The Winners' Circle

by Gail Bowen

  “She and her life partner, Nadine Perrault, met in grade five. The first time I called Nadine, we talked for almost two hours.” Isobel’s eyes danced at the memory. “At first, Nadine and I were awkward with each other, but then we relaxed and talked about things that may seem trivial but aren’t when they involve someone you love or want to love. For example, I learned that Abby’s favourite candy was licorice whips.” Isobel gave her mother a tentative smile. “Same as you,” she said. “Abby liked being alone. She was happiest when Nadine and she were in the cabin they shared near a creek on her parents’ property. Abby was a reader, of anything and everything, but especially the poems of Elizabeth Bishop.

  “Elizabeth Bishop wrote a poem called ‘The Fish’ that I’m going to read to you sometime, Dad. You too, Zack and Kev. It’s about a battered old fish the woman in the poem caught. His body was scarred and there were pieces of fish lines and a wire leader hanging from his lower lip. The woman knew how nobly the old fish had fought to live and so she let him go.” Isobel’s lips twitched into a smile that was both affectionate and mischievous. “I wonder why that poem made me think of the three of you.”

  Noah glanced quickly at Zack and Kevin. They were both clearly moved. “Old guys like us don’t often get compliments,” Noah said. “Thanks, Izzie.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. She took a breath. “Another thing about Abby. She loved string quartets, especially Ravel’s String Quartet in F. He wrote it when he was twenty-eight. The same age Abby was when she died. She was very precise – like me, and like you, Mum. Anyway, Abby liked the Ravel because she could feel the way he paid attention to every note. Her favourite recording of the piece was by the Hagen Quartet. She felt they were as careful with the notes on the score as Ravel himself was. Three members of the group are siblings. Abby was fascinated by the way they seemed to be able to read each other’s minds when they played.” Isobel’s eyes sought her mother’s. “Abby always wanted a sister,” she said. “So did I.” She walked across the room and plugged her phone into a speaker.

  “Here’s the Ravel,” she said. When Isobel hit Play, the room was filled with the quivering restraint of the quartet’s first movement. As the controlled emotion of the first movement gave way to the lyrical freedom of the second, Noah crossed the room to stand behind his daughter. By the time it ended, Delia had joined them. It was a family photo none of us thought we’d ever see, and it clearly struck a chord with Blake.

  “Now you know why I wanted to talk about Lily,” he said, and then he faltered, unsure of where to go next.

  When the Wainbergs came back to resume their places at the coffee table, Noah gave Blake an encouraging smile. “I love the story about how you two met,” he said. “Why don’t you tell that?”

  Blake frowned. “Everybody’s heard that story.”

  “Tonight’s a night for remembering,” Zack said. “Lily’s role in building Falconer Shreve was as significant as any of ours. Besides, it’s a great tale. Dee, you always said it would make a perfect Julia Roberts movie.”

  Delia had clearly softened and seemed pleased to be drawn into the conversation. “That’s because the story starts out with a loutish man and a smart woman.”

  Blake laughed and raised his hand in a halt sign. “Hey, no editorial comments. Maybe I should just tell the story. It was back in the early days when our office was on Broad Street. We were above a company that made dentures. The scent of false teeth was always in the air.”

  “But the fake teeth smell had to battle it out with the smells of the decomposing take-out food that we’d start eating and forget about.” Zack’s glance took in all his partners. “Did any of us ever actually empty a waste basket?”

  Delia shook her head. “Not me,” she said.

  Kevin and Blake exchanged a quick look. “Nope.”

  “That explains it,” Zack said. “And the office always smelled like stale beer.”

  “Spilled drinks from our Friday happy hours,” Kevin said sagely. “It was a helluva mess.”

  “Agreed,” Blake said. “Anyway, one Friday afternoon, when I was already well on my way to getting pleasantly drunk, I looked across the office and standing by the door was a woman with legs that wouldn’t quit and waist-length shining black hair. By that point, everybody in the room was sweaty and stumbling. The woman was so cool, so still, so much her own person, that I knew I had to be with her. I walked across the room, stroked that incredible hair, and said, ‘I can make all your dreams come true.’ She shook me off and said, ‘I can make all your dreams come true too. For a price.’ And she handed me her resumé.

  “It turned out her price was being our office manager. I offered her the job. I made a pass. She told me ‘no thanks’ and asked for an office key. I gave her the key. Monday morning when I came to work, the office was transformed – clean, organized, professional. Even the denture smell was gone. And that was the beginning. We were on our way to becoming a big-time firm and Lily was part of every decision we made. She selected the firm’s logo. Both times we moved offices, Lily chose the space she felt best reflected our image. She sat in on personnel meetings and changed the Canada Day party from a BYOB beer and burgers bash for buddies to a slick event that was the hottest ticket of the summer.”

  “Lily played a huge part in making us what we are today,” Delia said. “For that and for so much else, we are in her debt.”

  Blake reached across the table and took Dee’s hand. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse with emotion. “Thanks,” he said. “You and Lily really understood each other, didn’t you?”

  Dee nodded. “We did, and I miss her.”

  Candlelight is kind to aging faces, and as I looked around the table it seemed that the founding partners looked younger and less careworn than they had when we sat down. Blake especially seemed more hopeful than he had been since Lily died. Listening as others remembered with fond admiration the woman he loved had soothed Blake. A sense of satisfaction and relief flooded me. We had done the right thing.

  Blake’s grey eyes rested on me for a second and then, as if he’d read my thoughts, he said, “I don’t know whether our gathering tonight has brought Lily close. I hope it has. Knowing that you all respected her would have meant a great deal to my wife.

  “The day after Gracie was hurt, Jo and I had lunch at the hospital. I’ve always been guarded about discussing my marriage to Lily. Everyone knows we had problems – problems that, in the end, I guess were insurmountable, but until the end we gave each other moments of such incredible joy that I felt like the luckiest man on earth, and I believe that in those moments, Lily felt lucky too.” His grin was shamefaced. “So, Lily, if you’re listening, I want to say it was worth it. Everything. We put each other through hell, but I want you to know that it was worth it. You were worth it. And I would do it all again just to bury my face in your hair and smell that grassy scent one more time.”

  It was a moment of such intimacy that we all knew the evening was over. Embracing and murmuring words of affection and support to each other, we said goodnight.

  —

  The drive from our house to the Wainbergs took five minutes. It had been an emotional evening, and Zack, Taylor, and I were silent, absorbed by our own thoughts as we drove home.

  Muted screams and the smells of popcorn and scorched pumpkin meat met us when we came through the door to the kitchen. Since we were going to be at the Wainbergs, Angus and Patsy had volunteered for Halloween duty, and they had spent the evening doling out candy to Halloweeners and watching horror movies. The door to the family room was open and when I peeked in I saw a very young Jamie Lee Curtis on the TV screen. Her face was frozen and her mouth was agape in horror. Had Jamie Lee known that the Halloween franchise would thrive, and that her character, Laurie Strode, would be terrorized by the psychotic Michael Myers for the next thirty years, her mouth might have gaped even wider. Angus and Patsy came out of the family room hand in hand. Patsy’s makeup was mussed, and they both looked
shamefaced but happy.

  “Thanks for taking care of everything,” I said. “Did we get a lot of kids?”

  “There’s not much candy left,” Angus said. “But Patsy has a thing for peanut butter cups, so the fact they’re all gone might not mean much.”

  “You two go back to your movie,” I said. “It’s been a long day, and Zack and I are both bushed.”

  “So am I,” Taylor said. “But I think I’ll scope out the leftover candy and see if there’s anything I like.”

  I was pleased but not surprised when Taylor gave us a quick hug before she headed to the kitchen. Zack’s face creased with pleasure. “Our daughter always makes me feel better,” he said. “All the kids do. We have a great family, Jo.”

  When a coughing jag punctuated his fond remarks, I said. “Why don’t you take a shower? The steam might help that cough.”

  “I love you,” he croaked.

  “I love you too,” I said. “And I’m glad tonight’s over.”

  I topped up the humidifier, filled a carafe with water, and put it on Zack’s night table alongside the bottle of ASA and a box of man-sized tissues. Then I opened the dresser drawer where I kept nightwear. The black silk nightgown with the lilies that Zack loved was still ready for action but Zack was not, so I took out the Charlie Brown flannelette pyjamas that Madeleine and Lena had given me for my birthday. Once again, fate had moved the football just as I was about to kick.

  CHAPTER

  14

  Zack was feverish the next morning. I hated waking him, but I was counting on the ASA to bring down the fever and he needed to stay hydrated. When I drew him closer, he murmured, “Am I about to get lucky?”

  “No, you’re about to get Aspirin and a sponge bath,” I said. “But as soon as you’re better, I’m slipping into the black silk nightie with the lilies and sliding in next to you.”

  “Bring on the aspirin,” he said.

  —

  Before I took the dogs on our run, I stuck my head in Taylor’s room. Surprisingly, she was already awake, sitting up, propped by pillows, reading Odes to Common Things, the collection of Pablo Neruda’s poetry I’d given her for her fourteenth birthday. Taylor believed that socks, like air, belonged to everyone. My politics were far left, but when it came to socks, I wasn’t a socialist. That year for Christmas, Taylor had copied out Neruda’s “Ode to My Socks,” decorated the margins around the poem with whimsical drawings of socks, and had the piece handsomely framed. It had been one of the best gifts I’d ever received.

  “Is there another drawing in my future?” I said.

  Taylor’s smile was impish. “Who knows when it might be your lucky day. But right now I’m interested in ‘Ode to the Cat.’ Isobel texted me. Her mother has finally caved on her ‘no pets policy,’ so Noah, Isobel, and I are going to take Jacob to the SPCA this afternoon to let him choose a kitten. I thought I’d copy out the poem and draw some funny cats around the margins for him.”

  “Jacob will love that,” I said. “The dogs and I are about to head out. Could you go in and check on your dad in a few minutes?”

  Taylor’s dark eyes were anxious. “Is his cold worse?”

  “It’s no better,” I said. “He shouldn’t have gone out last night, but I’m glad he did – I’m glad we all did. Did you notice how relaxed everyone seemed when we were leaving?”

  “I noticed,” Taylor said. “I also noticed that Gracie’s dad was smiling, really smiling at the end of the night. Talking about Gracie’s mum seemed to help him.”

  “And I think that when Isobel played the music Abby loved, she got through to her mother.” Taylor put her arms around her knees and squeezed them close. “Now, that was a miracle,” she said.

  “It’s certainly right up there,” I said. “Speaking of, I don’t think we’ll go to church today. Your dad needs a day to rest up.”

  Taylor’s forehead crinkled. “You hate missing church,” she said.

  “I do,” I said. “And today’s All Saint’s Day – the day when we pray for the ones who went before.”

  “I remember you explaining that to me when I was little,” Taylor said. “You told me you always prayed for my mother.”

  “I pray for your mother every day, Taylor. Sally made me feel loved when not many others did, and she gave us you. I never stop being grateful.”

  —

  November 1 was mild and overcast. On past All Saints’ Days, the dogs and I often had the creek path to ourselves, but the good weather had brought the runners out in force. When a skein of Canada geese flew over, I noticed that they were flying north. Winter was coming, but even the Canada geese were befogged by the weather.

  When I came back from my run, Taylor had her jacket on. “I called the Bonnevilles,” she said. “I’m hitching a ride to church with them.”

  “You’re going to church by yourself?”

  Taylor smiled. “I’m almost seventeen, Mum. And you’ve known the Bonnevilles forever. I think I’m safe with them.”

  “I know you are,” I said. “Taylor, say a prayer for us.”

  “I always do,” she said.

  Zack was sleeping again; his face was flushed and his sheets were soaked with sweat. I picked up my phone and called Zack’s physician and long-time poker partner Henry Chan.

  Before Zack and I married, he made an appointment for us both with Henry. Zack wanted me to understand what being married to a man in a wheelchair would mean medically. Henry was frank, and I filled several pages of my notebook with information that I had consulted many times, but there was one sentence I never needed to revisit because the words had embedded themselves in my consciousness. “There are no small illnesses for a paraplegic.”

  It was Sunday, but Henry came over immediately. He was frowning when he came into the kitchen after examining Zack.

  “Is there a problem?” I said, my voice thin with worry.

  “Not yet, but let’s be pre-emptive. The last time Zack had this we let it get away from us. You must have noticed the pressure ulcers on his back.”

  My heart dropped. “No. Zack’s plane was late yesterday. We had dinner with his partners, and afterwards he had a shower and went straight to bed. He was in Toronto at meetings all week and I’m sure he was in his wheelchair pretty much all the time he was up.”

  Henry wrote out a prescription and handed it to me. “Every four hours for this one,” he said. “And let’s be on the safe side.” He wrote two more prescriptions. “These should do the trick. You know the drill: bedrest, plenty of liquids, keep the humidifier humming and the chicken soup simmering. And, Jo, get a look at those pressure ulcers ASAP. You need a baseline so you can watch for changes. In the meantime, put soft pillows or pieces of soft foam between the parts of Zack’s body that press against each other or the mattress.”

  Henry picked up his coat. “Call me at home if anything concerns you, and see that Zack gets a real rest this week. Travel’s always difficult for him, and he’s working too hard. He’s trying to do two high-stress jobs well and that’s one high-stress job too many.”

  “I know. There’ve been management problems at Falconer Shreve, but they’re adding some new partners – the announcement will be made tomorrow. The founding partners and the new recruits are getting together this morning for a photo session.”

  “They’ll have to postpone. Zack’s not going anywhere today. Doctor’s orders.” Henry read my face. “Nothing to worry about, Jo. He just needs to stay put till we get that fever down.”

  My mood was far from light, but I tried a joke. “Gilda Radner was right,” I said. “ ‘It’s always something.’ ”

  —

  It was 10:30 in the morning when Kevin arrived. He was wearing a closely tailored business suit, dove grey with a matching shirt, and a silk tie that was a swirl of all the colours of sunrise.

  “This is a nice surprise,” I said. “You look very handsome. And I love the tie.”

  “After today, the tie is yours,” Kevin said.
“You can have the suit too. Where I’m going I won’t need Harry Rosen.”

  “Are you really leaving today?”

  “Yeah. I was going to make the big announcement last night, but there was so much emotion in that room. It seemed prudent just to stand back and let everyone find their way. Anyway, I figured I’d see Blake and Dee at the photo session this morning. But I needed to talk to Zack and you, and I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to Taylor.”

  “Taylor’s at church and Zack is sleeping. Kev, he won’t be at the photo shoot. Henry Chan has sentenced Zack to bedrest till he gets that fever down.”

  “But Zack will be okay.”

  “Yeah, of course. It’s just the flu, and I’m on the job. Why don’t you and I sit down and have some coffee and kick back. When we’re finished, you can say goodbye to Zack.”

  “Thanks, but I’m coffee’ed out, so let’s just kick back.”

  We sat at the kitchen table. “I want to talk with you about Taylor’s birthday,” Kevin said. “I was planning to stick around till the 11th, so I could be there when she got her gift, but I’ve already waited too long to make the break.”

  “I understand,” I said. “Taylor will too.”

  “She always does,” Kevin said. “Taylor’s a terrific young woman. I know she’ll like my present, but I thought I should check with you.” He picked up his messenger bag and took out a vintage leather journal.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said. “But why do you have to check with me?”

  “Because this is a guest book, and it comes with a cottage – my cottage, to be exact.” Kevin was watching my face carefully. “Jo, before you say anything, I’ve given this a lot of thought. Except for my partners and their families, I’ve never been close to many people. That’s not going to change. As Popeye says, ‘I Yam What I Yam and Dat’s All What I Yam.’ ”

  “What you are is pretty terrific,” I said.

  “I feel the same way about you and Taylor. I know my parents would want the cottage to stay in the family. Taylor’s like family to me. I’ve always planned to leave the place to her, but I’ve decided there’s no point in waiting. I want to clear my path. I don’t need to own things any more, and it’s wrong to hang on to something I no longer need or want.”