When we moved next door to Chèvre Chou, Hans and Yanic moved in to the sheep barn. Don flew with Hans, a young, good looking, dream boat. He happened to get involved with a younger, brazen little tart. He was madly in love with her, but Don could see the warning signs and decided to take the situation in hand and advise Hans, whom he considered something like a son, of potential disaster.
Don wrote Hans a letter of advice, unsolicited, warning him of Yanic. The response was similar to Hiroshima, because Hans showed the letter to Yanic, in the delusion that one shares everything with their partner;…well, maybe not always a good idea, if its hurtful. So the hate-on began.
The letter came before Hans moved in. But just. He magnanimously came over to the house with Yanic and threw the letter in the fireplace, saying we were under too much stress, lets just pitch the letter and forget it. (“We”? I had nothing to do with this, but I was to pay dearly). We decided to let it go and we agreed, even though we knew it had nothing to do with stress. Nice cover up on the part of Hans. Or was it denial?
I had a welcoming party for Yanic and Hans to introduce them to all our friends. This didn’t help our situation as she just developed a separate life with them. I continued to invite them to all our parties as if everything were normal. Little did I realize the revenge this woman could harbour.
I was a flea market junkie and I loved to buy trinkets and old armoires. Not only did we need the armoires, but I believed everyone should have one. I was so passionate about them, I started to believe I must have had them in a past life. At one of our parties I fantasizing about having an eclectic store at home in Canada, similar to the flea markets of France, and sell knick knacks and armoires. It was only wine talk. This was taken as a fait accompli by Yanic.
At the end of our stay, when our three years passed in France, I headed home to Glengarry with the kids. Don stayed to finish up his contract. We had sold our house in Boinville to a lovely young couple, and Don continued to stay in one of the apartments.
He called me from France to tell me the airline company he worked for was not going to release our belongings from the French port ‘Le Harvre’ until Don signed a waiver giving up his $10,000 bonus and rendering the company not responsible for our belongings in the transfer to Canada, including a caveat that we couldn’t ever sue them for damages. Now, I wondered, why would this situation arise? Is it possible that our friend Yanic, went to the company and told them I was using them to transport my goods for my future store? Deal with it. I told Don to sign the waiver and not worry about it.
The saga continued on the other side of the ocean at home. When our things finally arrived, I was summoned to go to the port in Montreal to release them. Well, wouldn’t you know that I had randomly been selected to be investigated. Our containers would be emptied in a warehouse and inspected at our expense, about $2,000. “How could this happen?” I asked. Well, “Just random,” the custom official answered. Random, my ass is a star.
As I was speaking with the customs officer, he abruptly finished our session at 4:30. What is going on? He explained they are working to rule and I was to come back tomorrow. “Well, who is going to pay for my hotel?” Just come back tomorrow.
So the next day, fully prepared to stay in Montreal for a few days to clear my stuff, I arrived at the customs counter. “You live in Cornwall? You’re at the wrong port. You have to enter Canada at Cornwall.” I reacted with a mixture of relief and expectation.
When I got to the customs at Cornwall, I found the chief inspections officer. I tried to explain that the only thing we hadn’t paid taxes on was our new couch. He seemed rather detached and I didn’t think I was getting through to him.
Our things arrived at the farm in two large containers. The customs officer in attendance vocalized that he couldn’t understand why his boss had asked him to stay with the containers the whole day. Usually he just cut the wires on the lock and went on with this work elsewhere. He had just come off of holidays and he didn’t want to have a bunch of papers to deal with. “Just let me know when the containers are empty.” and off he went to lie down under a tree.
My friends didn’t have to visit me in a prison cell after all!
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