapped. “Have you forgotten what happened last time?”

  I would never forget. His past behaviour was still causing damage, not that I’d admit it to Ivy. “People change. It was a long time ago.”

  I knew Ivy wasn’t finished with me but I won a reprieve when my nieces barrelled into the kitchen – well, Fabergé barrelled in. Malibu entered against her will, thanks to the handful of hair her sister had hold of.

  “Tell her to stay out of my stuff,” demanded Fabergé.

  I couldn’t quite make out Malibu’s reply. It came out in a growly shriek.

  I threw both hands up in surrender. I was out of there.

  15. THE COUPLE THING

  Ryan

  As much as it sometimes pained me to admit, my restaurants ran pretty well when I wasn’t there. I only spent a short time at Billet-doux before heading over to Nellie’s. Paolo greeted me at the podium with a big grin and a thump on the back as if he hadn’t seen me in months. I kept waiting for him to broach the subject of the rearranged furniture, but he never mentioned it. I almost wished he had; I might’ve told him the whole story. Good things were happening and I was feeling an unusual need to share.

  “Do I look any different to you, Paolo?” I asked.

  The man looked completely trapped, as if there was no correct answer. “New shirt?”

  “New beginnings, Paolo.”

  “Should I alert the media?” The caution in his voice killed the joke he was trying to make.

  “No need.” I grinned. “She is the media.”

  ***

  I decided to walk home from Nellie’s, which wasn’t something I did often. It was a good decision. After a few days of intermittent rain, the humidity had given way to sunshine. The bustling streets of Manhattan are the perfect place to be alone with your thoughts, and I had plenty. Most revolved around the preposterous offer I’d made to Bente of moving in.

  Her argument that we’d only known each other a short time was completely valid. Neither of us were renowned for making rash decisions. We were sensible and smart. So why was every fibre of my being hoping she’d take me up on it?

  I could think of only one reason. Turning thirty had made me soft.

  I was still walking when I received a text from the lady in question.

  - Are you busy?

  I thought quickly, trying to come up with a witty response.

  - No

  I failed. Turning thirty had made me really soft.

  - I think we need to talk

  No good could come from a sentence like that. I could almost feel my feet dragging as I slowed to type my reply.

  - Dinner? I’ll cook for you

  I added a smiley face for good measure. I had never texted a smiley face in my life. What the hell was happening to me?

  Bente replied with a love heart. Perhaps she was losing it too.

  I picked up my pace and rushed the rest of the way. By the time she knocked on my door a few hours later, dinner was prepared.

  I put on a confident smile, took a breath and opened the door.

  “Hi.” Her voice was barely there, and the half-hearted wave she gave me was just plain odd.

  “You’re greeting me with a wave?” I asked, puzzled. “Do you want me to follow up with a high-five?”

  She answered with a quick shake of her head, an even quicker lurch forward and a heart-stopping slow kiss. After spending all afternoon preparing for the worst, it was the most welcome kiss I’d ever received.

  Talking wasn’t high on my agenda at that point, so it was left to Bente to break the embrace. When she pulled away and walked to the centre of the room, I didn’t move.

  “I’ve been putting a lot of thought into your offer and –”

  “And what?”

  She spun to face me. “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Cut
me off. I was in the middle of explaining and you cut me off. It’s annoying.”

  “I am annoying,” I agreed, taking small steps toward her.

  Her cross look began to slip. “I am too,” she confessed. “I’m also really messy. Shambolic actually. You wouldn’t want to live with me.”

  I dropped my head and smiled at the floor. “Shambolic? That sounds serious,” I teased. “I’m sure I’ll adapt.”

  “But you’re clearly a neat freak, Ryan.” She waved her hands around the room. “You’d have a breakdown in the first week.”

  “Maybe,” I agreed. “But I’m prepared to chance it.” I had no idea why.

  She shook her head. “It’s a really bad idea.”

  I stared at her, trying to figure out what to say. She was being sensible at a time when I seemed to have lost my mind. I should’ve been thanking her.

  “So you’re saying no?”

  “I’m not sure,” she replied, sounding confused. “Common sense says we should be ending this before it gets out of hand.”

  “You’re breaking up with me?” I couldn’t help smiling as I asked the childish question.

  “Technically, I think we have to be together before we can break up,” she replied, over-thinking things as usual.

  “I could do that,” I bravely offered.

  “Do what?”

  “The couple thing,” I said awkwardly. “I could do that with you.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched and I knew she was on to me. “Do you even know what that means, Ryan?”

  “No, not really,” I admitted, shrugging. “But I’m a fast learner.”

  “Not that fast.”

  “Give me a little credit.” I sounded far more wounded than I was. Every misgiving she had about me was more than warranted, but it didn’t stop me pleading my case. “Just because I’ve never had a girlfriend before doesn’t mean I –”

  She cut me off with an angry moan. “You’ve dated half the women in the free world, Ryan.”

  “But that’s not the same as having a girlfriend, is it?”

  Bente’s backward steps looked more like a stumble. She fell back onto the couch in a heap. “Oh my God.” She buried her face in her hands. “My potential boyfriend is a relationship virgin.”