Gervase was clearing out the meeting room on Thursday morning, stashing away the extra chairs. On Tank’s advice, he noted the spread of the darkening stain on the ceiling. It was definitely larger than it had been yesterday, when he’d been setting up. Time to send in a report to the board; after that, there would be an estimate of repairs to organize. As he walked back to his desk, Hans and Sebastian came through the lobby, Lake Espresso cups in hand.
“Morning, Gervase. Is there an all-clear in the meeting room? We’re looking for a place to chat.” Hans occasionally used the meeting room; maybe the Cabot son was a new client.
“All yours.”
Earlier, on the way down the hill for coffee, Sebastian had chatted about his decision to list with R.M., without any idea that Hans was waiting, hoping for a chance to confide in him.
On the walk back, they’d talked about how people met; about the way, with a routine life, one sometimes arrived at the same time at the same traffic light, with the same vehicles every day, and how one gradually began to recognize those people, even though no-one ever spoke. That, as opposed to two people sharing the same bus stop every day, and gradually striking up an acquaintance. Proximity didn’t necessarily equal opportunity. There was that old saw about future spouses meeting at weddings, and the role a chance meeting might play in a forming a relationship. They had met the old-fashioned way; a mutual acquaintance, Mrs. James, simply to be well-mannered, had introduced them.
“However it happened, I’m happy it did.” Sebastian declared. “You know a lot more people, so it’s been easier around here since we started to talk, well, for me, anyway. I like having somebody to walk with, for coffee.” Now they were alone in the meeting room, Hans felt freer to open up.
“Yes, it’s good to have someone who’s easy to talk to. And who listens. I think I’ve been missing that, most of all. I haven’t mentioned it before but I’ve had a long-term relationship end, so I guess I’ve been a bit more lonely than usual.”
“I’m here for you then, friend. What’s up?”
“I came back on Monday from this conference and realized that I really wanted to talk about what’d gone on there. Nobody to tell anymore. Not the actual conference but the stuff I noticed personally, what I thought.”
“I’ve never been to a meeting of accountants before.” Sebastian laughed. “Is it as boring as it sounds?”
“Here’s something I found out,” Hans said, pleased to be telling it at last, “at the casino in the hotel. I didn’t gamble myself – I can’t afford to lose – but I was watching the people from the conference who did. They seemed to be mostly playing the slots, so I thought I’d conduct a informal survey and asked the staff if that was true. Bingo!”
” You’re quite a card yourself, Hans.” Sebastian quipped.
“Hey, they said it was true. They also said that the best gamblers they’ve ever had there were Buddhists.”
“How so?”
“Seems they are completely focused, very logical, and fearless of risk.”
“Amazing. What else?”
“The Soo was a lot more interesting than I’d imagined.”
“Oh, is that where you went? I love it up there, in the U.P. Did you get over to the locks?”
“Took the tour. I found all that procedure and precision very soothing.”
“Ha! the truth comes out. What else did you do?”
“In my free time, I had to do interviews but I was intrigued by the brochures about Drummond Island – the island golf, the shipwrecks, the lighthouse, the star gazing – ever stayed on an island?”
“You have to understand about me that I collect places. Bred in the bone. So, lots of islands, yes, and that one is actually on my bucket list.”
“Nice.” Sebastian drained his cup but waited, sensing there might be more from Hans. He was right. “I’m thinking of maybe selling my unit, too.”
“Really? Moving where? Let me guess. An island paradise?”
“I wish. Sounds crazy maybe, but no, buying another unit on the same floor.”
“The reason being…?”
“Mine’s a one bedroom, the smallest and cheapest unit in the place, on the lowest floor. It’s not what I really wanted at the time but well, that’s what he…got decided. Since then, I’ve started working from home and could really use an extra space, for an office. I can’t swing a two bedroom, like yours, but there’s a one plus den on the lake side, on my floor. She’s moving out.”
“Who’s ’she’?
Hans really didn’t want to say. A cousin of his, when they were growing up, used to complain, understandably, about how his mother had inflicted punishment by making her son kneel on peas, not the soft, squishy, cooked kind but the mercilessly hard and small, dried, uncooked ones. His cousin told him how bad this was but how squirming or moving made the pain worse. Hans felt like squirming now, too. Was there even a way to tell Sebastian about all of this without implicating himself, much less revealing the behavior of Peter, or Kitty? He worried that Sebastian would think less of him because of his association with people like them.
“Too much to tell? Never mind, Hans. Tell me when it’s easier, when you know I’m good at secrets.” Hans recognized the kindness; he could get used to kindness.
Pied-a-terre is a French expression - 'foot on the ground' - for a small, second residence, often a city condo.
“Thanks. If I’m going to move, at least it’ll be a relatively inexpensive and quick change, with fewer disruptions. I do like the building, and I have clients here.”
“Makes sense, then. We’ll be in it together. I like this place, too. In fact, I’m wondering if Matthew and I might not think about buying yours. We were saying that we need a pied-a-terre type unit somewhere downtown, for times when either he or I are in town. Something handy and small but with some services included. Do you have a parking space?”
Hans was stunned. Things like this didn’t happen to him. He stammered out a yes.
“Good, ’cause that would be important. We’d need to pay much less than we hope to sell for, of course, but we have the money now, unfortunately, and can set our housing costs for years to come, unlike with rents that are sure to go up with demand, as availability goes down. At least, that’s what Matthew says.”
God bless Matthew, Hans silently prayed, afraid to speak, lest this lucky spell be broken.
“Not that I know what I’m going to be doing for sure, or where exactly either, but he and I can easily share a one bedroom. Our twin beds are still upstairs! It’d be nice for us to come home and have a friend on the same floor, and as you say, staying in the building would simplify moving. You any good at watering plants? And, if we won’t need it for a year, I guess we could rent it out. So, Hans, are you going to show me your place, or what?”
“Of course.” Hans stumbled. “But it’s not in showing condition.”
“Hey, remember who you’re talking to here. I’m an expert at this getting ready for showings, well, I’ve spoken with an expert anyway.”
Hans and Sebastian stood together waiting for the elevator, embarking on their joint endeavor. Gervase realized he was having his own Mrs. James type moment; it wasn’t whom he was seeing, but whom he wasn’t.