"Who the heck is 'Lectrik Thunder?"

"They couldn't get the band that played on Victoria Day, and this is their replacement."

Ruby studied the garish poster depicting five frantic-haired youths in electric blue jackets with silver lapels, all caught in various performing poses.

"They play dance music?"

Henry laughed, and slung an arm over her shoulder. "We'll know soon enough."

"It isn't funny, Henry. This is a charity dance for veterans. The people coming won't be the high school crowd."

"Don't bet on it. I'm sure Elizabeth has vetted them thoroughly. She'll probably have them playing minuets."

She gave the poster a final look and moved away. "Do you even know what a minuet is?"

"I know there's sixty in an hour." He ducked the swat, laughing and grabbed her about the waist.

"Henry Toussaint, you are the most—"

His finger touched her lips. "And so are you, Ruby Bonner."

******

"I can't believe you agreed to- to what you agreed to." Wilma paced about their bedroom, haranguing Sean.

"We all agreed, Wilma, so don't lay this off on me. If you hadn't thrown yourself at Clive in the first place—"

Her stop was so abrupt she nearly fell over. "ME!"

"Yes you. Sneaking off to empty properties – what, were you christening them for Clive's profit?"

"At least it wasn't in the middle of town in the bank, for God's sake."

They suddenly stopped yelling and looked at one another. "This wasn't the agreement was it?" He said.

"No. No, it wasn't." She wrapped her arms about her and stood in front of him, head down.

"Kinda erases all the mystery and danger." He reached for her hand. "I don't think I want any agreement . . . unless it's with you, Willy."

The use of an old pet name brought a lump to her throat, and she looked up at him. "I don't think I do either." She took his hand and let him pull her down beside him on the sofa.

******

"Mister Pool, Mrs. Pool on line one."

"Thank you." He waited until the office door closed and he answered the phone.

"Olivia."

"Clive, I'm having second thoughts."

"About what?"

"The dance is Tuesday night and I think I'd like to go with just you, instead of what we all talked about."

He blinked several times, unable to respond.

"Is it too late for us, Clive?"

"Are you- are you being serious, Liv?"

"For the first time in a long time. I think our evening at the club made me think a little harder about what we were all – doing."

"You don't know how happy you've just made me, Olivia. Nonsense is over. Now on it's just you and me."

The call went on and on until the rap on the office door interrupted.

"Sir, you have two calls waiting on the other lines. They are getting angry."

"Right you are, Jean, put them through." He blew a kiss into the phone and burbled a goodbye.

******

"Mister Mayor, I'm sorry but that's how it is." Wilfred stifled a yawn. "You can't sue the Tribune and you can't sue Franklin Thatcher- well, you can sue them but it won't go anywhere. You're talking freedom of the press. The incidents took place publicly as were the photographs.

"It was unfortunate, I agree, but there's nothing you can do about it. . . . I understand, sir, it was embarrassing . . . yes, yes, people did laugh, but still, there's nothing you can really do, sir. I'm sorry. . . . No, don't apologize, you have every right to ask about your position. . . . No, there won't be a charge. I didn't really do anything, I wish I could have. . . . Right, right. So, better luck in the future, sir. . . . Right, goodbye."

Wilfred yawned again. Victoria Day had made him busier than he had been all year and he wasn't getting paid for any of it.

His mind went to the video that had been sent to his phone, and he gave an involuntary shudder. If Dorothy knew about that . . . he had managed a meeting with the sender, a wet behind the ears high school student, and put the fear of God, the law, and his parents into him. Of course, it remained on his own phone – a kind of souvenir.

"Give me a good old estate resolution any day." He rubbed his eyes and got up from his desk. After speaking with Dorothy, he had promised to speak to Esther and tell her she didn't have to worry about her position at the library. It was on the way home, so he headed out to tie up that one last loose end.

"Are you here alone? Where's Mrs Witherspoon?"

"She left early, I have to close up. How is your head?"

"My head . . . oh, from the accident. No, it's fine I just—"

"What have you done about the video." She broke in.

"It's taken care of. I told you I would. That's why I—"

"Oh, Wilfred." She came round the counter and hugged him, pushing them both back to the reading area.

A handful of leather upholstered chairs sat in loose formation around a large round table holding a scattering of popular magazines and newspapers. Wilfred landed hard on top of the collection, Esther spread-eagled on top of him. Before he could recover, a repeat of the pickup truck adventure was in full swing.

"Esther, what- oof. You can't- oooh . . ."

The counter bell suddenly sounded and they both froze.

"Hello? Anybody here? I want to return some books – hello?"

******

Three squirrels and a chipmunk raced around the trunk of the oak tree at the bottom of the garden. Ted sat in his lawn chair, teasing them by sucking his teeth and grinning when they stopped and stood up, looking. Roy came down and tapped him on the shoulder.

"The woman's here, Ted, Jill wants you to sit in while they talk."

"I'm not going to any hospice." He sucked his teeth again, watching the animals.

"No. That's why she's interviewing this lady here. C'mon, you can hear everything that's said."

Jill watched nervously as they came up from the garden to the patio and then made introductions.

"I hope you don't feel like we're ganging up on you, Mrs. Vargas. I asked my friend to be here for Dad." She glanced at Roy and away again.

"It's fine, Ms Baird. This is just fine. Call me Andrea, I've experienced a lot of different family settings." She looked at Ted and smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Baird." She held out a hand and Ted automatically responded.

"So, you want someone for maybe four days a week, is that what I understand?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure exactly what I want. I mean, I know I want help."

"What do you want help with?" Ted looked puzzled.

She took his hand, swallowing before she spoke. "I need help looking after you, Dad. I'm getting very tired, and there're a lot of things I would like to do . . . for me. You know?"

"Is that why she's here?"

"Mister Baird, I'm here because I understand you are a mechanic, and I have an old car that needs some loving care. I've heard that you are just the man to help with that."

Roy threw a surprised look at Jill, who was equally stunned.

"What kind of car?" Ted asked immediately.

"It's an old 1998 Pontiac Bonneville with over 300 thousand hard kilometres."

"Bring it around, I'll have a look." Ted nodded.

"I have it right outside, Mister Baird."

"Andrea, I don't think- we haven't discussed your role here or money or anything." Jill was wringing her hands.

"I'll go with Ted, and take a look." Roy accepted the keys and led the old man out of the garden and around the house.

"Ms Baird, I've done a lot of this type of work, and I've found that showing them I'm the one needing help, forms a better relationship. It removes suspicion for them. They don't feel like they are under attack, if you follow."

"I never thought of it that way. I've just been so focused on doing everything for him that I can."

"Naturally. But they need encouragement too. When those lucid moments kick in, it's important for them to feel needed not pitied."

"I think I'm going to have to bow to your expertise, Andrea – and please, call me Jill. Dad has many lucid moments, it's just that they come in unsuspecting bursts." She went on to describe what happened at the parade, and even Andrea looked surprised.

"Well, I would venture to say that his semantic memory is working quite well. It's the episodic memory that fails him."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"No reason you would if you hadn't studied it. Trust me, it's a labyrinth of scientific terms. To break it down, episodic is the recollection of personal experiences, details about events in one's life. Semantic is knowledge stored in the brain as facts, concepts, ideas, and objects, including language-related information.

"Mister Baird seems to have a strong Semantic memory, it's the routines, and remembering daily life that he can't retain." Andrea patted Jill's hand. "My dear, you aren't alone with situations like this, believe me. And I would be more than happy to work with your dad."