Keychains ✔

IV

Hannah and I had agreed to meet at her apartment after work. Friday nights were perfect for a late-night baking session, as well as catching up on the month that Hannah had been away in France. I'd already seen her at La Patisserie Dans La Lune earlier in the week, where we'd greeted each other enthusiastically. Hannah was busy updating her menu for the new season. Emmanuel had brought her up to speed, though as she'd remarked, Emmanuel had done a fine job of running the shop himself. In fact, it was why Hannah was able to go home a little early, and I had wiggled myself out of my responsibilities as marketing manager. 

I needed time with Hannah to talk about the inheritance. Her presence grounded me from making some surely irrational decisions, and I hoped she'd hold me accountable for seeing this to the end. One way or another.

As for Hannah, she'd decided to leave it in Emmanuel's hands. It surprised me. It was true that Emmanuel was capable. In fact, now that Emmanuel had added his own additions to the menu, Hannah was teaching him more of the shop's inner workings. But it surprised me because Hannah always looked forward to Friday nights. The shop transformed into an inexhaustive flurry of customers, and Hannah loved it.

Hopefully she wasn't doubting her skills as a confectioner again. I asked Emmanuel this. "Nah, don't think so. The opposite, actually. She's been adventurous with the menu." He was right. The chalkboard calligraphy popped with new, exotic-sounding experiments that all sounded delicious. I eyed the golden cream puffs Emmanuel brought out of the kitchen. A shame I had to watch my cholesterol.

At home, I dropped off my work supplies—no distractions from work tonight—and hopped in the shower. My hair needed a fresh layer of dark dye. Not that it could ever go back to its tawny shade. I may as well stop after this one, like I had with my concealer—it'd save me money and time. But blow-drying was a quick affair. Cropping your hair above the shoulders was perhaps the best decision I'd made. It was wonderfully time-efficient.

Fifteen minutes later, I arrived at Hannah's house. These modest townhouses were nestled in the northern suburban patch of downtown. I had considered living here, primarily to give my future pet some outdoor place and my own sense of freedom. Four years and a homebody-Meabh later, I was glad for my apartment.

Meabh sneezed from inside her crate. "Please don't let it be an allergy," I sighed. I knocked on the door.

"It's unlocked," Hannah called from inside.

Hannah's place was tidy, like mine, but the colour-coordinated rugs, furniture and light pieces made it feel like stepping into a modernized nineteenth-century home. I unlatched Meabh's crate. Meabh waltzed out and into Hannah's waiting hands. She picked her up. Her blond locks spilled over Meabh like a Goldilocks wig, and I stifled a laugh.

"Is that flour?" I asked. Hannah had left powdery handprints all over Meabh's fur like a Milky Way galaxy. Meabh shook herself, and yawned. A powdery cloud bloomed in the air.

"Flour never hurt anyone," Hananh replied with a grin. She tied her blond hair into a messy bun. Even when baking, Hannah wore her rusted pendant that complemented and brought the richness in her eyes.

She clasped her hands together. "Where do you want to start? I prepped all the baking things we need."

"Let's save it for later. You rarely post anything online while you're abroad. So? What was it like?"

Hannah laughed. "I promise, it's nothing new."

On the couch, she crossed her legs and leaned back, like she was brainstorming a future scene in her novel. I listened as she recounted memorable moments in her family reunion and the extended version of how her great-grandparents met. All of her souvenirs from France were displayed on her living room mantelpiece. There was the usual array: a miniature Eiffel tower, a romance novel propped on a small easel (no doubt she envisioned publishing her own), a frosted glass perfume cork, and photos of Hannah and her family in France. Aside from an additional picture, Hannah hadn't brought home anything new. Strange.