Miz Silk? That must make you some...”
I shook my head. “Not going well. I’m hoping something will come up soon, but for now I’m really strapped.” I didn’t have the heart to mention negative royalty statements to Josey.
“Don’t worry about the money, Miz Silk. Your credit’s good. You can run a tab. Wouldn’t be the first time. Things will get better for you soon. I’ll swing by later this afternoon and get started.”
“No,” I said, firmly. But of course, resistance was futile.
Josey added, “I’m really glad to get this extra work, because I’m saving for my driver’s licence. I’m turning sixteen in September.”
Of course, I knew that well enough.
“And I need money to take the Drivers Ed,” she continued. “If I take it, I can get my licence in eight months; otherwise, I got to wait for a year. They call it your 365, ‘cause of the number of days. So you get the idea why I don’t want to wait.”
Absolutely. Josey lives in the back of beyond in a ramshackle cabin with her Uncle Mike, when he’s not in the slammer. It’s a long, rickety bike ride from anywhere, and Uncle Mike is usually too drunk to stand, let alone drive. Still, I knew better than to badmouth him in front of Josey.
“It’s seven hundred bucks for the course,” she said. “That’s a lot. My dog walking business already goes to pay for my cell phone, and I got other expenses too, you know.”
“Um.”
“I’ll come by later then. You getting poutine, Miz Silk?”
I mentally calculated the money in my purse to see if I had enough to manage a pair of poutines. I didn’t want to sit there bathed in guilt while Josey chewed through her savings for her beginner’s licence. If I used the parking change in my car, I had just enough for two orders of poutine and a tip. And it would be an early dinner too.
“My treat,” I said. “But first I have to check in CeeCeeCuisine to see if they know how to reach the woman who dropped this wallet. Hold on.”
“Are you kidding? I love that place. They got such great stuff. I bet they’re making a fortune. I’m coming with you.”
Josey is never one to miss an opportunity to see someone with a good business model. CeeCee’s sure had that. The aisles were jammed. Who were all these people? I tried to get the attention of one of the frazzled clerks. She was coping with some highly focused customers. Maybe there’s something about expensive kitchen gear that brings out the beast in us. Not even the soft scent of lavender calmed that crowd.
“Can’t help you right now,” she said. “If you can come back later, I’ll check the credit card slips for a telephone number.”
“I’ll be at Chez Fred for the next while if she comes in looking for it. I’d be pretty worried if I were her.”
I slipped the clerk a piece of paper with my name and telephone number.
“Will do,” she said, turning back to the pushiest customer. One less problem to worry about.
The Chez was jammed too, but then it always is. No matter how many wonderful trendy restaurants open in the village, we locals still hang out at the Chez. There are times when roasted rosemary and exotic salads are not what we need.
As preferred customers, Josey and I bypassed those who were waiting and scored a window booth. We ordered two poutines, which would be prepared in the kitchen, along with the Chinese take-out by the Chilean cook under the watchful eyes of the Lebanese owner.
“What’s going on in town?” I said, avoiding eye contact with resentful folks who’d been there first. “Who are all these people?”
“They’re here for Hot Stuff,” Josey said. “I bet that woman who lost the wallet has something to do with it too. It doesn’t sound like she’s from around here.”
“She’s definitely not from the village. I saw some banners for this En feu! hot whatever. What is that anyway?”
“It’s En feu if you’re French. Hot Stuff for us. They’re here for the television show. It’s the big thing, Miz Silk. The Cooking Channel.”
“There’s a cooking channel?”
“Sure. On satellite TV. Everyone gets it. You don’t know about the cooking channel, Miz Silk? What about reality television?”
I said evenly, “I can read, so I do know about reality television. But what does all that have to do with St. Aubaine? We don’t even have a television station. Our population is two thousand, including stray dogs. Not exactly New York or LA.”
“You really need to get satellite, Miz Silk. How do you think I keep up with what’s happening in the world? Trends and everything. Do you know there are even business report channels?”
I shuddered.
Josey wasn’t letting go of this idea. “But, you’ll have to buy a new TV set first. I can find you one pretty cheap. Uncle Mike knows a guy...”
“No thanks,” I said quickly.
“And I can pick you up a dish and receiver at a garage sale. People are always upgrading. Uncle Mike can get you the cheat card, and you’ll get hundreds of channels, just like that. Everyone does it. Even if they trace your signal, the worst they’ll do is fry your receiver.”
I blinked.
She beamed at me. “Easy as pie, Miz Silk. Then you can move into the twenty-first century.”
“I don’t think so, Josey.” Of course, I might have been one or two centuries behind, but I wasn’t foolish enough to believe I had heard the last on the satellite issue.
She chattered on. “Anyway, the reason all these people are here...”
I smiled. Josey really cares a lot about Marc-André. She’d be happy to hear that he’d been awake and talking that afternoon. “It’s okay. Here’s our poutine. And I have good news today. You know what...Josey?”
Josey’s fork landed with a clatter. I was so surprised, I dropped mine too. “What?”
Josey’s mouth hung open. I followed her gaze. It led to a young man ambling along the sidewalk.
“Holy smokes. That’s...”
I stared. “Who?”
“I can’t believe it!”
“Me neither. But who is it I can’t believe?”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“I’m not. Who is he? And why do we drop our forks when we see him?” I glanced around the Chez. We were not the only fork droppers. Every woman in the place was staring out the window. A few went so far as to rush for the door. From a distance, he seemed lean and hip Quebec stylish, but I couldn’t really get a look at his face. He was talking intently to a dark-haired woman with splendid curves and a wide, sexy
