Kaleidoscope

by Gail Bowen

  “Always,” he said. “But won’t Taylor be home soon?”

  “No. She and Declan are playing Ultimate Frisbee after school and then going out for pizza.”

  Zack grinned. “In that case, let’s lather up.”

  After we made love, Zack stretched lazily. “That never gets old, does it?”

  “Every time’s an adventure,” I said.

  Zack groaned. “I wish we were staying home tonight.”

  “That’s my line,” I said. “You’re the party boy.”

  “Tonight the party boy would like to hang up his tap shoes and stay here beside you and watch the sun go down.”

  “We have a whole summer to do that. And we both like Margot.”

  Zack raised an eyebrow. “And it really is time you met Leland.”

  “Leland’s a busy man. Peyben’s an international company. He’s always travelling, and when he’s here, he has Margot, his son, and his redevelopment project.”

  Zack sighed. “And you’re still pissed off because Leland’s project put the kibosh on the plans you and Mieka had to open UpSlideDown2 in the Warehouse District.”

  “Not much point in opening a community play centre when the community it was supposed to serve is being demolished,” I said.

  Zack kissed my hair. “Hey, we just had some great sex. Let’s not ruin the moment. Besides, we’ve been through this a dozen times. As far as Leland’s concerned, The Village isn’t going to demolish a community. It’s going to replace a bunch of rattrap houses, abandoned warehouses, and empty factories with a model neighbourhood. You’ve seen the ads. The Village is going to be a renaissance for the downtown area.”

  “A renaissance that will leave the people who live in North Central now without housing,” I said. “Zack, you know as well as I do that they won’t be able to afford to live in the shining city.”

  “Be fair, Jo,” Zack said wearily. “Overall, this will be a good thing. I’ve seen where those people live. You know that one of my current clients is a slum landlord. Cronus probably owns a third of the houses in North Central. They’re a disgrace, but Cronus takes great pride in how lucrative his hellholes are. He was trying to get me to invest in some houses on Winnipeg Street. He says the secret to turning a rental house into a moneymaker is simple – minimal repairs and maximum use of space. He showed me how he creates an extra source of income by stapling cheap insulation over what was once a living room window, then wiring in a microwave and a bar fridge and renting the room out as a suite.”

  “I’ve noticed that insulation in front windows in the Core,” I said. “I didn’t realize what it was for. How does a man like Cronus sleep nights?”

  “Like a baby,” Zack said. “But Leland isn’t Cronus. He really is trying to make The Village work for everybody. Peyben has made a serious attempt to recruit people from the community to do the work.”

  “And six months into the project, the worker who’s shadowing the project manager is killed on the job,” I said.

  Zack’s voice was even. “If Ed’s information is right, it had nothing to do with workplace negligence. The police are still investigating, but my guess is they’ll discover that Leland Hunter is not the bad guy in this.”

  “You really like him, don’t you?”

  “It’s hard not to,” Zack said. “He’s a straight shooter, and he’s a nice guy who loves my law partner the way I love you.”

  “Truly, madly, and deeply,” I said. “Okay, I’m still not sold, but if Leland makes Margot happy, I’ll reserve judgment.”

  The building where Margot and Leland lived had a history. The year before, a call girl named Cristal Avilia had been murdered in one of the two condos on the top floor. Cristal’s list of clients was gold-edged, and before we met, Zack had been one of them.

  Cristal was only one of many women in Zack’s life. There had been other risky behaviours: high-stakes poker games that lasted three days, fast cars, speedboats, and heavy drinking. A friend told me Zack had lived like an eighteen-year-old with a death wish. The truth was more complex. As a paraplegic who knew his days might be numbered, Zack believed in seizing the moment.

  When we met, Zack’s perspective changed. He wanted to be part of the future that included our family and me, and he was willing to do what it took to be with us for as long as possible. He cut back on his drinking, put limits on his gambling, drove within hailing distance of the speed limit, and committed himself enthusiastically to monogamy. He was a changed man, but the past always leaves debris, and there were still enough shards of Zack’s former life around to wound us both.

  Cristal Avilia’s real estate dealings were complex and their legacy had endured. Not only had she owned the condo in which she lived and conducted her business, she had heeded the wise counsel of realtor clients who saw the shape the Warehouse District was assuming and advised her to purchase the renovated warehouse on Halifax Street in which it was situated. When Cristal died, her sister, Mandy, inherited the property.

  Mandy worked at a beauty shop called Cut ‘n’ Curl and was content with her immaculate bungalow on a corner lot in Wadena, the small town where the Avilias had grown up. She had no interest in relocating and she had no idea how to unload a high-end property with an unsavoury history. Luckily for Mandy, Margot Wright was a Wadena girl too, and she believed in community.

  A month after Cristal’s death, Margot paid Mandy a fair price for the condo. In midsummer, the renovations on Margot’s new home were complete, and she threw a party to celebrate. Leland Hunter came with a group of friends. When the party was over, the friends left, but Leland stayed. The next morning Margot took him on a tour of the building. The owner of the only other condo on Margot’s floor had put his property up for sale the morning after Cristal’s murder. Leland had just moved back to Regina and was looking for a place to live. For both Leland and Margot, it seemed like kismet.

  As a developer, Leland knew the importance of timing. He saw the potential in the area around the building on Halifax Street. There had been a civic push to reclaim the Warehouse District, and already the areas to the north and west of Leland’s building were a pleasant mix of high-end condos, trendy bars and restaurants, and specialty shops, but the areas south and east of the building were still classified as “unimproved.” Leland’s first step was to buy the building on Halifax Street. As plans for the Village Project took shape in his mind, Leland began buying the properties that stood in the project’s way.

  The quickest route between our house and Leland and Margot’s place was along College to Broad down 7th, but that night I took a longer path, through the narrow downtown streets with numbers for names and big-city problems. The weather had changed. The sky had darkened and the wind had picked up, whipping debris into the air. Half-naked kids, dirty and laughing, darted out from between parked cars while the adults who might have cared for them sat smoking on front stoops, laughing as the dogs they had tethered to metal spikes by short leashes snarled and lunged impotently towards passersby.

  In front of a building where teenaged members of the community association had painted a mural that featured a dove bearing an olive branch, hookers, both male and female, many of them younger than our daughter Taylor, stood on corners, their pelvises thrust forward provocatively, their eyes dead.

  Zack’s face was bleak as we moved through the Core. “God, this is depressing,” he said.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I said. “I come down here all the time. I keep hoping I’ll find another site that might work for the new play centre.”

  The idea of opening a place in North Central where children could play and their parents could sip coffee and visit was my daughter Mieka’s. By training, Mieka was a caterer, but caterer’s hours aren’t good for a single mum with two young daughters. UpSlideDown, Mieka’s first café/play centre, was an invention of necessity, and from the moment it opened in an area of our city with boutique shopping, heavy foot traffic, and plenty of young families, it was a hit. Wh
en Mieka noticed that parents were getting more out of visits to the new play centre than happy kids and the chance to kick back with a good cup of joe, she took note. While they sipped their coffee and watched their kids play, the parents who came to UpSlideDown were sharing questions about child-rearing and picking up parenting skills from one another.

  Parents in North Central were often very young with troubled histories, and Mieka and her friend Lisa Wallace, a community development worker in North Central, realized that opening a place where young parents could learn parenting skills while they watched their kids play might serve a real purpose. They found an old school-supply warehouse that was ideally situated and solidly built. I was enthusiastic, and after he had engineers check out the building, Zack bought it for me as a pre-retirement gift. We were in business, and then Leland’s Village Project came along. Our perfect dream stood in Leland’s way. I received a substantial cheque from Peyben for the building, and within a week it had been demolished.

  “Finding another piece of property for the play centre shouldn’t be a problem,” Zack said. “You made a tidy profit on that deal with Leland. Money always opens up options.”

  “I’m reminding myself of that,” I said. “I also remember that the property was a gift from you.”

  “And probably paid for by Leland’s money,” Zack said. “And so the dance goes on.”

  “I guess the question is who gets to dance and who gets to watch,” I said.

  Zack chuckled. “Careful, Ms. Shreve. Your socialist roots are showing.”

  A fifteen-foot chain-link fence topped with razor wire surrounded the manicured lawn and the shimmering swimming pool set like a jewel in the Japanese courtyard behind the condo where Margot and Leland lived. Still visible on the brick face of the four-storey building were the words COLD STORAGE. When I tapped in Margot’s security code, a gate in the fence slid open. We followed the driveway to the garage, where we again tapped in the security code. The door opened and we drove inside. There were perhaps a dozen other cars there – all new, all expensive.

  Zack opened his door, reached into the back seat, pulled out his wheelchair, and unfolded it. When I didn’t move, he turned to face me. “Are you feeling weird about going to Cristal Avilia’s old condo?”

  “A little,” I said.

  “Well, don’t,” he said. “This is Margot’s place now, and there’s been nobody else for me since the day I met you. You fill me to the brim.”

  A walking path wound through the grass of the courtyard to the back entrance to the condo. Wrought-iron chairs with yellow-and-white-striped cushions were arranged in conversational groupings between clusters of flowering bushes. The scent of barbecue hung in the air, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. After tapping in the security code for the third time, we entered the building and stepped into a freight elevator that moved us smoothly to the top floor.

  The foyer of Margot’s condominium was spectacular: an open-concept plan with a vaulted ceiling and skylights. Two storeys of light, hardwood, granite, and glass. The furniture was all simple and elegant: soft pale leather couches and chairs, bronze lamps that cast a gentle glow, huge ornamental jars filled with dried grasses. It was a stunning setting for a woman who was pretty stunning herself.

  Margot was a natural blonde with creamy skin, delicately arched brows, full lips, and dagger nails that were always painted a shade of red that hinted at danger. On more than one occasion I’d seen her in court, and even in her barrister’s robes, Margot was a man magnet. We met frequently at social events. She never showed up with the same date twice, although the glitter in the eyes of her escorts suggested they would welcome a return engagement.

  But that night, as she and Leland Hunter greeted us, Margot was radiant with the knowledge that she had found the lover with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life. At first glance, Leland Hunter did not appear to be a man who would make a woman’s loins twitch. The contours of his shaved head were not pleasing. His face was long and angular, his eyes were hooded, and his nose was large and appeared to have healed imperfectly from a break. His body was taut, sinewy, seemingly without an extra ounce of flesh. He looked like a fighter, not a lover.

  Zack, Margot, and I were dressed casually, but Leland was wearing a grey summer-weight suit, a white shirt, and a brilliant aubergine and grey silk tie with matching pocket handkerchief. A power suit, but Leland didn’t need expensive tailoring to announce his power. Before he uttered a word, we all knew the room was firmly in Leland’s command. “I hope you know how pleased I am to finally meet you, Joanne,” he said, extending his hand. “Our children are close, you and Margot are close, and Zack and I are close. It feels as if tonight, the final piece is sliding into place.”

  Leland’s handshake was firm and he didn’t release the pressure until I’d responded. Even his movements were efficient. “I agree,” I said. “It’s time we met.”

  “Would you like a tour of the place before we have our drinks?” His voice was gravelly, throaty.

  Zack shot me a quick look and waited for my response.

  “That would be fun,” I said.

  “Fun for us, too,” Leland said. “Margot and I don’t entertain often.”

  Margot laughed and slipped her arm through his. “Try never,” she said.

  “Okay, never,” Leland said. “All the more reason why we welcome the chance to show off.” Hand in hand, they led us through the condo, pointing out the skylights in the twenty-four-foot ceiling, the original exposed brick wall, the hickory kitchen cabinets, the polished granite counter, the sleek fixtures, the two-sided gas fireplace, the skyline views from the terrace.

  “It’s gorgeous,” I said.

  “It needed work,” Margot said tightly. “It looked like a place where men could live out their fantasies, which, of course, is exactly what it was.” She had no knowledge of Zack’s connection with Cristal, but she was clearly still baffled and angry at the turn Cristal’s life had taken. “Anyway, I’m pleased with it.”

  “You should be,” I said. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Leland’s is the only other condo on this floor – same plan as this one, but it’s spiffier. He cheated, though. He hired a decorator.”

  “You’ll notice where I choose to spend my nights,” Leland said.

  “Oh, I notice,” Margot purred.

  The sexual heat between them was palpable. Zack and I exchanged a glance, then his gaze moved towards his law partner. “The faster you feed us, the faster we’ll be out of here,” he said.

  Margot had one of the all-time great dirty laughs. “In that case,” she said, “let’s get dinner on the table.” She gestured towards the balcony. “I was hoping we could eat outside, but that wind is wicked and it looks like rain. Leland pulled the table over so we could still have the view.”

  “Not much to see now,” Leland said. “By next year, we’ll have something very nice to show you.”

  Margot shot a look of distaste at her perfect kitchen. “Meanwhile, all we can offer you is the sad spectacle of me making dinner.”

  “Can I help?” I asked.

  “God, yes,” she said. “All the food came from Evolution, and Aimee has given me written instructions for every dish.”

  Margot passed the list to me, and I read through it. “Absolutely straightforward,” I said. “Let’s crank up the oven to 375 and as soon as it’s ready, we’ll put in the beef tenderloin and the potatoes. The meat will take about forty-five minutes for rare. Aimee has everything else timed. The roasted red pepper soup needs a crème fraiche drizzle at the end. I can show you how to do that in about a second and a half.”

  “I’m ready,” Margot said. “Send me in, coach.” When she clapped her hands together, I got a good look at her engagement ring, a pear-shaped solitaire.

  “Wow, that’s a gorgeous ring.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” she said. “Leland had it specially made, and it took a while to find exactly the right stone.”

  “
It was worth waiting for,” I said.

  “Just like Leland,” she said. “By the time I met him, I’d decided I was happy on my own. I liked my work. I earned a lot of money. I had a reliable vibrator, and there were plenty of men to take me to social functions where my vibrator wouldn’t have been welcome. Then along came Prince Charming.”

  “And out went the vibrator,” I said.

  Margot’s grin was wicked. “It was an old friend. I gave it an honourable send-off.” She opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of champagne. “Let’s get rolling.”

  The food was excellent, the wine was splendid, and the talk was good. Not surprisingly, given the company, the first topic of conversation was marriage. But the wedding we spoke of was not Margot and Leland’s, which was still more than three weeks away; it was Ed Mariani’s marriage to Barry, his partner of twenty-seven years.

  On Sunday, Barry and Ed would be married in the rooftop garden of the condo on Halifax Street. “I am over the moon about the garden,” Margot said. “When I was a kid, I spent half my life in the Wadena Library. One afternoon I found a coffee-table book about roof gardens. God knows what a book like that was doing in a local library on the bald prairie, but I lugged it home, and every night I just stared at the pictures, dreaming. I kept renewing it until finally the librarian told me I might as well keep it, but if anybody else wanted to check it out, I’d have to lend it to them. And now here I am on Halifax Street with a roof garden of my own.”

  “We were lucky,” Leland said. “The developer who did the initial renos on this property completed the structural work on the roof garden before she ran out of money, so we just had to do the finishing and choose the plants and the furniture.”

  “Actually, Ed had to choose the plants and the furniture,” Margot said. “Leland was travelling, and I was working sixteen hours a day on the Zwarych trial. I didn’t want to wait till next year, so Ed took over. He did a great job.”