Chapter 3
“Thank you!” The two middle-aged ladies left the gallery, each carrying a small bag of Michael’s new greeting cards.
When the door closed behind them, Amy arched an eyebrow at Emilie. The girl’s short hair was dark today, with bright green tips. “Did you really think you could up-sell them to that painting by acting like you wanted to buy it yourself?”
Emilie flashed a very Gilles-like grin. “Never hurts to try.”
Amy shrugged. “Let’s go relax for a bit.”
“You go. Michael and I can tend to customers.”
Michael crossed the floor toward them. “If someone else comes, we’ll see them.” He glanced at Amy, then back to Emilie. “We were hustling around before you got here, packing for the trip.”
“Trip?”
“Didn’t Amy tell you? I have an exhibit in Toronto next weekend. Same spot as a couple of years ago.” He left the room, Emilie at his heels.
Her words floated back to Amy. “…the year Gilles died.”
Amy limped after them. Michael wasn’t tired, just sensitive enough to know that she was. And not wanting to point out her weakness to Gilles’ energetic sister. The year Gilles died. Was that why Michael invited Amy on this trip? They’d be home before the actual anniversary of the crash, but did he think repeating his part of the events might trigger Amy’s grief if she stayed behind?
What about Emilie? The girl had fought her parents to attend university here in Halifax instead of at home in Montreal. She’d hero-worshipped Gilles. Now she pulled at Michael’s arm. “I didn’t know anyone here. You ran away, and Gilles died.”
Michael turned, as if waiting for Amy to reach them. “I didn’t run away.”
Emilie tipped her face to his. “You left us — left your best friend — just for your art.” She broke away from him and fled toward the living room.
Colour washed Michael’s face, and his eyes squeezed shut.
Amy touched his wrist, more gently than Emilie’s tug of war. “It hurt them that you didn’t say goodbye. Gilles understood. He said it was the right choice. You know Emilie, though.”
Michael’s eyes popped open. He stared at Amy. “He knew.” He nodded slowly. “Of course he knew.” The whisper sounded strained.
Amy’s heart went out to him. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out to relocate. But you’re doing well here. And this house is a fantastic setting.”
One corner of his mouth quirked. “Just a bit far from the major markets.”
“You didn’t leave because of someone here, did you?”
His face froze. “What do you mean?”
How could she say this that wouldn’t sound ridiculous? “You and Gilles were close. If someone made you leave town, he might also have sabotaged the plane.”
Michael groaned. “I chose to leave. Gilles chose to fly. No sabotage. Period.”
Emilie breezed back into the hallway. “Fancy Audi just pulled into the parking circle. Maybe this time I can sell a painting.”
With his back to the girl, Michael rolled his eyes.
They started for the gallery as the outside entrance chimed. Emilie opened the connecting door, flashing Amy an impish smile. “Young, rich and gorgeous. Go work your magic.”
Michael’s mouth firmed. Instead of speaking, he hurried past them to greet the customer.
Amy followed. “Emilie, you’re a nut. I don’t have any magic.”
“Gilles thought you did. When you smiled.”
“Gilles made me smile. Nobody else does.” Except Michael, on whom the “magic” didn’t work. Amy peeked into the gallery. “Ross Zarin. He came with his dad on Friday. Up-sell him if you can, but they seem kind of restrained to me.”
Ross beamed over Michael’s shoulder as Amy and Emilie stepped into the room. “Two assistants, today.”
Michael swept a hand toward them. “Ross Zarin, this is Emilie Renaud. ”
Ross bobbed his head and shoulders in an abbreviated bow. “It’s a pleasure to see you both. I hope you’re enjoying the long weekend.”
Emilie mimed mopping her brow. “Michael works us hard.”
Michael snorted. “Everything’s ready to go, Ross. Would you join me in the office? I left the packing open on the piece we re-framed to be sure it’s what your father wanted. While you’re signing, I’ll close the wrap.”
A shadow crossed Emilie’s face. “Could Amy do that? Your aunt was looking for you.”
Ross reached for Amy’s elbow. “Lead on.”
Before Amy knew it, she’d been escorted to the office chair and Ross was inspecting the unwrapped painting propped against the filing cabinet.
“Perfect.” He dropped into the visitor’s seat across from her and picked up the invoice. He gave it a cursory scan and placed it back on the desk.
Amy handed him a pen and showed him where to sign. “Are these for your local hotel?”
Ross scrawled something bold and illegible. “I think Winnipeg. Or perhaps Edmonton. My father has a theory that if guests see scenes of another part of the country, they might decide to travel there as well. Staying, of course, in one of his establishments.”
“You never know.”
Leaning back in his chair, Ross gave a lazy grin. “My father breathes strategy. He came to Canada as a young man with nothing, and now he’s training me to manage his empire.”
“He must be proud of what he’s accomplished.” Amy slid the signed invoice into the file folder in front of her. “Do you have the same entrepreneur’s spirit, or would you rather be doing something different?”
Ross stretched his legs out in front of him. “I never asked that question. A good Muslim son obeys his father, and I find the old ways… satisfying.”
Because you’re a man. Had that shown on her face? Amy softened her features. “We have Muslim neighbours, but not from one of the stricter sects. The wife is allowed out on her own, and she covers her hair but wears North American clothes. She’s been very kind to me since the accident.”
“I’m not surprised.”
Footsteps sounded in the gallery. Amy looked up as Michael reached the office door.
He walked over to the paintings. “Everything’s fine, I trust?”
Ross stood. “Perfect.”
Michael plucked a roll of tape from the desk and closed the packaging. “I’ll carry these to your car when you’re ready.”
“I’ll get them.” Ross scooped the paper-wrapped paintings up in a fluid motion and turned to face Amy and Michael. “Thank you both. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
They escorted Ross to the door. When he’d gone, Amy turned to Michael. “What did Aunt Bay want?”
He shrugged. “She put Emilie to work making a salad to go with dinner.”
~~~
The salad’s vibrant greens and glossy cherry tomatoes complemented Michael’s homemade lasagna when it was finally time to eat. The scent had been teasing Amy for the past hour.
Aunt Bay glanced around the heavy oak table and fixed her eyes on Emilie, whose hand reached for the garlic bread. “Let’s pray. Father, thank You for this fragrant meal and the hands that prepared it. Bless it to our use, and us to Yours. Amen.”
Emilie snagged a thick slice of bread. “Sorry. I forgot.” She turned to Michael. “So when are you leaving?”
“M-m.” He made an exaggerated chewing motion. Or maybe not so exaggerated, given the huge bite mark in his slice of bread.
As Aunt Bay dug into the lasagna pan, Amy passed the salad to Emilie. “Michael wants to start tomorrow. We’re going to take an extra day, because it hurts if I sit too long.”
Emilie clanked the serving spoon against the salad bowl. “You’re going with him?”
Michael held up a finger. “We’re camping. Separate tents. And two rooms in Toronto.”
A smirk touched Emilie’s lips, but her brow smoothed. “You’re so old-fashioned. It’s cute.”
“Whatever.” He lifted a square of lasagna onto her plate, then one for Amy, before serving his own. “See, I’m chivalrous, too. And I can cook.”
Aunt Bay snorted. “Doesn’t matter how great a catch you are, if you won’t swim near the bait.”
He reached for the salad. “Two wonderful ladies in my life already.”
Amy’s cheeks warmed. She stared at her plate. In his life but not in his life.
“Two single ladies you’re keeping out of circulation.” Emilie rapped twice on the tabletop. “Especially Amy. Michael, don’t bury her with my brother.”
Heat washed Amy’s face and down her neck. Her fingers felt like ice.
Michael touched her arm and she flinched. He pulled his hand back. “Emilie, that’s enough. Amy will move on when she’s ready. Here, in my house? Under my protection? Let her grieve.”
Amy made eye contact with Emilie and shook her head.
Emilie held her gaze. Her lips moved in a silent I told you so.