We did, and I recovered it for Ted, who then lathered it onto both hands, his left hand also beginning to show the rash, though in a much milder form.
“I didn’t get a rash from any of that crap the Crazy Bitch threw at us.”
I knew my mother was caught up in the moment, because the B word slid on by.
“No. Though, weren’t you loaded up on meds?”
“Benadryl. What, you think I’m allergic to magic?”
My mother slumped back in the sofa, and the three of us sat without talking. Finally my mother broke the moment by finishing her wine with a tip of her head, then returning the glass to the coffee table.
“What was this about a witch up North?”
I filled her in on my trip with Ted up North — the visit to Crazy Lady’s estate, the fire, my call to Amy, and even the mystery delivery to the Founders’ cemetery outside Anadale Corners. Through the whole thing she listened quietly, her face set in its usual expression of disapproval and suspicion. But when I mentioned Anadale, she gasped.
“Anadale? Anadale Corners? West of Orillia?”
“Yup.”
“Why were you there?”
“Arcane has a quarterly drop-off. Pre-scheduled, three packages come in from local shops and one from New Orleans. We bundle and deliver. Two week window. Not exactly a big customer, but we find a way to tie it into our delivery schedule.”
“Who is the customer?”
“Don’t know. Anonymous delivery.”
“I did not know this.”
I studied her eyes, but she was ignoring me, caught up in her own thoughts. As usual, Ted took the direct route.
“And why, exactly, would you expect to know anything about it?”
“Hm? Oh, it’s-.” She paused, and I finally saw her exhaustion. As though I were merely an observer, distinct from these people and this conversation. The slump in her strong back, shoulders dropped, bags under her eyes. She was tired. We were all tired. Too many strange things in one day. But apparently there was one more to come.
“Anadale. Your father was from Anadale Corners.”
“Okay, too much wine for you.” Ted picked up her wine glass and began moving to the kitchen. I stayed behind, turning over her statement in my mind.
“Dad was from Hamilton. I’ve even got his old passport floating around somewhere. 1950. Hamilton, Ontario. Didn’t you say he was born at St. Joe’s?”
“He was born in Hamilton, yes. But his family was from Anadale. His mother was to deliver at home as she had done with your uncle, bless his soul. But the midwife determined that it was to be a breech birth, a very awkward position, so they were put in touch with a specialist in Hamilton who was familiar with newer techniques to avoid risk of injury to the mother or child.”
“Hunh.” That brought Ted to a halt, and he set the wine glass and beer bottle on the counter by the apartment door, no doubt to stay there until I removed them.
“He lived in Anadale Corners with his family until he was fourteen. When his father passed away, Robert’s older brother took over the running of the grocery they owned. But his mother was unwell, and needed medical treatment in the city. So while the brother ran the store, Robert moved to Toronto to care for his mother. They lived downtown, in a basement flat off of Beverley. He spent his mornings in school, walked his mother to the hospital at lunch, spent the afternoon with her, walked her home, made her dinner, put her to bed then did his homework. Worked at the local grocery Fridays and weekends. For three years, until she passed away.”
Tough life. One of the few memories I have of my Father was of him talking to us of his childhood and the hardships they had endured.
“Didn’t you meet him in Toronto?”
“Yes, we met that last year, before his mother passed. That summer I visited Toronto and stayed with my Aunt and Uncle. I worked as a candy striper. We met at the hospital.”
That was something I didn’t know.
“I thought you moved in together while he went to University?”
“Yes, but first he moved back to Anadale. Lived there from — let’s see, 70 to 72. Two years. Then his brother died, and Robert decided to move back to Toronto. He closed the grocery and there was a bit of insurance to pay the family’s debts. When he moved here, he had nothing. A canvas bag with his clothes, a few pictures, and the names of several friends of his parents. Still, he managed to find a job and a place to live. When I found out he had returned, I visited my Aunt and Uncle again. As they say, the rest is history.”
This was kind of interesting. It had been years since we had last talked about Dad, and frankly I couldn’t remember much.
“Married in-.”
“1975. He was twenty-five, and I was twenty-four.” Ted blew out a breath, as though astonished anyone could consider such a thing. “I had you in 1978, then your brother the next year.
We found out about your father’s cancer two years later, and he passed in 1984.”
“That’s when Aunt Nicole moved here?”
“Yes. It was a huge move for her. She had never been outside of Quebec, let alone to a big city like Toronto. But she insisted on helping with the two of you. She loved you very much.”
That brought a moment’s silence to the room. Ted and I had adored Nicole.
“Weird. Anadale Corners, huh?”
“Yes. I had not heard that name in over twenty years.”
“But Dad didn’t have any relatives left, did he?”
“No. The two of you are the last of the family line.”
“Okay. So where does all of this leave us? I may be unaffected to magic. Ted may be — what? Allergic? No idea how, or why. Arcane may be making deliveries to Dad’s old hometown, which is probably just a coincidence, though we all know there are no coincidences. I haven’t even asked who that man was that you imagined. Or why Clay and I were mugged.” I stared at my mother, sensing she might know more, but convinced she had few of the answers. The look on her face told me that.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
CHAPTER 18
The week after the BBQ started out on the same upbeat tone that was becoming the standard. On the way into work, Harper called me to say that Clay had been readmitted. The excitement of the weekend had been a bit much for him, and they were bringing him back for a few days of further observation. We spoke briefly, and she reassured me that all would be fine.
Still, the roads were quiet, and no one mugged me or tried to kill me with a refrigerator.
I arrived back at Arcane for lunch to find paper spread out all over the conference room table. Kara seemed to be energized by the assignment I had given her to investigate the source of the fearstone. Unfortunately, the Miscellaneous files were a lot more paper than I would have anticipated — three thick folders running back twelve years. But if there was anything about a Lost and Found item in our records, this was where it would be.
After a quick visit to the little boy’s room, I grabbed my lunch and a chair.
Today Kara was sporting a company polo, but in a nice lavender color. I didn’t even know we had them in any color other than black, though black worked just fine for me. For her, lavender was very, very good. Hugged her figure without being so tight as to have me drooling on the floor. Dark low cut jeans with a belt that didn’t show off any skin, but hinted at a narrow waist and flat stomach. Black pumps over bare feet.
In the presence of this lovely, I could sit and go through old files all day.
“Take a look at this.”
“Hm.” It was a bill of lading, from several years earlier.
“Is this for the jacket?”
“Yup. I checked against the tag.”
And how about that. The bill identified Bindings as the destination, and… “Is that their account number?”
“Yes.”
“Hm.”
The bill was stamped “Overnight Drop”.
So someone had dropped off a package in our overnight slot containing one Burberry coat, addressed for delivery to Bindings, and referencing Bindings’ account number.