by Gail Bowen
“I’m sure that was her first consideration,” I said.
“You’re mocking me,” Zack said. “But I’m bulletproof. How come Margot told you first?”
“It was just a miscommunication. Anyway, that doesn’t matter, but Margot did want me to tell you that when I said she had lovely breasts, she told me she’d always admired my breasts, too. And then we kissed.”
“Seriously?”
“Think about it,” I said.
“Oh, I will,” Zack said. “I’ll be awake all night thinking about it.”
CHAPTER
7
If a couple spends twenty-seven years planning a wedding, it seems especially fitting that the event is perfect in every way. Ed and Barry’s wedding was everything they had hoped it would be. The skies were blue, the sun was bright, the air was warm, and there was just enough breeze to make flower heads nod and ornamental grasses rustle.
Half an hour before the ceremony, Ed met me in the lobby. He was carrying two florist boxes and wearing a summer tuxedo the colour of latte froth, a white shirt, a cream vest, and a striped cream and white Windsor tie.
Until that day, I had never seen Ed in a suit. In his day-to-day life, he favoured shirts custom-made to hide his girth. He had dozens of them in different shades and materials.
“You look sensational,” I said.
“So do you,” he said. “Did Zack like the dress?”
“He loved it. From now on, you’re in charge of my wardrobe.”
Knowing that I would be a reluctant fashionista, Ed had scouted the Internet until he came up with a shimmering silvery-lilac silk sheath, closely fitted and sleeveless with a plunging neckline that revealed discrete but noticeable cleavage.
When I’d tried the dress on, I’d been dubious. It was flattering but expensive and very revealing. “I don’t know about this,” I said as we stood in front of the mirror.
But Ed’s mirrored self was beaming. “Trust me,” he said. “Gay men know these things.”
Now, however, his brow furrowed with concern. “How are you doing, Jo?”
“Fine,” I said. “Really. Seeing the house was grim, but it could have been worse. When Zack came home after court on Thursday, he suggested we go to the lake that night. He’d lost his case and he was tired, so I said we should just wait and go in the morning. Zack knows how much I love being at the lake, and he insisted.”
Ed shuddered. “Coincidences like that make you believe in fate.”
“They do,” I said. “But the only fate we should be thinking about today is yours and Barry’s. You were born to be together. This is going to be a beautiful day. Now let me have a look at the bouquets.”
Ed handed me the smaller of the boxes. “Yours, madam.” The bouquet inside was simple and elegant – a duplicate of the one I’d carried when Zack and I were married: a mix of pale green and cream cymbidium, their stems braided with ribbons into a handle. “Acceptable?” Ed asked.
“Perfect,” I said.
“Good. Now here is mine.” Ed removed the lid of the larger box. The bouquet inside was exquisite: cymbidium, gardenias, peonies, and roses – all white – their stems braided with white ribbon. Ed took it in his hands. “You’re sure about this?”
“I’m sure,” I said. “You look exactly the way a man in love should look.”
“In that case,” Ed said. “Let’s find Barry.”
The ceremony was conducted by a judge named Penney Murphy, an attractive woman with spiky red hair and an affable manner. Judge Murphy spoke of how Ed and Barry gave themselves freely and generously and of how we as a community of friends and family were present to celebrate and support the married couple. She was plainspoken, but her words were heartfelt. When I saw Barry’s eyes as he gazed at Ed holding his spectacular bouquet, I felt a catch in my throat and hoped that the mascara I’d paid far too much for truly was waterproof.
Taylor, who had always held a special place in Ed and Barry’s lives, read a passage from the Song of Solomon. Barry’s nephew read Paul’s meditation on love from 1 Corinthians. As their vows, Barry and Ed together recited Sir Philip Sidney’s sixteenth-century poem “The Bargain.”
My true love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one for another given;
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a better bargain driven.
My true love hath my heart, and I have his.
His heart in me keeps him and me in one,
My heart in him his thoughts and sense guides;
He loves my heart for once it was his own,
I cherish his because in me it bides;
My true love hath my heart, and I have his.
After Ed and Barry exchanged rings, Judge Murphy said that she was honoured to join together two men whose commitment to each other had never wavered in twenty-seven years. When she pronounced Ed and Barry legally married, an oriole – an infrequent visitor to our city – flew over the newlyweds. Ed and Barry noticed the bird simultaneously and smiled at the omen, and at each other. Then the string quartet began playing the old Broadway tune “Mr. Wonderful” and a new phase of Ed and Barry’s life together began.
As the wedding party walked back down the path between the chairs of the guests, I was struck by the joy in the faces I saw. Leland and Margot were beaming – their turn was next. Our son Angus was a surprise guest. He’d caught a flight from Calgary and he was sitting with Peter. Mieka was sitting at the back with Zack and her daughters. Both my sons gave me the thumbs-up sign. So did Zack. The girls jumped up and hugged me, but Mieka’s face was strained. I stepped closer to her and bent down to brush a strand of hair from her cheek.
“I love you, Mieka,” I said.
“I love you, too, Mum,” she said, “but you and I are going to have to talk.”
After I posed for photos with the rest of the wedding party, I found Mieka and we sat down together at a café table tucked away in a corner that promised privacy. Our table was next to a raised bed of hydrangeas whose blooms were the same pale pink as Mieka’s dress. She was tanned, there were new lowlights in her ash-blonde hair, and she had the glow of a woman who was well and truly loved. “Pink’s a great colour for you,” I said. “You look beautiful.”
Mieka’s gaze was steady. “That’s what Riel said.”
“Right to the topic at hand, eh?” I said.
But having zeroed in, Mieka changed course. A copy of the wedding program was on the table in front of her. She tapped the photograph on front with her forefinger. “I’ve always loved this painting,” she said.
“So have I,” I said. “ ‘The Old Gardeners’ is my favourite Sally Love. Every time we go to Ed and Barry’s, Taylor wanders off just to spend time with it.”
“I can understand why,” Mieka said.
In the painting, two men are looking out at their summer garden. One of the men is wearing a battered gardening hat. We see only the backs of the couple’s heads, but the line of their bodies as they lean towards each other, their shoulders almost touching, speaks volumes about the closeness of their relationship.
“Do you remember the quote Greg and I used on our wedding program?” Mieka asked softly.
I nodded. “Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.”
“It was never true for Greg and me,” Mieka said. “We were never looking outward in the same direction. Riel and I are. We see life the same way. We want the same things.”
“Twin stars,” I murmured.
“If that was an allusion, it flew right past me.”
“It was what your father and I believed our lives would be when we decided to marry.”
Mieka’s eyes were thoughtful. “It didn’t work for you, did it?”
“No, it didn’t,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t work for you and Riel.”
A server came offering flutes of champagne. Mieka and I each took one and placed i
t, untouched, on the table. “You love him,” I said.
“I do,” Mieka said. “And he loves me.”
“You’re going to have to give me a little time to absorb this,” I said. “Until yesterday I didn’t realize that you and Riel had even met.”
“I know it must seem strange,” Mieka said, “but at first my relationship with Riel was no big deal. He was just someone I was working with. Lisa Wallace and I were determined that UpSlideDown2 wouldn’t be one of those projects outsiders imposed on the people of North Central. We wanted the community’s support. Lisa knew Riel, and just before Christmas she asked him to organize a meeting.”
I was incredulous. “You’ve known Riel since Christmas and you never mentioned him?”
“There was nothing to mention. We were just two people interested in creating a play centre, and then, well, the timing was never right. By the time Riel and I knew we were serious about each other, Leland Hunter had started demolishing the neighbourhood to clear the way for The Village, and Riel was scrambling to organize a resistance.” Mieka ran her hand through her hair. “Mum, we were happy and we were in love. I guess I just didn’t want to risk what we had.”
Across from us, Zack, Madeleine, and Lena were still happily munching appetizers and watching koi in the stone pool at the corner of the garden. “Where are the girls in all this?” I said.
“Where they’ve always been,” Mieka said. “They’re my first priority and they’re Riel’s first priority, too. We’ve been careful not to confuse them about our relationship. The girls saw Riel at UpSlidedown, but he didn’t start coming to the house until we were sure the relationship was serious.”
“But now he does come to the house.”
“Yes and when he comes, he stays overnight.”
“And the girls are all right with this?”
“They think he’s terrific. He’s great with them. He’s great with me. Can’t you just be happy for us?”
“It’s more complicated than that, Mieka. This is shaping up to be a very ugly battle, and Riel and our family have wound up on opposite sides.”
“Not the whole family, Mum. And Riel is still grateful to you for encouraging him to pursue a master’s, and Zack has a good reputation in North Central. He’s taken on a lot of very unpopular cases for not much money. It’s not you two personally. It’s just …”
“Political?”
Mieka shook her head vehemently. “It’s beyond that,” she said. “Riel’s world is different from yours.”
“And it’s different from the world you know, Mieka. Have you considered that?”
Mieka chewed her lip. “Yes, I’ve considered that, and Riel and I are dealing with it.”
Across the garden, Leland and Margot had joined the girls and Zack by the pond. They were all laughing, and the wedding photographer was catching the moment. The girls were wearing matching green sundresses and Lena had attached the fake ponytail from the dollar store that she favoured for parties. It would be a nice picture.
“We can’t lose you and the girls, Mieka.”
“We don’t want to lose you either, Mum, but you’re going to have accept Riel. He’s part of my family now.”
I couldn’t think of anything more to say so I picked up my champagne flute. “We better drink this while it still has some fizz.”
Mieka’s smile was shadowed, but she raised her glass. “To all of us.”
We sipped our champagne, and for a moment it seemed that all was right with the world again, but suddenly Mieka’s face tensed. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Leland Hunter was about to join us. Mieka half stood, but Leland was too fast for her. “It was a beautiful wedding, wasn’t it?” he said. “Margot and I were marvelling at how smoothly everything went and, of course, hoping that ours will be just as flawless.”
“It will,” I said. “Leland, this is my daughter, Mieka Kilbourn. Mieka, this is Leland Hunter.”
Leland’s craggy face had regained the ruddy glow of a man who spends time working outdoors, but my daughter’s eyes were fixed on the stitches that ran from his forehead to his skull. They still looked painful. “I heard about what happened,” she said. “I’m sorry you were hurt.”
“It looks worse than it feels,” Leland said. “It did earn me some points with your daughters. They were fascinated by the stitches.”
Mieka frowned. “Did you tell them how it happened?”
“They didn’t ask. And Lena’s hair was far more intriguing. When I admired her ponytail, she took it off and handed it to me.”
Mieka’s voice softened. “I’ll have to talk to Lena about how to receive a compliment.”
“I thought it was a charming gesture,” Leland said.
Mieka didn’t respond. She glanced across at Zack and the girls. “I should get my ladies and give Zack a chance to mingle.”
“It was good to finally meet you,” Leland said and extended his hand.
Mieka hesitated a beat before she took it. Then she smiled and walked away.
Leland indicated the chair my daughter had just vacated. “May I join you?”
“Of course.” A server arrived at our table with napkins, small plates, and a tray of hot hors d’oeuvres. “Perfect timing,” Leland said. We both chose panko-crusted scallops with wasabi and some grilled shrimp.
I took a bite of my scallop. “Food for the gods,” I said. “I could live on appetizers.”
“I’ll remember that the next time you come to dinner,” Leland said. “Joanne, there was a distinct chill when you introduced me to your daughter. Is she still upset about Peyben buying the Markestyn property?”
“No,” I said. “It was a setback, but the price you paid was more than fair, and Lisa Wallace and Mieka and I have all been scouting other properties.”
“But something is wrong,” he said.
“Not necessarily wrong but certainly complicated.”
Leland leaned forward, waiting for me to explain. I didn’t want to explain. I wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head. I was running on empty, but escape was not an option. “Mieka and Riel Delorme are in a relationship,” I said.
“So she’s confident that he didn’t have anything to do with Danny Racette’s death or the bombing at your house,” Leland said.
“Apparently.”
Leland speared a shrimp. “But you’re not.”
“I’m confident that Riel wasn’t directly involved. Beyond that, I’m not sure of anything. You know we’re not telling Mieka that we’re living at your place.”
“Zack mentioned that.”
“I hate this,” I said. “Mieka and I have always been open with each other—” A server who didn’t look much older than Taylor appeared magically at my elbow. “That champagne will be warm,” the boy said. “I’ll get you a fresh glass.”
“What I’d really like is some water,” I said.
“With ice?”
“Please.”
The boy looked at Leland. “Sir?”
“I’ll have a little water, too, but no ice and two fingers of Scotch.”
“That’s probably not the worst idea you had all day,” I said.
“Care to change your order?”
“No, the best man has to set an example,” I said. “Don’t beat yourself up about the tension between Mieka and me. There was no way you could have foreseen any of this.”
“But there were things I could have foreseen,” he said. “There were signs, but I ignored them because I wanted to get this development underway. I’ve been involved in a dozen projects bigger than this one. Every one of them has presented problems, but I’ve never broken ground until I understood what those problems were and found a way through them. This time I rushed, and everyone’s paying, including you.”
“Why was there such a push?” I asked. “I’m not being critical, just curious. We bought the Markesteyn building in December. You bought it in January and it was pretty well gone by the end of the month. What was the rush?�
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“In a word – Margot.” He looked across the garden to where Margot, Zack, and Angus were sitting by a glorious hibiscus, deep in conversation. Leland’s smile was rueful. “I wanted to give Margot a perfect neighbourhood. I should have had meetings with the community – explained what we were doing, reached a consensus, but I didn’t, and now we have a situation.”
The young server set our drinks in front of us.
“Situations can be dealt with,” I said. “You have a good track record, Leland. This can be salvaged.”
“Thank you for that,” he said. He sipped his Scotch. “So is the condo going to work for you?”
“Zack went through it yesterday – we don’t have to change a thing, and that is a huge relief. Until we retrofitted our house, I had no idea the number of accommodations paraplegia demands, but your condo meets all Zack’s requirements.”
“I wish I could take credit for that,” Leland said. “But Shelley Gregg, the developer who converted the warehouse, insisted on universal design throughout the building. She was also the one who roughed in this gorgeous garden. All I did was buy the property.”
“Because Shelley Gregg went bankrupt,” I said.
“Doesn’t seem fair, does it?” Leland said. “To do perfect, sensitive work and get kicked in the slats.”
“It may not be fair,” I said, “but it’s almost inevitable.”
Leland gave me a quick, assessing look. “True, but your husband had a thought today that might redress the balance. He suggested adding a multipurpose community complex to the plans for The Village. He and I just kicked around the idea, but we agreed that the complex should be a centre for real community-building: a gymnasium certainly, but also a performance space, meeting rooms, an indoor pool, maybe a media space where kids could make videos and recordings.”
“And you want Shelley Gregg to design the facility?”
“She’s the logical choice. I’ve seen her work first-hand here on Halifax Street, and while Zack and I were talking I Googled her. She’s designing public buildings now, mostly for municipalities.”
“This facility would be just for people who lived in The Village?”