waited with a half-smile on her lips as if she anticipated what was coming.
“Since you don’t have a tenant in the basement studio apartment, it occurred to me that he might camp out there for a few weeks. It wouldn’t be for long, and he’d pay rent,” Danson said.
Candace had looked as if she wanted to refuse but found it hard to deny her baby brother anything.
“It was a lovely lunch,” Hollis said now. “Danson wanted a lacrosse player to crash in your basement apartment. I recall that you said yes, but your expression said no.”
“Absolutely right. It’s hard for me to say no to Danson. He has a generous heart, and he’s always taking care of others. Sometimes it’s us, sometimes it’s friends, this time it was a lacrosse player. It’s a wonderful quality, but last week a woman at work told me her daughter would like to rent the basement apartment for a year. I didn’t want to turn down a year’s guaranteed rent. When I called Danson with the news, he understood and promised to tell Jack.”
Candace ran the fingers of both hands through her hair, interlaced her fingers behind her neck and pressed her head back as if trying to squeeze her tension away. She released her hands and crossed her arms over her chest. “Jack Michaels phoned Tuesday evening. He sounded so pleased that he had a place to stay that I couldn’t say no. He moved in on Wednesday.”
Elizabeth howled. MacTee had accidentally upended her, and she’d banged her head on the edge of the sandbox. Candace jerked to her feet and rushed to comfort the little girl. “You’re fine, Elizabeth,” she said as she picked her up.
Almost simultaneously, the basement door opened, and a young man who had to be Jack Michaels emerged. His face resembled an inverted white-enamel pie plate on which a kindergarten child had drawn round eyes, curved eyebrows, and a bow of a mouth. After that, the child would have smacked on a playdough blob for his nose and declared the face finished.
He took in the scene but said nothing.
Since Candace literally had her hands full, Hollis spoke up. “Hi. You must be Jack,” she said. “I’m Hollis, the upstairs tenant. What can we do for you?”
Jack stared at Elizabeth, who continued to scream. “I have to do laundry. Can I use the machine in the basement?”
Candace, who’d quieted Elizabeth, nodded. “You may.”
“I’d like to make sure I do it right.”
Candace put Elizabeth down and held up her hand to indicate she’d address Jack’s concerns in a minute. She spoke to Elizabeth. “Why don’t we give MacTee a break? I’ll uncover the sand box? Would you like that?”
Elizabeth stopped sniffling as abruptly as if she’d thrown a “do not cry” switch. “Water?” she said hopefully.
“Good thing I didn’t get around to turning it off for the winter,” Candace said to Hollis and Jack with a poor attempt at a smile. “I’ll fill your watering can,” she told Elizabeth. She unrolled the hose, partially filled a child-size, green plastic watering can and handed it to the toddler.
Elizabeth parked it on the sandbox’s seat, clambered in and plunked down amid a bright plastic toy collection. She grabbed a yellow shovel and scooped sand into a plastic pail. After adding two more shovels of sand, she poured water into the pail, stirred, looked thoughtfully at Candace and dumped the contents on her head.
Candace, squatting beside the sandbox, wasn’t quick enough to stop her.
Water and sand splashed over Elizabeth’s baseball cap and dribbled down her face and neck. She scrubbed at the mess, balled her hands into fists, jammed them in her eyes and wept.
“Anything to get attention,” Candace said and folded her arms around Elizabeth. “Time for a quick spray in the bathtub.”
Her gaze swung between Jack and Hollis. “Hollis, would you show Jack how the machine works?”
Hollis would have preferred hearing why Danson’s failure to phone had terrified Candace, but this wasn’t the time to pursue the topic. “Sure,” she said, called to MacTee and followed Jack to the basement laundry room.
Before Hollis left, Candace lowered her voice and said, “When Elizabeth’s cleaned up and had her morning nap, would you join us for lunch? There’s more to Danson’s story.”
Hollis agreed almost before the invitation left Candace’s lips.
Jack had parked a large blue duffle bag on the basement floor in front of the washer.
“It’s a basic machine,” Hollis said. She showed him which dials to turn. “Do you start practices right away?” she asked.
“No. They told us to come early to find a job and a place to live. We’re semipro, and we don’t make enough to live on. Too bad, or we’d be better players. That’s the way it is. I have interviews this afternoon,” he said.
“What do you do?”
Jack stopped sorting his laundry. “Anything. I don’t have specialized training, but I’ve worked in fast food restaurants, and I can probably get something that will mesh with the training schedule.”
“Good luck. I’m an artist, and my studio is here. If you need to know anything about the house or the neighbourhood, feel free to come up and ask me.”
“You’re here every day. I forget that people work at home,” Jack said.
“I do. Candace’s mother is here off and on during the daytime too.” She pointed to the ceiling, “She’s above you on the first floor. You may wake up at three in the morning and hear her. She’s a dancer and practices at all hours.”
“It’s already happened. I figured college kids lived upstairs, although the music was kind of strange. I figured they were Latin Americans.” Jack’s eyes widened, and his mouth made a perfect “o” before he said, “Candace’s mother is a dancer?”
Leaving him to digest his surprise, Hollis and MacTee headed back outside. Hollis didn’t know what had been causing Candace such distress, but it hadn’t just been her obsession with her brother’s whereabouts. Danson seemed like a normal, caring if somewhat fanatical guy. Hollis wondered why his sister was so concerned. What revelations was she about to hear?
Two
Back in the garden, reading the Globe’s pontificating columnists, learning what was happening in the city and immersing herself in the details of others’ lives no longer attracted Hollis. She had a real-life issue to deal with.
Why had Danson disappeared?
Maybe he’d run away from life’s responsibilities or done a flit with a gorgeous girl? Maybe the explanation was simply that he’d forgotten the charger for his cell phone. Men frequently took off. Modern life was hard on them. Whatever the last conversation had been about, it had to have been something serious, or Candace wouldn’t be panic-stricken. Since no answers danced before her eyes, she’d work.
Upstairs, Hollis studied the large canvas. The day before, she’d saturated sheets of tissue paper with a transparent water colour. Now she tore the paper into smaller pieces and coated
