Chapter 1

My name is Jacob Phaltz, but almost everyone knows me as Jake. My parents emigrated from West Germany in 1979, well before the reunification of their home country. My mother was pregnant with me when they left and I was born here in Canada. They landed in Montréal and my father set about looking for work as a goldsmith. He was trained in Germany, and with his background he had little trouble finding a job. I was an only child for a while, but a couple of years later, my mother gave birth to my brother, Michael. Young Mike is quite an athlete, currently playing professional soccer with the Montréal Impact.

My father prospered in his trade and not long after Mike was born, he opened his own jewelry shop in the west end. He makes a good living for himself and my mother. They own a nice house in Beaconsfield and spend some time in Florida in the winter. Father has two talented goldsmiths working for him now, so he isn't tied to his shop every minute of every day. When I talk to Mom, I get the feeling she is very pleased and satisfied with their life. I'm happy for them.

I was an ordinary student in school, as much interested in girls and hockey as I was in my studies. I graduated with a C+ average, with my only really good grade in the English language. Fat lot of good that did me in Québec.

I immediately went out looking for a job. My spoken French was only adequate, while my written French was much better. It was a struggle to find a decent job with a future in French speaking Québec with the Parti Québécois running the show. They had little tolerance for Anglais, and I had problems finding meaningful employment.

I finally took a job with a Vancouver-based wholesale building materials company that was just setting up in Montréal. I worked on the customer service desk for a year before an opening came up in Vancouver. It was a bigger operation and paid more, so I put in my application.

I was surprised when I was accepted. I thought there would be a dog-fight for the job, but I learned later it was my French skills that tipped the scales. I never did figure out why that would be important in British Columbia.

I moved to Vancouver and immediately discovered I had found my future home. It was so completely different from Montréal, so much more modern and ... west coast! Everything seemed new. Of course, I landed there during a nice summer and that didn't hurt either.

One trip to the beaches and I was hooked. It might have been the bikinis, or it might have been the mountains, or maybe even the freighters anchored in the bay. I didn't care. This was where I wanted to be. I haven't changed my mind and I don't suppose I ever will.

I made some friends along the way. Some from work and some from the hockey games we played at the three-rink multiplex. I'd never played junior hockey but I loved the game, and since I was single and had lots of time, I joined a beer league.

Low and behold, I was a first line defenseman on an electrical company's team. It didn't take long to figure out it was because I could skate backwards. I didn't care. It was fun and something to do that kept me fit and occupied.

At the end of the season, we had an outdoor barbeque for the team and all the families and friends who had supported us. It was there that I met Judy Hansen. Judy and I hit it off because, like me, she was an Anglais from Montréal.

In her case, she was from Dollard-des-Ormeaux, just west of the airport at Dorval. We had lots to talk about and it got us off on the way to becoming a couple.

We exchanged numbers and I called her couple of days later and asked her for a date. She said yes, and that's how it all started. Judy is a good looking woman. Not a knock-out mind you, but still very attractive. I sneaked a look at her driver's license one day and found she was 170cm (5' 7") and 60 kilos (132 lbs.).

She has dark brown hair, cut short around her neck and she needs little to take care of it. She calls it her wash-and-wear hair. She doesn't wear a lot of makeup, but then in my opinion, she doesn't need to. She has a nice body, with medium sized breasts and a slim backside, plus great legs. When she wears slacks, she looks very elegant. She has excellent posture and it helps accentuate her good looks. She also looks good in a bikini.

Judy and I went out regularly and within a year, I proposed and she accepted, although not immediately. We had been discussing the future before I popped the question and it was obvious to me that she wanted some assurance that I was going to be something more than a customer service rep. I told her that I had asked for an opportunity in sales and had been promised a chance when the next vacancy came about. That seemed to satisfy her.

We had been having sex for a few months now, and Judy was an enthusiastic lover, although a bit conventional. She wasn't interested in giving oral sex, but she liked it when I gave it. I really couldn't complain. We were intimate several times a week and she appeared to be satisfied with my performance. Not wild monkey sex as you can probably gather, but I didn't think she was very experienced.

Judy worked at a laboratory that did medical testing for the private clinics around the province. She had trained hard to become a technician and she was very proud of her status. She liked the work and liked the people she worked with. They were all women except for their boss, Bob Turnbull.

When we planned our future life together, we sat down and looked at what our combined incomes would be. If I got the sales job, we would have close to ninety thousand dollars, not counting any bonuses I might earn. It might even allow us to buy a house in the red-hot market we were facing.

So Judy accepted my proposal, conditional on my getting the sales job. Happily, it came along a few months later and we set the date. I called my parents and my brother to tell them the good news, and they were very happy for me. Judy indicated her parents were a little more wary, but happy just the same. Both parents made plans to be at the wedding.

We were married in a small church in the suburbs that had time available the following April. I met Judy's family for the first time and I have to say, they were pretty cool toward me. I wondered why, but Judy dismissed my concerns. My folks were in good spirits and welcomed Judy to the family. But again, her parents didn't seem to warm to my folks either.

On the other hand, Judy seemed to be quite friendly with Mike. Perhaps because he was a professional athlete or maybe they just hit it off. At least it took some of the pressure off during the reception.

We went on a short honeymoon to Victoria and Seattle before coming home and settling down in our rented apartment. I was working hard to do well in my new sales job and so far, my boss was happy with my results. I had some objectives to reach this year and by mid-year, I was pretty sure I was going to achieve them.

Judy was happy to continue working in the lab. Her hours were more predictable than mine; seven-thirty am to four pm. Mine were irregular, often spending four or more hours on the road traveling from customer to customer, arriving home after six pm after battling heavy commuter traffic.

Life went along quite smoothly for us. We finally saved enough money to put a down payment on a townhouse in the suburbs and celebrated our third anniversary a week after we moved in. This would be our stepping-stone to a proper home someday in the future.

We talked about starting a family, but Judy was adamant that she didn't want to do that until we were more financially secure. She never was able to articulate just when that would be, but since we were both young, not yet twenty-five, there was no panic.

As with any marriage, things tended to slow down a bit in the sex department. Before we were married, we were having sex four or five times a week, except when she was having her period. That dropped to three times weekly after the first three years, and then as time went by, we were down to once or twice a week. When you're working hard, as I was, you don't notice these things right away, but after a while I did, and mentioned it to Judy.

"Judy, we don't seem to be making love as often as we used to. Is there any reason for that?" I started the conversation after supper one night when we were just sitting quietly on the back balcony of the townhouse.

"No. Why would there be?" The way she answered sounded strange to me. I suppose defensive, but a bit aggressive too.

"I don't know. We used to get together at least three times a week, but not lately."

"Well, we're both working hard and after all, you can't expect us to be full of energy every night." Again, I got that slightly aggressive tone.

"I suppose. But I do miss it. Making love to you is something I really enjoy." I was trying to make it sound inviting to her.

"You'll just have to get used to enjoying it a little less often for now. I'm not always in the mood, you know." I wasn't getting a very sympathetic hearing. I decided in the interests of peace that I wouldn't pursue the matter any further that night. But, it would get revisited.

Our lovemaking didn't decline any further and I eventually became accustomed to the reduced frequency, assuming that it was the pace that Judy found comfortable. I wanted more, but I had come to realize not all couples, regardless of how long they were together, would want the same things at the same time. When I came to think about it, I really couldn't complain. We seemed to be happy and successful, on our way to a long and fruitful marriage.

I suppose it's hard to imagine how a happily married man could have a best friend who was a woman, but it happened to me. What's more remarkable about it is the fact that there was no sexual connotation to our friendship. It really was a "best friends" relationship. It happened when Cindy and Al Willows moved in next door. Our townhouse was an end unit, so we only had one attached neighbour.

Cindy and Al proved to be an interesting, but different couple. She was a stay-at-home mom with two children in elementary school. Al was a car salesman at a local Chevrolet dealer. Cindy was a no-nonsense kind of gal with a wicked sense of humour, a quick mind, and a sharp tongue featuring some salty language. She was thirty years old and had been married to Al for ten years.

She was a bit taller than Judy, but she had a much more developed body. Her hair was reddish-blonde, curly and cut short. Her eyes were deep blue and she had beautiful white teeth when she laughed, which was often. Her complexion showed some scarring from acne, but she didn't seem self-conscious about it.

She freely admitted that Al had "knocked her up" and then did the honorable thing and married her. They had two children, Annabeth, the ten-year-old love child, now in grade five, and Bradley, a seven-year-old in grade two.

Al, or Alvin as Cindy occasionally called him when she was irritated with him, was the same age as Cindy, but a different personality. He was a bit less than six feet, with red curly hair, a ruddy complexion and big, white teeth. He dressed in flashy suits with brightly coloured ties, wearing a Rolex knock-off on his wrist and a large, gold ring with a red stone on his right pinkie. If someone had told him that this is what a car salesman should wear, Al must have believed him.

If you listened to him, you'd think he was general manager of the dealership instead of one of the rank-and-file salesmen. He was one of those guys that you either loved because he was always up, or who irritated the hell out of you because he never learned when to turn it off. Unfortunately, I was in the latter category.

Judy didn't have too high an opinion of Cindy, but seemed neutral toward Al. On the other hand, I liked the straightforward Cindy and we became quite good friends over the next few months. I also liked her kids. Annie, as she was mostly known, was polite and cute as a button. She would be a real heartbreaker in a few years. Her mother was a fine looking woman to start with, but Annie was going to be something special.

Brad was a fun-loving kid who loved to play and was always in good spirits. Like his sister, he was very polite and that goes a long way with me.

Judy, unfortunately, didn't want much to do with the kids. That worried me for our future. Was she sending me a message that she didn't want children? She couldn't help but like these two, could she? If we were going to have children, I wanted them to be just like Annie and Brad.

It was this past spring that things started to go downhill for us. We had just about saved enough to buy a house after six years of marriage. Without any warning, I was called into a meeting at headquarters and the entire staff was notified that the company had been sold to our competitor, and our branch would be closed.

Just like that, I was unemployed. I had four months severance plus we had our savings, but it was a shock and I was really knocked back.

When I told Judy what had happened, she got mad. Mad at me for wasting my years with a company that just disappeared. Mad at the company. Mad at life in general. I got the distinct impression she was disappointed in me. That I had let her down. That this was my fault. It didn't do my spirits any good to have that heaped on me.

I started looking right away of course, but there were no jobs locally in my field of expertise. Judy would get up, give me a remote peck on the cheek and head off to work. I would scour the want ads, try to arrange appointments, and drink more coffee than I was used to. After two fruitless weeks, I was depressed and I guess it showed. I was sitting on my bedroom balcony one morning, coffee in hand, staring into the distance when I heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, handsome, got any more of that coffee?"

It was Cindy and I had to smile. She had decided, for what ever reason, that I should be known as "Handsome" and freely called me that, even when Al and Judy were present. It didn't seem to upset either of them, so I just accepted the moniker.

"Come on over. The back door's unlocked. I'll meet you in the kitchen."

I was reaching for the cream when Cindy pranced through the back door into the kitchen and flashed me her best smile. Just seeing her do that helped lift my spirits.

"So what are you doing home in the middle of the morning these days? Sick leave?"

"I wish. I got let go the Friday before last. The company has been sold and the whole staff is out of work."

"Shit ... that stinks," she said. "So, I take it you're looking?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately, I was in a shrinking industry and it just shrunk a lot further. It's pretty much all I know, so I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I've got my résumé in at all the other places, but it doesn't look good. I can try at the retail level, but they don't pay anything like what I was earning."

"Huh," she muttered. Then I watched her as her mind started working. I knew Cindy well enough now that she had already taken on the responsibility of trying to help. It was interesting to see the contrast between Judy and Cindy's attitudes. I sat quietly, sipping my coffee as Cindy pondered.

"Jake ... remind me. When you were in school, what was your best subject?"

"English. I seemed to have a feel for it. I mean, writing. For a while I thought about being a writer. Maybe working on a newspaper or a magazine. Unfortunately, that's another industry that's getting smaller."

"Yeah. I thought you told me that. I have a girlfriend who's a writer. She writes manuals and instructions and things like that. She works from home. All she needs is a computer and an internet connection. She told me a while ago that she was turning down business because she was working so much. I don't know how much it pays, but she has a nice new Mazda and a fancy condo in the city. It must pay something."

"Hummphf. I'd never even though of that," I admitted.

"Tell you what, handsome. I'll give her a call if I can use your phone and you can talk to her. Maybe she can put you on to something."

"Great! Thank you, Cindy."

Her name was Paula Woods and I caught her just at the right time. When Cindy handed me the phone, I offered to call back later when she wasn't so busy, but she said she was taking a break, and since I was a friend of Cindy, she'd be happy to talk to me.

She had been in the same situation that I was in. Out of work and needing a job. She had answered an ad in one of the local papers and met with the manager of this import/export business. He needed someone to write manuals and instructions for imported products that came from China and other Far East countries. The English versions they were sending were useless, if not downright hilarious. He wanted a practical instruction sheet in English for his customers that would give them the right information. Paula signed on and has never looked back.

"They keep after me about finding someone who can translate into French, too. They're paying one of these translation services, but it's very expensive. He wants someone in-house to handle it. He can find bi-lingual people, but not writers. He needs both together. He's also in the machinery business and it's a real problem getting a decent owner's manual prepared. That's not something I can do."

Paula gave me the name of the agency that was importing the machines as well as the name of her contact. I asked if I could mention her name and she happily agreed. I turned the phone over to Cindy for the girls to have a quick chat while I poured myself and her another coffee.

"Cindy, you and Paula may just have saved my life. I don't know how to thank you."

"No need. It was fun to watch you light up again. You looked pretty down this morning."

"Yeah. Well, I don't think Judy has come to grips with our situation yet. She's not very happy with me being out of work. It really puts a crimp in our plans."

"Jesus, Jake! You didn't get fired. What happened to you happens to all kinds of people everyday. It isn't their fault. It's just the way things are right now. I don't know how many times Al has come home with a hang-dog look because he was down near the bottom of the totem pole that month, wondering if they were going to fire him. I'd give him a little pep-talk and a nice warm roll in the hay, and he's up and at 'em the next morning," she laughed.

"Sounds like a winning formula," I agreed. I was envious of Al that Cindy could handle a situation that way when Judy was so negative. No pep talk. No roll in the hay.

I picked up the phone again and called the number I had copied from Paula, and asked for Mr. Louie. He came on the line a minute later and I told him I had been talking to Paula Woods and she suggested I call him. I told him I could write French as well as compose copy fairly well and would be willing to give him a free sample to prove my point.

Mr. Louie, who spoke fairly good English, jumped at the chance, asking if I could meet him this afternoon. It just so happened I had the afternoon free and we arranged an appointment for two p.m. I hung up the phone and walked over to Cindy and gave her a big hug.

"You don't know how good this feels, Cindy." I damn near had tears in my eyes. I had a chance and I was going to grab it with both hands.

Cindy just grinned and sipped her coffee. "Glad to help."

Cindy headed back home just after eleven, and I whipped upstairs to shower, shave, and brush my teeth. I picked out a clean dress shirt, my navy blazer, and tan slacks, choosing to change after I'd made my lunch. No point in taking a chance on spilling food on my clean shirt or tie.

I met with Mr. Louie promptly at two that afternoon and he ushered me into his office. He was a balding, mid-fifties Asian man with bad teeth and a rumpled suit. I began to wonder if maybe he couldn't afford proper translation services, and was just looking for someone who worked cheap. On the other hand, Paula had said she was happy working with him, so the least I could do was to listen.