Amanda

by Will Bailey

The man behind the large oak desk was speaking. "Bob, I think you know why I've asked you to come here today."

The small person on my right was gripping my arm tightly.

"Yes, your Eminence, I believe that I do. That we do."

"Before I give you my decision, I want to make a few things very clear."

"Yes, your Eminence."

She was gripping my arm even tighter now. I was in danger of losing circulation. I patted her hand in what I hoped was a reassuring gesture.

Through the window behind the cardinal, I could see the grounds of St. Michael's Cathedral. They looked beautiful in the summer sunshine. Looking at this beautiful vista made me think about how this whole thing started.

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It was on a beautiful July day about 2 years ago. I washed and waxed the new car and puttered around the house until it was time to go to Liam's place. He'd invited a bunch of us for a barbecue. Liam's my business partner and a lifelong friend. He prides himself on his culinary skills, so this promised to be a fine evening. We were to arrive between 5:00 and 6:00. I planned to be one of the first arrivals.

I left home about 4:30. Parking is at a premium in Liam's neighbourhood, so I wanted to allow myself plenty of time to look for a spot. I'd only been around the block 3 times before a woman in a minivan pulled out of a parking place right in front of Liam's house.

As I parked the car, I thought about how lucky I was. Besides owning my own business, a nice house and a beautiful new car, I'd found a terrific parking spot. I was going to spend a great evening partying with good friends. I was hard to imagine how things could be better.

I went around to the back garden and was met by Liam and his wife Joan. Liam immediately put a beer in my hand. I was surprised that I wasn't the first to arrive. Liam's hospitality was legendary, so several couples and a few other single guys were ahead of me. A bunch of us hung around the barbecue laughing and kibitzing as Liam cooked.

I was on my third beer when the party was suddenly interrupted. The back door of the house next door slammed loudly, and Liam's neighbour came running into the yard.

He asked loudly, "Does anybody here own a silver Porsche?"

I identified myself as the owner of just such a vehicle.

"Well you'd better come out front. Some asshole has really screwed up your car."

I ran to the front of the house. The guy was right. Some prick had completely smashed the entire back window. There were particles of glass everywhere, especially inside the car. I suddenly felt very tired and defeated. What kind of son of a bitch would do such a thing?

I wasn't thinking very well, so it's good that Joan had a level head on her shoulders. She realized that the first thing to do was to call the cops. In order to collect on the insurance, I'd need a police report. She called them, and I spoke to the duty sergeant. While I was giving him as much information as I had, a bunch of guys went around to the neighbours' to ask if anyone had seen what happened. No one had. How the hell could somebody smash a car window on a residential street in broad daylight and not be seen? I had no idea how it was possible, but it seemed that was exactly what had happened.

That was the end of the party for me. I drove my car home and locked it in the garage. Then I proceeded to have a few stiff drinks. Then a few more. But after a while, I realized that getting

drunk wasn't going to help the situation. So I decided I'd better do something constructive.

Obviously, my car would be in the shop for at least a couple of days. I'd need a rental car. My company had a contract with one of the car rental companies. I thought it was Avis or Hertz, but I couldn't remember which. I knew I had a card somewhere that would give me a special rate. After looking everywhere else, I opened my wallet. There was the card. It wasn't Avis or Hertz. The company was Tilden.

I called the 1-800 number on the card, and a young woman answered. "Thank you for calling Tilden. My name is Amanda. How may I help you?"

"Well, Amanda. You can be a big help. Some lowlife smashed the back window on my new Porsche and I need a rental car."

"Oh my God! A new Porsche? You must be really upset."

"Yeah, you could say that. Anyway, I have a Tilden Privilege Card. Would you like the number?"

"Please."

I gave her the number. She entered it in the computer, and we waited while my file came up.

"I'm sorry, sir. I have no idea why this thing is so slow tonight. Oh, there it is. Your name is Robert Danielson, right?"

"Guilty."

"OK. I see that your preference is for a compact car."

"Actually, I'd like a midsize, if possible."

"Yes sir. When and where would you like to pick up the car?"

"Tomorrow morning in downtown Toronto."

"We have quite a few locations in Toronto. There's one on Markham Road, another on the Queensway..."

"Those are way the hell out in the burbs. Don't you have anything downtown?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know Toronto. I've never been there. I'm actually in New Brunswick."

Shit. It was one of those call centres. "Well, just read me the locations."

I settled for the one at Yonge and Bloor. I could easily walk there from my house. We finalized the booking and then chatted a bit.

"Amanda, where in New Brunswick are you?"

"I'm in Florenceville. You've probably never heard of it."

"Actually I have. A good friend of mine is from there. I thought that it was just the company town for McCain Foods. French fries, pizzas and stuff like that."

"It used to be, but we have a lot more stuff now. Flo-ville's doing pretty good. have you ever been here, sir?"

"No. The only place I've been in New Brunswick is Moncton. I loved it. And call me Bob."

"OK, Bob." I could hear the smile in her voice."

"Amanda, you've been really great -- very friendly and helpful. I'm going to write a letter to Tilden. What's your last name?"

"Penner. Amanda Penner. That's really nice of you."

"And if you're ever in Toronto, give me a call. My address and phone number are in my file."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course I am."

"OK. Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Nope. Fire away."

"Your file says that you're with IT Associates. I'm really interested in computer stuff. I'm in my last year of school. Does your company have any internships for students?"

Uh oh. There was no university close to Florenceville. This was a high school kid. I hoped she didn't think I was trying to hit on her.

"Yeah, we've had some interns in the past. Hold on just a minute. I'll get you the name of the person who's in charge of that stuff."

I got the name. Amanda wrote it down and thanked me.

"You're very welcome, Amanda. Have a pleasant night."

"Unfortunately, I'm working all night, but it's usually not too busy on this shift. Were you really serious about my giving you a call?"

"Sure. Call me if you're ever in town."

"OK. I will. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

The next morning, I called my insurance company. I took the car to their assessor and then to the auto-glass shop. Then I picked up my rental car and went to the office.

My Porsche was ready in 2 days. It looked as good as new, thank God.

Over the next couple of months, I put the episode out of my mind as much as possible.

On a Sunday in October, I was sitting in front of the TV with a beer. The Bills were playing the Colts. NFL football. I'm a proud Canadian, but I've never been able to get into the CFL game. Like a lot of people in Toronto, I'm a Buffalo Bills fan. On this Sunday, I remember that the Bills had scored first. 7 to nothing. The Bills kicked off after the touchdown. The Colts fumbled. The Bills recovered. Then the phone rang.

"Hello."

"Hello. It's Amanda."

I drew a blank. I had no idea who this might be, and I was really into the game. I was just about to do the "sorry, wrong number" thing and hang up when she said, "Amanda Penner. Tilden?"

"Oh, Amanda. Sure. I remember. What's up?"

"First of all, thanks so much for writing the letter to Tilden. I didn't believe you'd do it. I was totally shocked when the supervisor read it out loud to the whole shift one night."

"You're very welcome. It was the least I could do."

"Well, thanks again. But I'm afraid I'm going to bug you about something, if you don't mind."

"No, go ahead." I actually did mind, but what the hell.

"You said to call you if I was coming to Toronto. Well, I'm coming week after next. I applied to the University of Toronto for next term. They want me to come in for an interview. I might get a scholarship. Isn't that great?"

"Yeah, great," I said. On the TV, the Bills had just lost yardage on their first down play.

"So I'll be in Toronto for a few days. I wonder if we could get together for a coffee or something?"

Amanda had this habit that many young women have. Nearly every sentence seemed to end on an upward inflection, like a question.

"Sure, why not? Where are you staying?" The Bills rushed again and didn't go anywhere. Shit.

"Well, that's just it. I don't know. Is there a reasonably priced hotel near the university?"

"In a word, no. The only hotels that are really close are the Intercontinental, the Park Plaza and the Four Seasons. A room in any of them will probably cost you somewhere around two-hundred bucks a night. Shit!"

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just something I saw on TV." The goddam Bills quarterback had just thrown an interception.

"Oh. Are Toronto hotels really that expensive?"

"Yeah. I'm afraid so." I was a bit distracted. The fucking Colts had run the interception back to the Bills' thirty yard line.

"Oh. I don't have much money. I've been saving what I've made at Tilden, but that has to last me all of next year. Well, maybe I can find something I can afford."

The Colts were now at the Bills' five yard line. First and goal. I wanted to concentrate on the game. I wanted to end this conversation, but I didn't want to just cut her off. Without thinking about it a whole lot I said, "Tell you what, I've got a big house, and it's near the university. You're welcome to stay here when you're in town. You can have your own washroom and be pretty independent. How about it?"

"I couldn't. It's too much. You don't even know me."

"Think about it and let me know. It's not a big deal for me."

"OK. I really appreciate the offer."

"Keep in touch and let me know what's happening."

"OK. Bye."

"Good-bye."

The Bills managed to hold the Colts to a field goal. It was coming up on half-time. My beer was gone, so I went to the kitchen for a refresher. The situation on the TV in the kitchen was even worse than on the one upstairs. Now the fucking Bills had fumbled the kickoff return. The half ended with Indianapolis ahead ten to seven. Shit. I muted the sound on the TV. Half-time shows are usually boring -- just some guys telling you about stuff you've already seen.

Suddenly it hit me. I was a prize idiot. For some stupid reason, I'd just invited a kid I'd never met to stay in my house. I had no idea who the hell she was or what she was like. All that I knew was that she was a female high school kid. I might even go to jail for this. No, I remembered that the age of consent in this province was fourteen. She had to be over fourteen, didn't she? Anyway, I certainly wasn't thinking about fucking her. I'd never seen her. Oh well, probably nothing would come of this.

The Bills lost the game. In the second half, they played like pigs. I turned off the TV at the beginning of the fourth quarter. The score was thirty-seven to seven.

A couple of days later, I was puttering around getting some supper together when the phone rang. I don't usually answer the phone around supper time. Too often, there's a telephone solicitor on the other end. I hate those buggers. So, as is my habit, I checked the caller ID readout. The number had a "506" area code. I had no idea where that was. I decided to answer.

"Hello."

"Bob? It's Amanda."

Oh shit.

"Hi, Amanda."

"You were right about those Toronto hotels. I can't believe how expensive they are. If you're serious about offering to let me stay with you, it would be really great for me. I'll be in Toronto for five days. Is that too long?"

Fuck. "No, that'll be just fine." Like hell.

"OK. I'm coming in on Saturday. The flight's lots cheaper if I'm there over the weekend."

Fuck it. In for a penny...

"Give me your flight number. I'll meet you at the airport."

"Oh wow! Really?"

"Yeah, really. What's the flight number?"

I wrote down the flight information. I could hear the excitement in Amanda's voice. I just felt tired.

"Amanda, how will I know you?"

"I'm blonde, and I'll be wearing a dark blue suit."

"Do you always wear a suit when you fly?"

"No. I'm bringing the suit for my interview, and I figure it'll be better to wear it than to pack it. Does that make any sense to you?"

"Perfect sense," I lied. "I'll be the dopey looking guy trying to find the blonde girl in the blue suit."

Amanda giggled. "I can't wait. I'll see you next Saturday."

"Yeah. Next Saturday. Good-bye."

"Bye."

Now I'd really gotten myself into some major shit. I didn't feel hungry anymore, but I felt a major thirst coming on.

I couldn't do dick at the office the next day. Too hung over. After that came Thursday. Meetings all day. Then, inevitably, Friday. More meetings. Suddenly it was Saturday morning. Unfortunately it looked like a glorious day. I had hoped against hope that there might be a storm or something. Amanda's flight might be delayed or canceled. Well, maybe there was bad weather in Atlantic Canada. No such luck. Environment Canada's website showed everything clear and calm over New Brunswick. Shit.

Amanda's plane was landing at 12:50. I figured that with the lighter Saturday traffic heading toward the burbs I could make it to Pearson International Airport in about 30 minutes. Giving myself another 10 minutes to park and so forth, I planned to leave a little after noon.

At the appointed hour, I went to my garage. Maybe the car wouldn't start. No such luck. The big flat six roared to life right away. Bummer. Well, maybe the traffic would be heavier than expected. Nope. I actually made it to Pearson in just over twenty minutes, and I immediately found a parking place right next to the garage elevator.

Since I was a bit early, I went to the little cafe on the arrivals level of Terminal 2 and got a cup of coffee. I sat down near the TV screen showing the status of the arriving flights. The flight from Fredericton, New Brunswick was right on time. My luck was running out. Finally, the screen said that the plane had arrived. I finished my coffee and went to stand in front of the door with the appropriate number.

I stood there for what seemed like a hell of a long time. People came out of the door with their luggage. Many of them were greeted by friends or relatives. The torrent slowed to a trickle. For some minutes, there was no one coming through the door. Perhaps Amanda had missed her flight. Too bad. I turned to go to the information desk to ask if indeed a Ms. Amanda Penner had been on the passenger manifest. Just then, someone touched my shoulder. I turned.

"Bob?"

There stood Amanda. It had to be she, this little round person wearing a navy blue suit and white blouse. Well, she wasn't really "round." Slightly chubby, perhaps. Sort of baby fat. She was more short than petite with short blonde hair, blue eyes and wire-rimmed glasses. From what I could tell, she seemed to be built small on top and bigger on the bottom. She was smiling shyly. She looked about 13.

"Yeah, I'm Bob. And you must be Amanda." I offered her my hand, and she took it.

"I'm sorry. You must have been waiting a long time. It took so long for my bag to come out that I was sure they'd lost it. It did show up, though. Thank God."

I was pleased to note that the bag in question was of a modest size. If it had been larger, we'd have had a hell of a time fitting it into the Porsche. Luggage capacity is not a Porsche strong point.

We headed for the garage. Amanda chattered away about her flight. She'd had to take a bus to Fredericton the night before and had stayed at the Y. The Y was OK. They were really nice to her. The flight had been fine until the problem with the bag. Etc., etc.

We reached the car. Amanda's reaction was immediate.

"Oh my God! It's beautiful! What model is it? My little brother will never forgive me if I don't ask."

Her little brother. Shit. I hadn't thought about it, but of course this kid had a family. Apparently, they knew that she was staying with this guy in Toronto. A guy that she'd never met who drove a Porsche. Her folks must be nuts or at least insanely trusting of the kindness of strangers.

"It's a 911 Carrera 4S."

"Thanks. That doesn't mean anything to me, but Bruce will know all about it. He's nuts about cars."

"How old is he?"

"He's 17. I guess all boys his age are car-crazy. I'm not, but this is a very beautiful car. It must have cost a fortune."

I put her bag in the vestigial back seat. "It wasn't cheap, but to me it's worth it. I love to drive."

I helped Amanda into the car, got in myself, started the engine and proceeded to drive out of the garage. We headed south on the 427 highway. Amanda's reaction to the view was amusing.

"Oh my God! I knew that Toronto was big, but I've never seen so many huge buildings. And it seems to go on forever."

I grinned. "Just wait till we get downtown. Then you'll see some really big buildings."

When we were driving past the city core on the Gardiner Expressway, Amanda was almost speechless. She stared wide-eyed at the huge towers, office buildings to the north and condos on the lakefront to the south. I pointed out a few landmarks. Amanda gravely took it all in.

"But you live in a house, right? Not in one of these big buildings."

I smiled. "Yeah, I live in a house. I'm not an apartment kind of guy."

"Good. I don't think I'd feel comfortable being that high up in the air."

"Amanda, you were just in a plane that was tens of thousands of feet above the ground."

"Yeah, but that's different somehow. Isn't it?" She looked at me gravely. I tried not to laugh.

"Yeah, I guess it is. This is our exit. We'll be home in no time at all."

Home? Why the hell didn't I say "my place" or something like that? Oh well. No tears over spilled milk.

"I'm sorry. You must think I'm a terrible bumpkin. I guess I am. The only big city I've ever been to is Halifax."

Once again, I tried not to laugh. The last time I checked, Halifax had a population of less than 350,000. The city of Toronto alone has a population of about 2.5 million, and there are about that many again in what's known as the "GTA," the Greater Toronto Area. I lived in an area of some 4 to 5 million people. It was difficult for me to think of Halifax as a "big city," but it certainly must seem so to someone from small-town New Brunswick.

My house is in the part of town called the Annex. I have no idea why it's called that. A historian friend once told me, but I immediately forgot. Anyway, the Annex is downtown, so we soon arrived at my place. I pulled into the garage. We got out of the car. Being the gentleman that I am, I carried Amanda's bag into the house.

"Bob, this house is huge! Do you live here all alone?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid so."

"Why do you have such a big house?"

"I thought once that I was going to get married. It didn't work out that way. Now, I'm just used to the place. Anyway, it's great for parties and for business entertaining. Come with me. I'll take you to your room."

Amanda's room was on the second floor, next to the library. It had its own en suite washroom, a walk-in closet, queen-sized bed, a TV, a VCR, a DVD player and a satellite terminal. Your basic comforts of home.

"God, this is great. It's wonderful, in fact. I certainly didn't expect anything like this. Do you mind if I take a little while just to change and unwind? I want to get out of this silly suit and into my jeans?" Once again, that questioning inflection at the end of the sentence. I guessed that I just wasn't used to talking to young girls. I'd probably get used to it, given time.

"OK. Take your time. I'm going to do some work for a while. I'll be in my office on the third floor if you need me. You can hang out, watch TV or whatever you'd like to do. Feel free to call home, if you'd like."

"Thanks. I really appreciate all this. I will call home, if you don't mind. Then, I'm going to go over the stuff from the university. Yet again."

"I'll meet you next door in the library for drinks about four-thirty. About supper, do you eat fish?"

"Do I ever! Actually, I eat just about everything. Not too many vegans in Flo-ville."

"Is salmon teriyaki OK?"

"Sure. I've never had it, but it sounds great."

"OK. See you later."

I went upstairs and was soon deeply involved in a couple of the new accounts. I saw right away that in one case the estimate was terribly wrong. We'd lose a ton of money if we tried to do the job for that price. I checked the figures several times and fired off emails to everyone involved. The guy who'd prepared our tender on the job would be very embarrassed. I didn't care. I'd rather lose the account than lose my shirt.

In no time, it was four twenty-five. I closed off my email and headed downstairs. Amanda was waiting in the library. She was wearing jeans and a blue sweater. My initial impression of her physique was reinforced. Definitely more of her south of the border than north. However, the overall impression was quite attractive. She looked very cute and even younger than before.

"Hi, Bob. You really weren't kidding when you called this a library. You have a really nice selection of stuff. And what a beautiful stereo system."

"And let me just put something on that system. Do you like jazz?"

"Love it."

I put on a Thelonius Monk CD reissue and opened the bar cabinet.

"What would you like? I have most everything."

"You sure do. Wow, look at all that. Could I have a gin and tonic? Kind of light on the gin?"

I made the drinks, her G & T and my gin martini with a twist. I handed Amanda her drink and motioned to the table by the window. We sat down.

"Cheers. Welcome, Amanda."

"Thank you." She pronounced "you" more like "yew." Why do teenage girls do that? It's one of those mysteries.

"Now, tell me more about yourself. You're going to go to the U of T. What's your major? Computer science?"

"No. I see you remember that I asked you about computer internships. It's true that I'm interested in computers. But I'm more interested in medicine. I'll be in premed. I think it's officially called 'Life Sciences'."

This kid was clearly not a bimbo.

"Eventually, I'd like to be an oncologist. My favourite aunt died of cancer four years ago. Ever since, I've known that's what I wanted to do."

"And you're going to get a scholarship?"

"Maybe. Keep your fingers crossed. I think, or at least I really hope, that I have a good chance. I guess it all depends on the interview on Monday. Then they may want me back on Tuesday."

"You mentioned your brother. Tell me about your family." Yeah. She had a family and stuff. Maybe they'd be looking to shoot me or something.

"Well, my dad is the principal of the high school. My mum works at McCain. She's the office manager. My brother is a dweeb. Not much else to tell. Don't get me wrong, I love them a lot. Oh yeah, I have a sweet little dog named Alice. What else is there to tell? Not much. My life is pretty boring, I guess."

We finished our drinks and went downstairs. Since it was a very pleasant afternoon, I decided to do the salmon on the grill outdoors. There wasn't much other stuff to prepare, but Amanda insisted on helping. I let her make the salad, a job that I hate. It was getting a little chilly outside, so I set the dining room table. I used the good china and crystal. Amanda helped to set the table, but she balked a bit.

"Can't we just eat in the kitchen? This seems much too grand."

"No. We're going to eat here. We'll have a celebration of your arrival."

I opened a nice bottle of Chardonnay, and we were ready to eat. Amanda made short work of her salmon and everything else within reach, and we managed to polish off the wine.

When we'd finished eating, Amanda looked at me seriously. "Bob, this house, the car and all this stuff. You either make a heck of a lot of money or you're terribly in debt."

"I make pretty good money."

"I remember that you're at IT Associates. What do you do there?"

"I'm one of the associates. Four of my friends and I started the company. We own it. It's my turn this year to be president. It's a pain in the ass. I can't wait till I can turn it over to one of the other guys."

Amanda looked at me with big eyes. Then she looked down at her plate. "Jesus," she said softly. She looked up. "I honestly had no idea. You're really a bigwig. Why would you do this for me?"

"I really don't know," I said truthfully. "I guess that it just seemed like something I should do. As far as being a 'bigwig' is concerned, I'm certainly no Bill Gates, but I do all right."

We took our coffee and pastries into the study. Amanda remained subdued. I grew a bit uncomfortable with the silence.

"Amanda, now that you know what I do, I don't want you to feel differently about me. I'm still the same Bob as before. All that other stuff doesn't matter."

"But you're a millionaire. And I'm just a kid with a big mouth."

I leaned over and lifted her face. "It doesn't look all that big to me. Let's just be friends and forget the other stuff."

Amanda smiled. "OK."

Soon she was chattering away again, but before long, she began yawning. I suggested that we call a halt to things. She'd had a busy day. We headed up stairs to bed. I was about to continue up to the third floor when Amanda gently took hold of my arm. I turned to her, and she hugged me.

"Thanks, Bob. You're a really great guy. I appreciate this more than I can say." Then she gave me a chaste little peck on the cheek.

The next day, I planned to take Amanda on a mini-tour of Toronto, or at least the parts of it that I liked. I showered, shaved, and went downstairs. Amanda's door was open, so I went in.

"Amanda..." I stopped. I was looking at a naked pink butt. Amanda was bending over getting something out of her suitcase. She squealed and jumped up. I backed out of the door and turned around. I'm not sure which of us was more embarrassed.

"God, I'm so sorry. I just thought, since your door was open..."

"It's my fault. I'll remember to close it the next time I take a shower."

I went downstairs to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. Amanda soon joined me, again in jeans and sweater. She sat down, and I poured her a cup of coffee.

"I am so sorry about that. I'm really not an exhibitionist, you know?" She smiled at me.

"And I'm not a voyeur. But the view was quite lovely."

Amanda blushed. "Thank you."

"Let's get a bite of breakfast, and then I'll show you around my town."

I took my time driving around. I really enjoyed my unaccustomed role as tour guide. By noon, we'd made it as far as the Beach (residents of the area hate to hear it called "the Beaches"). I'd phoned ahead to my favourite little bistro, Jeremy's, to make sure they'd still have a table on such a nice Sunday afternoon. We went in and were seated by the window.

"What's good here?"

"Most everything. My favourite is the eggs benedict."

"What's that?"

"Well, you cut an English muffin in two. You put a piece of peameal bacon on each half, put a soft-poached egg on top of the bacon and top the whole thing off with Hollandaise sauce."

"Eew. It sounds sort of disgusting," she smiled, "but disgusting in a nice kind of way."

"It's delicious. There's also eggs Florentine, which has spinach instead of the bacon, and eggs Jeremy, with smoked salmon."

"Oh wow! It's eggs Jeremy for me!"

We placed our order. I also ordered half a litre of the house white.

The waiter looked at Amanda and said, "I'm sorry, miss, but I need to see some ID."

Amanda took her New Brunswick driver's licence out of her purse. The waiter looked at it and said, "Thank you. Sorry to bother you, but I have to check."

When he left, I had to ask, "It occurs to me that I don't even know your age. How old are you?"

"I'm nineteen. I'll be twenty in February."

"Oh." Nineteen is the legal drinking age in Ontario.

"Yeah. You probably thought I was younger. Everyone does. My mum says that the day will come when I'll be glad that I look really young. Now it's just a pain in the butt."

"Oh," I said again. I couldn't think of anything else to say at the moment. To me, nineteen seemed "really young."

The wine arrived. After a few sips, I regained my power of speech, and we talked about what we'd seen so far. Amanda loved her eggs, and somehow I enjoyed introducing this kid to new experiences.

We spent the rest of the day bumming around in the Porsche and strolling around the harbourfront. Then it was home to supper and a modest meal of burgers and potato salad. We turned in early. Monday was Amanda's big day.

Monday morning, we had breakfast, and then Amanda spent quite a while trying to make sure every single detail of her appearance was perfect. She asked my opinion several times, and I truthfully said that she looked great. Finally, she was ready. I offered to drop Amanda off at the U of T Medical Sciences building on my way to work. She accepted. We headed off. Amanda seemed nervous as hell.

"Calm down. You have this thing in the bag. Trust me."

"I do trust you, but I don't think that you're a fortune teller."

"Everything will be fine. Do you have your key to the house?" She checked her pocket and nodded. "OK. I'll be home fairly early, about four-thirty or so. I'll see you then."

"Bye." After a quick peck on the cheek, she was gone.

I got home about four forty-five. I took my briefcase upstairs to the office. Then I changed out of my suit, heaving a sigh of relief. I went down to the second floor much more comfortably dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I went into the library to fix my customary martini. Suddenly, Amanda burst in.

"Bob, I thought I heard you."

"How'd it go?"

Amanda looked sombre for a minute or two. Or at least tried to. Then she beamed and rushed at me, hugging me tightly.

"I got it! I got it," she squealed, "and they don't even need to talk to me again! They want me to start in January. Isn't that wonderful?"

I hugged her back and kissed the top of her head. "Sweety, that is terrific. We should celebrate. I'll make a dinner reservation."

She looked up at me. "No. Please let's not go out. I'd be much happier just celebrating here with you."

And that's just what we did. I told Amanda that she could have anything she wanted. She asked for pizza. I gritted my teeth and placed the order. We sat out on the deck eating pizza and drinking beer. It turned out to be an absolutely wonderful time. Amanda chattered away happily. I was happy just to be her audience.

Since Amanda didn't have to go to another meeting at the university, I suggested that she use Tuesday as a day to look for a place to stay. January would be coming up very soon, and I knew that apartments downtown were at a premium. She agreed that was a good plan. So the next morning I went off to work, leaving Amanda armed with the real estate ads from the papers.

I returned home that evening to a despondent Amanda.

"Bob, I just can't find anything. Oh there are a few places, but they want over a thousand dollars a month. I can't pay that much. I just can't. What am I going to do?"

"Well, I just happen to know a place that you can afford."

"Where?"

"Here."

"You're kidding. I feel badly enough imposing on you for a few days, but living here... I just couldn't do it."

"Sure you can. And I'm sure that you'll pull your weight. Can you cook?" She nodded. "Great. Let's have a drink. Then get into the kitchen and cook us some supper. OK?"

"OK. But..."

"No buts. G & T OK?" She nodded.

After a few sips, Amanda was her usual bubbly self and remained so through supper. She made us a lovely meal. She'd found some veal in the freezer and whipped up a great scaloppini. After supper, we adjourned to the study for coffee and liqueurs. Amanda looked around as though she were just seeing the place for the first time.

"I can't believe it. Can I really live here? Can I?"

"Yup," I said, against my better judgment.

"I hate to ask, but can I bring Alice?"

"Who's Alice?"

"I told you about Alice. I'm sure that you remember. Alice is my dog. She's a bichon frisé. She's a tiny little thing. She's good and quiet and doesn't take up much room. I'll make sure she's out of the way. Please?"

Jesus, what was she going to ask for next. I thought for a moment. I'm certainly not against dogs. I've owned several and enjoyed them. Oh well, what the hell.

"All right. But she's totally your responsibility."

"Oh thank you! Thank you!"

I found myself being hugged again.

The next morning, Amanda packed up and got ready to go to the airport. As much as I'd liked to have taken her there, I couldn't. I had important meetings all day. I arranged for a limo to take her to Pearson International. We had a contract with the limousine company. One fare more or less at the end of the month wouldn't make a hell of a lot of difference, but I planned to pay Amanda's fare out of my own pocket.

I swear that Amanda nearly had to change her underwear when she saw the shiny new Lincoln stretch limousine pull up outside. "Is that for me? Oh no, that's not for me!"

"Yes, it is. Get your stuff together."

The driver came to the door and asked for Ms. Penner. Ms. Penner handed him her modest luggage. She stood on tiptoe and kissed me on the lips.

"Bob, I don't know how to thank you."

"You don't have to. We'll talk."

"OK."

Amanda went to the limo, paused and waved to me. I waved to her. Then she was gone.

Over the next couple of months, I was almost constantly involved in company business. The holiday season is usually very quiet in our business, but not this year. Current clients wanted new services, and we had some very big clients signing on. I was busy as hell, but it was a very productive time.

Amanda called several times a week. I have to admit that I don't remember much about those calls. I was preoccupied with my own affairs. But I do remember that we made some arrangements for her trip to Toronto. Christmas came and went. Now that my parents were gone and I had no major relationships, Christmas was just another day. I expected Amanda to arrive the next week.

On Boxing Day, the day after Christmas, I got a call from Amanda. "Bob, I'll be there tomorrow. Is that OK?"

"That's a few days earlier than we talked about, isn't it?"

"Yeah. But I was able to get a better flight. Is it OK?"

"Of course it's OK. I'll get a pen. Give me your flight number, times and so forth."

"OK. You remember," her voice got very small, "that I'm bringing Alice?"

"Alice?"

"My doggie?"

"Oh. Yeah. Is she flying with you?"

"Yes, but they're going to make Alice fly in one of those kennel things in the baggage compartment. It sounds terrible."

I smiled. "She'll be fine. Tell me again, what time do you arrive?"

There was a small pause,

"We'll be there about one o’clock tomorrow afternoon. OK?"

The next day, I took a limousine to the airport. There was no way I could fit all of Amanda's stuff plus a dog into my Porsche. I got out at the arrivals level and told the driver to wait. I got his cell phone number and told him I'd call when Amanda arrived. He took the car to the limo holding area.

At one-thirty in the afternoon, I was looking at the video display at the airport. The plane was half an hour late. I wasn't too concerned yet, but it was a bit unusual. At about one forty-five, the screen showed that the plane had landed. At last.

It was about two-thirty when Amanda came through the door from the baggage area. She was wheeling a cart full of bags and leading a very sad-looking little white dog. Alice, I assumed. Amanda looked around. She saw me. Her face lit up.

"Bob," she yelled. Then she squealed and hugged me tightly. "I'm so excited. But I'm forgetting my manners." She picked up the little dog and held it out towards me. "Alice, this is Bob. Bob, this is Alice."

I gravely shook Alice's paw. "Alice, I'm so glad to meet you. I've heard so much about you." Alice looked at me, with some distrust, I thought.

"Now that the introductions are complete, let's go home. I'll call the limo driver, and he'll pick us up out front."

On the trip downtown, Amanda kept up a running commentary about the scenery, ostensibly for Alice's benefit. It was as though she thought that the dog actually understood her. I found it quite amusing and sweet.

We arrived at the house. The driver carried Amanda's bags upstairs. By the time I tipped him and saw him off, Amanda was already unpacking. She seemed to know exactly where she wanted everything. I told her to join me the library when she was ready.

Amanda came into the library just as I was making our drinks. On the table by the window there was a large gaily-wrapped parcel. She looked at it with wide eyes.

"What's that?"

"I don't know. Why don't you have a look?"

"OK. There's a tag. It says, 'To Amanda from Santa'. Bob, what have you done?"

"Do I look like Santa? I know I'm getting a little rounder, but not quite Santa-like yet, I hope. I think you should open it, don't you?"

She did. Amanda tore into the package. When she got the wrapping off, she said, "Oh my God! It's a laptop computer! Bob, I can't accept this!"

"Why not? Do you have a laptop?"

"No, but I've been saving for one. I know that I'll need one for my classes."

"Now you have one, and I'm sure that you can find a better use for your money. Besides, we can't return it. I don't have Santa's address."

"Bob Danielson, you're the greatest friend a girl ever had. I feel like Cinderella. I keep waiting for it to strike midnight."

Amanda put her arms around me and stood on tiptoe to kiss me. Then she held my face in her palms and looked into my eyes. "You're just too wonderful."

"No, I'm certainly not. But I hope you keep thinking so. Here, let me show you something." I pointed to the wall beside the table. "This is a terminal connected to the house network. Plug your ethernet connection in there, and you'll have high speed internet access. I suspect that you'll need it for your class work."

"Oh wow, this is terrific!"

"And here's something else you'll need." I handed her a cell phone. In return I got another hug and another kiss. I thought it was a good exchange.

Amanda unpacked the computer and soon had it hooked to the internet. She surfed happily until I called her for supper.

Over the next week, Amanda made herself at home. She also made herself very useful. She hadn't been lying about knowing how to cook. I thought that if this culinary bounty continued, I would definitely resemble Santa Claus.

In just a couple of days, it was time for her to start school. She was nervous about her classes, but I was sure she'd do well. In a short time, we established a routine. In the morning, I'd drop Amanda and her laptop at the university. I'd pick her up in the evening, as often as I could. She told me that she took some ribbing from her classmates about her "rich boyfriend."

I enjoy going to concerts and plays when I can find the time. I'm on the boards of several groups, so I'm expected to be at their openings. Amanda soon became my companion at these events, and she also accompanied me to parties. It was my turn to be kidded about my "little girlfriend."

When I worked late, Amanda would have supper waiting for me. She'd usually be studying in the library. I remember the first time I came home late for supper. I went into the library. Amanda was working on her computer. There was music playing. It was Oscar Peterson's Canadiana Suite. I was amazed. I guess that I expected that she'd prefer some sort of rock or rap. She looked up and smiled at me.

"You're listening to Oscar Peterson."

"Yeah. Isn't he wonderful?"

"Yes, he certainly is." The kid was full of surprises.

Amanda had been with me for about a month when it became painfully obvious to me that I hadn't had sex for a very long time. Many months, in fact. Not with anyone else, at any rate. Just Mother Thumb and her daughters. I was, as my dad would have said, "horny as a 3-balled goat." And Amanda's usual evening costume now consisted of shorts and one of those little tops that leaves the tummy bare. Having a scantily-clad teenage girl around the house didn't help my case of horns. I resolved to do something about the situation at the first opportunity.

That opportunity arrived more quickly than I expected. One Friday, Amanda told me that she'd be home late. She'd be studying at a friend's house, and she'd have supper there. That being the case, I figured I'd eat out. I went to the pub next to my office. At the bar was a woman that I'd met a few times. She was a friend of a friend and worked in the area. She was a cute brunette in her mid-thirties. Her name was Roxanne Miller. I'd been told by a couple of people that "Roxy" was available for fun and games.

Roxy and I had a few drinks and a bite to eat. We seemed to be hitting it off, so I suggested that we continue at my place. She agreed, so I thought I might get lucky. As soon as we got in the car, she stuck her tongue in my mouth. I was sure I was going to get lucky.

Roxy and I arrived at my place. I hung up our coats, and she attacked me. She hauled out my dick and popped it in her mouth. Wow! This was pretty wild stuff. I suggested that we continue upstairs. When we got to the second floor, she was all over me again, unbuttoning my shirt and opening my belt. We left a trail of clothes up the stairs to the third floor.

In the bedroom, Roxy pulled me over to the bed, straddled me and sat on my dick. She began to fuck my brains out, and she was pretty vocal about it.

"Oh fuck! Oh Jesus! Oh yeah. Oh, I need cock. I gotta have dick. Aw shit..." And so on.

Suddenly I heard a door slam. At least I thought I did. Then I heard another door slam. There was no doubt about that one, and into the bargain, Alice the dog began barking. I was busted. Roxy stopped jumping my bones.

"What the hell was that?"

"Oh, it's just the girl who lives here. I guess she just got home."

"You son of a bitch! The girl you live with! What the hell is going on? Let me out of here!"

Roxy leaped off the bed ran from the room and collected her clothing. I grabbed my boxers and followed her. When she got to the second floor, she dressed hurriedly. I tried to explain, but she wasn't having any. She literally ran down the stairs and out the front door, slamming it behind her. I stood in front of the door in my underwear for a few minutes. Then I went upstairs and put on some jeans and a shirt.

I went back down to the first floor. I went into the study and got myself a large Scotch. Bowmore seventeen-year-old. Neat. I sat down in an overstuffed chair. I stared into the dark fireplace. I felt just as empty as that black hole. I had really fucked up now. I doubted very much if Amanda would speak to me again. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much that would hurt. I was one stupid bastard. I finished my Scotch and was just pouring another when I heard stumbling footsteps in the hall. Amanda came in.

She was wearing one of her little shirts and a pair of faded gym shorts. Her hair was mussed. She was crying, and she looked like she'd been crying for a long time. She was also stinking drunk. I'd never seen her like that, and I strongly suspected that she'd never been so intoxicated in her life.

"Bob, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

Actually, it came out more like "show fucking shorry."

"I ruined your evening. I did it on purpose. I'll leave if you want me to. I'll find someplace else to live."

Amanda was sobbing away with her head in her hands. I went to her. I put my hand under her chin and lifted her face so that she was looking up at me.

"Sweet, sweet Amanda. I'm the one who should apologize. I didn't know you were home, but that's no excuse. Forgive me."

Amanda hugged me and sobbed against my chest. I gently led her to the chair. I sat down and pulled her onto my lap. She cuddled against me and continued to cry.

"I was home when you got here," she sobbed, "Ayesha's mum was sick, so we called off our study session. I thought about calling you on your cell. (sob) I wish to God I had. (sob) When you got home, I was in the library working. I heard you come in, and I was just about to call out to you. (sob) Then I heard someone else."

Amanda sobbed uncontrollably for a few moments, then, "I heard you and that whore," she pronounced it "hoor," "and then you came upstairs. I ducked back into the library. I looked out and saw the two of you heading up to your room throwing your clothes everywhere. (sob) I couldn't believe it. (sob) And then I heard you fucking. Oh yeah, you were fucking her. She was howling away. (sob) I couldn't stand it. I slammed the library door. Then I slammed my bedroom door. Alice started barking, and I messed with her so she'd keep it up." She looked into my face. "I couldn't believe it. You and that goddamed whore. Oh God."

Amanda collapsed against me, sobbing. After a few minutes, she stopped crying long enough to say, muffled against my chest, "I love you so damned much. I just couldn't stand it. Why her? Why not me? What's wrong with me?" She wailed and sobbed for a few moments. "Am I so bad that you have to pick up some whore?" She began crying even harder. "You think I'm a little kid, but I'm not. I'll be twenty next week. I'm a woman. I'm a woman, goddam it, and I love you!"

I held Amanda close. She was still crying, and she was starting to get the hiccups. The sobs were intertwined with hicks. The poor little thing was so miserable. I held her close, and I kissed her tousled hair.

"Darling baby, I love you too. I love you very much. I'm such an idiot. I'm the one who needs forgiveness. Please don't even think of leaving. Stay with me. Stay with me always."

Amanda looked up at me. "Do you mean that?"

"Yes. Yes I do. Always."

She managed a little smile. "OK."

I held Amanda and stroked her. She wasn't crying anymore, but her hiccups were getting more prevalent. I couldn't help it. I laughed. Gently, I hoped.

Amanda looked up at me again. She was a mess, but to me she looked adorable.

"I know that I'm really a pain in the ass," she said, "but I do love you."

"I love you, too. I love you very, very much." I kissed her. "We'll talk more tomorrow, but now it's time for you to go to bed, my little love."

Amanda tried to stand, but she couldn't. I stood and lifted her little body in my arms.

"OK, baby. Time to put little Amanda to bed."

I wasn't in such great physical shape, but I didn't find her all that heavy. I carried her upstairs. I pushed the door to her room open with my foot and laid Amanda gently on the bed. Alice greeted us with a wagging tail and a doggie smile. I shushed her. I drew down the bedclothes and tucked Amanda beneath them. She woke just as I was about to leave.

"Bob, please don't leave me. Stay with me. Please. Oh please."

I shucked off my jeans and crawled under the covers. Amanda snuggled against me. She lay on my arm, her head cradled against my shoulder.

She murmured, "I love you. Oh how much I love you." Then, she began breathing slowly and deeply. She was out like a light. I was soon asleep as well.

I woke the next morning in some discomfort. My right arm was asleep. No wonder. There was someone lying on it. I also desperately needed to urinate. I successfully managed to extricate myself without waking Amanda. I used her washroom. I became aware of just how disgusting my mouth felt and tasted. I went upstairs and brushed my teeth. Twice. Then I came back downstairs and took Amanda in my arms once more. The clock on her bedside table said it was eight o’clock. That was the last thing I saw for several hours.

I awoke to Amanda's stirring. I opened my eyes to find her looking at me. The clock said ten-thirty.

"How are you, little love?"

"I feel terrible," she said. "I hurt all over. My head feels like someone is beating a drum inside it, and my mouth feels like a swamp. But at the same time, I feel wonderful." She snuggled against me. "I know that I was drunk, but I seem to remember your telling me that you loved me. Did you really say that?"

"Yes, I did. Would you like me to tell you again?"

"Oh yes. Oh God yes. Please."

"I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. It hurts so much that it feels great."

She looked at me very seriously. "But we didn't -- I mean you didn't..."

"No. We didn't have sex. I very much want to make love to you, but I want it to be making love, not just sex. When we're both able to enjoy it, we will. I promise you."

"OK. Give me a few minutes," she said. Then she got up and went into the washroom. I heard the toilet flush, water running, the sound of teeth being brushed. The washroom door opened. Amanda came into the bedroom. She was naked.

She was pink and rounded, curvy in the right places. Her little breasts were set high on her chest. They had small pink nipples, now erect. Her tummy wasn't flat but gently rounded. Her hips flared wider than you'd expect on such a small frame. Her thighs were definitely womanly. Nestled between them were little pink lips covered with light blonde hair. She was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen.

I quickly shed my boxers and T-shirt. Amanda came to me. I cuddled her warm softness. We kissed, gently at first and then with increasing passion. We melded together, and I entered her. Slowly and gently at first. I didn't want to hurt this wonderful little being. Once again, she surprised me. She took the lead. We increased our pace and vigour. Soon, we were fucking like crazed minks.

Amanda and I made love until around noon. We coupled, cuddled and then coupled again for nearly an hour and a half. We dozed off for some minutes. She woke first. When I opened my eyes, she was staring at me, giggling.

"What's so funny, bright eyes?"

"You snore. Not real loud, but kind of funny. Like 'snog, too too, snog, too too.'"

"Well, you'd better get used to it. I think you'll be hearing my snoring a lot from now on. How about some breakfast?"

Amanda nodded vigorously. We threw on minimal clothing and headed for the kitchen.

We put together a sort of breakfast. While we ate, we were looking at each other and giggling like little kids.

Amanda grinned at me and said, "I guess I'm forgiven then, eh?"

"There's nothing to forgive. Am I forgiven?"

"Well," she paused, looking into her coffee cup, "maybe. If you promise not to bring any more whores home." She looked up at me with a broad smile.

"Let me think about that for a moment," I said.

Amanda swatted me. "You pig!"

"Oink!" She hit me again, harder. "Ouch! That one hurt."

"You deserved it."

"I guess I did. Seriously, though, there's only one woman I want in my bed. And I want her there always."

We kissed across the table. We cleared up the dishes and went back upstairs. We had a lot of time to make up for.

That night, I had to go to the opening of a new play at Canadian Stage. Amanda came with me. She looked even more beautiful than usual. She seemed to be glowing, at least to my eyes.

It was a good, though not outstanding, play. We stayed for the reception following the performance. It was the expected thing to do. I was on the board of directors. Leaving early would look very bad. Amanda and I hung around, making polite conversation. After about forty-five minutes, she turned to me and said, "Bob, I'm a little tired. Let's go home and fuck."

Heads snapped around. It seemed as though everyone in the room were staring at us, although only a few people could possibly have overheard. Amanda glared back at them.

Somehow, I managed to keep a straight face. I said, "Yes, darling. I'll go get the car and meet you out front."

When I picked her up, Amanda got into the Porsche and immediately began to laugh. Soon, we were both roaring with laughter. As I've said before, this kid was just full of surprises.

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Back to the present. In the office, the cardinal was speaking solemnly.

"Bob, I've always had great respect and admiration for you. You've done terrific things for the archdiocese. You've given us so much support during our many computer problems, and you've contributed money as well as time. If you were a Catholic, I suspect you'd have been made a Knight of Malta by now.

"But that's very much my point. You are not a Catholic, but Amanda is."

"And because Amanda is a Catholic, this is very serious for her. I want you to be very sure that you understand that. I know that she does. Do you understand, Bob?"

"Yes, Eminence. I understand."

"Now, just why do you want me to preside? In the eyes of God, all priests are equal. A cardinal is no better than any other priest."

"Eminence, I want it to be special. Besides, I'd like to think that we're friends, you and I."

"We are. Yes, we are. But I insist that both of you attend every instruction session, together and on time. If you don't, I'll make your lives miserable. Agreed?"

I said, "Yes, your Eminence." Amanda nodded so vigorously that I was afraid that her head would come off.

By this time, I had completely lost the circulation in my right arm. I gently removed Amanda's hands from my upper arm. I held her left hand. The diamond on her finger sparkled in the sunlight.

Cardinal Simsovic stood up. We also rose, as was fitting. He came around the desk to us. He smiled and hugged us both.

"I'll do it. Have you set a date for the wedding?"

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The End