We worked in silence for a while, the music keeping us company. I noticed her energy seemed to pick up, her shoulders lifting as she worked, one foot tapping to the music. I guess hard work helped her too. While I mopped the floor she started chatting about different documentaries she’d seen, techniques she was trying, how she’d won a grant from the National Film Board of Canada for her last movie. She obviously read a lot—speaking passionately about the Canadian art world and well-known female Canadian filmmakers like Sarah Polley and Deepa Mehta. She also knew a lot about cameras and had some nice equipment her grandfather had bought her, but her mom didn’t know because it was expensive.
She was going on about her favorite teacher, who also ran a camera shop in town, when I saw a shadow at the open back door. I glanced up just as I heard a female voice say, “So this is where you are.”
Ashley spun around. “Mom!”
The woman seemed familiar, like I should know her. And then I realized I did—it was Shauna McKinney.
She was a little fleshier under her chin and around her waist but still attractive. She was wearing shorts, and her legs were muscled like a runner’s. Her auburn hair was shorter now, falling to her shoulders in a sleek bob. She was wearing a yellow shirt, her arms crossed in front of her, a large brown leather handbag hanging off her shoulder and keys in her hand, which she was jittering angrily. She studied me while I studied her, neither of us saying a word.
Ashley finally broke the silence. “I was coming home soon.” She sounded really pissed that her mom had shown up at the restaurant. Not that I gave a shit—I was pissed that Ashley had never mentioned who her mother was.
“I thought you were a waitress,” Shauna said, still staring at me. “Why are you in the kitchen? I’ve been worried—you didn’t answer your cell.”
Ashley set down the sponge, stepped away from the sink. “Sorry. It was busy tonight and I was just helping Toni out.”
What the hell? She was blaming me? I turned back, gave her a look.
She flushed, then added, “I wanted to stay and help. She didn’t ask.”
“It’s time to go. Your dad’s home tonight and he wants to see you.”
“Megan’s picking me up.”
“Call and tell her you have a ride. I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”
Making it perfectly clear that she had no intention of letting her daughter linger for one more minute. Ashley looked furious and embarrassed as she glanced back at me, but she left the kitchen. I kept mopping, not looking at Shauna, gripping the handle hard as I remembered her at the trial. Nicole was always talking about how mean Toni was to her. Toni hated her, everyone knew it.…
“Stay away from my daughter,” she said now.
I stopped and leaned on the mop. “Pretty hard to do when she got a job where I work. I didn’t know she was your kid.”
“Then I guess you’re going to have to find a new place to work.”
She was right. I hadn’t realized until that moment what this meant. I’d probably have to find another job. What was I going to do now?
“I don’t want a convict getting cozy with my daughter.”
“I wasn’t getting cozy with anyone.”
“Keep it that way.”
She left, but the faint scent of her perfume lingered. Something fruity, tangerine, reminding me of high school. Nothing had changed.
*
That night Ryan was waiting at the marina again. He came out from the shadows when he saw me pull in. This time he was wearing a black knitted hat pulled down tight, his hair winging out from below, and a brown T-shirt with a faded emblem from some band on the front. It reminded me of something he’d wear in high school but looked different on his man’s body. At eighteen he’d played at looking tough, now he was the real deal.
I slammed my truck door, barely looking at him as I unloaded Captain from the front and grabbed the small bag of groceries I’d picked up on the way home. He was closer this time, standing near the front of my truck. It made me nervous, having him so close, being able to see the tattoos on his forearms, wondering what each one meant, who did them for him, whether he had more on the rest of his body, whether any of them reminded him of me.
“You can’t keep coming here. You’re going to get me sent back.”
He stepped into the shadows again, careful to keep his face out of the light as he glanced around. “I’m not the problem.”
Fear shot through my body. “What’s going on?”
“Cathy’s missing.”
I relaxed slightly. “She’s a crackhead. She’s probably stoned somewhere or hiding out because she didn’t want to talk to you.”
“But she did talk to me, Toni.” His eyes and face were serious, tired-looking. “She was high, but she kept saying she was sorry and crying. I asked what she was sorry for and she kind of danced around it at first, but then she admitted that they lied at the trial. She got really nervous and said, ‘We were just pissed off at Nicole.’”
“Pissed off at Nicole, not me?”
“That’s what she said.”