Episode 1: Some Dance to Remember, Some Dance to Forget

Noelle Armand had never seen Ottawa’s Parliament Hill as crowded as it was this Canada Day. She and Patrick MacPherson took in today's celebrations not far from the top of the hill. Crash Test Dummies had just finished playing, and Noelle had waited all day to see the Tragically Hip. The weather had been unusually warm today, with the temperatures near 30 degrees Celsius. It was a nice day for swimming, but Patrick wanted to leave the confines of the MacPherson winery, the confines of Claypool… just get the hell out of there for a change. For a change.

He just wished it weren’t so damned hot. Noelle wasn’t making him feel any better. She kept looking at her watch, counting down the minutes until the Tragically Hip would take the stage. The heat had been getting to her, too. The battery on her pocket fan had died earlier that afternoon, so Noelle had to fan herself with her t-shirt.

Like her, Patrick fanned the bottom of his t-shirt just a little more to let a breeze cool him, but not even that would help.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Noelle asked.

“Oh, can you get something for me, too?” she asked.

Patrick walked down the hill to the beer stand, braving the crowds as he went. They were constraining him, confining him…but surely he could survive walking down the hill and back.

Noelle looked at her watch again. Twenty minutes.

*****

Over in Claypool, between Ottawa and Toronto, Louisa Carroll polished a silver tea service for what seemed forever. She wanted this to be perfect, from the tea service to the hypoallergenic bedding in the guest rooms to the freshly baked bread on the cucumber sandwiches her younger brother Blaine would make for the grand opening of the Vineyards Inn later that afternoon.

“Blaine?” Louisa called out. He answered her promptly, as he had all these years since they’d grown up. Even after studying the finest culinary techniques at La Cuisine Armand, he know who was boss in the Carroll family.

Louisa made sure of that. She and Blaine argued incessantly when the inn was in the planning stages. She wanted him to wear the traditional chef’s whites when he worked in the kitchen.

“It would make you look more professional,” she remarked.

Blaine had had enough of the “professional” look and the starched white uniforms when he studied at Stephane and Thérèse Armand’s famed cooking school. The Armands thought the same thing, but at least Blaine and Louisa were able to compromise about the attire.

Blaine studied the apron and toque, and then his face broke out into a smile. Louisa had the garments custom printed and hand stitched with the new logo of the Vineyards Inn and “Chef Blaine Carroll” embroidered on the apron.

Louisa smiled back. “Say ‘thank you’, and then let me know how you’re coming with the tea.”

Blaine replied in the affirmative, and Louisa walked into the small, yet professionally appointed kitchen. “That should be more than enough,” she said. After all, she would only be entertaining family and close friends for the grand opening of the Vineyards. She wouldn’t be entertaining the entire town. Yet.

*****

Seth MacPherson was so looking forward to Louisa’s entertainment. They hadn’t seen each other since his wife Margaret passed away last year. It was about time he’d stopped moping about and have some fun for a change. The year since Margaret’s death added a few more lines to Seth’s already distinguished face, but his graying beard covered much of it. His blue eyes, though, couldn’t hide the details of his mourning. This was the first time the sparkle would return.

Today would be the day, he thought. She and Blaine would prepare a marvellous dinner. And I’ll even bring the wine.

Seth stroked his beard thoughtfully as he pondered. He surveyed the cavernous interior of the MacPherson cellar with the same studious eye his father, and his father before him, had. Dad and Grand-dad had educated him well in the fine art of winemaking, and it was only a matter of time before he would bestow that education upon Patrick, his older son.

What’ll it be? A ’96 Merlot? Or one of last year’s Chardonnays? I wish Patrick were here to help me decide.

Patrick MacPherson was nowhere to be found.

*****

Noelle wished Patrick would hurry up. She was getting very thirsty, and very impatient.

Patrick made it back to their spot on the hill, drinks in hand, just in time. He put his arm around her, but she brushed it off. She didn’t want to get too close too soon. She noticed Patrick had been acting strangely all afternoon, but she brushed that off, too.

Maybe he’s just impatient, she thought. I don’t blame him for wanting to get out of Claypool for a day or two.

“Patrick…”

He insisted on wrapping his arm around her.

“I don’t think we should do this just yet,” she pleaded.

“Why not?”

“I’m just…not comfortable about it.”

“C’mon. Have a little beer. Maybe that’ll loosen you up a bit.” He handed her his cup. She waved it away. He insisted.

“Come on. Just one sip?”

Noelle pushed away the beer and tried to dissuade Patrick yet again.

Patrick took the opportunity to advance to Noelle again. She did her best to push him away. Again.

Insistent, isn’t he? Why the hell is he acting like such a jerk?

Uptight Catholic girl, he thought. So she wants to save herself for marriage.

“Perhaps we should go elsewhere to talk about this,” Patrick told her, in a tone which meant business. Noelle could mean business, too.

*****

Louisa grabbed one of the cucumber sandwiches from the plate Blaine had set them on, just to make sure they met with her high standards.

“I figured with a jasmine tea, these would make for a great afternoon,” Blaine smiled.

Louisa smiled back and turned around as Blaine continued his preparations for the rest of the meal. The food definitely met the Vineyards—and the Carroll family—seal of approval.

Sure, they met those exacting standards, but exacting standards were what La Cuisine Armand expected of him. Stephane and Thérèse may have taught Blaine how to prepare gourmet meals with classical French technique, but the simplicity of cucumber tea sandwiches demanded the same attention Blaine would give to the more substantial meal of the evening.

Louisa walked back into the sitting room, and Blaine continued his preparations without interruption.

They’ll be the best cucumber tea sandwiches in the entire province. Sisters! Well, whatever Louisa wants, Louisa gets.

*****

Noelle threw the beer at Patrick, like she wanted to do ever since he persisted with her.

"Didn't you understand me?" Noelle asked in a panic. "What part of nodidn't you understand?"

"All you Catholic girls are alike," Patrick grimaced. "You say no when you really mean yes. You had no right...no right...to tease me like this!"

"What the hell are you talking about? I didn't do a thing. Not a single thing."

“Oh…I know your kind,” he sneered. “I know all about your kind. You parade around in those tight sweaters and short skirts…just like Madonna. That’s it. You want to be Dr. Madonna, with your cute little lab coat and stethoscope. That little cross you wear around your neck is a dead giveaway. You think you’re squeaky clean and holier-than-thou, but I know you better than that. You’re just asking for it. Slut!”

Patrick tore the cross from her neck, then threw it on the ground and stepped on it. He then slammed her to the ground and straddled her. The weight crushed Noelle like a ton of bricks, so much that she couldn’t breathe. She tried to fight him. Even when she tried to push him off, he only pressed harder. As he tore her shirt away, she closed her eyes tightly.

“Oh, dear God,” Noelle thought. Please, please, sweet Jesus…if you have any mercy at all… Please. Let me breathe.

That was the last thing Noelle Armand remembered.

*****