“But why?”
“Just to prove she could.”
Yeah. That sounded like Gran. “Then I’ll find out how and why it happened.”
“All on your own.”
“Dad, I’m twenty-four.”
“And you’re a Gale.”
An undeniable statement of fact that could have a myriad of meanings. Allie decided she’d be happier not knowing which particular meaning her father felt applied.
They argued about music.
“I swear to you, Dad, if you say Rush one more time, I’m going to walk the rest of the way to Toronto.”
And they talked about Michael although Allie put it off as long as she could.
“I’m not saying you should stop loving him, Allie. I’m just saying you should stop pining for him.”
“I’m not pining.” Pining meant she thought they might happen someday and she knew they wouldn’t. She’d learned to work around the Michael-shaped hole in her life. “Michael was the one for me, and just because I’m not the one for him, that doesn’t change things.”
“It should.”
“It doesn’t. What if Mom hadn’t wanted you? Or if the aunties hadn’t approved you?”
He did her the credit of actually thinking about it for a few minutes. “I’d have moved on. Eventually.”
“Well, maybe my eventually just hasn’t happened yet.” But she only said it because it was what he wanted to hear. “Dad! Last Tim Horton’s before the airport!” As he decelerated up the off ramp, Allie gave a quiet thanks for coffee and doughnuts. She’d eat enough fried dough with sprinkles to need larger jeans if it got her out of that particular conversation.
Gales didn’t have problems with airport security and, after a short wait, Allie accepted it as her due that the plane had been overbooked and they were bumping her to first class. Or business class. Or whatever they were now calling those seats an adult could actually fit into.
Family influence did not, unfortunately, extend to providing anything worth watching while in the air. Allie read, napped a bit, and pulled her father’s final warning out of memory to examine it for content she may have missed.
“Be careful, Kitten. The aunties have been wondering for some time what your grandmother’s been up to and her getting you out there is no doubt a part of a much larger… thing. Whatever it is. Also, if you ask me, I think they’re afraid.”
“The aunties?”
“If your grandmother is dead, then clearly whatever killed her was something outside the norm, or we’d have heard from the proper authorities. And if something was capable of killing your grandmother, then that something is a danger to the entire family.”
“Are you saying you don’t want me to go?”
“Would you not go if that was what I wanted?” After a long moment, while she searched for the right words, he pulled her into a hug. “It’s all right. Just don’t take anything for granted and call David if you run into something you can’t handle. He’s your big brother, it’s his job to look after you.”
Sometimes Allie wondered if her father paid that little attention to how the family actually worked. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll be fine.”
She’d be fine but a long way from home. She could feel family ties stretching. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.
A red light held her cab at the corner of 4th Avenue S.W. and 6th Street S.W. and Allie found her attention drawn to the north along 6th—the streets went north/south, the avenues east/west, but the ease of movement that suggested got canceled out by the compass locations. It wasn’t enough to find 6th Street, it was crucial to know which 6th Street.
This 6th Street ended three short blocks to the north, and it looked like the entire west side of that last block was one long, two-story building.
“Excuse me.” Allie twisted in the seat, trying to get a better angle. “Do you know what that building is?”
“The nice-looking one with the railing on the roof and the kind of pale stone trim? Big windows? Got all those trees out front behind the fence?”
Allie couldn’t see that kind of detail but why not. “Yes, that one.”
“No idea. Probably offices.” He hit the gas as the light finally changed and sped along 4th Avenue mentioning points of interest as the buildings blurred by. He’d been completely silent all the way in from the airport—Allie didn’t count the on-again, off-again duet he’d been performing with Country 105—but her question seemed to have tapped his inner tour guide. “The Old Spaghetti Factory’s on 3rd Street, and then there…” A brisk nod as they raced a yellow light through the intersection. “… there’s a good Korean barbecue and something Spanish or something and a pizza place. And this is pretty much Chinatown,” he added turning south onto Center Street.
Allie would have asked what he meant by “pretty much Chinatown” but thought it might be safer if he concentrated on his driving for a while given that traffic had gone from insane to certifiable. The workday was ending and the sidewalks were fairly crowded, but not one head wore a cowboy hat. What point was there in going west if people dressed like they did in Toronto?
“Calgary Tower,” he grunted, turning east on 9th.
As freestanding phallic symbols went, it was smaller than the one Allie was used to, but maybe Calgary felt it had less to prove.
The signs said they were in the southeast part of the city now. Allie had no idea where or when they’d crossed the line.
Pulling out to pass a transport, the cabbie jerked his head to the north with enough emphasis the cab swerved over the center line. “Fort Calgary. Bow River. Oh, and there’s a zoo.” Across a bridge, and they were suddenly on Atlantic Avenue. “I never been, but it’s there.”
“Where?”
“There.” He jerked his head again, and Allie clutched at the edge of her seat.
“Okay.”
Atlantic Avenue S.E. was also 9th Avenue S.E. And 1223 was only three long blocks in from the bridge.
Gran’s business, the business that had become crucial to the local community, took up a double storefront and from the road looked to be…
“A junk shop?”
Her driver paused, one suitcase on the sidewalk the other hauled half out of the trunk, and peered up at the sign. “Says The Enchantment Emporium. Fair number of secondhand shops in this area. On the weekends, you’ll get antiquers.”
“By any other name,” Allie muttered, eyes rolling at the emphasis. Gran had charms in the bottom right corner of all eight narrow windows obscuring the view—the lace curtains covering the top half meter of each gleaming glass pane were probably there to give the place an air of shabby gentility—but, from what she could see of the store’s content, junk seemed more than accurate.
As the cabbie slowly counted out her change, Allie considered drawing a quick charm. She couldn’t stop him from taking other fares to their destinations by the scenic route, but she could arrange it so passengers stayed out of his backseat. In the end she let it go, lifting her finger off the dusty metal and wiping the grime off onto her jeans. Her family didn’t get screwed over, so something they’d passed on the way in from the airport had to have been important.
Or would be important.
Eventually.
At least she knew where to find a good Korean barbecue. She factored that information into his tip.
Kenny in the coffeehouse next door was an elderly Asian man who pulled Gran’s keys out from under the counter, cupped his hand over the pile, and demanded twelve fifty. “You know where she’s gone?”
“No.” It seemed the safest answer and had the added benefit of being the truth.
“Yeah, well, she’s an original, your grandmother. The things she could do with a yoyo…” As the pause lengthened, Allie cleared her throat and he reluctantly returned from wherever the memories had taken him, pushing the keys toward her. “If you hear from her, you let me know.”