the closet, except for the duffel coat. I threw that out because it was pretty ratty. Tuesday night she had on a dress, boots and a sheepskin coat I bought her about a month ago. The coat was thrown from the car as they drove off. I believe it might have been a signal.”
“What kind of signal?”
“That she wants me to come and find her.”
Chapter 5
The one big sticking point in my relationship with Olivia was her friend Maggie. For some reason, she seemed to hate me from the moment she walked into the Sal.
A tough woman, you knew immediately that she’d been around the block a few times and trusted nothing and no one. She had blonde hair from a bottle done in a sort of mullet cut, and though around five-five in height, she might have weighed a hundred and ten pounds. Life can knock people around, and she gave every impression of having been knocked around a lot. She would have been considered pretty by some, but that edge was draining away quickly as the years passed. I never saw her in anything but tight jeans, high-heeled boots and a fringed leather jacket.
Maggie tagged along to the first rehearsal, held in my basement studio. She plopped herself in a corner, sitting there with her arms folded and a scowl plastered on her face. Occasionally she let out a huge sigh and shook her head, until Ronald had enough and told her to wait upstairs. The stomping footsteps overhead as she paced proved even more annoying.
During a break, Olivia went upstairs, and we could hear raised voices – mostly Maggie’s. Olivia soon came back down looking troubled, and for the rest of the afternoon her work could most kindly be described as distracted.
When we packed it in (Ronald in deep disgust), my two bandmates split pretty quickly, but I kept Olivia back. “Is everything okay?”
Her lip trembled as she shook her head. “Maggie is very, very angry with me.”
“Why?”
“She just is,” was the evasive answer.
“You mean she’d rather see you out panhandling for chump change?”
“I only do that because it’s better than hanging around our room while she’s...”
“What?”
“Never mind. I shouldn’t be saying anything.”
Maggie yelled from the top of the stairs, “O, are we going to get out of here sometime before midnight?”
“I’ll be right along!” Olivia shouted back, then turned to me.“Look, I’ve gotta go.”
“Will you come back tomorrow?”
“Ronald said we’re not rehearsing until Sunday afternoon.”
“I thought we could do some extra work. I play a bit of piano and have a huge CD collection. We can go through it and see if there are any songs that tickle your fancy. That way you’ll be better prepared for our next rehearsal.”
She looked troubled. “I don’t know if I should. Maggie will be even more upset.”
“Hell with Maggie! You need a lot more rehearsing if you’re going to be ready for Tuesday night.”
“I don’t know...”
“Call me in the morning.”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“Does Maggie?”
“A cell. She knows I’d have no good reason to ask for it.”
“Will you come tomorrow?” I pressed.
“I’ll try. I could tell Maggie I’m going down to Union Station to work.”
***
Next morning, when I staggered downstairs around eight to brew a pot of coffee, I found Olivia shivering on my front steps. Thanking my lucky stars that I’d bothered to put on my robe, I hustled her into the kitchen, where I wrapped her in two blankets.
“How long were you out there?” I asked as I filled the coffee maker.
She stared down at the table. “I don’t know. Awhile...”
I ground some beans, and when the coffee was ready, I pressed a mug into her cold hands. “Drink this.”
Olivia smiled. “Could I have sugar and milk in it?”
“Right. I forgot about that.”
She was one of those people who likes coffee with her sugar. I drink mine black and strong, as did Sandra, my ex.
Without asking, I started cooking breakfast, my regular morning job when I still had a family. Olivia expressed no preference, so she got eggs scrambled the way I like them. Even though she’d claimed not to be hungry, she wolfed down the eggs, four slices of bacon and several pieces of toast. I took the opportunity to shower and dress while she finished.
When I came back downstairs, I found her, sans blankets, in the living room looking over my shelves of CDs.
“Does Maggie know you’re here?”
“She was, um, busy when I left.”
“Next time you get here early, please ring the bell. I don’t want to find your frozen body on my front steps.”
I’d meant it jokingly, but Olivia’s expression clearly showed she’d taken me at my word. I’d find later that she often did that.
We spent the morning listening to tunes I thought would be appropriate for her range and expertise. Her sponge-like memory astonished me. She had each song down note perfect after only a few listenings. The bottom of her range was a low F, and none of the songs seemed to strain her upper limits. In short, she could pretty well sing anything she wanted in almost any key.
“Have you taken lessons?” I asked as we enjoyed more coffee and some toast towards the end of the morning.
She shook her head. “I just like to sing.”
We had to knock it off around noon so I could go out to Oakville to pick up Kate. We’d planned to buy some bedroom furniture for her at IKEA, a place I was beginning to know well since Sandra had torn our family to shreds.
“You can come early tomorrow before rehearsal to go over these songs again if you’d like.”
Olivia shrugged noncommittally.
“It’s really no trouble if you’d like to come early,” I said as I helped her on with her coat, “but ring the doorbell, okay? It’s supposed to be absolutely frigid, and I don’t mind getting up.”
Twenty-four hours later, I again found her on the steps – this time with Maggie, and it had obviously been her wearing out my doorbell, since her finger was still on it when I opened the door.
She wasted little time getting
