by Gail Bowen
“Nope,” he said. “This is a perfect stone-skipping night.”
I bent down, picked up a handful of stones from the beach, and handed Zack a flat one. “Go for it,” I said.
He grinned, aimed, and threw the stone. It bounced twice before it sunk.
“Not bad,” I said.
“I’m out of practice,” he grumbled.
I picked up another stone. In the next few minutes Zack worked his way up to four skips, then he threw one that sank without a trace. “Should have quit while I was ahead,” he said.
“One of life’s great lessons,” I said.
Zack looked up at me. “I’ve been thinking about following Blake’s lead.”
“I figured that was what was on your mind at dinner,” I said.
“So what do you think?”
“It’s a big step,” I said.
“It has an upside,” Zack said. “Margot wants to work from home. Two of the condos on the floor beneath ours are vacant. Blake approached the owners of the other two and they’ve agreed to sell. As soon as they move out, a crew will come in to turn that floor into offices for Peyben. I’ll be working regular hours. As long as we’re living on Halifax Street, I’ll be able to nip upstairs to have lunch with you or take an afternoon off so we can do whatever people who take off afternoons do. And here’s the real kicker. We can have Willie and Pantera in the condo. I wrung that concession from Margot.”
“I don’t imagine it took much wringing,” I said. “Margot’s a dog lover. What about the other condo owners?”
“There aren’t that many, but the dogs will be here on a trial basis. We’ll have to make sure they’re good citizens. We’ll hire a dog walker.”
“I’m the dog walker,” I said.
“Okay, we’ll hire you. Anyway, the upside of the deal is not to be sneezed at.”
“You’re right,” I said. “So what’s the downside?”
“I won’t be practising law for a year.”
“That’s a lot to give up,” I said.
He lowered his eyes.
“But not as much as Leland gave up,” I said. “You can say the words, Zack. They’re never far from my mind.”
Zack took my hand in his. “Jo, we’re never going to be able to make this right, but we can make it work.”
“I know we can,” I said.
“So what are you going to do this fall?” Zack said.
“Press on with April’s Place.”
Zack raised an eyebrow. “Is that the new name for the play centre?”
“Yes,” I said. “The name is my idea, so be enthusiastic. Anyway, we now own the lots on either side of the old synagogue, so once Peyben gets the necessary permits, we’ll be able to start construction. And Jill wants me to get moving on the mediation program with Margot and Riel while the interest is still high.”
“Will there be time for canoodling in your busy schedule?”
“I’ll pencil you in,” I said. “And, Zack, we’re going to have to make a decision about the house.”
“I looked over the final report from the engineers,” Zack said. “It seemed promising. According to them, the basement is structurally sound. If we want to rebuild, we can.”
“The O’Neills say that if we start construction immediately, we can move back by Christmas,” I said.
“Is that what you want?”
I shook my head. “No, and I’ve given it a lot of thought. The happiest time of my life was spent in that house, but whoever said, ‘You can’t retrace happy footsteps’ was right. This summer has changed us all. Taylor’s excited about the art she’s making, and she’s really looking forward to working with the Kids at Risk program. She and I have talked about moving back to the old house, but she wants to stay on Halifax Street.”
“That surprises me,” Zack said.
“It surprised me, too,” I said. “But Taylor says she feels as if we belong on Halifax Street now. I feel as if we belong here, too – mostly because I want us to be close to Margot and Declan, but also because everything we’re involved in is in the neighbourhood.”
Zack looked out at the lake. “Remember that first night we had dinner with Leland and Margot and he took us up to the roof garden?”
I smiled at the memory. “All we could see was mud and construction hoardings, but when Leland talked about recreating the kind of community that existed in the Warehouse District in the early 1900s I understood his dream.”
“I understood it, too,” Zack said. “Jo, I want to make Leland’s dream a reality.”
“Then we’re in,” I said.
“You’re sure about this,” Zack said.
“I’m sure. I want our family to be a part of the changes The Village will make in this city, and I want you and Taylor and me to be there the day that security fence around our building is ripped down.”
“Leland and I talked about that,” Zack said. “We decided we should celebrate with the kind of block party neighbours are supposed to have.”
“Bushwakker’s wild boar-burgers for everybody,” I said.
Zack beamed. “And dancing to the Beach Boys all night,” he said. When Zack spoke again, his voice was serious. “This isn’t going to be easy, Jo. By the time our neighbourhood is safe enough for that fence to come down, you and I might not be around.”
I shrugged. “At least we won’t have wasted our time here.”
Zack held out his arms, and we shared the kind of kiss a man and a woman in love should share on a summer night.
“That was nice,” Zack said. “But it’s been a long day – time to piss on the fire and call in the dogs, Ms. Shreve.”
I bent, picked up another skipping stone, and handed it to Zack. “How about one for the road,” I said.
Zack grinned and took aim. This time the stone skipped five times before it sank beneath the surface of the water. “How about that?” he said. “A personal best.”
“That’s all any of us can do,” I said. “Let’s go to the house.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thanks to:
Rick Mitchell, retired Staff Sergeant in Charge of Major Crimes Section, Regina Police Service, for reading the manuscript and for giving me insight into the world of urban police officers and the lives of the people of North Central.
Lara Hinchberger, my editor, and her associate Kendra Ward, for rigorous but always thought-provoking and productive editing; Heather Sangster, for her keen eye; Terri Nimmo, for the dynamite cover, and Ashley Dunn, for her consummate professionalism and endless warmth.
Dr. Ingrid Kurtz, a fine surgeon whose knowledge about breast cancer is exceeded only by her empathy for the women who find themselves facing a daunting diagnosis; Dr. Najma Kazmi, who sees and treats the whole patient; and Dr. Linda Nilson and her colleagues at the Alan Blair Cancer Centre for their unfailing courtesy and kindness. A special thank you to Barb Nicholson and Ivy Jensen, who know the value of a warm smile.
Hildy Bowen for her help in more ways than I can count; Madeleine and Lena Bowen-Diaz for advice on Taylor’s wardrobe; and as always Ted, who, after forty-three years, continues to rock my world.