Road Warrior, page 10
I was going to trendy Little Italy, after all, so I hunted hopefully through my remaining clothes for some clean gear. Luck was with me. I donned a long black cowl-neck top and tight multicolored leggings along with my cleanest runners and my newish lime-green jacket. I generally skip makeup, so I was good to go.
Given that I needed five minutes to get to the Dip and it had only taken thirty to get clean, I decided to take a few moments to restore my little fiefdom to order. I’d left a mess in the sink the previous morning, so I scrubbed out a few cups and the unhappy blender, threw a mouldy peach into the compost bin, and wiped the counter. The work in the fish shop must be getting to me, I thought. I’m still on cleanup mode.
As I looked over my bikes, I realized I hadn’t invited Alex up to see them yet. I mused over the fact that I wanted to have her over soon. I was not usually eager to share so quickly. I’m getting soft, I thought. Must’ve been the West Coast air and my mellow time with Sunny.
My yearning for Sunny threatened to break the surface, so I quelled it by directing my thoughts to the handsome and interesting Detective Dave. I found myself hoping that things would settle down so that I would have a chance to relax and look over my bikes with him, too. It was interesting to me that I had been attracted to him so quickly, despite the fact that he seemed quick to anger. Everything was happening quickly. My interest in Dave made me feel disloyal to Sunny although he had made it clear he had no illusions about our relationship. My thoughts were leading me into a reverie of confusion that would make me late, so I refocused.
“Get a grip, Abby,” I heard myself say aloud, and I obeyed. Back on track, I ran down the stairs, unhooked my helmet, and checked that my light was in working order. The cool air woke me up, and, by the time I pulled up outside the Dip, I felt ready for dinner and a hefty glass of wine. My mouth was watering at the thought of a thin crust pizza extravaganza.
CHAPTER 15
THE DIPLOMATICO WAS ONE OF THE OLDER Italian eateries in Little Italy and also the first to have a large outdoor patio, which lures locals and tourists alike in the warm season. The Dip, as it was affectionately known, was still family-owned. The decor was simple, with television screens playing sports, ample photographs of film and TV stars who had dropped in at one time or another, and posters of World Cup soccer parties in the street right outside the door of the restaurant.
The basic Italian fare, with reasonable prices and lots of variety, made it a very popular spot all day. With two walls made up entirely of windows, it was a place to be seen and to people watch. It was good fun, and I was glad Alex chose this place rather than the classier Italian boîtes on the strip. I had one or two other favourites that we could try when Thomas came home.
It occurred to me that I had to think that way—I had to believe that Thomas would reappear, and I knew I would do whatever I could to make that happen. And I committed myself to doing what I could to help, despite Detective Dave’s possible displeasure at my interference. These thoughts encroached on my mind as I locked my bike. Removing my bike light from its holder, I told myself I would remain committed to being positive. Then I waved at Alex, who was sitting at a table in the front window.
As I slid into my seat, my favourite waitress sidled up with a glass of red wine. “What service!” I exclaimed.
“Fancy that, Abby,” she smiled. “Your friend asked if I knew you, and since I do, she and I planned to have a nice glass of wine ready for you as soon as you sat down.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Syl,” I said. “I haven’t eaten much. That wine’ll go straight to my head.”
“Have a bun while you’re waiting and don’t get too used to the wine service, hon. It’s just that I haven’t seen you in a long time and I thought—What the hell? I’d give you a shock.” She laughed and bent over to give me a quick hug. “How’re ya doin? Long time no see.”
Not wanting to get into a long discussion, I replied, “Okay, thanks, Sylvia. I just got back from out west and I’m still adjusting.” I took a hearty gulp of the wine and said, “But this,” I indicated the glass, “will help for sure.”
Sylvia laughed and patted me on the back. “Same old Ab, I see. Welcome back!”
“Thanks!” I beamed at Alex and Sylvia. “Well done! I feel like a queen.”
They laughed and Sylvia repeated, “Yeah, well, as I said. Don’t get used to it. Now,” she assumed an impatient look, crossing her arms and tapping her foot, “what’ll it be? And don’t take all night.” She inclined her head to the busy restaurant and the numerous patrons. “The tourists are getting restless.”
I looked questioningly at Alex. “How about we split a large pizza? I could use the carbs after my long day; and maybe we’ll throw in a Caesar salad to start?”
Alex nodded, looking happy. “Go ahead and order, Abby.”
I conferred for a few seconds with Sylvia about toppings.
“Sounds good,” she said. “Have a party, ladies.” With that, she flipped back her long, straight black hair and turned to the next table. I recognized the customers as regulars so I wasn’t surprised by how Sylvia greeted them: “Keep your shirts on. I’m here now,” she said. “Boy, you people are rowdy tonight.”
“I guess you figured out that she’s messing with us.” I smiled at Alex. “She’s usually very polite to strangers. She reserves that sassy talk for those she loves. We’re fair game, I guess.”
“Yep,” Alex smiled back. “I’ve come to enjoy her familiarity with the regulars. She’s funny and very kind.”
Taking another larger than necessary guzzle of vino, I sat back and sighed. “I’m bushed, but it’s great to be here. I love this city—the action gets the juices going.”
She nodded. “I know what you mean. I’ve lived in a few small towns. Sometimes the slower pace can get to be a drag. But,” she continued, “at other times, the sense of community is pretty fine.”
“That’s true,” I said. “But there is a delicate balance between the support of community and having everyone know your business. I got caught up helping someone charged with murder while I was out West. After it was all sorted out, some people weren’t too pleased with me.”
Our salad arrived already divided onto two plates. We ate it as we continued to talk between bites.
“Wow. Your West Coast trip sounds like quite an adventure.”
“It was harrowing at times,” I said. “But the bonus was that I reconnected with an old boyfriend who used to be a courier here. He runs a cool bike shop out on Peregrine Island. We had fun together and,” I said sadly, “it was a little bit of a tug to leave.” Taking a moment to collect myself, I added, “Now that I’m here though, I’m enjoying the speed, but I’m surprised that I’m having trouble catching up with the city pace. It would probably all be fine it not for this terrible situation with Maria…. I’m sorry, Alex. I was planning to stay off that topic for tonight. I guess I’m failing.”
“No,” Alex protested, “I get it. Do you think Frank might have just taken off on his own?”
“Maybe.”
“You know,” she ruminated, “when Maria had me over for dinner, things were pretty tense. I don’t know them like you do so I just found myself feeling sorry for those sweet kids. I got along very well with them.”
“It’s weird,” I said, “Maria and Frank used to be the perfect couple from what I could tell. I didn’t notice her being so stressed before I left, so this is all new for me. I keep hoping it’s going to sort itself out—at least the disappearance thing. I want the phone to ring and it to be Maria telling me that the boys are back.”
“Me too. Look, I know I’m really an outsider and I don’t want to invade anyone’s privacy, but please let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“Thanks. I might just take you up on that. It’s good to have someone to bounce ideas off of. Now, let’s try to talk about something else. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
She shrugged, pushed her empty salad plate to the side, and took a sip of wine. As I waited for her to speak, I noticed that her carefully manicured fingers had not suffered any damage from her foray into cleaning the shop. Another Maria, I thought to myself; she manages to stay well put together even while doing a messy job. Maybe that’s why she feels so right as a friend. She really seems to have things together—but then, that’s what I thought about Maria too. My musings were halted as she started to speak.
“There’s not much to tell,” she said. “I grew up in a village around Peterborough. My parents were elderly…. I came a little late in their lives. They wanted me to be self-sufficient, so they encouraged me in my academic subjects. I did well and decided to try my hand at law, specializing in family law and adoption. As it turns out, that was a good idea because now I’m alone and seem unable to conceive or have a long-term stable relationship, and I want to adopt a child. It can be hard to adopt when you’re single, so my practice may come in handy,” she said simply.
She looked sad, so I asked, “What’s wrong, Alex? Are you unhappy about having to adopt?”
She looked up, her eyes a little watery. “No, no, nothing like that. I’m looking forward to it. It’s just that I was thinking about my parents. They were so pleased with my successes. They’ve passed on though. They died in a car accident a few years ago.” She lowered her head.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.” She nodded, and then she continued. “It was sad. But they died together. I think maybe they were too old to drive at night. Their car hit a tree.”
“How terrible.”
“Yes, it took me a while to get over losing them. But,” she smiled, “they did have a happy life and they loved me dearly. They left me everything. That’s how I was able to buy my little house down the street in this crazy housing market. They would be pleased that I have the little place, I know. And I’m lucky. I like my job, and I have the freedom to explore my interest in bikes. I have no complaints.”
“Well, that’s good,” I said. I was about to ask Alex what she did at the law firm, but just then Sylvia returned with the steaming pizza. The thin crust was nicely adorned with tomato sauce, roasted eggplant, mushrooms, onions, garlic, and feta cheese.
“Here you are, ladies,” Sylvia intoned as she placed the pizza tray on its stand at the table. She laughed. “Maybe you need a bigger table. Too bad for you though—there isn’t one. More wine, perhaps?” she asked as she eyed our two empty glasses.
Alex smiled. “How about we share a half litre?”
“I think we can handle that,” I said as I nodded my agreement. “It’s gone down smoothly so far. Just don’t ask me to walk a straight line or ride my bike.”
“Coming right up! Enjoy your pizza,” Sylvia said as she turned to the group of young men at the next table. “Down boys,” she said as she picked up their empty antipasto plate. “I’ll be right back with your dinosaur steaks.” They laughed along with her.
Sylvia came right back with the wine and smiled as she poured. Alex and I had already dug into our pizza, so all we could do was nod our thanks with our mouths full. For a while we ate companionably, remarking on the flavour and making yummy food sounds. After a couple pieces of pizza, I was able to focus on talk again, as well as food.
“Do you like working with Roger?” I asked.
Roger was an old flame of mine, and I was curious about how he operated in the realm of work. He was the one who had connected Alex with the kids’ bike workshop gig as a possible replacement while I was away. When he’d messaged me that Alex was another bike freak, it had sounded too good to be true at the time. I was glad it had worked out.
As she wiped her mouth, Alex replied to my question: “I don’t work with him much; he does mostly corporate stuff, which I find boring.”
I nodded. Roger had inadvertently been connected with a corrupt developer who I had a run in with when Anita was in trouble a couple of years before. We’d been dating then. He was fun and loved good food, but it turned out he had a boring side—he couldn’t handle my risk taking, so we broke up.
She continued, “The firm’s okay, I guess. They keep us very busy, which is true for most lawyers, especially young ones. It’s hard for lawyers to find a good work/life balance, as they call it. It’s funny,” she said. “Some of the younger lawyers are now starting to insist on improving that balance—at least the ones who aren’t ruthlessly bent on getting rich. There seems to be enough pressure in our firm to make a change.”
“Hmm, that’s good news,” I said.
“Yes,” she said. “It will help when I do get a child. And the firm does have a good maternity plan, believe it or not. As I said, my legal training will be useful for me but,” her eyes lit up, “I do have other interests. You know I like bikes and biking, but what I have always loved is woodworking.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised.
She nodded. “I used to spend time with my father in his woodworking shop. Now it’s become a hobby for me, and I’ve set up a nice workshop in the basement of my house,” she said excitedly. “If you have the energy after dinner, maybe you can come over and take a look. The house needs some work but it’s mine and, over time, I can fix it up myself,” she said proudly. “You should see the place, Abby,” she continued. “There’s even an old winepress built right into the wall in the basement. And I love the community—the neighbours are very friendly.”
“Cool,” I said as I finished another slice of pizza. “I’d love to see your place, and I’m surprised to say I feel quite revived. I guess you were right: I needed to relax. My thoughts have a way of creeping back to Maria, though. I’m planning to go see her tomorrow.”
“Good idea,” Alex said. “Give her my regards, if it seems appropriate.”
We had just about polished off the meal by the time Sylvia came along again.
“Who would have thought that two such svelte women could put all that away?” she joked. “It’s back on the bike for you tomorrow, Ab.”
“You’re right, Syl,” I said as I pushed myself away from the table and patted my belly. “We’re all done now, but I’ll definitely be back for that fabulous Frutti de Bosco cake next time.”
She looked at me knowingly. “I’m sure you will. I’ll just go get your bill,” she said as she ran off again. Sylvia always kept her eye on the busy establishment and was frequently on the run, anticipating problems and ensuring customers were happy.
“Have you tried that cake yet, Alex?” I asked. As she shook her head, I continued. “It’s a delicate pile of berries, on top of a thin pastry and custard base—imported from Italy. It’s bad for our footprint, but good for our taste buds—not too rich or sweet.”
“Sounds delicious,” she said. “I bet some entrepreneur could make a Canadian version of that and do some good for the planet at the same time.”
I laughed. “You’re probably right.”
Alex reached for the bill as Sylvia dropped it on the table. I started to protest, but Alex shooed me away. “This is on me. I owe you a lot, and I want to celebrate our newfound friendship,” she said with a big smile.
Sylvia happily watched me struggle with the offer. “I’d take her up on it, Ab,” she advised. “I know you like to be fed well and are probably still trying to make ends meet couriering and pretending to be an investigator.”
Alex’s eyes widened. “Really?” she exclaimed.
“It’s not as glamorous as it sounds, Alex. And I’m just at the beginning of that career. So, Sylvia is right. It’s still a struggle.” I straightened up in my chair. “However, that doesn’t mean that I am destitute. So I’ll take you up on your offer only if you let me return the favour sometime soon.”
“You’re on,” Alex said agreeably as she gave Sylvia her credit card.
“Gracefully done, as always, Ab,” Sylvia said as she inserted the card into the mobile credit card machine. “Just leave that on the table when you’re done,” she said to Alex. “Well, it’s been fun, girls, but I have to get back to the animals,” she said gesturing at the other customers. “You and I should go for a ride sometime soon, Ab.” She nodded once more before walking away. With a backward glance, she added, “Don’t be a stranger.”
CHAPTER 16
THERE WAS A DEFINITE NIP IN THE AIR at about nine p.m. when we exited the restaurant and walked out onto College Street. I’ll have to get my winter gear out soon, I thought to myself.
“You up for a short visit and maybe a nightcap?” Alex asked, as I unlocked my bike. “You can walk your bike to my house from here.”
“Lead on. I might have to walk it all the way home if I eat or drink anything more tonight.”
Rounding the corner from Clinton onto Henderson Avenue, we walked halfway down the street before Alex turned toward her door.
“Welcome to my humble abode. You can bring your bike in,” she said as she headed inside. The house looked more elegant than humble to me, but I’m a fan of the simple roof-over-the-head type of place. The main floor was open concept with a large eat-in kitchen at one end, a living room in the middle, and a study at the front. Alex continued chatting as she led me around the small, semi-detached house.
“I plan to replace this old linoleum soon,” she said, gesturing at the old, slightly worn flooring. “It’s okay right now though, especially with those old light fixtures and my beautiful fabrics from Mexico and Guatemala. It’s a cozy enough nook for me.”
“Looks good,” I said as I followed her up a narrow flight of stairs. Her bedroom was at the front of the house. It was painted a pale rose colour and was very neat and tidy; it definitely reflected Alex’s character. There was a single framed photo standing on an ornately carved pine bedside table, and the space was enhanced with colourful fabrics artfully arranged on the bed.
