by Gail Bowen
“Declan left his jacket there one weekend and we went to pick it up.” Her face pinched with worry, she turned to Zack. “You’re coming with us, aren’t you?”
“To the ends of the earth,” Zack said. “But in this case, just as far as the main floor. You’ll have the big bedroom on the second floor. There are a couple of other bedrooms downstairs. Joanne and I will take one of those.”
“I knew there were bedrooms downstairs, and I knew Jo and I would never move without you. What’s the matter with me?”
“The same thing that’s the matter with all of us,” I said. “There’s just too much to absorb. And, Taylor, there’s something else. We’re not going to tell anyone where we’re living. Declan and his dad and Margot will know, of course, and the police have been told, but that’s it.”
Taylor’s dark eyes widened. “Not even Gracie and Isobel?”
Zack’s voice was even. “I’ve known those girls since the day they were born. I love and trust them, but we can’t afford a slip. I honestly don’t think we’re going to hear anything more from those apes who blew up our house, but until the cops get them, we can’t tell anybody where we’re living.”
Taylor got off the swing. “Okay,” she said, and her voice was small. She started up the slope towards the house, and we followed. I could see Zack’s weariness as he pushed uphill. My own legs felt like lead.
We had a sandwich and when I suggested a nap, Zack didn’t fight me. Two hours later, I woke feeling if not reborn at least ready to face what lay ahead. I turned so I could look at my husband’s face. The creases that bracketed his mouth were deep. His paraplegia affected every area of his life. Routine made it manageable, but in the next month, there would be no routine. We’d be adapting to a new house, a new schedule, and Zack would be carrying the burden of convincing a jury that his client, a slumlord with unsavoury connections, hadn’t murdered his girlfriend. I went into the bathroom, picked up my nail polish, and came back to bed. When Zack awakened, he stretched lazily. “So any new crises while we slept?”
“Nothing major,” I said. “But I seem to have smudged the polish on my baby toe.” I handed him the bottle of Mochaccino Mama. “How about a quick repair job before we go to Magoo’s?”
When Margot, Leland, and Declan arrived, Margot, a dog lover without a dog, dropped to her knees and began crooning endearments to Willie and Pantera. Leland’s stitches still looked angry, but he wasn’t the only member of his family among the walking wounded. Declan had a line of stitches along his cheekbone, and the area around his right eye was an ugly rainbow of purplish-blue and yellow.
“What happened to you?” Zack said.
Declan looked away. “I walked into a door.”
Zack cocked his head. “Just an educated guess, but I’d say the door was about five-foot-ten, hundred and eighty pounds.”
A small smile quivered across Declan’s lips. “Closer to six feet, two hundred pounds.”
“We’re lucky you’re still with us,” Zack said.
“So I’ve been told,” Declan said. “Is Taylor around?”
“She’s inside studying,” I said. “She’ll be glad to see you.”
When the door shut behind him, Zack turned to Leland. “So what did happen?”
Leland sat on the corner of one of the lounges. “Declan was upset about what had been done to your house,” Leland said. “He went into North Central to ask some questions.”
“And people were reluctant to answer,” I said.
Leland’s voice was devoid of expression. “According to Declan, he gave as good as he got.”
“Jesus,” Zack said. “He’s lucky he didn’t come home in a body bag, but I’m sure you explained that.”
Margot came up the porch steps. Her tone was dry. “Actually, being on the receiving end of a beating with a sawed-off baseball bat made the point for us.”
Zack shuddered. “Who’s for a drink?”
“Sparkling water for me,” Margot said. “I could use something stronger,” Leland said. “Zack, I remember you saying that you make a fine martini.”
“He makes a great martini,” I said. “And I’ll join you.”
“Good,” Leland said. “We’ll drink to better days.”
Part of the allure of Magoo’s was the fact that we could get there by boat. As we nosed out into the lake, I turned to make certain that all the life jackets had been snapped on. They had. Margot and Leland were seated in the back; Taylor and Declan were directly behind us. Taylor had tipped her head back to catch the sun, and Declan was watching the play of light and shadow on her face with an intensity that made my heart ache for him. Taylor may have felt their relationship was a friendship of convenience, but clearly Declan’s emotions ran deep.
From the May long weekend to Thanksgiving, Magoo’s rocked. Most nights as we passed the midpoint in the lake, we could hear the music. Tonight, it was Buddy Holly singing “Oh Boy.”
Zack and Margot joined Buddy at the second verse. Zack had a tuneful bass, and Margot sang with wild down-home abandon. As she and Zack hit the “Dum dee dum dum dums,” even Taylor and Declan were laughing. It seemed an auspicious start for the evening.
Magoo’s was a favourite with our family, and it was fun to see the restaurant through fresh eyes. When Margot spotted the distinctive rounded top and the glass front of the vintage Wurlitzer jukebox, she clapped her hands with delight. “This is the real thing, isn’t it?” she said, bending to check the playlist. “There was a jukebox like this in Northey’s ice-cream parlour in Wadena when I was a kid. I spent hours standing in front of it watching people put in money, and punch the buttons, hoping they’d choose a song I liked. They seldom did, but I still danced.” Margot continued to pore over the playlist. “Leland, give me a loonie, would you? C-5 is the song I want for our bride-and-groom dance.”
Leland smiled and handed over the loonie. Margot put it in the slot, hit C-5, and Slim Whitman began singing “I Remember You.” “Slim has always been a favourite in Wadena,” Margot said, then she held out her arms to Leland and they began to dance. Taylor and Declan followed suit.
Zack looked up at me. “Want to dance, Ms. Shreve, or shall we just find a quiet corner and smooch?”
“It’s been a long day,” I said. “Let’s smooch.”
We were in luck. There was one empty table left on the deck and it overlooked the lake. Zack moved a chair out of the way, wheeled in beside me, and took my hand. The sun was starting to fall in the sky, leaving a shaft of light across the water. A lone red canoe was heading for shore. “Let’s just stay here, forever,” I said. “Listening to Slim, watching the canoe, and canoodling.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Zack said.
“Neither am I,” I said, and then we shared a deep, lovely kiss that I wished could have lasted forever but, in the way of deep, lovely kisses, didn’t. Margot and Leland and the kids joined us. Herb McFaull, who owned Magoo’s, came out to say hello. The late, great Ritchie Valens began singing “La Bamba” and the sensory overload that was the true Magoo’s experience began. Everything at Magoo’s was superlative. The burgers were the sizzlingest, the shoestring fries the skinniest, the onion rings the greasiest, the coleslaw the most savoury, and the milkshakes in their old-fashioned metal containers the coldest and the thickest.
A meal at Magoo’s demanded and deserved full attention, so none of us talked much while we were eating. That didn’t mean there weren’t some nice moments. Zack, as he always did, solemnly unloaded his onions onto Taylor’s burger because she loved onions, and she never remembered to order extras. When he attempted to open his mouth wide enough to take a bite of his burger, Declan winced with pain and slid his burger back on his plate. Wordlessly, Margot reached over and cut his burger into bite-sized pieces. Declan gave her a grateful smile and Margot leaned close to him and whispered, “I have brothers.”
After we’d eaten, Taylor and Declan gravitated towards the dance floor to put a little hip-hop into the sock hop, leaving the fou
r of us to savour the pleasures of the gloaming. Only good friends can be comfortable sharing silence, and that evening I began to feel that Margot and Leland – in spite of the differences we might have – had entered that special category. When Leland’s cell shrilled, the spell was broken.
As Margot watched her fiancé move to the edge of the deck so he could be out of earshot, she made no attempt to hide her annoyance. “That will be the ex–Mrs. Hunter,” she said. “I wish someone could break Louise of her compulsion to drink and dial.”
“Many have tried,” Zack said.
“That’s right,” Margot said. “You were on Louise duty for a while, weren’t you? Before Sage Mackenzie took over.”
“Took over and took off to open her own law firm,” Zack said.
“I thought most young lawyers would trade their first born for a chance to be an associate at Falconer Shreve,” I said.
“Most would,” Zack replied. “But Sage isn’t a dewy-eyed young graduate. She was a cop before she was a lawyer.”
Margot turned to me. “You saw her, Joanne. She was the redhead trying to control Louise after the convocation. Anyway, I never had much to do with her, so all I know is the gossip.”
Zack gave her a sharp look. “So what’s the gossip?”
“Just that Sage left very suddenly. People were surprised. You must know what happened, Zack.”
“Part of it,” he said. “Sage and I were working late one night and she came onto me.”
“When was this?” I said.
Zack squeezed his eyes shut in concentration. “I don’t know – late January, early February. We were working on the Lance Retzlaff case. We’d been talking to witnesses all day and were looking through the interview notes. Sage kept moving closer to me. I ignored it, then she reached down and started rubbing my penis.”
“How come you didn’t tell me?” I said.
“Because, as I explained to Sage, I was a happily married man and I wanted it to stay that way.”
“And that was the end of it?” I said.
“No,” Zack said. “Sage unzipped my fly and reached in. She was quick – I’ll give her that.”
Margot sputtered with laughter. “Sorry, Zack,” she said. “It’s just the image of you as the innocent maiden being ravished is pretty hard to swallow.”
Zack scowled at her. “It wasn’t funny at the time. If it hadn’t been for the delivery man …”
“The delivery man?” I said. Now I was laughing, too. “Where did the delivery man come from?”
“God knows,” Zack said. “He just wandered in, so I zipped up, told him he had the wrong office, put on my coat, and came home to you.”
“And you never told me about your incredible adventure,” I said.
“You were asleep, and Sage was gone the next week, so it was no longer relevant. Are you angry?”
“Of course not,” I said. “But I am grateful to that delivery man.”
Margot and I had both smeared our mascara laughing, so we excused ourselves to go to the ladies’ room. Whatever your purpose, the women’s bathroom at Magoo’s is worth a visit. The mirrors are surrounded with lights like the makeup mirrors in old movies and the walls are covered with photographs of movie stars of the 1950s and 1960s posing with Mr. Magoo, the cranky, myopic, W.C. Fields–like cartoon character who gave the restaurant its name.
As Margot and I stood in front of adjacent mirrors repairing our makeup, I was struck by the new softness in her face. She was clearly a happy woman. Remembering her tenderness with Declan, I said, “You’re going to be a good mother.”
Margot flushed and ran her hand over her stomach. “Am I showing?”
“No. I just meant …” I turned towards her. “You are pregnant. Congratulations!”
“I’m over the moon. So is Leland.” Margot’s eyes were swimming. She dabbed at them and made a face of mock horror. “Hormones. What happens if I start blubbering in court?”
“The jury will melt,” I said. I put my arms around her. “How far along are you?”
“Three months. It’s going to be a Christmas baby!” She stood sideways and narrowed her eyes critically at her reflection. “I can’t wait till I have a baby bump.”
“Your breasts are already a little fuller, but you’ve always had nice breasts.”
“I like your breasts, too,” Margot said. She laughed her wonderful dirty laugh. “Be sure to tell Zack about this little womanly exchange. It’ll keep him awake all night.”
When Margot and I got back to our table, Leland was there and he seemed preoccupied.
Margot looked at him carefully. “Problems?” she asked.
Leland nodded. “One problem, and it’s solved – at least I hope so. That was Sage Mackenzie.”
“Ah, the woman of the hour,” Margot said.
“I’m glad she was around tonight. Apparently, some goon showed up at Louise’s. He told Louise she’d promised him ‘a couple of grand’ if he’d put a scare into somebody. The goon was there to get instructions and money. Louise had no idea what he was talking about. She must have made the arrangements when she was drunk and then lost it all in a blackout. Luckily Sage showed up and handled the situation.”
“What did Sage do?” Zack asked.
“She gave the man some money for his trouble and he left. Sage says she’s sure Louise won’t remember any of this in the morning, but she thought I should know.” Leland tried a smile. “And now I do. End of story.”
Margot touched Leland’s cheek with her hand. “Let’s hope,” she said.
After Leland, Margot, and Declan left to go back to the city, I took the dogs for a short walk on the beach and Zack returned some phone calls. Then we both went to Taylor’s room to say goodnight. At fourteen, she was past the age for tucking in, but she continued to welcome a hug and a moment together at the end of the day, and so did we. That night, she was in bed with her cats, reading Pablo Neruda’s Odes to Common Things, a collection celebrating tomatoes, chairs, cats, wine, bread, and other objects that bring beauty to our everyday lives that I’d given her for her birthday the previous November.
“I was just thinking about the sock paintings,” Taylor said. “They were in the family room, so I guess they’re gone.”
The sock paintings were a Neruda-inspired sly response to a private joke between Taylor and me. Taylor believed that socks, like air, belonged to everyone, and she was an unrepentant and chronic borrower of mine. Her Christmas present to me the previous year had been two rectangular canvases: on one, she had copied out Neruda’s “Ode to a Sock” in English; on the other, she had written out the poem in Spanish. The margins of both canvases were decorated with whimsical drawings of socks that she and I had jointly known. With a pang, I realized that the paintings had been in the family room and had almost certainly been destroyed by the explosion.
“We’ll know more tomorrow,” Zack said. “But, Taylor, you’re here. You’ll make new paintings.”
“They won’t be the same,” Taylor said. “Because I’m not the same.” There was no anger or self-pity in her voice. She spoke with the same cool detachment her mother exhibited when she confronted an unpalatable truth. “I’ve been thinking about this. When I painted those socks for the first time, I was so excited. I felt like the person who invented socks. But now I’ll just be making art about socks that have already been painted. The newness won’t be there any more.” Her dark eyes moved slowly from Zack to me and back to Zack again. “Nothing stays the same,” she said.
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Zack said.
Taylor smiled her mother’s smile, broad and generous but always tempered by a tiny flicker of mockery that played across her lips. “It’s not necessarily good either,” she said.
After Zack and I got into bed, like many busy couples, we checked our messages. News about the explosion had spread, so my e-mail was full of notes from friends expressing sympathy and offering whatever help we might need. I answered the notes, put d
own my BlackBerry, and plumped up my pillow. “Ready for lights out?” I said.
“Not quite.” Zack took off his glasses and lay them on his bedside table. “Jo, when we were at Magoo’s, I didn’t tell the whole story about what happened with Sage.”
My stomach clenched as I tried to summon Sage’s image. All that came to mind was a flash of red hair as untameable as wildfire. “Was there more between you two?” I said.
“God, no,” Zack said. “One encounter was more than enough. But the week after that incident Sage attacked Norine, and we fired her.”
“Attacked? You mean physically?” I said. “I can’t imagine that. Norine’s such a good person.”
“Agreed, but apparently Norine did something Sage didn’t like and Sage blew up. In addition to using some ugly language, Sage grabbed Norine’s arm and twisted it.”
“What had Norine done?”
“Nothing. You know how short of space Falconer Shreve is. The room Sage was using for an office had been a dumping ground for old Rolodexes, files, and agendas. Norine had it cleaned out. When Sage accused her of stealing, Norine asked her what was missing, but Sage wouldn’t say. Anyway, that was that. We had a quick partners’ meeting and decided that Sage had to go. We agreed to support her story that she wanted to open her own office, but we made certain she left the office immediately.”
“How did Sage get connected with Louise Hunter?”
“That was my idea. Louise never quite understood that the retainer Leland paid me to take care of her legal affairs didn’t include being on-call 24/7. As you well know, Louise was a lot of work, and to be honest, I felt sorry for Sage. I’ve lost my temper a few thousand times, but I’ve never been fired. I figured that Leland’s money would give Sage a cushion until she got her practice going.”
“You’re a good guy,” I said. We turned off the lights and I moved in close. “Hey, I forgot to tell you the big news. Margot’s pregnant. The baby’s due in December.”
“That’s nice,” Zack said. “Really nice. And great timing. The office is usually quiet over the holidays, so Margot won’t have to miss much work.”