Chapter Text
Chapter 2
Since that day at the market where Irene had run into Maurice (she was certain it had been him), she had felt antsy and on edge. Irene had wanted her time in Montreal to be a fresh start, away from her past, yet here her past was, brushing past her on the street without a second glance.
So, Irene did what she had always been taught to do when she was stressed: throw herself into her work. She had tasked the maudlin Sister Jeanne with being the convents official Cook, while Sister Suzanne was appointed as their unofficial treasurer and accountant. The lovable young Sister Lucille had fashioned herself as Irenes personal assistant, following her around almost wherever she went and always trying to be as helpful as possible.
After the sisters had enjoyed a lunch of a simple beef stew with crusts of leftover bread that Sister Denise had bought at the farmers market, Irene called a small meeting between herself, Lucille, Suzanne, and Sister Éloise. Irene sat at the head seat of the table, what had unofficially become “her” seat.
“Sisters, I wanted to talk about the improvements I want to make to the convent. I want this place to feel more…homey, I guess, and maybe not look so run down? First of all we need to fix the windows before winter starts, and I definitely want to get rid of this old wallpaper. Plus that carpet in the entryway…”
Irene grimaced as she thought of that moldy old carpet with its sickly green colour. “So who do we know who can help us out?” She looked around at the her sisters sitting around the table.
Lucille scrunched her pale eyebrows in thought. “Well, I remember Monsieur Nicholas used to do some small repairs here, but he has to be about 75 years old by now…”
“Okay so thats a dead end. Maybe we could ask someone up at the Parish?” said Irene.
Sister Suzanne had been picking distractedly at her blunt nails during their conversation, but looked up suddenly.
“Ah, Sister Irene, maybe I know someone but he’s um… eccentric? Or strange? I’m not sure of how to describe him. He was friends with my older brother when they were in school together and they used to work building houses outside my neighbourhood.
Of course then he moved to Europe and everyone said he lost his mind… but, um, my brother still talks with him and I’m sure he’s back in town. Thats the only person I can think of,” She smiled somewhat awkwardly at Irene.
“Well seeing as that is our only option as of right now, I think I’ll take you up on that. Merci, Suzanne. I mean, i’m sure thats all just rumours, you know how people like to talk,” Irene smiled at the Sister.
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With permission from Sister Irene, Suzanne was able to use the phonebooth down the street from the convent (they did not have a phone there, another thing Irene would try to factor into their budget) and make a phone call to her elder brother, a school teacher who lived out in Laval. Irene sat in her tiny office with Lucille and they worked quietly together organizing all the paperwork and files the previous abbesses had left behind.
Lucille stood up, yawning and stretching, then tucked a strand of her long blonde hair behind her hair “Wow, this is hardwork Sister,” she said earnestly.
“Lucille, we’ve been at this for one hour.” Irene said.
“I know right!” said Lucille.
At that moment, Sister Suzanne knocked lightly on Irenes office and entered the room. She grinned brightly and addressed Irene.
“Sister, I was right, my brothers friend still is in town. I wrote down his name and number here. My brother was so happy to hear from me, we havent spoke in so long,” the sister beamed.
“He said his friend is looking for work right now and will probably be happy to help.”
She handed Irene the small folded note that was in her hand before leaving to go complete her chores.
“Thats perfect, thank you Suzanne!” “Merci Suzie!” Both Irene and Lucille called to the sister as she left.
Irene sighed in relief. “Well, if this man is going to help out then thats one less thing we have to worry about, right Lucille?”
“Exactement Sister,” She smiled.
Irene opened the pale stationary paper that Suzanne had handed her. Inside, it read:
Maurice Theriault
Mont-Royal, Montréal
438.539.2018