There was a long silence. “That’s bad timing, Ashley. You and I have always spent Christmas together.”
“I can’t help—”
“You’re all I have, you know.”
“Yes, Father, and…you’re all I have.”
“That’s what’s important.”
Important enough to kill for?
“Where is this convention?”
“In Quebec City. It’s—”
“Ah. Lovely place. I haven’t been there in years. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I haven’t anything scheduled at the hospital around that time. I’ll fly up, and we’ll have a Christmas dinner together.”
Ashley said quickly, “I don’t think it’s—”
“You just make a reservation for me at whatever hotel you’re staying at. We don’t want to break tradition, do we?”
She hesitated and said slowly, “No, Father.”
How can I face him?
Alette was excited. She said to Toni, “I’ve never been to Quebec City. Do they have museums there?”
“Of course they have museums there,” Toni told her. “They have everything. A lot of winter sports. Skiing, skating…”
Alette shuddered. “I hate cold weather. No sports for me. Even with gloves, my fingers get numb. I will stick to the museums.…”
On the twenty-first of December, the group from Global Computer Graphics arrived at the Jean-Lesage International Airport in Sainte-Foy and were driven to the storied Chateau Frontenac in Quebec City. It was below zero outside, and the streets were blanketed with snow.
Jean Claude had given Toni his home telephone number. She called as soon as she checked into her room. “I hope I’m not calling too late.”
“Mais non! I cannot believe you are here. When may I see you?”
“Well, we’re all going to the convention center tomorrow morning, but I could slip away and have lunch with you.”
“Bon! There is a restaurant, Le Paris-Brest, on the Grande Allée Est. Can you meet me there at one o’clock?”
“I’ll be there.”
The Centre des Congrès de Quebec on Rene Lévesque Boulevard is a four-story, glass-and-steel, state-of-the-art building that can accommodate thousands of conventioneers. At nine o’clock in the morning, the vast halls were crowded with computer experts from all over the world, exchanging information on up-to-the-minute developments. They filled multimedia rooms, exhibit halls and video-conferencing centers. There were half a dozen seminars going on simultaneously. Toni was bored. All talk and no action, she thought. At 12:45, she slipped out of the convention hall and took a taxi to the restaurant.
Jean Claude was waiting for her. He took her hand and said warmly, “Toni, I am so pleased you could come.”
“So am I.”
“I will try to make certain that your time here is very agreeable,” Jean Claude told her. “This is a beautiful city to explore.”
Toni looked at him and smiled. “I know I’m going to enjoy it.”
“I would like to spend as much time with you as I can.”
“Can you take the time off? What about the jewelry store?”
Jean Claude smiled. “It will have to manage without me.”
The maître d’ brought menus.
Jean Claude said to Toni, “Would you like to try some of our French-Canadian dishes?”
“Fine.”
“Then please let me order for you.” He said to the maître d’, “Nous voudrions le Brome Lake Duckling.” He explained to Toni, “It is a local dish, duckling cooked in calvados and stuffed with apples.”
“Sounds delicious.”
And it was.
During luncheon, they filled each other in on their pasts.
“So. You’ve never been married?” Toni asked.
“No. And you?”
“No.”
“You have not found the right man.”
Oh, God, wouldn’t it be wonderful if it were that simple. “No.”
They talked of Quebec City and what there was to do there.
“Do you ski?”
Toni nodded. “I love it.”
“Ah, bon, moi aussi. And there is snowmobiling, ice-skating, wonderful shopping…”
There was something almost boyish about his enthusiasm. Toni had never felt more comfortable with anyone.
Shane Miller arranged it so his group attended the convention mornings and had their afternoons free.
“I don’t know what to do here,” Alette complained to Toni. “It’s freezing. What are you going to do?”
“Everything.” Toni grinned.
“A piil tardi.”
Toni and Jean Claude had lunch together every day, and every afternoon, Jean Claude took Toni on a tour. She had never seen any place like Quebec City. It was like finding a turn-of-the-century picturesque French village in North America. The ancient streets had colorful names like Break Neck Stairs and Below the Fort and Sailor’s Leap. It was a Currier & Ives city, framed in snow.