“Hi. I was hoping to talk to you. It went well.” She tossed her apron in the container they’d marked for laundry. “Can we go outside and sit? I’ve taken to having coffee at the picnic table outside.”

  Kathy grabbed a can of soda from the cooler and followed Amanda outside. “Please don’t tell me you can’t stay,” she blurted. “I’ve contacted everyone I know and I have no leads on a replacement yet.”

  “What?” Amanda swung a leg over the bench. “No, I wouldn’t do that to you, but that is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Kathy popped the cap on her can and took a long swallow. “Come on, sock it to me.”

  Amanda laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re an old Laugh-In fan.”

  “The joys of satellite television.” Kathy glanced toward the large dish on their living quarters. “So what did you want to tell me?”

  “I know it’s only my first day, but I think Carlos could take over when I leave. He’s quite skilled, you know. I don’t know how busy you are in the winter, but he could probably manage with one assistant.”

  “Really?” Kathy stared into the soda can. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m quite sure.” Amanda leaned forward on the table. “He can speak English as well as you and I, you know. He’s just been laying on that ridiculous Mexican accent.”

  “So you’re thinking...” Kathy was trying to wrap her mind around this new information. “You’re thinking he could take over when you leave?”

  “That’s it exactly. Your menu isn’t extensive. I’d like to suggest a few minor changes but he could handle it, I’m quite sure.”

  Kathy’s considered this new information. “You know, I think it could work. Have you talked to him about this?”

  “No, I thought I’d discuss it with you first. He’s already gained a lot of confidence, but I suppose you should talk to him before you stop looking for a replacement.”

  “All right. I’ll do that first thing in the morning.” Relief flooded her face and she looked ten years younger. “Thanks again.” She stood up, and then turned back, eyes narrowed. “Where did you say you come from again? I’m beginning to think you’re an angel straight from heaven.”

  Amanda stood up and stretched. “I don’t know about that. I think you’ve got something pretty close to heaven right here.” She started walking toward her cabin. “By the way, I got my car back this morning and it still runs.”

  “Shouldn’t you get it checked out?”

  “I suppose so. Maybe in a couple of days. See you tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Amanda stood under the shower until the water turned cold. It had been a long day but she was satisfied with what she’d accomplished. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt useful, let alone appreciated. She dressed in jeans and a long sleeved jacket, slathered mosquito repellant on all exposed skin and settled into one of the Adirondack chairs near the water’s edge.

  She had no idea what was going to happen in the future. She pulled the tab on a Diet Coke and took a slow sip. Before she could consider her future, perhaps she should come to terms with her past. Her thoughts drifted back in time.

  Chapter Four

  Three years earlier

  “Amanda.” The Executive Chef barked out her name and beckoned her into his office. He waved a piece of paper. “I don’t appreciate your getting calls here during working hours. They said it was urgent, but we were in the middle of the lunch hour rush so I said you’d call them back.”

  She did her best to appear calm, but her heart was pounding. Who could be calling her here? She didn’t think anyone other than her grandmother had this number. Only last month she’d typed out all of her contacts and stuck them in her grandmother’s purse in case of emergency. She hadn’t expected that they’d ever be needed but now...

  “Here.” He shoved the paper at her and waved her away. “Go use one of the phones out in the club.”

  She dialed the number with trembling hands.

  “St. Mark’s Hospital.”

  Amanda squeezed her eyes shut for a second. “I was told to phone this number.” She turned over the paper. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know who I’m supposed to ask for but the only reason someone would call me is if something happened to my grandmother.”

  “What is her name, please?”

  Amanda shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not making any sense, I know. Her name is Ruby Scott. Spelled just the way it sounds.”

  “And your name?”

  “Amanda Scott.”

  She could hear the woman on the other end tapping on a keyboard. “Here it is. Ruby Scott was admitted at twelve fifteen. Her doctor is Doctor Bennett. He’s very likely the one who called you.”

  Amanda’s stomach clenched. “Can you tell me what this is about?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not permitted to give out information over the telephone but Doctor Bennett will be here until five if you’d like to come down.”

  “I’ll leave right away. Where do I go to find her?”

  “Check with information when you get here. They’ll be able to tell you.”

  “Thank you.”

  * * *

  “Your grandmother has had a stroke.” She’d finally tracked down Doctor Bennett; they were standing in a hallway. He was tall, thin and wore a pale blue shirt over black slacks. The only thing that marked him as a doctor was eyes that had seen too much.

  “But she can’t have a stroke. She’s healthy, and she’s only sixty-nine.”

  He gave her what passed for a smile. “I know it’s hard to accept, but she has had a stroke, Miss Scott. I could give you all the medical terms if you like, but let’s just say that at the present time she’s incapacitated.”

  Amanda’s thoughts raced. “Will she recover?”

  “It’s a bit early to say. We’ll run another series of tests tomorrow, but there’s an excellent chance that she’ll regain most of her mental capacity.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pager and frowned at it. “Excuse me, but I have to go.” He looked at her kindly. “Come by tomorrow about the same time; I’ll know more then.”

  She left the hospital in a daze. The nurses at the desk in the ICU unit had been sympathetic, but firm. She couldn’t see her grandmother. Maybe tomorrow, when she was stabilized.

  She looked at her watch. Two hours until the evening rush. She should be at the restaurant now doing prep work but she couldn’t face it. If the chef fired her, so be it, she’d find another job. Maybe she should find another job anyway; if she’d known what went on in commercial kitchens she’d never have trained to be a line cook. She wasn’t assertive by nature but in the kitchen she’d had to learn quickly to stand up for herself. She was still a wimp in her private life, but she was learning...

  “Let me out here, please.” The cab driver pulled over and she got out a couple of blocks from The Club. She pictured the name on the discreet brass plaque near the entrance. An exclusive men’s club, it was open for lunch and dinner. Known for excellent cuisine, female wait staff and beautiful exotic dancers, it was one of eleven clubs scattered around the Vancouver area. She’d heard that there was a hefty fee to join and that every club had a waiting list. Clearly there were a lot of men with deep pockets. The interesting aspect of the clubs was that men were permitted to bring women on specific nights of the week. The whole set-up was unlike anything Amanda had experienced before.

  She made her way to the small park across the street. She often came here on her breaks and today she was in luck; her favourite shaded bench was available. She sat down with a sigh and her thoughts turned to her grandmother.

  * * *

  Amanda’s parents died when she was six. They’d been sightseeing in a helicopter over a canyon in South America when it went down, killing everyone on board. She had naturally turned to her grandmother for comfort. They’d always had a close relationship, and it was one that continued to this day.

  Apart from the loss of her parents, she’d been happy growing up. A shy child, she hadn’t made friends easily, but she was content in a way that puzzled her grandmother. When she announced that she wanted dancing lessons Ruby encouraged her, and did the same later when she expressed an interest in culinary arts. No matter what the world threw at her, she’d received unconditional love and support from her grandmother. She didn’t dare consider how she would cope if Ruby died.

  * * *

  “You can see your grandmother but I’d like to have a word first.” The doctor guided her into a small consultation room. He opened a file and looked at it, although she got the impression that he was stalling for time.

  “Mrs. Scott’s speech is a bit slurred, but that will clear up. Probably within a month.” He raised his head. “At this time her motor skills are impaired. We’re going to keep her here for a week or two and work with her to see if we can get her up and using a walker.” He smiled, but it was a sad smile. “Your grandmother is a very independent woman. She’s determined to recover and get back to her own home.”

  Amanda absorbed this information. “But her mental state?”

  He seemed to be trying to decide what to say, then finally spoke. “As you can appreciate, every individual is different but some memory loss is not unknown in cases like this.” He looked down at the chart again. “Her scan shows some deterioration.”

  “Are you saying she’s got dementia?”

  “No, not full blown dementia, but there are signs of memory loss.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “In spite of all our advances, there’s so much about the human brain we simply don’t know.” He put his glasses back on. “This isn’t much comfort, but we will know more in a couple of weeks. I just wanted to prepare you.”

  * * *

  Amanda was shaken by the changes in her grandmother. The woman who had been the mainstay of Amanda’s life was crumbling before her eyes. Determined to maintain her independence, she exercised every day but after a few months she still clung to her walker and couldn’t move farther than the bathroom. In the depths of her grandmother’s familiar eyes Amanda saw a new emotion: fear.

  “Please promise me one thing.” Ruby gripped her arm with surprising strength. “Please don’t put me in a seniors’ home.”

  “Are you sure Gran? You’ve always liked to socialize. You’d meet a lot of new people.”

  “I don’t want to meet new people!” The older woman had been emphatic. “I’ve seen those stories on television about what they do to people in those homes. I don’t want any part of it. Promise me you won’t make me go to one of those places.”

  Amanda had no idea what her grandmother had been watching; the woman’s sense of reality was sometimes skewed by daytime soaps.

  “All right, Gran. I promise.”

  * * *

  “I can’t go back on my promise!” She and Maxine, a server at the club were taking a much-needed break in the alley behind the club. “I said I wouldn’t put her in a seniors’ home and that’s that.”

  Maxine took a deep drag on her cigarette. “Very admirable, but you can’t go on the way you are. Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’ve lost weight.” Maxine narrowed her eyes. “But you’re still gorgeous. God, if I had that long hair and that figure I’d be up there on the stage dancing.”

  Amanda toyed with the coffee mug she’d brought outside. “I’ve thought about it.” She looked sideways at her friend. “Do they really make a lot of money?”

  Maxine nodded. “Let’s put it this way. Tiffany just bought a condo in that fancy new building on False Creek.”

  Amanda gave a slight shudder. “I don’t know. People have such strange ideas about exotic dancers.”

  “So? Do you care what other people think?”

  Amanda watched a stray dog nosing through the garbage at the end of the alley. “What I care about is making enough money to take care of Gran. I need somebody to come in a few hours a day, that’s all.”

  * * *

  The transition to dancer was remarkably easy. The Executive Chef railed against her defection, but Amanda saw through the tirade that went on for a good ten minutes. For the first time since she’d started working at The Club, she saw a glint of respect in those dark eyes. Respect and something else that could only be described as lust.

  She was to see plenty of lust over the next few months.

  “When you get right down to it, the man in the bespoke suit is no different from the guy on a construction site” Tiffany told her. “They all love to look.” Tiffany’s popularity was largely due to the fact that she had no compunction about being completely nude on stage.

  Amanda appealed on a different level. Her dance training, distant now, still served her well. Her performances showcased her fluid grace, which translated into subtle eroticism. The club manager paid her the ultimate compliment when he told her that she had a growing following of men who came in specifically for her performances.

  “By the way,” he said one night. “Mr. Reimer is coming in tonight. Apparently he’s heard about you.”

  “Mr. Reimer? The owner?”

  “Yes, but don’t let on I told you. He probably won’t stay long.”

  He stayed until she finished dancing, watching her through hooded eyes and shrouded in smoke from long, thin cigarillos.

  “Mr. Reimer would like you to join him.” The manager came into the dressing room. “What would you like to drink?”

  Amanda glanced at the wall clock. “I have to get home...my grandmother...”

  “Don’t blow this, Amanda.”

  “Okay then, Champagne. And order me a cab. Tell them to wait outside and start the meter.”

  * * *

  Vince Reimer stood and pulled out a chair for Amanda. Soft music played in the background and the few patrons left were finishing their drinks. The manager rushed over with the champagne in an ice bucket and one glass. Vince raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. He brushed the manager aside and poured for her.

  “So what’s your story?” he asked, assessing her with eyes the colour of anthracite.

  “My story?”

  “Yes. Every girl who works in my clubs has a story. What’s yours?”

  She looked at him evenly. He seemed to be toying with her, and she didn’t like it. She decided to be honest.

  “My story, as you put it, is simple. I was cooking in your kitchen back there, but I needed more money. So now I dance.”

  He pulled back and what passed for a smile touched his lips. “I see.”

  “I’m not sure you do, but I have to go.” She stood. “I have to get home.”

  He looked at her left hand. “Husband? Lover? Child?”

  “None of the above. Thank you for the champagne.” She hadn’t touched the pale liquid.

  She started to tremble as the cab pulled away. What had she done? She collapsed back against the seat. She’d find out soon enough. Tomorrow was Saturday, the busiest night of the week. If they were going to fire her, they’d do it tomorrow when the club closed.

  Vince appeared the next night and every night the following week. On Saturday evening, a knock came on the dressing room door. She opened it, not surprised to find him standing there.

  He inclined his head. “Miss Scott. Would you care to go out for lunch tomorrow?” He looked elegant standing there, overcoat thrown loosely over his shoulders.

  She smiled. “Thank you, I would enjoy that.”

  Over the next couple of months he became her new sounding board, listening intently as she spoke of her past, her hopes for her future, and her ongoing struggles to take care of her grandmother.

  “I just worry that my child-bearing years will pass me by while I’m taking care of Gran” she said one day. “I’ve always wanted to have children.”

  He picked up her hand and kissed it. “I’d like to help you with that.”

  His meaning was clear; she blushed. “I’m flattered, but all my energies are taken up with Gran.”

  He toyed with his cigarillo. The smell of them nauseated her, but she’d learned to hide that fact. “If you married me, I would arrange for full-time care for your grandmother. Then you’d be able to follow your dreams.”

  As proposals went, it wasn’t much. As a matter of fact, it sounded more like a proposition, but she couldn’t deny that the idea of care for her grandmother was appealing. Her grandmother wouldn’t admit it, but Amanda was certain she’d had a few more small strokes. Her condition was deteriorating slowly; it was becoming clear that there wasn’t going to be a full recovery.

  She studied him across the table. “Is that a proposal, Vince?” They hadn’t even slept together.

  He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not a hearts and flowers kind of guy, but yes, that was a proposal.” He reached across the table and took her hand again. “We could be good together, Amanda.”

  Chapter Five

  Amanda and Vince were married four weeks later. A quiet wedding in the chapel of a church on the North Shore was followed by a reception in Vince’s largest location, The Club on Broadway.

  Looking back on that day now, all she could remember was that she felt like an outsider, watching herself from a distance. Gran had suffered another stroke and was unable to speak, let alone attend a wedding. The only guest Amanda could call a friend was Maxine from The Club on Main.

  Maxine caught up with her in the ladies’ room. “You look lovely,” she said, admiring the simple white dress Amanda had chosen. “Where are you going to go on your honeymoon?”

  Amanda didn’t try to hide her disappointment. “We’re going to Vince’s cottage. Remember I told you about it a few weeks ago?”

  Maxine nodded. “Yes, you said it was nice up there.”

  Amanda hesitated. “It is, but we’ve been there twice now and both times he’s gone off and left me.”

  “What?”

  “Yes.” It felt good to confide in someone. “These...these guys show up in a boat. He says he’s going fishing and he disappears for hours, but he never comes back with any fish.”

  “And he’s taking you there on your honeymoon?”