by Gail Bowen
“I’ve learned that the production of which you’re all a part has a personnel problem, but it’s not an insoluble one,” Zack continued. “The deaths of Gabe Vickers and Roy Brodnitz created a situation where people were being asked to assume responsibilities on an ad hoc basis — that’s never good for morale or for effective management. Clarifying job descriptions would simplify everything. Once the responsibilities of every position are delineated, it’s simply a matter of putting the right person in the right place and letting him or her do the job.
“Fawn Tootoosis has an impressive résumé as line producer, producer and executive producer. More significantly, in the months since Gabe Vickers’s death, Fawn has kept a steady hand on the tiller. However, despite her experience and her exemplary performance Ms. Tootoosis is still referred to as acting producer. This is an insult to her, and it blurs the lines of responsibility. I suggest a formal announcement to the media that Ms. Tootoosis is now the executive producer of Sisters and Strangers. This would free up Georgie Shepherd to devote her skills full-time to writing the script for the series. After that, the one position that would remain vacant is that of general manager of Living Skies, and as I speak, Brock Poitras, the MBA who manages Falconer Shreve, has a headhunter searching for the right candidate.”
Ainsley remained impassive during Zack’s presentation. Buzz Wells did not. Georgie scribbled something on her agenda and slid it to me. I smiled when I saw what she’d written. “Rumpel is about to spontaneously combust.”
Zack was finishing his report. “I know this has been a difficult time for all of you, but everything I’ve heard about your work and your commitment is overwhelmingly positive. We all have good reason to be optimistic about the future of both Living Skies and Sisters and Strangers. You have my contact information. If you have questions or concerns, feel free to get in touch.”
Georgie reached over and patted Zack’s hand. “Thanks, Zack, for what you’ve done and for what you continue to do. I know how busy you are, so if you’d like to get back to your day job, we’ll understand.”
“Actually, if no one objects, I’d like to stick around,” Zack said. “Joanne tells me that table meetings are where all departments report on what they’ve been doing, and I’d like to learn about that.”
“I’m sure we’ll all be delighted if you stay, Zack.” Hal Dupuis’s rich and resonant voice made what might have seemed simply a polite response, sound heartfelt. “Everyone at this table works in a different field,” he said, “but we’re all show-offs and we welcome the chance to strut our stuff, especially in front of a newly minted minority shareholder.”
Zack grinned and settled back in his chair. “I’m ready when you are.”
Presentation folders lay in front of each place at the table. Hal picked up his and waved it. “Everyone please, open your folders. Looks like Costume Design’s up first. The drawings you’re about to see are of the gowns worn by the principal female actors in the scenes at the Valentine’s dinner celebrating Sally Love and hosted by the Mendel Art Gallery.
“As you know, the evening ended tragically. In addition to a large staff, there were one hundred and eighty guests present when Sally and Izaak Levin died within minutes of each other. People were still at their tables eating, so there was great confusion. It was difficult to track down photos of the evening, but Joanne Shreve managed to find some photos of herself and of Sally, Nina and of Nina’s lover, Sally’s ex-husband, Stuart Lachlan.” Hal turned towards me. “I’ll be forever grateful for those photos, Joanne. They made my work much easier, and, more significantly, they made it true.”
I nodded.
“In movies, everything an actor wears makes a statement,” he said. “The first drawing is of a form-fitting, high-necked gown of red silk shot through with gold, which will be worn by Rosamond Burke. Zack, Rosamond plays the documentary filmmaker and friend for decades of both the Love and Ellard families. She’s seen this sketch, and she’s ecstatic about the dress and about the insight it will give the audience into her character, a stunning woman who knows who she is and celebrates her identity.”
“The next drawing is of the gown Joanne wore that night, classic design in lipstick-red satin, backless with a square neckline.”
Zack drew me towards him. “You must have looked beautiful in that dress.”
“That was the only time I wore it,” I said. “As soon as I got home that night, I took the dress out to the back alley and buried it in the trash.”
Zack’s dark eyes were concerned. “Jo, if this is too much for you, we don’t have to stay.”
“No, I knew this remembrance of things past would be painful, but I promised myself I would see this through, and I will,” I said. Brave words, but when I turned to the next drawings, my resolve melted.
“These two designs are my prize,” Hal said. When he glanced in my direction, I knew he was concerned about my reaction, but I nodded encouragement. “That night, Nina and Sally both chose dresses from the ’60s. Nina’s was a slim, sculptured Balenciaga gown of lustrous red velvet, a classic gown that paid homage to the timelessness of good design. Lovely, but I imagine that after her daughter arrived wearing Rudi Gernreich, no one gave Nina a second glance.”
Rudi Gernreich was an advocate for advancing women’s sexual freedom, and Sally’s outfit was blatantly sexual, a one-piece jumpsuit of white lace, appliqued on a sort of stretchy net with matching leggings. There wasn’t much lace in the jumpsuit, but there was a lot of net and a lot of Sally. And Hal was right, Nina had been eclipsed once again. That night I hadn’t known that Nina and Stuart Lachlan had become lovers, but from the moment Sally walked in, Stuart seemed mesmerized, touching her arm, stroking her hair and leaning his face close to hers when she talked. Nina and I were standing together, and her small, carefully toned body radiated fury.
“That jumpsuit must have been a poke in the eye for Nina,” Georgie said quietly.
“It was,” I said. “And I’m sure Sally chose it for that very reason. She and Nina knew each other’s vulnerabilities. They knew where to strike.”
After Hal finished, Kyle Daly stood. Buzz Wells pushed his chair back and pivoted to watch Kyle. Buzz’s gaze was sharp and appraising, and Kyle, obviously unnerved, shifted to avoid his scrutiny. Kyle’s voice was strained as he began describing the table settings: the tiny stylized hearts hand-drawn on the individual place cards, the placement of the five-cylinder pillar candle vases, and the species of rosebuds chosen because their crimson petals were an exact match for the rich red of the strawberry sauce on the coeurs à la crème that would be served for dessert. Eyeballs were glazing over, and when Kyle noticed, he laughed nervously. “Like the great Nicolas Poussin, ‘Je n’ai rien négligé — I overlooked nothing.’ Since I can’t overlook the fact that you don’t share my obsession with table settings, I’ll move along.
“The real excitement in the Art Department is the work Taylor Shreve is doing replicating her birth mother’s paintings. We’ve been keeping the pieces Taylor has already completed in set storage, but Taylor and I have decided they should be out where people can enjoy them. When we’re through here please stop by our workspace and indicate your first and second choices. A member of our crew will come around Monday morning to hang the paintings, and we’ll switch them off every couple of weeks, so everyone will get a chance to enjoy all of Taylor’s work.”
When there was a round of good-natured applause, Kyle seemed to relax. He bowed. “The paintings are your reward for not giving me the hook during my explanation of the placement of the five-cylinder pillar candle vases.”
As the presentations wore on, the afternoon sun poured in, turning the air gold and making the room slumbrous. The last to present was Edie Gunn and her news was positive. She had locked in dates when the cast and crew could use the MacKenzie Gallery and she’d booked accommodations within driving distance of Lindner Island for three weeks in summ
er and two in autumn. “We’re good to go,” she said in a cheery, gravelly voice that reminded me of my basketball coach at Bishop Lambeth.
Georgie had been daydreaming, but she was suddenly alert. “Anybody have anything else?” she asked. When there was no response, she said, “Then I guess that’s a wrap. Thanks all.”
However, as it turned out there were two more scenes to play out, and they were ugly ones. Buzz Wells was on his feet. His colour was high, and his tone, aggressive. “I have a question about Joanne Shreve’s option contract. It includes a clause that gives her the right to put a stop to the production if she doesn’t like the direction in which the project is heading.”
Zack’s voice was even. “I wrote that clause, Mr. Wells. It’s not lengthy, but brief as it is, you missed a part. The contract becomes null and void only after Joanne Shreve and the ‘contractor,’ originally Gabe Vickers, but now Ainsley Blair, have made every effort to resolve the problem and mutually agreed that there is no resolution.
“Gabe Vickers read every word in that contract with great care before he signed. Vickers had flaws, but when it came to producing movies, he was admirably professional. As an executive producer, Vickers routinely handled large sums of money, and there was never a hint of financial malfeasance. Investors trusted him, because they knew he was scrupulous, and he could, if called upon, account for every penny.” Zack’s voice hardened. “He was not a gambler. He knew that gambling with money entrusted to him violated not only the law but also the covenant between him and his investors. Do you have any further questions, Mr. Wells?”
Buzz’s features had hardened into a grim anger.
Zack waited a full and tense minute before he said, “In that case, we’re through here,” and turned his wheelchair towards the door. “Jo, I’m going to check in at the office. I won’t be long.”
“I’ll meet you at the door, martini in hand.”
Georgie and I picked up our presentation folders. “Does that zinger Zack just delivered qualify as a shot across the bow?” she said.
I shrugged. “We’ll have to wait and see how Wells responds. If we’re lucky he’ll wave the white flag and leave town.”
Zack had stopped to talk to Nick Kovacs. They were to the left of the door and as Buzz exited, he deliberately clipped Zack’s wheelchair with his hip. When Nick started after Wells, Zack stopped him.
“There’s our answer,” Georgie said. “The battle’s on. And that rat Rumpel just left Ainsley sitting there alone to deal with his mess. I’d better check on her. I’ll call you later.”
Zack and I came out of the room together. We were just in time to catch the next skirmish. Kyle Daly was walking swiftly down the hall, but when Buzz caught up with him and grabbed his arm, Zack and I picked up the pace and we were close enough to hear a brief and disturbing exchange. Still holding Kyle’s arm, Buzz moved close to Kyle’s ear and said something.
Kyle shook him off. “Let it go,” he said. “If you stay it will just get worse.”
When Kyle turned to go into the men’s room, Buzz followed him, and Zack was right behind. I stood outside the door, waiting and wondering. It wasn’t long before Kyle came out, clearly distraught. He stopped in front of me. “I’ve made a terrible mistake,” he said.
Suddenly, Wells was there. He glared at Kyle. “Shut up,” he said. “You and I are in this together, and you can’t walk away.”
It was a few minutes until Zack returned. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. “I thought since I was there, I might as well use the facilities. Did I miss anything?”
“You did,” I said. “But it will keep until you get home.”
I’d just had time to let Esme and Pantera out and check the mail when my phone rang. It was Charlie D. “I have news,” he said.
“So do I,” I said. “There was a dust-up at the table meeting this afternoon.”
Charlie D laughed. “You win. Your news is hotter than mine. You go first.” After I’d described how Zack thwarted Buzz’s clumsy attempt to humiliate him, Charlie D was thoughtful. “That may explain the call I just got from Buzz Wells. He backed out of the interview he’d been so keen to do on Monday.”
“Did he reschedule?”
“Nope. He just said his plans had changed. Maybe Zack’s not-so-veiled comments about unethical producers playing fast and loose with investors’ money spooked him, and he’s packing his bags and hitting the road.”
“No such luck,” I said. “Buzz Wells is far from finished. He left the meeting in a foul mood. On his way out, he deliberately bumped against Zack’s chair and then he accosted Kyle Daly and said they needed to talk. Kyle tried to brush him off, but Buzz was having none of it. Buzz told Kyle that they were in this together, and he couldn’t walk away.”
Charlie D whistled. “That sounds ominous,” he said. “But at least one question has been answered. We knew someone working on Sisters and Strangers was a conduit for information to a person or persons who didn’t wish the production well. At least now we know the identity of the mole.”
“And I wish we didn’t,” I said. “I’m fond of Kyle.”
“He’s been helping Taylor decorate her new apartment, hasn’t he?”
“He has, and Taylor’s been working on the paintings that Set Decorating will use for the series. She and Kyle have spent a lot of time together, and lately Taylor’s been worried about him. One night last week he and Taylor and Zack and I watched the rough cut of The Happiest Girl. It’s amazing, Charlie D — beautiful and very powerful.”
“Expectations are high for that movie,” Charlie D said. “Roy and Ainsley did our province a great service by insisting that it be filmed here.”
“They did,” I agreed, “but that decision brought them both nothing but grief. And now Kyle is suffering. When we turned on the lights after watching the rough cut, Kyle had an ‘episode.’ He seemed dazed, and he said he was sorry and ran out of the house. Taylor went after him. Zack and I had no idea what was going on. We thought it might have been a panic attack. When she came home, Taylor told us that Kyle said it was PTSD. He told Taylor he’s been reliving that moment when he and Ainsley found Roy on the island and Roy was in such a terrible state.”
Charlie D was sanguine. “To see a man like Roy suddenly reduced to a creature who was barely human would be traumatic for anyone.”
“It would,” I said. “And Taylor tells us Kyle is getting professional help, but I have a feeling that Kyle might have been more than a witness. After he and Buzz confronted each other today, Kyle told me he’d ‘made a terrible mistake.’ Buzz cut him off before he could say more.”
“Are you going to pursue this with Kyle?”
“No,” I said. “He’s on the edge, and I don’t want to push him. I’ll have to wait until he comes to me.”
“You think he will?”
I shook my head. “No, but we live in hope.”
Chapter Sixteen
The last week of April brought weather that was temperate and benign. The daffodils and the Red Dynasty tulips burst forth in a show of beauty almost as impressive as the photos in the bulb catalogue. Taylor and I moved the table and patio chairs close to the flower bed so our family could feel the presence of spring while we ate.
The rhythm of our lives slowed to a steady predictable beat, in large part because Buzz Wells had not appeared in public since his dismal Regina debut at the table meeting. He was still living in the top floor of the duplex with Ainsley. Georgie reported that delivery people regularly appeared with takeout food, and she could hear Buzz pacing and prowling at all hours of the day and night; however, she had seen neither hide nor hair of Buzz since he huffed and puffed out of the meeting. Georgie said that for her every day without Buzz was a day filled with sunshine.
When Hal Dupuis called me with a question about a particular outfit of Nina’s, he reported that, thanks to Fawn, the pre-prod
uction process was progressing smoothly, and Ainsley was putting in full days at the production studios, talking to department heads and working on her preparation binders for the actors. Georgie and I continued to work steadily and productively on the script, using our breaks to chat about the wedding and search online real estate listings for a house for Peter and Maisie.
And the news on that front couldn’t have been better. Zack and I had just finished dinner on Thursday when Peter called. He was exuberant. “Vince Treadgold wants to buy the whole operation. His daughter Celeste hates her job in Ottawa and the idea of working on a farm with her dad and their salukis appeals to her. Vince is over the moon about that. I guess he and Celeste have never been close.”
“Vince’s second wife didn’t like children,” I told him. “Celeste was in boarding school in Toronto from the time she was six, and after that she went to University of Toronto. This will give Celeste and her father a chance to make up for lost time.”
Pete shook his head. “So much depends upon chance. If you and Vince hadn’t been sitting next to each other at Nick Kovacs’s birthday party . . .”
“You and Maisie would still have found a way to make it work,” I said. “Vince’s involvement just simplifies matters. But the farm does give Vince and his daughter a second chance, and that is serendipitous.”
The Falconer house in the Crescents was not yet listed, but Zack had a copy of the keys and Georgie and I played hooky one afternoon to check it out. It was a beautiful old place, and not surprisingly, Georgie fell in love with it. It had everything she, Nick and Chloe could want in a house: large, light-filled rooms, a room adjacent to the main bedroom that would be perfect for a nursery, a good-sized bedroom and bath for Chloe and a separate suite on the main floor for Mrs. Szabo. But when I urged Georgie to take pictures she demurred, saying marriage and a new baby would be change enough for Nick without expecting him to move from the home that he’d lived in all his life, so we agreed to let the matter drop.