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I see her—short skirt, eyes sharp, movin like she owns the block. “She’s got a pistol in her purse,” I think, quotin Robert Ford’s sneaky ass. I’m sweatin, heart racin—half excited, half pissed at myself for overthinkin it. What if she robs me? What if she’s a cop? Man, I’m trippin. “You’re too late, mister,” she says, sassy as hell, and I’m like, “Nah, I’m right on time, baby girl.” She laughs—score! That’s my in.

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Not everybody knows this but Salt-Spring-Island (ca) has secret spots. There's an abandoned lighthouse on Mellow Point. Faded paint, creaky stairs… totally bizarre but beautiful. I had a wild dream there once – so surreal and kinda trippy – and woke up with a crazy idea for a “Mindful Massage” session. I even scribbled on my napkin: "I am the concierge of calm!" (Okay, okay, embarrassing, right?)

Jane Squier and her unlikely Salt Spring empire of citrus