Pierre is still gawking, open mouthed.
“Oh, dear,” Dad says, “the cake probably got squished. I have it here in my knapsack, Laney.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say in soothing tones.
“I’m sorry, honey. I just wanted to congratulate you on your first real job. Riley and I are so proud.”
Uh! I bite my lip and glance at Pierre to see if he’s heard.
He gapes at me, eyes flashing. “This is your first job?” he cries, his voice shrill with disbelief. “I thought you had a design background.”
Dad helps Riley jump to his plastic feet, blood smeared on his ghoulish face. “Elaine re-did her old house! Well, I never saw it, but I heard it was sick. Yeah! Elaine, you gotta give me some of them business cards. I’m gonna give them out everywhere! The people in the complex, the guy who owns the convenience store where I buy my pre-paid cell phone cards, even the bum on da street corner!”
Billy and I exchange another look of horror. This has gone from bad, to worse, to suicidal. I have to stop this NOW! As Billy drags the Segway off the road, I yank Dad onto his feet, as he cries out in pain. Then I turn to Pierre, and with firm professionalism, I extend my hand. “It was lovely to meet you, Pierre,” I say with a nod. He reluctantly pulls his eyes away from Dad and Riley, and shakes my hand. Amusement dances on his features. I just know when he gets into his car, he’ll be howling all the way back to the office; and I’ll probably be the laughing stock of Vancouver.
Pierre says goodbye to Billy and makes his way across the street. He unlocks his Porsche, and I race in front and place my hand on his car door to stop him from opening it.
“Listen, Pierre,” I say in a lowered voice, “I apologize for the…unprofessional intrusion. My father is, well, he’s delusional” I plead with my eyes for him to understand, then add for good measure, “And he hasn’t been taking his meds.”
Finally his expression flickers from amusement to something deeper. “I get it, Lane. Family is family. We can’t choose them, we can’t kill them.”
I break into a smile, relief washing over me. “So, we’re good?”
“Yeah. At least your dad brings you cake. My dad disowned me.” He slides into his car, roars the engine, and rolls down his window and adds, “Just keep bringing me hot-ass clients like Liam, and keep the ventriloquist and his puppet the fuck away from the clients, and I’ll work with you—no problem.” And with that, he waves like the queen, peels out, and speeds down the street.
I sigh and turn back to the house, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and relief.
But Dad’s still here.
Shit.
Wait! Dad can babysit—yes! I glance at the time and see the next designer should be rolling up any minute. Now I have to keep Dad from telling George about today, hide Dad, Riley, and the girls in the attic, hide the designers from George and vise-versa, and play hostess fetching drinks, all the while carrying on trying to impress and sell to the designers.
Right.
No problem.
“Rory’s screaming and George is mad!” Margo hollers at me from the door stoop.
“Be right there!”
25
The rest of the afternoon passes smoothly, and I manage to keep the drama at bay for the last couple of hours. Dad is bandaged up, as is Riley, and they drive off into the sunset, Segway-style, as Billy and I look on, shaking our heads.
“You know what you have to do now, right, Lane?” Billy says, draping his arm around my shoulder.
I look up at him, perplexed. “What’s that?”
“You need to go apologize to Juliet. Now.”
“Do I have to?”
“Go!”
“Wait, what about the girls?”
“Uncle Billy will make them dinner, and maybe Liam will help. And, anyway, we have to feed George too.”
Oh right, I need to get on with hiring someone to care for him. Like I don’t have enough on my plate as is! “Fine.” I pout. “But I’m taking your car!”
“I don’t care, just make it right.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
On the drive to Mount Pleasant, I try to compose what to say to Juliet. The truth is I do feel kind of shitty for the way I overreacted. And she’s right, what should I care about Liam anyway? I mean, I don’t even care at all! The other bummer is Juliet and I haven’t had a fight for years. She really is the sweetest person I know—and I was the total cow.
I turn onto Main Street feeling a bit flustered. God, I don’t even know if she’ll be home. I find parking and swing the car into a perfect parallel park; after practicing on the Range Rover this is child’s play.
Thinking about George, I grab my bag and slip out of the car, when a sheer moment of genius strikes. I can’t believe the answer was in front of me all along. Juliet lives in a brick, two-story walk-up, above a comic shop of all things—though we decided that was probably a good thing, because if she lived above a coffee shop, she’d be broke. She once had a boyfriend that couldn’t resist slipping downstairs to read comics every time he visited. Eventually, Juliet got tired of it and sent him packing.
I buzz her number and wait impatiently for a full couple of minutes, or at least it feels like it. Then I buzz again, this time not taking my finger off the button, which should drive her mad. Sure enough, a window flies open above, and Juliet sticks her head out. It’s hard to see her in the dark, but I know it must be her.
“I need to talk to you,” I holler, bouncing a bit and rubbing my arms to stay warm.
Juliet’s voice comes small and shaky. “I’m not interested.”
“Oh, come on! I know I don’t deserve it, but just hear me out. Please!”
“Lane, I meant what I said. There’s no room for me in our friendship.”
“Bullshit! There’s always room. Come on, I have good news for you.” This must have sparked her curiosity, because after hesitating briefly, she retreats inside and buzzes me in. Thank God—it’s freezing.
I bound up the stairs, and Juliet is standing at her door, blocking my way. She’s wearing old sweats, her auburn hair is twisted into a knot, and her face is tear stained and swollen.
I shrink back slightly when I see her; she looks hideous. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”
“No.”
Okay…she’s really going to make me work for it. I take a deep breath—here goes. “I’m so sorry. I truly am. And you were right, it was all about Liam, which is ridiculous really; I mean, I’m married and I—”
“See, it’s all about you again! You can’t even apologize without talking about yourself.” Juliet narrows her eyes, as if daring me to try again.
I pause and speak slower, choosing my words carefully. “Juliet, you’re my oldest, dearest friend. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that, not in a million years. You were very generous with your time to—”
“What’s the surprise?”
“Oh! Well, I have to come in to tell you.”
“No you don’t. What’s the surprise?”
“You know how you want to work with seniors?”
“Yeah. I didn’t think you’d remember.”
I roll my eyes, “Of course I remembered. Anyway, how would you like to come care for George? He asked me to hire someone, and I think he would be elated to have you.”
“Really?” Juliet’s face blooms into a gigantic smile, and she flings her arms around me. “Oh, Laney, I hate to fight with you. Especially about a boy. We haven’t fought like that since you stole Brad Taylor from me. Which I haven’t forgotten, by the way.”
I pull away from her hug and grin. “I did you a favor, believe me.”
“What are you talking about?” she asks, stepping aside.
I enter the living room and survey the damage. Her couch is covered in used tissues, all the blinds are drawn, and only a sad, old lamp casts a dim glare on the worn floor. “Is that our old yearbook?” I ask.
“Yeeeah.” Juliet gives me a sheepish look, and I
shake my head in amusement.
“Wow, you really got into the mourning our friendship thing.”
“I did. But what was that you were saying about Brad Taylor?”
“Oh, right. High school. Well, it was so long ago, I don’t remember.”
“Yes you do. I’ll make tea.” She drifts over to the galley kitchen and starts filling the kettle.
“Okay, I do. Rumor had it Brad was going to ask you out, only to use you and lose you. It was a bit of a bet within the rugby team.”
“No!” Juliet pops her head out of the kitchen, wide eyed.
“Yeah. So I thought I’d, you know, distract him.”
“Wow, Lane. And I was so mad; I mean, look what you did for me.”
I beam at her praise and sink into the sofa, relieved. So maybe the Brad Taylor thing was a bit exaggerated. I mean, he was a pig, so he was probably planning something like that.
I did do Juliet a favor!
“Well, I have a surprise for you too,” she says, and I look up, alert.
“Oh, I should have mentioned, I can’t exchange Christmas presents this year. It’s just too tight. I had to resort to buying secondhand ice skates for Margo for twelve bucks. They’re in great shape though.”
“No, I’m not talking about Christmas,” Juliet says, coming to sit next to me. “It’s better than that, actually.”
“Oh?” What could be better than Christmas presents?
“Yeah. Well, I didn’t get a chance to tell you today, because”—Juliet’s face falls—“well, you know. But I did tell Liam, and he thought it was fantastic.”
“Okay, what is it!” I’m dying here.
“One of the gals in my yoga class just moved here from Toronto. They bought a three-story detached home in the West End and are dying to have the tacky interior re-done. Top to bottom. She was telling one of the other gals and, well, I just had to jump in and sell your services!”
“And?” I whisper, not daring to breathe.
Could we really have our first potential client?
“She’s over the moon to let you deal with it because of your expertise in knowing the market out here, and she wants you to call her right away. Before Christmas, she said, so she could get it off her mind.”
“No way!” I gaze at her, transfixed.
This is unbelievable.
A client!
Adrenaline starts pumping, and I do something completely uncharacteristic. I lunge forward into Juliet’s arms. She really is the dearest friend anyone could hope for.
“I’ll get you her card.” Juliet leaps up and starts digging through her purse. “Here it is!” she says, lifting it with triumph.
I take the glossy card and give it a once-over. “She’s a lawyer!”
“Yeah, a divorce lawyer. And her husband is a pediatrician. He’s working over at BC Children’s Hospital.”
“This is amazing, Juliet!” I’m still in awe. Holding this card is like holding the ticket to my future.
It’s Christmas Eve! And it feels incredibly festive for three main reasons, the first being that Diane Tolsky, the client Juliet referred, already gave a deposit to the designer—the one who met Dad on the Segway. I figured referring him to my new impressive client was a good way to rectify his impression of me. So, I’ve already received fifteen hundred dollars, which means January’s rent is taken care of, unbelievably with just eight days to spare.
Tonight, we’ll surprise George with a magnificent dinner in his ballroom—I can’t wait to see his reaction. Liam is coming over shortly to begin cooking, and Billy and I will take turns helping and watching the girls. Everyone else should be here in a few hours, and I’m hoping against hope that includes Micky. I just have a feeling he’ll show up and surprise me. And maybe the time apart, his time to reflect, has revitalized him, and he’s now ready to join his family and pick up from where we left off. I’m giddy with excitement at the thought of seeing Micky again; it’s been so incredibly long. My excitement spills over, and suddenly this attic seems too small.
“Ladies! Do you want to go to the beach?” I ask. Margo is helping Rory build with blocks, and she gives a delighted squeal. “Okay, if we’re going though we should go now. Before the guys come over.”
The three of us leave a short while later, bundled up against the cold air. Though it rarely snows in Vancouver—especially on Christmas Eve—it feels like it actually could. The air is crisp, the sky is blue, and I find myself floating along in a fizz of delighted anticipation.
Will Micky stay with us permanently? Will he just stop in for a few days and retreat again—or maybe he’ll surprise us and take us to our new home as a Christmas present. Even if it’s just a rental, we could be together again and start moving forward.
Kits Beach is bathed in glorious sunshine and dotted with couples strolling hand-in-hand. I find myself yearning to be one of them.
“Can we swing first?” Margo asks, bounding ahead and not bothering to wait for a reply. I follow along, smiling at the other parents and kids. God, today is going to be fantastic. I slip Rory into a baby swing and push her along, as she grips the chains and throws her head back in bliss. Margo spots some kids from school and abandons the notion of swinging in favor of chasing the other girls.
After leaving the playground, we walk along the beach toward home. Margo and I each hold one of Rory’s hands, and Rory beams up at us. “Do you know what my mom and I used to do on this very beach?” I ask.
“Your mom? No, what?”
“We used to come down here in the winter, on a cold dry day like today, and we would lie on the beach side by side, watching the clouds drift by.”
“Can we do that now?” Margo asks, tugging Rory down on the sand. Rory wails in protest, but then seems to decide playing on the beach is equally fascinating.
Margo and I lie back into the cool sand. The sky is a perfect periwinkle blue with the odd puff of white cloud. “How did Grandma die again? And how old were you?” Margo asks, snuggling closer.
I sigh, thinking back to that horrific day my childhood ended.
“Well,” I take a deep breath, “I was at school. Grade eleven—”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen. Anyway, I got pulled out of class, and my dad was there, all frantic—that means upset—and he told me my Mom’s car had been hit by another driver, a very old woman who should not have been driving.
“Pops said mom was in the hospital. But...by the time we got there…she…she had already died.”
Margo turns her head to me, eyes full of sorrow. I swallow back tears and continue, my voice wobbly. “Anyway. Before that though, things were always amazing. We always did special things, like this.”
We stare at the sky for I don’t know how long. I can feel Rory at my hip, still enthralled in the sand, and can let my mind drift back to sweet childhood memories.
“Mommy?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re a really good Mommy.”
Honored, I turn to face Margo in gratitude and touch my forehead to hers, feeling a deep sense of peace cocooning me. I thank God for this twist in fate—however difficult—that led me to bond with my girls.
To think, I never knew what I was missing.
26
“When George asked me to teach you to cook, he went on a tangent about duck a l’orange. I figured that’s what we’ll make tonight, since this is George’s special night and all!” Liam says as he unpacks groceries from what must be ten paper bags.
“Whatever you think; you’re the chef,” Billy says, taking a delicate sip from his crantini and craning his neck toward Liam’s backside as Liam bends to open the oven drawer. I jab my elbow into Billy’s rib, and he shoots me a look as if to say, “Now, you don’t have to go getting all jealous again.”
“Uncle Billy, why don’t you take the girls for a walk so I can help Liam,” I say, raising my eyebrow at Billy, a playful smile tugging at my lips.
“Liam, who do you think wou
ld be most helpful for you? Lane or yours truly?” Billy asks, gesturing dramatically and thus sloshing crantini on the floor. “Oops.”
“Honestly, neither,” Liam says and laughs, as he rinses out the duck cavity. Billy downs his drink, hops up from his seat, and goes to corral the girls.
After Billy and the girls have left, I do as I said and wash my hands, ready to help. Liam and I spend the next three hours in cooking harmony. Everything he does is graceful and well thought out. I learn so much, I could do this all day. Billy even printed menu and place cards for tonight. The menu looks amazing.
Christmas Eve Menu
Organic Baby Greens with Balsamic Reduction & Toasted Almonds
Duck a l’orange
Wild Rice Pilaf with Chanterelle Mushrooms
Grilled Asparagus in Bourbon
Egg Nog Brule
“So, Lane,” Liam’s voice interrupts my thoughts, “I’m wondering. Would you like to accompany me to a masked ball on New Year’s Eve? I took the liberty of picking up a couple of tickets, in case you would do the honor of being my guest.”
I stop mid chop and turn to stare at Liam in wonder.
“I mean, I know you’re married,” he continues smoothly, “but I figured you might like a night out on the town. You deserve it.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.” How do I say Micky is coming tonight, or at least I’m sure he will? I can’t then tell Micky I have a date on New Year’s. On the other hand, why shouldn’t I have a date? And this is George’s family friend, and my friend. Micky couldn’t have expected me to just sit around and wait for him to grace me with his presence again. My heart quickens at the thought. Plus, a whole evening, with me dressed up and on the arm of Liam, no less, does sound enchanting.
“Okay,” I say, my smile spreading to a full beam. Liam grins back, and I turn my full attention back to chopping, my heart pounding in my chest. Liam resumes stirring his sauce, and we continue cooking in silence, like two shy teenagers.
By ten to four, I’m showered and changed and spritzing on some scent. I can’t help but peek out the attic bathroom window in hopes of seeing Micky; but he’s obviously not here yet. Soon! Juliet is already here, keeping George distracted while Billy and I make trips back and forth to the ballroom. I cannot wait to see his reaction; I’m only hoping this won’t be too much for his heart!
Riches & Rags: Things are seldom as they seem. Page 22