Before copying Findley's notebook and getting in touch with Grayson, Connie had one small thing she wanted to do. Take a peek into the neighbors' backyard. She opened the backdoor and listened. All seemed quiet. She took her bench over to the fence near the oak tree. Climbed up and peered over. Eneko was standing in the middle of the yard. He spotted her before she could duck down.

"You want something?" He snapped his head down as soon as he saw her.

"Jean, my neighbor on the other side told me that our two yards used to be connected. I was curious what your yard looked like. I'm sorry if I seem snoopy." Connie was flustered. "I guess I'm being a little snoopy. Sorry to bother you." She started to lower herself down.

"Wait."

She stood back up and put her hands on top of the fence. Eneko pulled down the brim of his ballcap and squinted at her. What did he want?

She stared back, not knowing what to say. A slight softening in his expression moved across his face and he spoke. "How're your building projects going?"

"Oh, do you want your sawhorses back?"

"No. Just wondered how it was going."

"It's going okay. Should be done soon. I'm only building a table and a couple of benches. Actually, I'm standing on one of the benches now. When the weather warms up, I want to work outside sometimes and eat my meals. I thought it would be nice to sit under this oak tree."

"It is." Eneko glanced at his house. "I've got to take care of something inside."

"Sure. Don't let me keep you."

And he walked away. What a weirdo. But at least he didn't snarl. They'd even had a sort of conversation. That was progress. And his leaving left her comfortable to take a long survey of their backyard. It looked a lot like how hers was emerging in the warm weather. Pleasing clusters of plantings and walks.

They also had a small flagstone patio under the oak tree on their side of the fence. Her buying the house meant severing the large sitting area under the tree. That could explain some of Eneko's resentment. A well-loved garden had been divided in two.

As Connie scanned the neighbor's side under the oak tree, she noticed some hardware sticking out of their side of the fence. She stood up on her toes and stretched over the top to look down and get a better view.

Hinges and a latch stuck out. It was a gate, a wide gate, but invisible from her side of the fence. Huh. What was that all about? It would have been built in when the fence went up. When her house was put up for sale. But why? It made her uneasy. Something else to ask Pria.

After Connie finished copying Findley's notebook, she called Grayson who immediately drove over. He found her in back, finishing up her table. The ponytail that had started perched on her head to keep her hair out of the way was now slumped down near her neck, a bedraggled mess.

Grayson was an engaging, good-looking man, several years older than Connie. Her friend, Sonya, labelled him a classic charmer in a tone that sounded like both a compliment and a putdown.

"I only got a little lost getting here."

"It's not the Yukon, you know. I'm still in Toronto. Anyway, it's nice to see you."

"You're much too defensive about your new neighborhood. This is...charming." Grayson gestured to the yard and house with his hands. "What have you got going there, super Connie?"

"There were some pieces of cedar left in the back and I decided to build a table and some benches to use in the garden."

"You really are a wonder. You know you look very fetching in that tool belt."

Connie futilely tried to keep herself from blushing. She muttered, "You're a dumb tease. Have a seat. I'll go fetch the notebook."

When she came back, Pria was leaning over the fence talking to Grayson.

"Hey Connie, just having a nice chat with your friend. Grayson? Is that right?"

Grayson gave Pria one of his charmed-up grins, "You got it."

"What are you two talking about?"

Pria smiled, "You."

Grayson broke in, "And how calm and competent you are. A veritable port in any storm."

"In other words, a bit of a bore." That came out testier than she intended. She liked Grayson but he had a way of making her feel frumpy, especially if another woman came on the scene. Pria with her pertness and animation and that tinge of an exotic air would appeal to Grayson. She handed him the notebook.

He looked at her and tilted his head, "You okay?"

Oh great, now he's pitying her. Pria jumped in, "I was just saying to Grayson how impressively handy you are. So much more than me."

"And me too." Grayson stood up. "Sadly, ladies, I need to get going. Appointment. Maybe we can plan another visit soon. Especially now that the weather is warming up." He waved the notebook, "Thanks for this. Did you find anything of your mother's in the boxes?"

"Yes, a little. Something she wrote I hadn't seen before."

"Anything about the work she and Findley did together?"

"No. Nothing like that."

Grayson did that cocking his head thing again, "Reading that must have been hard for you."

"No. I'm fine. It was a little hard, but I'm glad I found it."

"Good. Glad you feel that way." He looked up a Pria. "It was nice to meet you, Pria. I'm glad to know that Connie has a friendly neighbor." He turned to Connie. "Let me know if you find something else. I'll come back and try out this furniture you're building. You both take care."

Pria waited until he was gone, "Are you really okay, Connie?"

Connie looked up at her friendly face. "To be honest, I'm not sure."

"Do you want to talk? I'm happy to listen."

"Unlike Grayson." Connie frowned. "No. That's not nice of me. He's actually always been good to me in a big brother, slightly superior sort of way." She looked up at Pria, "I've something I want to ask you."

"Okay..."

"My neighbor on the other side, Jean, mentioned how our two yards used to be joined together. And that got me curious, so I climbed up on my bench by the oak tree to look into your yard. Eneko might have told you. He caught me being snoopy. I noticed that part of the fence, is actually a gate. Why was that done when the fence was put in to divide the yards?"

Pria's open expression now closed down and she looked at Connie pensively. "Yes, I can see that would seem a little odd."

Connie waited.

"First, you must know, that we would never use the gate to go into your yard unless you invited us to come in. When we had both yards, we used to spend a lot of time under that beautiful old tree."

"But you still can."

"Uh, you see, we thought that maybe, if we got along with whoever bought the house, we sometimes could open it up. I'm really sorry. We didn't think whoever bought the house would notice it because you can't see it from your side. I can see where it would make you feel uncomfortable. Like we might be up to something. But seriously, it was just a dumb whim. I'll get Eneko to nail some boards over the gate and let's not talk about it anymore." Pria looked upset.

"Leave it. I trust you. And who knows, maybe this summer we might want to do some socializing back there."

"I don't want you to worry about it. You okay?"

"I'm okay."

Pria spoke tentatively, "Do you mind if I ask you what seemed to be upsetting you when Grayson was here? Was it something in that notebook you gave him? If I'm being too nosy, just tell me. I felt maybe you wanted to talk about it."

How did she manage it, Connie wondered? Once again opening her up like a book. Pria wrapped up that odd explanation of the secret gate and now Connie wanted to lay out her whole life's story. "I think I need someone snooping into my life right now, Pria. How much time do you have?"

And Connie spilled it all out to her, her mother dying of cancer, finding the notebooks, the revelation about her biological father, feeling betrayed by her mother, by Findley, possibly her grandparents, Findley's odd note. Pria listened patiently to every word. Because of her mother's concern for secrecy about her biological father, Connie said little about him. Only that he existed.

"God, I needed to get that off of my chest. You're probably sorry you asked. You must be tired of standing on whatever you're standing on."

"I'm fine. No wonder you're feeling upset. Is there anyone who could help you shine a light on things a little, like Findley's note. What about Grayson? He told me he was a close friend of your stepfather."

"I don't think so. He met Findley after my mother died. Plus, I can't imagine him and Findley talking much about personal things. They were all about their shared archaeological interests."

"Where do you think your biological father went? His home?"

"I have no idea. What my mother wrote was short on specifics and didn't make a lot of sense to me."

"What did she say?"

"Almost nothing. I don't want to look for him anyway. She wrote that she hoped he might try to find me sometime. That he might return and discover I existed. That's clearly not happened. So why should I try to find him? I'm just trying to put it all aside for now."

"Yes, maybe that's best. At least for now. But when you do think about it, try not to let yourself feel too negative or angry. You know sometimes people get boxed in and simply don't have good options. It sounds like that happened to your mother and biological father. From how you describe her, your mother sounds wonderful. I don't think you should be angry with her."

Connie sighed, "I know. I'm not so much anymore. As much as anything, I'm angry that she died so young, when I was little. That's always been there. In the last years, it's been farther in the background. But this dredged it all up again. I can't believe I dumped this all on you. I hardly know you! But thank you."

"No problem. I'm always happy to talk."

Connie laughed, "Next time, I'll tell you about my evil step-mother and her two evil children."

"Oh goodness. That sounds like Cinderella."

"It was a bit like that, except no glass slipper or Prince Charming. Not that I missed having either. No, a better option is next time to hear your life story."

"It's not very interesting."

Connie heard their back door open. Milo came up to the fence. "Hey, Connie." She waved and turned to Pria. "We need to get going."

"Oh, yes, sorry. I lost track of time."

"My fault," Connie called over. The two said goodbye and disappeared inside.

Just as well. Connie was spent and ready for some quiet time with the table project. Funny how comfortable she felt nattering on at Pria about the discovery of the notebooks. Probably because Pria was outside the confines of her little insular Toronto world. Plus, she seemed so nice and non-judgmental.

She worked on the table for the rest of the day. Making things with her hands always helped to settle her down. By the time he died, Findley's personal support workers probably had had their fill of bird and doll houses, trinket boxes, and wooden spoons. Who knows, maybe she'd build up an inventory and hang out at a craft show or two.

Before going to bed, Connie stared long and hard into the bathroom mirror thinking about her mother's words, "You have his eyes." It was one of the few things she understood from the notebook. Connie was born with unusually pronounced heterochromia. Her eyes were two different colors, one dark brown, one bright blue. She'd met a few other people with heterochromia and seen pictures, but none as distinctive as hers. Arden's must be the same.

When Connie was younger, she wore a brown tinted contact lens on her blue eye to make her eyes look the same. Now she put on greyed glasses for activities like her trip to the grocery store. For people she knew, she let them get used to her different eyes.

Connie was aware that Jean had only seen her with the greyed glasses so far. She recalled how Pria paused and stuttered when they first met. Connie assumed it was the eye color thing. It didn't matter. And that she had eyes like Arden didn't matter. What she found herself thinking about were the connections she'd made the last few days and how her new little neighborhood didn't feel so lonely anymore.