by Gail Bowen
Brock, Margot, and I had agreed that the announcement of Lorne Callow’s and Bey Beyea’s respective roles in the restructuring had to be carefully explained; that Katina must be given the support she needed to run the Calgary office; and, finally, that Zack, Brock, and Bey would be in change of filling the vacancies left by the loss of Delia and Blake. The three of us differed on only one point. Margot and Brock believed that only Zack had the authority to convince his Falconer Shreve colleagues that the future of the firm was secure. Out of concern for Zack’s health, I disagreed, but Brock won the argument by stating the obvious. Zack was now the lone face of Falconer Shreve, and he was the only partner left who could say what needed to be said.
We were still at Margot’s kitchen table, pondering that uncomfortable truth, when Taylor, Lexi, still wearing her Wild Things suit, and Kai came in. It had been twenty-three days since Margot had congratulated me for suggesting she buy Lexi a second identical costume so the first one could be smuggled into the washing machine. A lifetime. Lexi’s suit was now much the worse for wear as, of course, we all were.
Kai was drooling. His two bottom front teeth and his two top front teeth had already appeared; now another lower incisor had popped through. He held out his arms to me and I took him from Taylor. When I breathed in the scent of the castile soap Margot used to wash her son’s hair, it seemed for a moment that all was right with the world, but the moment soon passed. We said our goodbyes. Brock helped us carry Taylor’s art supplies down to our car, and Taylor and I drove into our uncertain future.
—
I’d called Zack to tell him we were on our way, and when we arrived he was in his chair at the front door, freshly shaven and dressed in a blue-and-white striped sports shirt and jeans. Zack and Taylor had always shared a deep and uncomplicated love, and my heart skipped when I saw their joy at being reunited after a five-day separation. When Zack wheeled into the living room, Taylor was beside him. They needed time alone together, so I went into the kitchen to check on dinner.
Kym was brushing garlic butter on a baguette. “Are you bucking for sainthood?” I said.
Kym’s laugh was low and infectious. “Saint Kym,” he said. “I like the sound of that.”
“Then keep brushing on that butter,” I said. “How’s Zack doing?”
“Physically, he’s definitely doing better. But wellness is a mixed blessing. When you’re as sick as Zack was, the body sometimes gives you a pass on reality. Now that Zack’s better, the truth is sawing away at him. He’s going through hell, Jo. You were right to bring Taylor home.”
“Thanks. I’m doing a lot of second-guessing these days.”
“Don’t. You’re smart and you love him. Trust yourself.”
“Okay. Here’s a decision I could use some help with.” I laid out the situation with Falconer Shreve and explained why Margot and Brock felt it was imperative that Zack attend the meeting. “Do you think he should go?”
“No, but there’s nothing you or I could say that would dissuade him, so let’s just get him to the meeting and home as fast as possible.”
Inching further along on his journey to sainthood, Kym had arranged to meet a friend for a quick bite downtown so that Zack, Taylor, and I would have privacy. Zack and Taylor had just taken their places in the dining room when the landline rang. I answered in the kitchen. The voice was muffled. It sounded male, but I wasn’t sure. “They thought they got away with murder,” the voice said. “They didn’t, and they won’t.” Not surprisingly, the number was blocked on caller ID.
My first husband had been attorney general of the province; Zack had been a criminal lawyer for over twenty-five years and mayor for two. I had lost count of the number of times I picked up the phone and heard an anonymous voice threatening, accusing, uttering obscenities, or just breathing hard. This was nothing new, and my husband and my daughter deserved a peaceful dinner. I made a mental note to finally arrange with the phone company for an unlisted number, and then I reached for the box of matches on the top of the refrigerator where I had kept it, and its thirty-five years of predecessors, since Mieka was a toddler. It was time to embrace the new normal. I joined Taylor and Zack in the dining room and lit the candles.
For the first few minutes, the three of us limited our table talk to expressions of pleasure at the crisp greens in the salad, the savoury bite of the garlic bread, and the all-round excellence of the pasta. When we’d exhausted the subject, Taylor placed her utensils carefully on her plate. “I want to talk about Kevin,” she said.
“Okay,” Zack said. “Let’s talk about Kevin.” The words were casually uttered, but I could feel the hurt behind them. As Kym predicted, the effort of being the father Taylor had always known was costing Zack, but the smile he gave our daughter was warm. “So where do we start?”
“With something nice I just remembered,” Taylor said. She faced Zack. “Did Jo ever tell you the story about the boy who made fun of my hair when I was a flower girl?”
Zack shook his head. “I’m all ears.”
Taylor pulled her chair closer to the table. “When Jo’s friend Jill was getting married, she asked me to be her flower girl. I was eight and I saw a picture in a bridal magazine of a girl with the most beautiful ringlets. As soon as I saw that picture, I knew I had to have that girl’s hair.”
“I wish I could have seen you with ringlets,” Zack said.
“They were pretty spectacular,” I said. “The woman who was doing the hair for the wedding spray-gelled, dry-rolled, and did who knows what else to give Taylor a head full of Medusa curls.” I smiled at our daughter. “You really did look lovely.”
“Danny Jacobs didn’t think so,” Taylor said darkly. “Danny was in my class at school, Dad. He thought he was funny, but he was really just mean. Anyway, Jo and I had gone to the mall to buy Jill a garter to wear at her wedding. We were crossing through the food court on our way back to the parkade when Danny saw me. He was at Orange Julius and he jumped up on his chair and yelled, ‘Hey, Taylor, you know what you look like with that crazy hair? One of those Chia Pets – you know – like on TV – ‘Ch-Ch-Ch Chia.’ ”
Zack winced. “I hate the idea of anyone hurting you.”
Taylor patted his hand. “I’m over it now, but at the time, I thought it was tragic. When we got home, Jo put me in the shower so she could wash the goop out, and then she put my hair in a French braid and we went to the wedding.” Engrossed in the memory, Taylor’s face was glowing. “As soon as we got to the reception, I looked for Kevin. It was when he had his pastry shop and he’d made Jill’s wedding cake.”
“Kev and Jill were both Deadheads,” I said. “The cake was a tribute to Jerry Garcia and Company.”
“And it was totally amazing,” Taylor said. “Anyway, as soon as I saw Kevin, I told him about Danny Jacobs. Kev’s always been on my side, and I was sure he’d know how to pay Danny back.”
“So what did he come up with?” Zack said.
Taylor was pensive. “Something very Kevin. He said, ‘It’s the holidays, and I have a lot of big orders to fill. Why don’t you phone Danny tomorrow and ask him if he’d like to come to the bakery and learn how to make marzipan pigs?’ ”
Zack swallowed hard. “That is very Kevin,” he said.
“Well, I didn’t get it at all,” Taylor said. “So I asked Kev how inviting Danny to do something fun was going to make Danny feel bad.”
Zack’s voice was near breaking. “And Kevin said, ‘It’s not about making Danny feel bad. It’s about planting a seed.’ ”
Taylor’s eyes widened. “That’s exactly what he said. He said, ‘If the seed takes root, Danny will grow. If it doesn’t, Danny will have to wait for the next seed.’ ”
“So did Danny accept your invitation?”
“No. He just laughed and sang the Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia song,” Taylor said. “I’d forgotten all about what happened until our grade eight farewell ceremony. Our teacher asked us to write down something we wish we’d said to a classma
te. We didn’t have to sign the note, just put it in an envelope with the classmate’s name on it. In my envelope there was a note that said, ‘I wish I’d said yes when you asked me to make those candy pigs.’ ”
“You never told me that part of the story,” I said.
“I never told anybody but Kevin, and he was really pleased. He said, ‘Karma has a way of surprising us. I’ll bet it surprised Danny Jacobs.’ And then he laughed – a real laugh – the kind of big, walloping laugh he had when he still had his pastry shop.”
“I remember that laugh,” I said.
“He loved that place,” Taylor said. “I never understood why he sold it.”
Zack cleared his throat and both Taylor and I looked towards him. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “He sold it because I asked him to, Taylor. I told Kevin the firm needed him and it was time he grew up.”
Silence fell over the table. Zack picked up his fork and then stared at it as if he had no idea of what it was doing in his hand. Taylor didn’t hesitate. She went to her father and bent to kiss the top of his head. “You didn’t know,” she said.
Zack lay his fork on the plate. “You’re right,” he said. “I didn’t know, but I should have.” He sighed heavily. “I’ve had enough for one day. I’d better hit the sack.”
When Zack turned his wheelchair towards the door, Taylor moved in front of him. “Dad, if Kevin were here, he’d tell you not to blame yourself for something you couldn’t see at the time. He’d also tell you to forgive yourself for being human.” She embraced her father, then leaned across and squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll get the dishes,” she said.
I helped Zack into bed and then crawled in beside him.
“You don’t have to waste your time trying to convince me that I’m not a total prick,” he said.
“Well, for the record, you’re not a total prick,” I said. “But even if you were, I took those vows. There was a lot in there about for better or for worse and in sickness and in health. But what I really remember is what you whispered after the dean said we were husband and wife. You said, ‘This is forever. A deal’s a deal.’ Convincing you you’re not a total prick is just part of the deal.”
—
It might have been wishful thinking on my part, but Zack seemed to sleep more soundly that night than he had since the Sunday of the murders. I wasn’t so lucky. In the middle of the night, remembering the muffled voice on the telephone threatening revenge for an unpunished murder, I awoke with a start. But I’d lived through a week of unimaginable horrors; an anonymous call held no terrors for me, and I moved closer to Zack and drifted off.
The next morning, Zack said he felt stronger. I told him about the four o’clock meeting, its purpose, Margot and Brock’s plans for the firm’s future, and their belief that Zack had to be the one to drive home the message that Falconer Shreve would continue to be a vital force in the legal community.
When I’d finished, Zack said, “Guess it’s time for me to step up to the plate.”
“Are you sure you’re up to this?”
Zack shrugged. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “There’s nobody left on the bench.”
CHAPTER
17
There were one hundred and fifty employees in the Regina Falconer Shreve office, and arrangements had been made to live-stream the meeting into the Calgary office. The meeting was being held on the fourteenth floor of the Peyben Building, the space dedicated to the firm’s clerical work. The office furnishings of the meeting room had been cleared away, replaced by rows of chairs facing the front of the room where portraits of Delia, Blake, and Kevin had been placed on the teak credenza from Delia’s office. Zack wanted all the equity partners to march in together to suggest solidarity and continuity, so Lorne Callow had made certain there was an aisle between the rows of chairs.
By four o’clock, every chair was filled. The following Wednesday would be Remembrance Day, and, for me, there was a special resonance to the fact that everyone in the room wore a poppy. The flowers that grew in Flanders Field were a tender reminder that we all make this journey together. The new equity partners had assembled at the back of the room, and at the stroke of four, they marched two by two up the aisle. All were dressed in black suits and white shirts, and each carried three white orchids. The room was silent as they stopped in front of the credenza, placed an orchid in front of each photograph, and then moved into place at the side of the credenza. Zack was the last to come up the aisle. He pushed his chair with vigour and he held his head high. He, too, carried an orchid for each of his partners and after the three orchids had been placed, he wheeled close to the audience and began his comments.
He spoke without notes in a voice that was still hoarse but rang with conviction as he assured the staff of Falconer Shreve that the firm would carry on and explained the plans that would take the business into the future. When he finished his remarks, he offered to field questions, but no one had any. The firm’s leader had said everything that needed to be said. After it was clear there would be no questions, Zack thanked everyone for coming, turned his chair around, wheeled closer to the credenza to spend a few moments in silent communion with the portraits of the three people who had shared his life, and then, dry-eyed, he wheeled back down the aisle.
Lorne Callow then stood and announced that the firm would be closed Wednesday for Remembrance Day, Thursday afternoon for Delia’s funeral, and Friday afternoon for Blake’s. Kevin’s funeral was private and would be held at Lawyers’ Bay. The equity partners walked back down the aisle and the meeting was over. Of the five original partners only Zack remained, but there had been no discussion about changing the firm’s name. The continued existence of Falconer Shreve Altieri Wainberg and Hynd was proof that while human life is transient, a law partnership is enduring.
Zack had asked me to sit on the aisle in the front row so he could see me while he spoke. As the last of the partners filed out, Lorne Callow motioned to those of us in the front to follow them. Being one of the first to pass down the aisle I was able to gauge the reaction of the firm’s employees. Margot and Brock had been determined to keep the emotional temperature of the meeting cool. There would be time enough for grief at the funerals, but the goal of this meeting was to reassure and strengthen the will of everyone who worked at Falconer Shreve, and while many of the faces I saw were tear-stained, people were composed.
Anticipating that people would be eager to speak with Zack one on one and knowing that he was not yet ready for prime time, I’d asked Noah to take us downtown and get Zack out of the building as quickly as possible after the meeting adjourned. I was already counting the minutes till I could slide into the back seat with him and let Noah drive us home when I spotted Gracie and Isobel in the back row. As soon as they saw me, they were on their feet.
“What Zack said was perfect,” Isobel said. “He seems fine. Is he really better?”
“Definitely moving in the right direction,” I said. “It will mean a lot to him that you two were here.”
“Where else would we be?” Isobel said. “We wanted to represent our parents. Falconer Shreve was the most important thing in my mother’s life. Knowing that it was going to continue would have meant everything to her.”
“My dad would have wanted this too,” Gracie said, then checked her watch and turned to Isobel. “We’d better get home. We promised Jacob we’d take him to the park before supper. Thanks for being here today, Jo, and please thank Zack. It must have been so hard for him to be up in front of everyone today.”
I hugged Gracie and Isobel before we parted ways. “Say ‘hi’ to Rose and Jacob and Toast for me.”
Though I was looking forward to getting home, Lorne Callow’s handling of the event had been smooth and I felt I should thank him for everything he’d been doing for Falconer Shreve since the terrible event. A number of people eager to talk Lorne had already gathered around him, so I decided to take a recess in the hall until most of the crowd had returned to their office
s. Standing alone near the bank of elevators, I was fair game, and when a bell chimed, the elevator doors opened, and Darryl Colby in his cloak of musk stepped onto the fourteenth floor of Falconer Shreve.
I was too wrung out for games. “What are you doing here?” I said.
“I’m looking for Zack,” he said.
“He already left.”
“Did he go back to City Hall? This is important.”
I could feel my gorge rise. “Darryl, Zack didn’t go back to City Hall. He went home. He’s sick and he’s suffering. If you’re here to pick the bones, you’re wasting your time. Zack has already been picked clean.”
Another elevator sounded and this time Noah emerged. He was aware of the antipathy that existed between Darryl and Zack, but he apparently had as little appetite for confrontation as I had. He spoke directly to me. “Zack’s already in the car, Joanne. We have to leave.”
He took my arm and pressed a call button. Darryl Colby kept his habitual, unpleasantly close stance. He took out a business card and handed it to me. “Have Zack call me,” he said. “It’s important.”
—
Zack wheeled towards our bedroom for a nap as soon as we were inside our front door. He was tired, but he knew the meeting had gone well. The firm’s direction had been set, and if it stayed the course, Falconer Shreve would continue to grow and flourish. Zack awoke for dinner with Taylor and me and was bathed, back in bed, and asleep by seven-thirty.
I was drained too, but Darryl Colby’s appearance at Falconer Shreve had unsettled me. In my bones, I knew something was wrong, but I lacked the clarity of mind to think the situation through. Normally, Zack was my sounding board. I had come to rely on his responses when I raised a question and floated possible answers, but he needed peace and rest, not dark and muddled suspicions. I showered, then, remembering the old dictum that “lavender is especially good for all griefs and pains of the head and brains,” I rubbed on lavender oil, slipped into my coolest cotton pyjamas, and hoped for a respite. It wasn’t to be. Just as I turned out the light on my night table, my phone rang. Not wanting to awaken Zack, I took it out to the hall.