Chapter 1

Greg woke up slowly and reluctantly. He'd returned from a ten-day business trip the night before, and he was bushed. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. At least he was home for a while and in his own bed. Hotels were all well and good, but there was truly no place like home. He stood and made his way to the john. When he finished his business, he walked toward his closet. He'd almost reached it when he yelled out and held his right foot. "Christ," he yelled, 'what the fuck is that?" He'd stepped on something sharp. The culprit sparkled in the sunlight. It was a blue thing that looked like something women put in their hair. Probably Amy's, Greg thought, although blue didn't seem to be one of her colours. In fact, he couldn't recall if he'd ever seen her wear anything blue. Maybe it belonged to one of her friends. As usual, his niece Amy had been house sitting for him while he was out of town. She often invited friends in. He knew because she always asked him ahead of time. And he always said yes.

He was also annoyed to recall that it was Sunday and therefore the day of Amy's birthday party. Since she was a little girl, she'd always been his favourite among his nieces and nephews. He certainly didn't want to disappoint her. And he wanted to see her reaction to the gift he'd bought for her. He'd simply have to steel himself and go to the party.

Greg knew that he spoiled Amy rotten, but he couldn't help himself. Perhaps if he and Lynn had children it would be different. God knew that they'd tried. Consulted more than one fertility expert. All the doctors had been in agreement. There seemed to be no physical reason that Greg and Lynn couldn't conceive. But no matter what strategy they tried, nothing happened.

Then, suddenly, there was no more Lynn, and Amy was all he had. That stupid, senseless accident. He'd never forget the image of Lynn lying in the snow. Massive head trauma, the doctors said. She survived in a coma for over two weeks. From the beginning, the doctors advised turning off the life support. Finally Greg had agreed. After almost five years, he still wasn't sure he'd made the right decision.

Greg had breakfast, finished unpacking his suitcases, and chose the clothes to wear to Amy's party. He bathed, shaved and dressed. Finally, he was ready to go. He looked at himself in the mirror, forcing a smile. "Show time," he said.

It was a typical gray February in Toronto. The only good thing was the relatively light Sunday traffic. Greg found a parking place with little difficulty and rang the bell. He was greeted warmly by his brother-in-law, Amy's dad, and shown into the living room. As he'd expected, it was filled with kids. There were a few sullen-looking boys with piercings and tattoos. But most of the guests were girls. He corrected himself. They were young women, not girls. Amy was twenty-two today, and he assumed that her friends were of a similar age.

Amy immediately spotted him. He found himself enveloped in one of her bear-hugs. "Uncle Greg," she screamed in his ear, "come and meet my friends." She dragged him into the fray. She introduced him to everyone in the room. Greg knew that he'd never remember any of their names. He felt quite helpless.

Then he spotted a new arrival. She certainly stood out from the crowd. She was petite with curly coal-black hair, blue almond-shaped eyes and incredibly white skin. Greg thought she looked like an ivory doll. But what really set her apart from the others was the way she was dressed. She was wearing a beaded white top and a shiny black skirt with some sort of bright silver appliqué in the shape of a bird. The other girls were in jeans, usually far too tight, and crop tops. They were showing lots of belly and butt in the area between the end of their shirts and the beginning of their jeans. This new arrival seemed oddly overdressed for the occasion. Her costume might have been more appropriate at a cocktail party or a theatre opening. Greg was intrigued.

Megan stopped in her tracks. There he was, standing near a bunch of what she thought of as "the air heads." "God, it's him," she said to herself. "Well, here goes nothing." She smoothed her skirt and walked over to Greg. She smiled and held out her hand, which he took. "Hello," she said, "You're Amy's Uncle Greg," she said. "I recognize you from your pictures. I'm Megan O'Hara. We've never met, although I've slept in your bed."

Greg was a bit nonplused. Then he slowly grinned. Of course, he'd heard about Amy's friend Megan. Not long after Amy began house-sitting for him she'd asked if Megan could stay with her. Greg had given his permission and then laughingly said that he had only three rules for house-sitting: don't burn down the house, don't wreck the car, and don't get pregnant. Yes, he'd heard of Megan. Amy had mentioned her many times. He recalled that Amy had even mentioned that Megan was half Japanese. That would account for the shape of her eyes.

"Well," he said, "the next time you're there I'll try not to miss it."

Megan blushed. She laughed and said, "Touché. Amy's probably told you that I'm a bit of a tease. It looks as though I've met my match."

Greg looked perplexed. He said, "Why would you think I was teasing you?" Megan blushed again. She was confused. Was this guy really hitting on her? Or was he teasing?.

The situation changed with Amy's arrival. "Oh great," she said, "you two have met. Megan is one of my closest and dearest friends. Both of you come with me. The bar is in the kitchen." When she was small, Greg's pet name for his niece was "Hurricane Amy." Now he and Megan followed in the wake of the hurricane.

Greg and Megan poured themselves glasses of wine. A covey of air heads descended on the bar. Megan said, "Greg, if you don't mind I'll just stand back there by the pantry. It's getting a bit crowded here."

Greg smiled at her. He said, "May I join you?"

She smiled back at him. "Of course," she said, "please do."

The two stood in the pantry doorway. "So you're him," Megan said, "the famous Greg Young."

Greg laughed. "Hardly famous," he said.

"You seem famous to me. I've heard so much about you from Amy. If you've done half the things she's told me about, you're either famous or deserve to be."

Now it was Greg's turn to blush. "Well," he said, "flattery will get you anywhere with me."

Megan grinned. "And I," she said, "am a master of feminine wiles. Flatter, promise everything, deliver almost nothing."

Greg said, "There's an aria from Mozart's Così fan tutte that sums that up."