questions, even obliquely. Ralph has hardly begun to survey Jules’ project when Dieter calls everyone to the table. Jules excuses himself after the pistou, leaving the adults to discuss the boring politics of wind farms. He’s more interested in anchoring his pylons.
CHAPTER 6
It has stopped raining. Wearing her reflective vest, Lynn steps out of the house at six o’clock for her usual walk before school. Light from street lamps reflects off mist still hanging in the air and creates an eerie glow, the kind you see on a movie set to create a sense of impending doom. There is a strong earthen smell, the scent of wet, decaying leaves. Almost no traffic on the road. She loves it here in Picton, such a difference from Montreal. She walks briskly to the marina and makes her way to her favorite boat, a Daysailer about halfway down one edge of the dock.
Last night’s dinner unfolded as she had feared. From the moment he entered the house, Ralph had it in for Dieter. Not even someone like Dieter deserved that.
“Nice. I see that Germans are not above wearing fine Italian clothes. Brioni suit and Zegna tie, if I’m not mistaken. Not bad for an engineer.”
“Same old,” said Dieter. “Trying to keep up with you.”
Then the episode over Dieter’s offer to Jules. Handing Dieter a stack of plates in the kitchen, out of earshot of Ralph and Jules in the studio, she said, “What the hell are you doing? We’re on opposite sides of the wind farm issue and you barely step into my house before offering my son a scholarship for a summer internship?”
Dieter looked crushed. “I know what I’m doing. We’d be lucky to have Jules in the program.”
“C’mon. It smells like a bribe— You’ve put me in an impossible position with Jules.”
“How?”
“If the lawsuit I bring against your company succeeds, you’ll pull your offer of the internship and he’ll resent me forever.”
“Giving Jules this opportunity is the right thing. It has nothing to do with wind farms in your county— Or the fact that I still have a soft spot for you— ”
He waited for her to react, and when she didn’t, he finished placing the plates around the table. “Where’s the silverware?”
Lynn opened a drawer of the sideboard. “You’re saying that you’d have offered Jules an internship regardless?”
“Certainly— Especially after seeing his work— Ironic, isn’t it? I’d never have met Jules without running into you at your town meeting.”
“I’d like to believe you.” In a perverse way, she was glad that a contentious matter had already sprung up with Dieter, even if Jules had to be at its center.
Dieter turned out not to be a vegetarian. Lynn served them both generous slices of tourtière and took a smaller one for herself. Dieter heaped on ketchup from a small dish that she’d placed on the table beside a cruet of molasses. Ralph waited, watching her pour some molasses onto the side of her plate, then followed her lead. Looking directly into her eyes, with no lead-up to it, he asked whether she believed that wind power is part of a sound energy strategy for the country. It caught her off guard.
“Ah, Mr. Prosecutor, the framing question! No wonder you went into law. By the way, how’s the tourtière?”
“Seriously— ” said Ralph, “that’s the place to start. If you think it’s a bad energy policy, it becomes a different discussion.”
“Seriously— How’s the tourtière?”
“Delicious. Perfect with molasses. I presume that’s the Quebec way.”
“Yes— I thought this was supposed to be purely a social visit. A chance for Dieter to meet Jules.”
“I’m glad I did,” said Dieter, “and I love the meal you prepared for us, but while I’m here, I’d like to talk about the proposed wind farms a little more than we were able to at the town meeting.”
“I can’t tell whether it’s the tourtière you like or the ketchup you’ve slathered all over it,” she said, wishing as soon as the words escaped her mouth that she could reel them back before they reached his ears.
Dieter looked crushed again. He’d been caught masking the taste of a favorite food of Quebecers that he couldn’t stand, but was forced to eat solely out of politeness—the only thing he found worse was French-Canadian poutine.
“Sorry— I don’t like the taste of molasses.”
“In principle, I don’t think it’s a bad policy,” she said to soften the blow. “The ketchup I mean.” Dieter put on a weak smile. When Ralph stopped laughing, she continued. “Okay, Ralph—seriously. I don’t think we should place wind farms where there are tourist attractions, recreational parks, or wildlife preserves. We have all three in this county.”
“If you take the emotion out of it,” said Dieter, “you’ll— ”
She interrupted him mid-sentence. “We’ve looked at it the only way residents can. We don’t want to see the towers. We don’t want to hear the thump-thumping of the blades whipping the air. We care about our wildlife. We thrive on tourist business. Could it be any simpler?”
“That’s a self-serving view,” said Dieter, apparently unwilling to adopt a lighter touch. Not much of a soft spot for her after all. “Opposition groups tend to agree that the country needs to harness wind energy, but then turn around and say, ‘Take your projects somewhere else, thank you. Not in my backyard.’”
Lynn savored a mouthful of meat pie and took her first taste of the wine. “Now that’s a good Nuits. Who brought this one?”
“I did,” said Ralph.
“You should have opened mine,” said Dieter. “It’s a better vintage.”
Turning to Dieter, she asked, “What’s wrong with that view?”
Jules, who’d been standing unnoticed in the doorway to the dining room, answered for Dieter. “If everybody thought that way, the country would never solve its energy problems.”
“I don’t think I need your help on this,” she said. Jules retreated to his studio.
“Smart kid,” said Ralph.
“Smart ass— There are plenty of places where wind farms could be located that wouldn’t affect people’s lives as directly.”
Dieter drained his glass and refilled it. “Let’s finish this bottle so that I can open the better one.”
“You’re thinking of places where few people live,” said Ralph.
“Exactly.”
“Sadly, for reasons of cost, we don’t always have that luxury. We tend to site farms in rural areas. From my tour this afternoon, I’d say this is a rural area. Except for the town itself.”
“Not rural enough. I meant places where there is virtually no population.”
“I guess you don’t understand,” said Dieter, “how expensive it is to transmit power from remote areas.”
“Then build massive farms there and transport a lot of electricity. Make it an economy of scale. Hey guys, there’s nothing new here— All you big-energy folk are set in your ways and won’t listen to reason.”
“I think the same could be said of you,” said Dieter.
Lynn bristled. Got up and started to clear the dishes from the table. “Anybody want dessert? I’ve made mille feuilles.”
“From scratch?” asked Ralph. “You didn’t pick it up at the bakery?”
“All by myself. I can’t tell you how many times I helped my mother make it. It is my father’s favorite.”