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Authors: Tim Wynne-Jones

BOOK: The Uninvited
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Mimi leaned against a tree, down near the water’s edge.

“Jackson, I have purchased the most wonderful salmon,” came the voice on the phone.

“Uh … okay,” said Jay hesitantly.

“Are you all right?”

No,
he thought.
Not even close!
But he was not going to talk about this over the phone, not even to his mother’s partner. “I’m fine, Jo,” he said.

She paused for just a fraction of a second, seeing through him, no doubt. “Well, you will be more than fine when you see this fish. And that’s why I’m phoning.”

“You’re phoning about a fish?”

“Uh-huh,” said Jo. “I was hoping I could interest you in making your famous coriander-and-lemon-zest rub.”

“Uh … I don’t know.”

“Don’t say you’re too busy. It’s Friday night, for goodness’ sake.”

Jay was going to protest but checked himself. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”

“Great.”

“Yeah. So I’ll see you around … What time is it now?”

“It’s sixish. Jay? You sound funny. What’s up?”

Mimi had turned and was staring at him now.

“I’m out at the snye,” he said, as if that answered Jo’s question. Mimi looked tiny suddenly—a little bit frightened, even.

“The creativity battle not going so well?” asked Jo.

“Actually, no,” he said, his voice now pitched loud enough for Mimi to hear. “The battle is not going well at all.”

Mimi smiled a terrible smile.

“Well, like I said, it’s Friday night. Lighten up. Lou says she’ll break out one or two of those New Zealand sauvignon blancs she’s been hoarding.”

“Cool.”

“Maybe you have other plans?”

“No,” he said. Then he realized that this was not entirely true. “Well, I might. Have other plans, I mean. Except…” Mimi was already shaking her head. “Jo, mind if I bring someone?”

Mimi started up the lawn toward him, frantically waving her hands back and forth, nixing the idea.

“Is it Iris? Is she home?”

“No, it’s not. Actually, Jo, it’s another woman,” he said, glancing Mimi’s way. She looked horrified, and it brought out the devil in him. “You should meet her,” he said.

“Is she pretty?”

“Naaah, not really pretty. But amusing.”

Mimi was standing right in front of him now, giving him the finger. She made as if to grab the phone, but he turned away, holding his elbow up to block her.

“Amusing is good,” said Jo. “And the salmon is huge. And the girl … is this serious?”

Jay stared straight at Mimi. “No, nothing serious,” said Jay. “Just some girl.” Mimi rolled her eyes and walked away. “Uh, Jo, it’ll take me a while to get home.”

“I’m all wrapped up at the office. Won’t be home myself until after seven.”

“No problem,” he said. Then they said good-byes, and he flipped the cell phone closed and shoved it in his pocket.

“That was so sweet, Jay,” said Mimi, giving him a look that could turn titanium to dust. “But I really don’t want to party tonight.”

He nodded. “I know what you mean. But I think this may be good.”

She slapped her hands against her thighs. “Seriously, I am not into an evening with Joe and the boys.”

Jay threw back his head and laughed.

“This is not a laughing matter!”

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just that Jo is
Joanne,
and, believe me, she is
not
one of the boys.”

“Your girlfriend?”

“Guess again.”

“Oh, shit, your mother. And you’ve got to start the macaroni and cheese because she’s going to be late getting home from the office.”

“I
do
have to start dinner, yes. But Joanne was asking if I’d make my coriander-and-lemon-zest rub for the salmon she’s bringing home. And Joanne, by the way, is my mother’s partner.”

He watched her closely. She looked surprised, not shocked. Good. Then she just looked amused. “Can this day get any stranger?”

Jay shrugged. “I don’t see how.”

Mimi shook her head, but he didn’t think she was saying no.

“So you’ll come?”

She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I guess. I mean, how can I turn down salmon with a coriander rub?” Then she looked thoughtful. “Just as long as your mom and her girlfriend aren’t Socialists. My mother warned me there are lots of those up here.”

He grinned. “Lou’s a lefty,” he said. “Jo’s a fiscal Conservative. They sort of balance each other out. But do not talk politics if you can avoid it.”

Mimi looked at him with a sheepish grin. He guessed it was an expression she didn’t use very often.

“So, as you’ve probably noticed, you’ve got an idiot for a sister.”

He reached out and touched her arm. Made her look at him.

“Are you sure you want to take an idiot home to meet the folks?” she asked.

“Yes. Absolutely. And we should probably get going.”

Mimi nodded but her shoulders drooped. He put his arms around her, and the next minute she was sobbing and swearing and smacking her palms against his chest and then holding him close. They rocked back and forth, and neither of them ­could think of anything to say for a very long time.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I
T WAS ONLY
a twenty-minute paddle by kayak downstream to Jay’s place, but he would ride with Mimi in her car. Before they left, she helped him move the table from the kitchen to the bedroom. It was surprisingly heavy. They laid it upside down on the trapdoor and piled the vacuum cleaner and a couple of chairs on top. It was the best they could do. Then they carried his kayak up to the enchanted little house. He wasn’t going to leave it outside.

“Sorry for the mess,” she said as she moved all the debris from the passenger seat to the back. She almost cried with relief when she saw everything was still there: her cell phone, iPod, and the new camcorder. Not because of the value of these things—well, not
just
because of the value—but because seeing them there restored something of the golden feeling she had felt when she first arrived at the place so little time ago.

“You look a little freaked,” he said.

She tried to shrug it off. “It’s just my stuff,” she said. “I love my stuff.”

Her little red-and-black car, her colorful tangle of clothing strewn all over the backseat—her room away from home. And she felt very far from home now. She phoned her mother right away, at the office. She was tied up in a meeting, so Mimi left a message with the secretary. “Tell her I’m here. Tell her everything is fine.” There was nothing else she could say. Not yet. Jay raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well…” Then she sat in the driver’s seat for a moment, dazed.

“Not phoning Dad?”

“Screw him,” she said.

Another long moment passed.

“What’s the matter?” said Jay.

She meant to laugh, because it was a pretty crazy thing to say. But before she knew it, she was crying again, surprising herself probably more than Jay. Then she swore a bit, pushed her hair back off her face, and got herself together. He patted her shoulder, saying stupid, gentle things, until she pushed him away and finally managed to laugh.

“Jesus!” she said. “Enough with the big-brother routine!”

She wiped her eyes and spun the Mini around, heading back out toward the road. She glanced at him as she turned onto the Upper Valentine.

Her brother. Jesus!

      
      

They were quiet for a long time on the ride before she said, “I can’t believe he never told me about you.”

And Jay laughed. “Yeah, a bit of a kick to the ego,” he said.

“I didn’t mean that!”

“I know, I know. Take it easy. But like I said, I’ve never met my father, let alone talked to him. No birthday cards, nothing.”

They drove a fair bit farther still before Mimi said, “That’s something he’s good at,” she said. “Leaving people.”

There was a tall cedar hedge bordering the front of the Pages’ half-acre lot on the north bank of the Eden River a few minutes out of town. The driveway curved leisurely to a turnabout in front of a modern house of floor-to-ceiling glass and honey-colored stone, one story high, with a roof of cedar shakes and set on a well-tended lawn, splendid with maple, willow, and butternut trees.

The path to the front door wound through a flower garden of irises and poppies, the borders brimming with blossoms Mimi didn’t know the name of but that were pink and purple and lavender and cream. A tilting stone Saint Francis looked down in a saintly way at a stone toad sitting in a patch of white alyssum, which held the saint’s gaze with amphibian reverence. Jay unlocked the door and turned off the security system.

“Ah, the tranquillity of country living,” said Mimi.

Jay shrugged. “We never even used to lock the doors until last fall. We had a break-in. My mom lost some jewelry.”

Mimi shook her head. “What is this, the crime capital of Canada?” It was meant to be a joke, but from the expression on Jay’s face, it hit a little too close to home.

Inside was deliciously cool, a cool blond house. It was open and airy. There were maple floors and creamy yellow walls, butterscotch trim, and everywhere was light. The same honey-colored stone as outside formed a wide and impressive fireplace. It was comfortable, lived in. Mimi’s mother had hired an interior designer to make their apartment look lived in. Tastefully lived in. This was the real thing. As tired and freaked out as she was, Mimi was instantly happy to be here and slightly jealous.

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