Chapter Twenty-Six
EVENTUALLY, SID COMES upstairs. It’s a relief to be free from my own mind, so I rush toward him, which he takes as a sign that I need a hug.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. I just…” The scent of him hits me as I wrap my arms around him, struggling for words. “We came here for her. I don’t have to like it, but if April doesn’t…”
“School is hard. She’ll get through it.” He pats my shoulder. I take that as a hint I should let go before I make it weird. “We should talk to the principal, though.”
“We?” I assumed I would have to go in, but Sid’s participation never crossed my mind. “You don’t have to do that.”
“We’re both her legal guardians.”
“In name only.”
“Do you not want me there? I could help. Dom got into a lot of fights growing up, and his sanctuary hosts hated dealing with it, so I’ve had practice.”
“Of course I would love the help, it’s just…” I already owe him so much.
As if sensing the reason for my reticence, Sid grimaces. “It wouldn’t all be to help you out. One of the kids involved is Bradley Patterson’s little sister. I would like to know what’s going on at the school. If she runs her mouth again—”
“Oh, shit.” I hadn’t stopped to think what this could mean for Sid’s campaign. What if April and I put it in jeopardy? “Do you think he’d do something?”
Sid shakes his head. “I don’t know. He was friendly enough at the guild tour, but like I said, he’s wishy-washy in his positions.
He wants to work with us now, but I doubt we’re his only options.
What if instead of allying with us, he decides he’d rather just knock us out of the race entirely?
And if he found proof we have a sham marriage—”
“And April told those girls we aren’t sleeping together.”
“Exactly.”
“Well… Well, what do we do?”
Sid lets out a sigh that belongs to an apostle overlooking the sins of the world. He draws a crumpled letter out of his pocket. “I pulled this out of the recycling.”
“What is…” The answer appears soon enough. Personal, embossed stationary, the words Patterson Family adorning the letterhead, greets my eyes.
How’s it going, Sidney?
I’ve been thinking about our chat the other day. You simply must give me a chance to pick your brain about campaign strategy. That tour you and Amy cooked up was sheer brilliance. If you’ve got time next week, you and your charming wife must visit for—
“You’re kidding. Bradley Patterson sent us a dinner invite, and you threw it away without showing me?”
“He’s not the kind of ally I care about courting.”
“Is your name even short for Sidney?”
“Nope.”
“Huh.” I trace my fingers over the embossed roses at the top of the paper. This must have been kept in storage since the Quake. How perfectly pretentious. “So… if we go to dinner with these people, what do you think will happen?”
Sid shakes his head. “At this point? Not a clue. We’re lucky he sent the letter before April started smacking kids around. I doubt he’d do it now.”
I know what he means by that. This branch is the one thing we can grab onto before plummeting over a waterfall. After all the trouble we’ve caused Sid, it’s the least I can do. “I’ll come, but…”
“But?” he leans forward, uneasy.
I run my thumb across the flowers and try not to be intimidated. “I need a new dress.”
* * *
SID AND I craft the most glowing, enthusiastic letter we can. So wonderful meeting you, Bradley! Kayla admired your coach and can’t believe she’ll get the chance to see your home! We would love to share dinner!
I will admit, I may have overdone it on the punctuation.
Then, for a week, we wait for Bradley’s reply.
If he’s sending one. Even if he does, there’s a chance it will just tell us to jump off a bridge.
Luckily, another sheet of rose paper does arrive, giving us a date, time, and bearing the telling little line, and why don’t you bring April, too?
Maria is so eager to get to know her better.
Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve invited Amy Sullivan along too.
“Invited Amy?” sighs Sid. “What do you want to bet she talked him into it?”
“You think she would?” I ask.
“It’s a chain. If I go down, Tom looks like an idiot for endorsing me, then Amy is way too deep in Tom’s branding, so she falls next—”
“Right. Guess I’ll tell April.”
She is less than enthusiastic about the idea.
“I’m not going to that snake’s house!” April shrieks.
“You think you have a choice in this?” I snap. “Just be glad you’re getting a new outfit.”
And April is at least pleased about that.
Sid gives us a whole ten dollars to spend on clothes—a standard week’s wages—though we soon discover we could be spending far, far more on even one outfit.
But after rummaging through the exchange for a while, we manage to find something.
I get a dress covered in red polka dots whereas April picks a—frankly—boring brown skirt.
They both only need a little mending, which I spend the next couple of days doing.
Before the dinner, I follow Sid around the acreage like a hawk, making sure he doesn’t smoke. We already know we’re going to have to kiss at some point tonight. How else are we going to sell Bradley on our very legit romance? But I would rather not taste ash every time.
“You know I only smoke when I’m stressed, right?” he barks at me. “And this is not helping.”
“Is that the pattern? Because you smoked all the time when we first met—oh.”
No one is in a good mood by the time we pile onto the bus, heading towards the northern end of the island. I’ve never visited this area before. As we approach St. Mary’s Lake, Sid points at a line of acreages. “That’s the old golf course the Pattersons sold off.”
“The what?”
“Maria’s family used to own a golf course before the Quake,” says April, who must have heard about this at school. “The government bought it off them to make farms.”
“And they accepted money? There wasn’t anything to buy back then.”
“Not yet.” Sid shrugs. “But Bradley’s mother was smart enough to wait. She started a bank twenty years ago. If you want to get funding to do anything on Salt Spring and the government won’t pay for it, you go to the Pattersons.”
I nod. I’m not sure I understand this perfectly, but one thing is clear. If anyone has the power to ruin things for us, it’s these people.
The sun is setting by the time we reach the estate, long shadows painting the road. We walk down a winding driveway to reach their property. Fewer trees have been logged to create farmland here, and they block out the moon. My grip tightens on Sid’s hand.
The gravel path opens up to reveal a three-storey home with a massive veranda.
More than the size of the house, it’s the number of lights that stuns me.
I’ve seen plenty of broken-down mansions, but light costs resources.
Candles burn in every window. The front walk is rigged with lanterns that wink happily in the evening gloom.
Some even have solar cells built into them.
I point at one illuminating the front walk. “I thought the government took all those.”
Sid grunts. “Not much the Pattersons don’t have.”
I’m trying to wrap my head around what the limits of that might be when a man comes to the door to take our jackets.
For a wild moment, I think they have their own butler like some long dead lord, but it turns out this is a service provided by the catering company.
My head goes right back to spinning, because apparently catering still exists.
We’re shown inside, where there’s a grand oak staircase and a crystal chandelier rigged with a dozen candles.
It’s incredible how little the place looks like the deserted mansions April and I looted in high-end communities on Vancouver Island.
The pictures are still hanging on the walls, their frames polished instead of broken down for firewood.
A china vase of poppies sits on an end table. All the furniture matches.
We’re led upstairs to where a crowd has gathered around a brick fireplace.
Every other guest can afford to wear wool, not scavenged clothes like the ones April and I bought at the exchange.
The colours are muted, due to the limited range of dyes available these days, but there’s a polished newness about everything.
So that’s why April wanted something brown.
Me and my polka dots are clearly out of fashion.
Bradley’s mother nods as we enter. She sits in a chair by the fire, eating crab cakes and talking to an old man who Bradley introduces as the mayor of Galiano Island.
A few other distinguished faces ring the circle, but I hardly catch any names.
They’re a who’s who of who-gives-a-shit as far as I’m concerned, but Sid’s face pales in a way that communicates they’re important.
Government types, maybe. Or business leaders.
I can’t be sure, but if Mrs. Patterson controls the main bank, I can only assume people are itching for a chance to sit down to dinner with her.
“We had to double up events. We’ve always got someone coming and going,” says Bradley with a laugh. His hair is waxed upright, and he’s dressed in a starched hemp shirt. “Mother can’t rearrange her schedule much. We’ll be in the second dining room. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” I say. If we’re being slighted, it’s not like people of our station have a right to object.
I’m relieved I won’t have to eat with these people, but I feel their eyes following us as we file out of the main dining room.
Mrs. Patterson’s friends might not think we deserve to be included in their circle, but we’re worthy of gossip.
Instinctively, I latch onto Sid and pray it looks like we’re in love.
Once we reach the second dining room, two more guests are waiting for us. A sullen girl, who must be Maria Patterson, and Amy Sullivan.
“Kayla and Sid! It’s so good to see you!” She hugs me first, then makes her way down the line, ending on April. “And how’s my future scientist doing?”
“Oh… I’m—um…”
When April can’t form a sentence, it hits me that there might be someone she’s even more embarrassed about disappointing than me.
“Did I tell you, Maria? April came on a tour of the Guild with me. I think you two have a lot in common. You’re both so bright.”
“Yeah, you said something about it.” Maria doesn’t turn to look at anyone.
She has lush, pin-straight dark hair that probably involves ironing every morning.
April keeps begging us to get an iron so she can do the same, but considering we don’t even bother using one for clothes, it seems frivolous to me. Or did, until standing in this place.
It’s like we’ve stumbled into a Jane Austen novel, where trivial things matter a great deal. This resembles the distant past more than the years immediately preceding the Quake, what with the candlelight and the comedy of manners we’re all engaged in.
The caterers bring out a round of crab cakes and Bradley recites the latest polling numbers, complimenting Sid on how high he’s ranked. After the guild tour, the paper did run a short story. Not one with any pictures, but pulling quotes from both Amy and Sid.
“That’s the kind of publicity you can’t buy. Amazing stuff,” says Bradley.
“Thanks. It was nice collaborating on something.” Sid raises his wine glass towards Amy and she mirrors him, big smile lighting up her face. “That’s kind of the dream, isn’t it? That we’re all going to get into government and be able to work together?”
“To be sure,” says Bradley, raising his glass too.
My heart sinks as I realize what Sid is doing. In light of our recent disasters, he’s weighed his options and decided he needs to offer Bradley what he wants. What did Amy call it before? A coalition.
“Don’t you wish the vote would just happen tomorrow? We could all get it over with and—” Amy starts, but Bradley cuts in.
“That’s because you’re a shoe-in. I don’t mind a few more months to bolster my numbers.” He leans out of the way as the caterers place the next course, a salad of kale and hazelnuts, on the table. “What about you, Sid?”
“What about me?” He’s barely touched his food.
“What would you do if the vote happened tomorrow? Assuming you got in. Anything you two would do to… celebrate?” His eyebrow cocks.
Here we go.
I drape an arm across Sid’s shoulders, fishing out one of the stories we brainstormed. “We’ve been talking about going on a trip. I want to see America. Sid told me there are places in the San Juans where you can see all the way to Mount Rainer.”
“Things will be busy after the election. America might have to wait,” Sid says.
“Oh, come on. If we’re imagining the perfect scenario, then I want to go somewhere with you. It would be romantic.” My hand slides up to his neck to play with his fine hair. He tenses under my fingers, but I don’t relent.
A second later, his hand falls on my shoulder, the next step in our choreography. “Well. I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
It’s as good an excuse as any, so I lean in for a peck. Maybe it’s the hint of danger lacing the air tonight, but my heart skitters at the warmth of his mouth against mine.
“I think it’s a lovely idea,” says Amy, eager for everyone to get along. “I wish I had someone to celebrate with.”
“Aw, Ames. I didn’t know you were looking for company.” Bradley nudges her playfully and she erupts into giggles.
“Oh, stop!” she squeals. I sincerely hope she means those words literally. Maybe I’ve been giving her too much credit. Maybe this woman isn’t as brilliant as everyone claims she is.
But her attention—or maybe the wine—has put Bradley in a good mood. “Well, I think it’s wonderful you two found happiness so quickly. See, Maria?” He turns to his younger sister. “I told you. You shouldn’t believe everything you hear at school.”
The girl’s cheeks flush, and she stares deliberately down at her meal.
If Bradley is making a show of chastising his sister in front of us, I probably need to do something similar.
I laugh and say, “Oh, I’m sure whatever happened was a misunderstanding.
If April had remembered to use her words, Maria would have known what was going on. ”
Bradley gives an appreciative chuckle. April stares daggers at me.
But when dinner ends and we break off into smaller groups, I think we might have struck the right balance.
The girls wander off together, whispering furiously.
I catch Maria saying something that sounds like “they’re all full of bullshit. ” I have to supress a smile.
Nothing bonds people together quite like ragging on the same enemy.