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Charlie stuck out his hand.  "I'm Charles.  Charles Chan.  You?"

Holy cow! If Charlie's dad could hear him now, he'd do the happy dance.  If he even knew what it was.  Charlie didn't have the slight accent his first generation Canadian father retained, but he certainly sounded like the stuck up, sour dill pickle up his butt, older man.

Talk about posturing.

A pall-like silence descended as the two tested each other's mettle.

From where she stood she could see the colour leave Charlie's knuckles as the two of them gripped hands hard enough to break bones.  Apparently each gave as good as they got.

Men!

For the first time she realized how alike these two men were.  Her best friend and this man who, for some reason, affected her like none other.

As they stood there, nearly eye to eye—huh, she'd never thought of it, but wasn't Charlie sort of tall for a Chinese guy?—the similarities in their bearing didn't escape her.

While Charlie liked to play up his flamboyant, colourful side when it suited him, Jonathan tried to keep anything resembling whimsical under wraps—well, except with his sister.

Both of them had been born with the proverbial silver spoon in their mouths, but it was the qualities they shared that made them kindred.  Things like loyalty, honour.  The kind of guys who would stick around even when the going got tough.

Jonathan cricked his neck in one of those self chiropractic moves then speared M with a look.  His face remained devoid of expression, appearing unmoved by Charlie's show of force.

"I'll take a wild guess and say that Em has already told you who and what I am.  Maybe she'll return the favour and introduce us properly."

Wondering if that was a shot at her lack of propriety, and deciding she didn't care, M left the door open—making way for a quick exit—and walked over to them.

"Jonathan, this is Char…uh…Charles Chan.  A good friend of mine.  Char…les, this is Jonathan Davenport.  My boss."

Taking Charlie's arm, she began to pull him toward the door.  Her eyes still on Jonathan, confused at the charade that had just played out before her eyes, she said, "We're just going out for a while.  I'll see you in the morning."

Dragging Charlie behind her, she marched out the door, closing it a tad too forcefully behind her once they cleared it.

They were in his car before she unclenched her teeth enough to speak.  "How come you're so tall?  Chinese people usually aren't, you know?"

He guffawed.  "Trying to avoid the real issue here, M?"

Leaning across the console, she flicked him upside the head with a finger.  "No.  I really want to know why you're so tall."

Charlie guided the car safely onto the street before reaching over and giving her hair a tug.  "Who knows?  Maybe I'm a genetic aberration.  Or maybe there's some truth to the school of thought that says many Asians used to be shorter because of a diet that retards growth.  I could be tall because my mother forced me to eat my meat and veggies when I was a kid.  Now, enough of this.  What was that all about?"

Her jaw dropped.  "What?  You're asking me?  I had nothing to do with the little drama you two just played out."

"Huh.  Sorry to disillusion you sweetie, but you had everything to do with it!  Why did you need to get out of the house?"

She flopped back in her seat and groaned.  "Because I was afraid."

Charlie slammed on the brakes and came to a stop in the middle of the residential street.  "What? Why that…"  He started into a three point turn.

Grabbing the steering wheel to stop him, M said, "Charlie, would you stop getting all big brother on me and just listen?  He didn't do anything wrong.  As a matter of fact, he's been helpful and nice.  He's offered to let me cater a business dinner.  He had me cook for him tonight as a trial run.  He…I don't know.  He just makes me reach a little farther every time I feel like giving up.  He reminds me of you—just different."

He pushed her hand off the wheel and guided the car to the curb.  "Then I don't get it.  Why are you afraid?"

After springing the latch on her seatbelt, she turned in her seat, pulling one leg up under herself.  She curled her lips in, took a deep breath, and thought about his question.

Charlie settled his back against the car door.  "M?  Why are you afraid?"

"Because I've decided I'd be better off alone, and he…he makes me want to rescind that decision."

"Oh.  So we're back to there's black and white and nothing in between."

She clenched her fists.  "Get off it, Charlie."

"No.  How many times have I told you that's going to get you into trouble?  And here we are."

Closing her eyes, and resting her head against the back of her seat, she considered his claim.   Was he right?  Maybe.  Maybe not.

"Charlie, you know what happened with Stephen and his family.  You know how they treated me.  I can't live through that again.  Something went missing from their fine house and they all looked at me.  They all accused me of theft.  Even Stephen didn't stand up for me.  He just fell in line with the common view that someone like me—someone with my background—wouldn't be able to control herself surrounded by all those nice things.  Oh, Stephen tried to sugar coat it by saying he understood.  That after all, how could I resist the temptation?  But the bottom line was even though he claimed to love me, he couldn't see anything but my past."

"Then he didn't love you, and you're better off without him.  Don't let that experience colour everything else.  Think about something.  Besides the obvious, what's the difference between me, Stephen and Jonathan?"

She snorted.  "Is that question for real?"

He reached over and lightly punched her shoulder.  "Yeah.  Don't all three of us have the same kind of background?  Aren't we all the disdainful 'upper class,' as apposed to your 'lower class?'  I'm just like them.  Yet here we are.  You and me.  Upper and lower.  And you're cool with that.  Why?"

"Because you're you.  It's different."

He didn't say anything, just hiked up his forehead and shot her a look.

Okay, that was a lame answer, but she didn't want to accept that he was right.  That when it came to Charlie, she'd already unconsciously embraced the idea that grey areas could and did exist.  That she could be comfortable in a grey area.  Why wasn't she willing to make other allowances?  As far as Stephen went, he was in the past where he deserved to be.  That chapter of her life was done, and somehow, without her even realizing it, she'd quietly come to terms with it.  But what about Jonathan?  Was she willing to open her heart and give whatever was budding between them a chance?  Did she dare?  Because she honestly didn't think she could take the searing pain of rejection again.

She turned herself back around in her seat and rested her head back against the rest.  Gazing out the window, she took in the stately homes marching up the street.  The manicured lawns, the four car garages.  Was she a fool for thinking there might be a chance she could fit into this neighbourhood?  Fit in with these people?

She closed her eyes and sighed.  "Just drive, Charlie.  Get me out of here."

He tucked a swath of hair behind her left ear.  "Okay.  We're outta here."

A few minutes later, she opened her eyes, wondering where they were headed, but not terribly interested.  They were travelling east on Highway 401.  Eighteen lanes across at some points, and all of them still busy at—she glanced at the clock on the dash—nine o'clock on a week night.

She loved this city.  Maybe things would work out and she could stay.

Charlie interrupted her thoughts.  "So he's helpful and nice, eh?  Tell me about him."

It took her several beats to respond.  "Well, I told you before he offered to help with my business plan."  She snorted.  "And today, well, I was feeling like I should just pack it all in.  Forget this whole idea.  But he challenges me, you know?  He wouldn't just let me give up.  He says things that make me angry, but I've figured out he's baiting me to clear my head and pull me out of the dumps.  He does that and suddenly everything clarifies.  Anyway, he suggested I was giving up because maybe I really couldn't cook…"  She scowled at Charlie's bark of laughter.  "…and had me make supper for him and Alicia tonight."

"So what's the problem?  He doesn't sound like a bad guy."

M heaved a sigh.  "He's not."  She closed her eyes.  "I'd don't want to talk about him."

"Okay."

She settled herself in her seat, the silence between the two of them comfortable and easy, but her thoughts troubling.  She was vaguely conscious of leaving Toronto proper and heading into the smaller suburban cities to the east.  Other than sign posts, there was nothing to show the demarcation of Toronto's urban sprawl.

A little later they were sitting on a bench, mere feet away from the rock face that defined the northern shore of Lake Ontario in spots east of Toronto.  As always, the sound of the water soothed.  Refreshed.

She leaned her head on Charlie's shoulder, drawing comfort from his presence as well.

"I think I love him, Charlie."

His arm wrapped around her shoulders, and he gave them a squeeze.  "Does he deserve your love?"

"I'm…not sure.  I think so.  But I'm not sure."

"Then promise me you'll be careful until you know for sure.  Don't let him hurt you."

"I promise."

Installment 28 Coming Soon!

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Thanks to Nan Donahue for sharing one of her manuscripts.