Kaleidoscope

by Gail Bowen

  After Zack left, I sank down on the couch in the bright living room and closed my eyes for a moment. But too much had happened, and my mind was racing. I collected my phone from the bedroom. There was a message from Norine. Margot wanted a small religious service. Did I have any ideas about a venue that might be suitable?

  I called Norine and suggested a couple of possibilities. My own preference was for the Luther chapel at the university. It was an intimate and attractive space and the Hunters had ties to Luther. Declan was a student at the high school, and Leland had been a generous donor to the Luther College building fund. Norine said it sounded promising and she’d check it out.

  As soon as I hung up, I squared my shoulders and hit Mieka’s number.

  My daughter sounded as strained as I felt. “The girls and I were just talking about you. We wondered if you’d like to come for a visit this morning,” she said.

  It was an olive branch, and I was eager to seize it, but I wasn’t ready yet to leave the safety of the building. “Could you come here?” I asked. “I don’t think I’m up to driving.”

  “Sure.” Mieka hesitated for a beat. “I never thought I’d be asking you this, Mum, but where do you live?”

  “In the building on Halifax Street where Ed and Barry were married.” I gave her the number she needed to buzz our condo. “It’s a pretty day,” I said. “We could have tea in the roof garden.”

  “The girls would like that,” Mieka said. “Mum, are you okay? You sound pretty zoned out.”

  “I’m okay. There’s just so much sadness here. It’ll be good to see you and the girls.”

  “It’ll be good to see you, too, Mum,” Mieka’s voice broke. “Everything’s changed.”

  “We’ll change it back again,” I said, but even to my ears, the words sounded hollow.

  Madeleine and Lena arrived with a greeting card. They took pride in making their own cards, but the situation was momentous, and they’d chosen a card from the drugstore. The girls watched my face carefully as I opened the envelope. The front of the card was a picture of a mournful basset standing in front of a carousel. Inside was the message “Without you, life is a sorry-go-round.”

  “Do you like the card?” Lena said.

  “Very much.”

  “Do you understand the joke?” Madeleine asked. “The merry-go-round is a sorry-go-round because we miss you.”

  “But I’m right here,” I said.

  Lena frowned. “Not the way you usually are.”

  Madeleine nodded in agreement.

  My eyes took in their small, worried faces. “You know what?” I said. “I could use a hug.” The girls scrambled onto my lap. They smelled of chlorinated water and sunscreen. It was hard to let them go, but finally I said, “Why don’t you help me put some cookies on the plate and then we’ll go up to the roof.”

  While we had our tea, we talked about the roof garden. Madeleine wanted to know whether Ed had planted flowers that would attract butterflies, and if he had, whether butterflies would come up this high. As I always did when a student confronted me with a question for which I had no answer, I told Madeleine, I didn’t know, but I’d find out. Lena was interested in how many people the roof garden could hold without crashing down. That question was easier. There had been 150 guests at Ed and Barry’s wedding, and the roof was still intact, so in my opinion, the four of us were on safe ground.

  After we had tea, Mieka handed the girls their backpacks and suggested they find a place to draw while we talked. The roof garden was filled with sunny nooks and shady hideaways where sisters could draw and whisper, and the girls ran off happily.

  Left alone, Mieka and I were less ebullient.

  “Where do we start?” Mieka said.

  “With Riel,” I said. “I’m sure the police questioned him.”

  Mieka’s mouth tightened. “He was first on their list. Luckily for Riel, he was asleep in bed with me at the time. Even luckier, the new neighbours – you know, who moved into the Adams’s house last year – keep careful watch on exactly when he comes and goes. They confirmed he didn’t leave the house until he went to work at 6:45 yesterday morning.”

  “Your own little Neighbourhood Watch?” I said.

  “Yes, and for once I’m grateful they’re so nosy.”

  Mieka’s eyes met mine. “I know the murder has been terrible for Leland’s family and for you and Zack, but it’s hard for us too. Riel is so committed to the future of North Central. He was over the moon when he and Leland had that press conference announcing the shared facility. Riel felt as if the new centre might really draw the people of The Village and North Central together.”

  “That’s still possible,” I said. “I don’t know who will be managing Peyben, but whoever it is will be reporting to Margot and she’s determined to carry out Leland’s wishes.”

  “Even if the person who killed Leland was someone who’d been associated with Riel?” Mieka said.

  I tensed. “Mieka, if you know something, you have to go to the police.”

  She lowered her eyes. “I don’t know anything. It was just conjecture.” She picked up a cookie, changed her mind, and put it back on the plate.

  “Remember your grandmother’s rule,” I said. “ ‘Thee took it; thee eat it.’ ”

  Mieka smiled, picked up the cookie again, and took a bite. “Have they made the funeral arrangements yet?”

  “No. Margot doesn’t want a big production – just family and friends. Zack’s assistant is checking into Luther Chapel at the university.”

  Mieka nodded. “That would be a good choice,” she said.

  She levelled her eyes at me. “Riel would like to go to the funeral. He wants to honour Leland for his efforts to build the community, but we don’t know if Riel would be welcome.”

  “Let me check with Margot,” I said. “But I’m sure she’ll want Riel there.”

  “I hope so, for all our sakes. Mum, if there’s anything I can do to help Margot and Declan, let me know. I remember when Dad died. I thought it was the end of the world.”

  “So did I,” I said. “But we got through it.” I took her hand in mine. Mieka had her father’s hands, long-fingered, graceful, and slender. Ian’s hands had been the first thing I noticed about him. “I’m glad you came,” I said. “Zack’s at Margot’s, but I’m going to text him and tell him to meet us in the hall. If he finds out the girls were here and he didn’t see them, he won’t be happy.”

  When we called the girls, they came running. Madeleine had made a bright spring pictures of flowers, trees, and birds. Lena had drawn a picture of Jesus on the cross. When we went downstairs, Zack was waiting, and they presented their pictures to him. He examined both pictures gravely: “The pleasures of the flesh and the prospect of redemption,” he said. “These deserve a public exhibition.”

  We trailed Zack into our condo. I found magnets in a cupboard, and Zack fixed both drawings to the refrigerator door and wheeled back to admire his exhibit. “I think our new art collection is beginning to take shape,” he said. “But we’ll need more work before the grand opening. I’m prepared to pay a loonie a picture.”

  Lena’s eyes sparkled. “We can do more work. We can cover this whole refrigerator in pictures.”

  “We can,” Madeleine said. “But Madame Turmel is right, Lena. You’re going to have to take time with your work. Your Jesus only has one foot.”

  Lena whipped out her marker and made a quick adjustment. “Not any more,” she said.

  When the elevator doors closed on them, I turned to Zack. “Are you, Blake, and Margot having another session this afternoon?”

  “Looks like.”

  “Start an hour later. Give Margot a chance to have a nap.”

  Zack yawned. “You know I wouldn’t mind a nap myself.”

  “I’ll join you,” I said. “After school, Declan and I are moving his gear out of Louise’s, so I’ll need to be in fighting trim.”

  The sense of rapprochement with Mieka, the time with
our granddaughters, and the nap with Zack had strengthened me. Nevertheless, my pulse was racing as Declan and I approached Louise’s massive house on the east side of the city. At the best of times, I hated confrontation, and this was not the best of times. But, as is turned out, I had feared the wrong thing. I had expected to be met by a heartbroken woman who would pull out all the stops to keep her son by her side. But the front door was locked. Declan had to use his key to open it. His suitcases, his guitar, and the usual paraphernalia of an adolescent boy were lined up neatly in the front hall. Louise was sitting in the front room with the curtains drawn. Declan called out to her, but she didn’t move out of her chair. “I had Trudy pack your things and clean out your room,” she said.

  Declan went to her. “Mum, we’ve talked about this. You didn’t have to take all my stuff out. I’m planning to come back to visit.”

  “Your old room is being turned into a guestroom,” Louise said. “The painters are coming tomorrow.”

  When Declan bent to kiss Louise’s cheek, she turned away.

  It didn’t take us long to carry Declan’s things to his car. He was tall and slender, but he was strong, and he was able to pick up his suitcases, guitar, and backpack and easily carry them to the car in one trip. That left me with his laptop and a duffle bag that appeared to be full of sports equipment. I put the laptop on the passenger seat and went back to rearrange the helmets, boots, and runners in the duffle bag so that we could close the door to the trunk. When I finally got into the car, I saw that Declan was crying.

  His face was still bruised and swollen from the beating he’d taken, and his misery tore my heart.

  “You must think I’m a real wuss,” he said.

  I handed him a tissue. “You’re not a wuss. You’re a guy who has far too much to deal with, so let it out. We’ll stay here till you’re ready to go back to Halifax Street.”

  CHAPTER

  17

  We ate dinner at our place. Ed had offered to bring meals for the next few days and we accepted with alacrity. Tonight’s choice was seafood chowder and sourdough bread. The food went down easily, but our conversation was less palatable. The Peyben directors were pressing for a full board meeting. Decency would have suggested they wait until after the funeral, but they were insistent. Seemingly, greed and the need to swoop when an opponent was vulnerable trumped compassion, but Margot was game. She said the sooner she established who was in charge, the better, and she had asked Blake to arrange the meeting.

  Zack and Margot were careful to include Declan in the discussion of what was happening at Peyben, and he seemed keen to learn. As grave as our talk at the table was, there was a sense of shared purpose that united us.

  Margot had decided that the funeral would be at Luther, and we talked about who should deliver the eulogy. Zack was the logical choice. He and Leland had become close, and he was much in demand to deliver eulogies for colleagues in the legal community because as Zack had pointed out to me on previous occasions, he was one of the few lawyers in town who realized that a eulogy was supposed to be about the guy in the box, not about him. But Margot finally made another choice. She wanted Declan and her to work together on the eulogy and to deliver it jointly. Laurie protested that Margot didn’t need the added strain of speaking publicly, and I thought she had a good point, but it was Margot’s decision.

  As soon as we’d cleaned up after dinner, Margot and Laurie started moving towards the door. They were both exhausted and Margot wanted to be sharp for her meeting with Leland’s business associates. When Declan started to follow them, Zack asked him to stay behind. They went out on the terrace and closed the doors behind them.

  Taylor watched them and cocked her head. “What do you suppose they’re talking about?”

  “I don’t know, but my guess is that Zack is asking Declan to sit in on that meeting with Leland’s board tomorrow.”

  Taylor’s eyes widened.

  “If Declan decides that someday he wants to take over Peyben, he’s going to have to learn how the company operates,” I said.

  Taylor was fervent. “Declan loved his dad, but that doesn’t mean he wants to be like him.”

  “He doesn’t have to be like Leland,” I said. “I think he just has to be there for Margot.”

  “Declan will do it for Margot,” Taylor said. “But I think it should be his choice. He’s only seventeen. What if he doesn’t want to work at Peyben?”

  “Then he’ll have the information he needs to make that decision,” I said.

  “Declan always resented his father’s business.”

  “Because Leland was away so much?”

  Taylor was thoughtful. “Yes, but it’s funny. Sally’s art took her away from me my whole life, but I never once thought that would stop me from making art. I’ve always known that’s what I would do.”

  “You’re lucky,” I said. “There are people who go through their entire life without knowing what their work should be.”

  “Is that the way it is for you?” Taylor asked.

  “I thought about that at my retirement party,” I said. “I liked teaching university, but I never was passionate about it the way your dad is passionate about the law and you’re passionate about making art.”

  “Maybe now you can find work that you really love,” Taylor said.

  “Maybe I can,” I said.

  Leland’s apartment had a small assortment of books in the guest bedroom that Zack and I were using. The books were general interest – the kind an overnight visitor might enjoy curling up with before sleep. I chose a book of personal essays that began with Seneca and ended with Richard Rodriguez.

  It was an intriguing collection, but I turned to an essay I’d read a half-dozen times before: E.B. White’s “Once More to the Lake,” a deceptively simple account of a man trying to recapture with his son the quiet joys of a lake cottage in August. It’s a beautiful story about time and loss, and White’s prose is as pellucid as the lake about which he writes. When Zack came in, I marked the page and handed him the book. “Some bedtime reading,” I said.

  Zack sighed. “As long as it’s not a spreadsheet.”

  “So did you fill Declan in on what every young man needs to know?” I asked.

  “Declan and I covered the boy-girl stuff when he was fifteen,” Zack said. “It was humiliating. Declan knew more than I did. But tonight I was the smart guy. I told Declan what to look out for tomorrow, and I gave him a rough idea of the size and worth of Peyben.”

  “Was he impressed?”

  “I think he was. You know there was no silver spoon for Leland. He did it all on his own.”

  “And you thought Declan should know that about his father?”

  “Yes. There’s no arguing the fact that Leland was an absentee father, but when he was away, Leland was building something impressive, and I wanted Declan to understand that.” Just as Zack wheeled into his bathroom, there was a knock at the door. “I’ll get that,” I said.

  It was Declan. “Could you give Zack a message for me?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  “It’s about tomorrow. Could you tell him I have a suit, and I know how to tie a tie.” He reached back and touched his dreadlocks. “But could you ask him if I should get my hair cut before the meeting?”

  I reached out and squeezed his arm. “I’ll ask him,” I said.

  “Who was that at the door?” Zack called from the bathroom.

  “Declan. He wanted me to tell you he has a suit and he knows how to tie a tie.”

  “Good for him. I was thirty before I learned how to tie a tie.”

  “How did you manage?”

  “Clip-ons,” he said airily.

  “Declan also asked if he should cut his hair for the meeting.”

  “That’s a big move. I’ll check with Margot, but in my opinion, Declan’s his own man and the dreadlocks are his choice.”

  Zack and I both slept well that night. I awoke at my usual time and dressed for a run on the basement t
readmill. I was tying my running shoes when I heard a soft knock at the door. It was Declan.

  I smiled at him. “Change of heart about cutting your hair?”

  Declan’s face was grave. “No, it’s Laurie.” His face reddened and he lowered his voice. “Her water broke – I didn’t even know … anyway, the baby’s coming. Margot called Steve and he’s on his way, but we’re taking Laurie to Regina General. Margot thought you’d be worried if you checked our place and we weren’t there.”

  “She’s right. We would have been worried. Declan, there’s nothing Margot can do, and she has to take care of herself. She should go back to bed. So should you. You have that meeting this afternoon. The baby could take hours. I’ll go with Laurie and stay at least until Steve gets there.”

  Declan looked relieved. “I would have done it, but if things got out of hand, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

  I smiled. “Delivering a baby and learning the inner workings of a multinational corporation would be a lot for one day.”

  He turned to go, then stopped. “Oh. Margot says I can do what I want to do about my dreadlocks.”

  “Good.”

  I went down the hall and stuck my head inside our bedroom door. My conversation with Declan had awakened Zack. “It’s too early for a crisis. So what’s going on?” he said.

  “Laurie’s water broke.”

  “Jesus, when did this turn into a soap opera?”

  I kissed Zack’s shoulder. “There are two pregnant women across the hall. That ups the odds. Anyway, I’m going to tell Margot to go back to bed. Babies are unpredictable. There’s no point in her sitting around in a waiting room when she could be getting some sleep. She’s having a good pregnancy, but her risk factors are high: she’s forty-two, this is her first pregnancy, and she’s under enormous stress. I’ll take Laurie to the hospital and stay with her until her husband gets there.”