37. Mike
MIKE
I have to believe that things will come right in time, but I am disappointed.
More than disappointed.
Did my dad lie to me? Given his recent comments about Sylvia, it’s clear he disapproves of me being with her. And Sylvia’s right, he doesn’t change his mind easily about anything.
I just can’t believe he’d be so controlling. That he’d lie to my face. That he’d actively meddle in my life and do so for years . He’s tough. He’s convinced of his own view. He demands a lot, but this seems too much even for him. The man is all about principle and honour and duty.
On the other hand, I believe Sylvia.
They can’t both be telling the truth.
I appreciate her view that we can’t go forward without sorting this out first. It’s a roadblock I have to remove.
Too bad I don’t know how to do it.
I tell myself that things will slow down after Luke’s concert. Sylvia and I can go for a walk and a long talk. We’ll get to the bottom of it all then. She’s not leaving town and neither am I. We will resolve this.
It’s not as if I have nothing else to do in the meantime.
There are tomatoes, as always, and the little greenhouse to coax along. And if it’s summer, then Elke will be in town. That fact is as reliable as the sun rising in the east.
But then, Elke is very much a creature of habit.
Elke and I went to grad school together in the Netherlands.
She now works for a Dutch company that makes automatic systems for greenhouses – for watering, ventilation, temperature control and more.
Every summer she comes to Canada to visit their existing clients while hunting down some new ones.
I enjoy the chance to talk about the technology with someone as passionate about greenhouse growing as I am.
I inevitably learn something new that I can put into practice.
She’s particular, which maybe is why there was never a possibility of our being a couple. Elke knows what she wants, what she likes and how the world should be. Maybe it would be better for all of us if she was in charge, but there’s only so much micro-managing one person can take.
I pick her up at the airport and take her back each year. She rents a condo in Havelock that includes a car and goes about her own business most of the time. We have dinner about once a week when she’s here, and I know she’s going to love Merrie’s place.
Elke has no interest in fast food or take-out or diners.
She arrives on Saturday and I drive to Pearson to pick her up.
Traffic is miserable but her flight is delayed so I’m not late.
It’s good to be tall when you’re waving someone down in Arrivals and she sees me right away.
Of course, she looks trim and perfectly groomed, even after her long flight.
It’s just how she rolls. Of course, she’s wearing high heels, even though her feet have swollen on the plane and she complains about her shoes all the way back to the car.
I can’t believe how much parking costs me, but at least they didn’t lose her luggage.
We’re on our way in time to have a late dinner at The Carpe Diem Café.
I tell her about it on the way. For once, I don’t mind her preference for air conditioning over open windows.
It’s hot on the highway and I’m glad to arrive still reasonably uncrumpled.
We stop on the sidewalk on Queen Street and she brushes something off my sleeve, touches her fingertips to my chin. “I cannot understand why you abide that beard all the time, Michael,” she says, just as she always does. “You are so handsome without it.”
“I like it, though.”
“It makes you look like a zeerover ,” she says, using the Dutch word for pirate just the way right on cue. “Yet you will let it start to grow again tomorrow.”
“Absolutely. It’s good to trim it down once a year and start again. Like mowing a lawn.”
“Ugh!” She shudders.
I laugh and offer my arm to her. “Come on. You’re going to like this place.”
“Finally, somewhere good to eat in Empire?”
“Exactly.”
“I will like that. It will be good not to lose weight while I am here this year.” She takes a deep breath and smiles. “If they have a restroom, Michael, this place will make me the happiest woman in Canada.”
I point it out to her while waiting for a table.
Because of that, Sierra seats me alone, maybe not realizing I’m with someone else.
“Mike, Mike, Mike,” she says, dropping into the seat opposite me. “You have to help me.” She glances toward the kitchen guiltily, then back at me.
“Do I?”
“You know you do. It’s important .” She eyes me. “Where were you today? I waited at the greenhouse.”
“I had to go to the airport today. Otherwise, I would have been there, too.”
“The airport in Toronto? Why?”
The answer appears behind Sierra, every hair in place and disapproval in her expression. Elke has touched up her lipstick, too, and it looks bright to me. “Excuse me. Is this not my place?”
Sierra looks up with surprise, noticing Elke for the first time. She looks her up and down, no doubt taking note of her expensive clothes and just how much Elke looks out of place.
Elke is beautiful. Tall, blonde, elegant and confident.
She’s wearing a suit of blue tweed with a white silk blouse and carrying a purse that even I know must have cost a month of my salary.
(Maybe more.) She could be Daphne Bradshaw, but Dutch and fair.
(Lisa adores her.) Elke lifts a brow, imperious even in silence, and Sierra bounces out of the seat.
“Who are you ?” Sierra demands and I clear my throat. She tosses me a look, maybe as an apology, then smiles at Elke. “We haven’t met.”
“No, we have not,” Elke says smoothly as she sits and picks up her menu. “But why should we have done so?” She looks daggers at me over the top of it, making my oversight clear.
“Elke, this is Sierra. She’s Una’s granddaughter. Maybe you remember Una Kinkaid? She lives in the forest.”
Elke nods. “Ah yes. The gingerbread house.”
“That’s the one. She’s also my daughter.” Sierra beams. Elke blinks. “Sierra, this is Elke Dekkar. ”
“Michael and I studied together in grad school,” Elke tells her. “In Maastricht.”
“Where?”
“Holland,” I say.
Sierra bites her lip, looks between us, then turns to me again. “I need your help, Mike.”
“With what?”
“Do I have to tell you here?”
“Yes.”
She wrinkles her nose, then drops her voice to a whisper. “Luke gave me tickets to his band’s concert, and Lila wants to go, too, but Mom won’t let us go on our own.”
“That makes perfect sense to me.”
Her eyes flash and Elke watches her with interest. “It doesn’t to me. It’s not far. We could just walk over there…”
“But concerts can get rowdy. You should have an adult with you.”
Sierra smiles. “That’s where you come in.”
“Me?”
“Mom and Merrie will be working that night. Una will probably be asleep. Lila’s mom was going to come down from Toronto, but she can’t get a hotel room. Everything’s sold out, and Lila’s mom doesn’t camp.”
“Nor do I,” Elke says softly, reminding us both of her presence. She keeps her gaze on her menu but I doubt she’s unaware of Sierra’s poisonous glance. The corner of her lip twitches, just a little.
“So, you have to go with us, Mike, otherwise we won’t be able to go at all.”
I have no idea what to say to this. Elke puts down her menu to consider me. Her eyes are sparkling because she knows I’m cornered. “Attending a rock concert with young girls. Somehow, Michael, I did not envision this as your choice of entertainment.”
It’s not and she knows it.
“Can’t you go with Willow or Daphne or someone else who is already going?”
“No! It has to be you. You would be fixing this for Lila and me.” She’s completely convinced of this and I don’t want to disappoint her.
It is a Dad thing. I remember Dad refusing to take Abbie and Daphne to some concert in Toronto. I think Richard Bradshaw took them.
I would rather be the kind of father Richard Bradshaw is, absolutely.
Before I can say so, Sierra bends down and lowers her voice. “And then you can take Mom to your place, so she doesn’t get impatient with Lila and I staying awake late and talking.”
Elke’s eyes round and she blinks rapidly at me as she picks up her menu again.
I look at Sierra. “Nothing is happening unless it’s what your mom wants to happen.”
“Exactly!” Sierra is triumphant. “Not much duck confit left, just FYI, Mike.”
And then she’s gone, leaving me to defend myself alone. There is silence at our table, and it’s not because we’re both so busy deciding what to order.
Elke puts down her menu to survey me. “It seems your life has gotten a little more complicated in the past year, Michael. Perhaps more interesting.”
There’s an understatement.
“Sierra is the one with the greenhouse on the roof,” I explain .
“Ah! The one you want to encourage. I thought she was Luke’s daughter.”
“So did I, but she’s mine.”
Elke straightens the cutlery at her place, which already perfectly aligned. “Would her mother be the Sylvia you talk about when you have had too much beer?”
“It wasn’t the beer that got me drunk.” I sound grumpy and I know it, but I don’t like being reminded of my weaknesses. No one does. “It was the schnapps.”
“And I am to meet her?”
I look up to see Sylvia closing fast, her expression grim. “Probably soon.”
“Is this a secret?”
“No.”
“But you are reticent, undoubtedly because there are details yet to be arranged, so we avoid the subject. I respect complication.” Elke nods with her usual purpose. “I would like to see this greenhouse, if it can be arranged.”
“Of course. It’s right upstairs. We can ask Sierra for a tour afterward.”
“It has electricity? It will be dark by the time we are done.”
I nod once. “Sierra wants to change it over to use solar panels.”
“Ah, I may be able to offer assistance.” Elke smiles. “When you mentioned the greenhouse, I meant to tell you that we have a new watering system designed specifically for smaller facilities, which may have greater temperature variations due to their dimensions.”
“They’re more vulnerable to the influence of the weather and wind.”
“Exactly. So, the automations have to be more responsive and also more complex. They may need to open or close vents, for example, or even trigger heaters or lamps. It is an interesting challenge. What are the precise dimensions of this greenhouse? It might be a good size to experiment and refine this new system…”
I look up and it’s not a mystery what Sylvia has concluded about Elke’s presence.
How exactly is it that things between us keep getting more complicated?
And how will I ever sort them out?
One thing is for certain: I’m not expecting Elke to help.