Page 31 of All The Wrong Notes

The newspapers, thankfully, had been silent on the theft, and the arts centre, for now at least, was still operating under the guidance of the president of the board, who had stepped in as interim director. Elise had no idea how long the doors could stay open. She had been warned not to contact anyone on the board, so she had no way of knowing how things stood.

It was like someone had ripped a jagged hole out of the middle of her life, and taken her heart with it.

Then, on a blustery Tuesday morning shortly after the Ides of March, there came a knock at her apartment door.

How strange! No one had buzzed up to be let into the building, and Janet always let her know when she was coming over. Not that Elise had heard from Janet recently. Who else could it be? Maybe a workman, needing access to a vent or someone coming to check the smoke alarms.

She pulled her hair back into a semblance of a ponytail and glanced down to make sure she was decent, if not beautifully dressed. “Just a moment,” she called.

Elise peered through the peephole to see who was there, and her eyes went wide. She flung the door open to one of the best sights she had seen recently.

There stood Gwen, with her multi-hued hair, bright red lipstick, a cardboard tray with two cups of something hot, a bag that smelled like it contained something delicious, and a huge grin on her face. She walked in without an invitation, put her burden on the closest table, and pulled Elise into a big hug.

“Oh, you look rough!” She stepped back, shaking her head.

“Thanks. It’s great to see you, too.” More tears. Go away! “Seriously, though, it is wonderful to see you. You must know what’s happened. It’s been pretty dreadful. Does… does Will know you’re here?”

Gwen threw off her coat and pulled the cups out of their paper nesting tray. “Will can wait. We’ve got more important things to do. Here’s a mochaccino. Chocolate and coffee. I figured you could use both. And cheese-and-cherry Danishes. No, you sit. I’ve got paper towels and napkins, and we don’t need fancy dishes. No arguments.”

She plopped herself onto the sofa, her usual scarves fluttering about her in a whirlwind of silk and colour. Elise, seeing no other viable alternative, joined her.

“Thank you!” she mumbled through a mouth full of tasty, flaky pastry. “You don’t know how much I’ve needed this.” The mochaccino was heaven in a cup, as much for the thoughtfulness behind it as for the drink itself.

Gwen reached over and pulled her into a one-shoulder hug. “I’ve been in some pretty bad places myself. Friends were few and far between for a while.” She pulled off a piece of her own pastry and added, “I should have come by a while ago, but… for various reasons that I can’t get into right now, I needed to stay away. I’m sorry. I wanted to, I really did.”

Elise blinked. What did she mean by that? But something else came out of her mouth.

“It’s hard to picture you in a bad place. You’re so vibrant, so confident. You seem like you’ve got the world in your hand.”

“I wasn’t always like this. It’s a long story. We’ll get into it someday, but now I’m here to cheer you up! I won’t ask how you’re doing. Let’s talk about art instead. There’s an exhibit coming up at the art gallery, and I wondered if you’d like to go. Will said—”

Elise inhaled deeply. “Please, I have to ask this. What does he know? What does he think he knows? I am so sorry about what happened, and if he blames me, I understand. It’s like a nightmare, but I can’t wake up from it. I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry!” She must have seemed like a mad creature, all frazzled and unkempt, with the words tumbling from her mouth before she even knew what they were.

Gwen peered at her. “Sorry? Why would you be sorry?”

At that moment, Elise’s phone rang. She stared at it for a second, afraid to touch it. She knew that number as well. It was Kiran Singh at the bank. Her hands already felt like they’d been burned. She had spoken to Ms Singh twice since that first horrible meeting, but it was only to hear that the investigation was ongoing. With her heart beating in her ears, she pressed the green dot and accepted the call.

“Ms Benzion? Kiran Singh here. You’ll probably want to come in for a proper meeting, but I wanted to tell you that the money has been recovered. I—are you alright?”

What was she hearing? Elise gasped for air. Then again, and again.

“Ms Benzion? Can you hear me?” The banker’s voice sounded over the phone.

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. Can you repeat that? I can’t believe what I’ve just heard.”

“It’s good news. We don’t know if it was a banking error right now or what, but the funds are in the accounts again. We’re still working with the land registry office to see what happened with the land, but we’ll have that straightened up soon. Can I send you an email to set up a meeting? We’ll need to coordinate it with the board and the interim director. Later this week?”

Elise choked out her gratitude for the call and her agreement about the meeting at any convenient time. It wasn’t like she had a job to go to, after all. Then she ended the call and gaped at Gwen, her mouth hanging open.

“I… Did you hear that? I can’t believe it.”

Gwen’s grin grew even wider. That look on her face was entirely too self-satisfied.

“You knew?”

“I couldn’t tell you until it was official. But I wanted to be here to celebrate with you. Have another piece of pastry.”

“Wait! How did you know? What’s going on?” She levelled her eyes at Gwen, who looked back with a sheepish expression.

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