in my field this past year and they were all in the prairies. Sometimes, I wonder why we bother.”
“Don’t go yet.” Bonnie grabbed my hand across the table. “I won’t talk about myself any more, I promise. You haven’t had a brownie yet. Try one.” She picked up one herself and licked at the icing. “I’m supposed to be on a diet, you know.”
“Why do you keep doing this to yourself? It’s a roller coaster: you lose a few pounds, go back to eating normally, and the weight just comes back.”
“I know, I know. You and Robin are the same. You look fine the way you are. You wouldn’t say that if you were me.” She grabbed a handful of flesh from her midriff and shook it in disgust. “I hate the way I look. You should have seen me when I was sixteen.”
“Isn’t that the year you were anorexic?”
“I just didn’t like to eat. My mother’s a lousy cook.” She ran her fingers through her blonde hair, lifting it high and then letting it cascade down her back. “And I’m thinking of cutting my hair all off too. Get one of those mushroom cuts, you know?”
“So you and Robin will look like the Bobbsey Twins? Come on, Bonn, that long straight hair suits you.”
“I just want a change.” She rolled her hair into a tight knot and held it on top of her head. When I smiled, she let it go. “Anyway,” she continued, “tell me everything. Your aunt first. No, the fortune.”
I circled the rim of my mug with one finger. “This is beautiful,” I stalled. “Who made it?”
“Me.”
“I didn’t know you were a potter.”
She shrugged. “Ryan was into making mud pies, so I thought I would too.”
“You shouldn’t put yourself down like that.” I picked up the pot and turned it to admire the wildflowers delicately etched into the glaze. “These are really special. I love this shade of blue.”
“Everything I made is blue: dishes, bowls, mugs, what-have-you. Harold likes to have things match and his house has blue carpets. Besides, my mood then was always blue, sometimes a little lighter, mostly like this.” And she traced the navy lines that underlay all the pieces, the dark shadow behind every daisy.
I sipped the tea. It was fragrant with cinnamon and had a strong cidery aftertaste. Bonnie put her cup down and shook her hair free of her face.
“Enough about me. Now, tell.”
“There’s not much. And the fortune’s not money, but land.”
“In the city? Her house? Lucky you.”
“No, no, not the house. It’s in pretty bad shape, anyway, probably cost more than it’s worth to fix up. She had fifty cats living with her, can you imagine?”
“Fifty? How big was the house?”
“Not big enough. There were litter pans everywhere. It’ll be impossible to get the smell out.”
“So where’s this land?”
“In Haliburton. Have you ever heard of Cook’s Lake?”
“You’re joking! Are you sure you’ve got the name right? Cook’s Lake?”
“Apparently it’s named for the family.”
“It seems amazing, but I’ve been there, you know. Harold’s sister’s husband has a friend who has land up there and we went to visit a couple of times before the kids were born. And one of Robin’s runaways…” she paused.
“Yeah?” I encouraged.
She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s confidential. Robin’s always warning me I talk too much. But it’s one of the places he’s been visiting lately. On business,” she added, hastily. “You’re really lucky, Rosie. It’s beautiful country up there.”
“With my luck, I’ve inherited all the swampy bits,” I laughed.
“You never know. It could be worth a fortune. Cottage land is at such a premium these days. My brother-in-law was always talking about how his friend’s property could be developed; it had enough shoreline for a whole subdivision of cottages.”
“Which are probably there by now. What I’ve got is one hundred acres of family land. My grandfather left it to my aunt with the understanding that she was to pass it on to me. And if I don’t want it, I’m supposed to give it to the government. For the birds.” I giggled, stifling a yawn. “What a day.”
“Boy, if I came into land like that, I’d sell it and take the money, and leave.”
“Where would you go?”
“Paris, the south of France, Tahiti. I’d go to a real art school. I’ve always wanted to be an artist.”
“What about Robin? The kids?”
She shrugged. “It might be nice to be really free…” Her voice trailed into silence. She shook herself. “What do you mean: if you don’t want it? If you don’t want to live there, you could sell it.”
“It’s all very complicated. I don’t know if I should take it.”
“Do you have any idea what land up there is worth these days? Especially if it has waterfront. Does it?”
“Markham said something about a thousand feet of shoreline.”
“Wow! You’re in the money!” She reached over and shook my hand, then blinked, puzzled. “Did you say Markham? Not Roger Markham?”
“Don’t tell me he’s your brother-in-law. Ex-brother-in-law, I mean.”
“Small world.” Bonnie’s lips twitched in an awkward grin.
“You’re kidding.”
She shook her head. “I can’t seem to get away from Harold, no matter how much I try. How is old Roger these days? I haven’t seen him or talked to him since Harold and I split up.”
“He wasn’t very friendly.”
“That’s Roger, all right. He and Harold were a perfect pair: supercilious and condescending. Not that I’m prejudiced, of course.” She laughed. “I could never understand how Ellen could stand him. But then she’s Harold’s sister. Anyone who grew up with Harold would be used to chauvinism. Or immune to it.”
“I won’t have to deal with him again, I hope. It’s his uncle who’s my aunt’s lawyer. Markham was just along for the ride.”
“Roger has never, in living memory, done anything without a reason. And that reason usually has something to do with making money. You’d better watch out for him. Maybe he’s representing someone else in the family. Did your aunt have children?”
“That’s funny.” I thought suddenly of the picture of the girl holding a cat, and how quickly
