The Brutal Heart

CHAPTER 4

Saskatchewan is one of the few places in North America that does not spring forward for daylight saving time. In May, the time difference between Toronto and Regina is two hours. When she’d lived in Saskatchewan, Jill Oziowy and I ran together at five-thirty in the morning. She knew my schedule and, after she moved to Toronto, she often called while I was tying my running shoes.

As always, Jill wasted no time on preamble. “What do you know about the murder of that escort in the warehouse district?”

Jill and I had been friends for thirty years, but I wasn’t ready to spill the beans on this one. “The escort’s name was Cristal Avilia. Her condo cost close to three-quarters of a million dollars, and her clients paid $500 an hour, more for ‘special requests.’ ”

Jill groaned. “If I’d wanted a précis, I’d have called our newsroom. I want deep background, scurrilous details, unsubstantiated rumours, blood, gore – the works.”

“I’ve told you everything I can.”

“Zack’s firm is involved in the case?”

“Jill…”

“Okay, I’ll back off. But for the record, we had more fun before you were married to a lawyer.”

“I didn’t have more fun.”

“All right. But if you learn anything that’s going to become public knowledge anyway, I get first dibs.”

“Jill, why is the network so interested in this case? Prostitution is a dangerous business. The death of a single sex-trade worker doesn’t usually attract national attention.”

“You’re not going to like the answer. It’s money. Cristal Avilia wasn’t a strung-out fifteen-year-old in the core turning tricks to pay for drugs. From what we hear, Cristal was the crown jewel of your local escort scene, and her contact list contained some fascinating clients.”

“Come on, Jill. This is Regina.”

“Take a look around you. There’s crude oil in them thar hills – also uranium, potash, diamonds, and gold. Plus B-moviemakers who love those big prairie skies and government tax breaks. These days the hotel rooms in Saskatchewan are filled with guys with fat wallets who’ve already checked out the options on pay-per-view.”

“So they hire a call girl?”

“They hire, and I’m quoting from an escort ad in your city, ‘an escort who can give them a moment that they will cherish forever.’ That means a woman who will slide her legs around theirs on the elevator, be the perfect companion at the corporate cocktail party, then go back to their hotel room and fake an orgasm that will make them believe they haven’t lost their manly powers.”

“That’s a pretty tall order.”

“Read the ads. Better yet, talk to somebody who knows the world. Escort services are the universal panacea. Anyway, my spidey sense is tingling about this Cristal Avilia case. I think it’s going to be big. We’ve got some eager young thing looking into it, but you have some useful connections, and you might as well earn some brownie points if we’re going to pitch your Issues for Dummies series.”

“A trade-off,” I said.

“Life’s full of them,” Jill said cheerfully. “Get on it.”

Zack had already left for a breakfast meeting when I got back from my run. I was relieved. I didn’t want to keep Jill’s call secret, but I also didn’t want start my day with Zack talking about Cristal Avilia. Ed Mariani was a different matter. I was picking him up, so we’d just take one car downtown, and as soon as he settled in the passenger seat and snapped his seat belt, I pounced.

“Jill called this morning. She thinks the Cristal Avilia murder is going to be big news.”

“Jill’s right,” Ed said. “If I were more ambitious, I’d be out there knocking on doors and making phone calls.”

“Where would you start?”

“With her client list.”

“That’s exactly what Jill said, but I don’t imagine the police are handing out copies.”

“No, but other people might know who her regulars were.”

“Other people, meaning other escorts?”

“Yes.”

“Can you suggest anybody I could talk to?”

“Why this sudden interest in the Cristal Avilia murder?”

“I honestly don’t know. Jill says that if I come up with something, NationTV will be more inclined to green-light my issues series. But it’s not just that. When Jill and I were talking, it occurred to me that I know nothing about the lives of those women, and I should.”

“I’m not sure I agree,” Ed said. “Slapping a genteel title on the job doesn’t change the fact that escorts work in the sex trade. It’s not a pretty world, Jo. People get hurt. Look at what happened to Cristal Avilia.”

“I’m just going to ask some questions, Ed.”

Ed was silent until we drew near the courthouse. “All right,” he said finally. “I’ll arrange for you to meet someone.” He smiled. “Her name is Vera Wang.”

“As in Vera Wang, the designer of bridal gowns?”

“No, as in Vera Wang, the woman who, until she retired, ran a discreet escort service that served two generations of our most prominent citizens.”

“And she chose Vera Wang as her nom de guerre?”

“No, it’s her birth name. Vera’s my neighbour, and she’s quick to point out that Vera Wang the designer was born on June 27, 1949, and that she herself was born on March 4, 1940. She had the name first. Want me to call her?”

“Please,” I said. “She sounds intriguing.”

“Oh she’s that and a bag of chips,” Ed said.

By the time I found a parking spot, Ed had arranged for me to meet Vera Wang later in the week. When he clicked off his cellphone, Ed’s expression was theatrically lugubrious. “The deed is done,” he intoned. “There is no turning back.”

When we walked into court, Ginny Monaghan was sitting next to her ex-husband, with her arm resting on the bench behind him and her lips close to his ear. Even from a distance, it was clear their conversation was intense. Ed and I took our place in the front row and waited. Ginny was quick to join us. Her smile as she greeted us was edgy.

“Guess where I spent the night?” She waved her hand in dismissal. “No, don’t guess. I was in the emergency ward with Chloe. She cut herself – deliberately.”

Ed’s face drooped with concern. “Is she all right?”

“She’s fine,” Ginny said tightly. “The doctor I spoke to was most reassuring. Luckily for me, Dr. Dolcetti is a supporter, so he won’t feel compelled to blab to the media.”

“No doctor would do that,” I said.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “You live in an innocent world, Joanne. There’s always a way to get damaging news to the public. Anyway, Chloe’s fine. Dr. Dolcetti talked to her, then he talked to me. He says the cutting wasn’t a suicide attempt, just a way of relieving pressure.”

Ed frowned. “What did she use?”

“A box cutter that she took from her father’s house. Anyway, the wounds weren’t deep, and according to the good doctor, Chloe’s cuts didn’t indicate that she meant business.”

“So this was just a warning.”

“The doctor seemed to think so. He was puzzled because typically adolescents make cuts on their arms, and Chloe’s cuts were on her stomach. When I explained that Chloe was a basketball player with a charity game coming up this week, he seemed reassured.”

“Did she talk to you about why she did it?” I asked.

Ginny’s eyes tracked away. “She said it was a mistake, and it wouldn’t happen again.”

“That’s a good sign,” I said.

“It would be if I believed her.” Ginny raked her fingers through her hair. “It’s not that I think she’s lying. It’s just that I didn’t see this coming. She and Em have always handled everything so well. Maybe we expect too much of them.”

I remembered Gracie’s poignant sketch of the lives of the miraculous Brodnitz twins. “I’m not minimizing this,” I said, “but at least Chloe has let you know she is in trouble.”

Ginny nodded. “That’s pretty much what Dr. Dolcetti said. He also pointed out that cutting is a fairly common phenomenon for girls her age. Apparently, it offers them some way of coping with the pressures of their lives.”

“But you’re still worried,” Ed said.

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“Of course,” Ed said. “Did Dr. Dolcetti suggest anything?”

“He’s getting us a referral to a psychologist who specializes in adolescents. Of course, it’ll be six months before Chloe gets in. Till then, I guess we just have to muddle through.” Her eyes travelled away again. “Today’s the day the court-appointed social worker delivers her ‘Voices of the Children’ report. I guess Chloe was overwhelmed by the prospect of knowing that what she said about her father and me would be read out in court.”

“Does it have to be read publicly?” Ed said.

“It’s a public document,” Ginny said. “In my opinion, it’s not worth the paper it’s printed on. Do you know how long the social worker talked to our girls? Three hours. Three hours to ferret out the truth about Jason’s and my lifestyles, assess the stability of the environments we offer the girls, evaluate the emotional ties the girls have to each of us, and form an opinion about whether Jason and I are capable of fostering a healthy relationship between our daughters and the parent who doesn’t get custody.” Ginny’s half-smile was withering. “Three hours to analyze their lives and decide their future – Jason says we shouldn’t be surprised that Chloe panicked. He says she didn’t have enough time to say what she needed to say and the cutting was her way of making us hear her voice loud and clear.”

“So he knows,” I said.

“I told him,” Ginny said. “Against the advice of my lawyer.”

“Sean has to consider all the possibilities,” I said. “Jason could use this against you.”

“He could,” Ginny said. “But he wouldn’t.”

Ed moved closer to her. “You sound very certain.”

Ginny met his gaze. “There are things people who’ve been together for a long time know…”

“And would never tell?” Ed’s question was gentle.

“Marriages fall apart,” Ginny said. “That doesn’t mean you don’t have loyalties.” She glanced towards Jason; he had been watching her, and the look that passed between them when they locked eyes was more eloquent than words.

The name of the court-appointed social worker was Rebecca Sen. She was sixtyish and trim, with a shock of white hair, a brilliant turquoise sari, and a firm and maternal manner. She was a woman who put a premium on clarity, and her report was mercifully devoid of jargon. Much of it was excerpted from the transcript of her interviews with the girls, and as she read their responses to her questions, it was possible truly to hear the voices of the children.

To judge by their words, the Brodnitz twins were thoughtful, articulate, and assured. But within the past twelve hours, Chloe Brodnitz had deliberately and repeatedly cut herself, so I listened to her words with special care. Chloe fielded Rebecca Sen’s questions about the time she and her sister spent alone expertly, explaining that they had both taken babysitting classes and knew how to handle emergency situations. She said she felt both parents would do their best to foster a healthy relationship with the noncustodial parent. When asked which parent she would choose to live with, her reply was revealing. “Both of them, of course,” she said. “That’s what anybody would want.”

After Ms. Sen read Chloe’s answer, she looked up from her notes. “At this point, Chloe broke down. When she regained her composure, she stated that as long as she and her sister were together, she didn’t care where they lived.”

There were murmurs in the courtroom. Madam Justice Gorges didn’t need a gavel to quash the chatter. Her glance was glacial, and when silence was restored, Ms. Sen continued her testimony. “The other answer that I regard as significant came when I asked Chloe her feelings about basketball. She said that the only time she was in control of what happened next was when she was on the basketball court, and that was important to her.”

Ed swallowed hard, but Ginny was stoic. When Rebecca Sen stepped down from the witness box it was eleven-thirty. Madam Justice Gorges recessed the court for lunch and said counsel for the parents could make closing statements when court resumed.

We all rose as Susan Gorges left the courtroom. As the crowd started to disperse, Ginny picked up her bag. “I’m going to the girls’ school to check on Chloe,” Ginny said, getting to her feet. “I thought she should stay home this morning, but Em said the sooner her sister got back to normal the better, so after a night in the emergency ward, Chloe dragged herself off to class.” Ginny’s eyes took us both in. “Will you be here this afternoon?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Good. So I’ll see you then,” Ginny said, and she began pushing her way through the crowd towards the door.

Ed pointed to the courtroom’s side door. “Looks like less action over there,” he said.

“Fine with me,” I said. “We’re in no rush.”

On our way towards the lobby, we passed a men’s room. Ed pointed to the door. “I’m going to make a stop.”

“As our old premier used to say, ‘Never miss a chance.’ ”

As it turned out, Ed wasn’t the only one who didn’t miss a chance that day. Jason Brodnitz and his lawyer, Margot Wright, had followed us out the side door, and Sean Barton was right behind them. When Jason took a detour into the men’s room, Sean was on his heels, and Margot wasn’t far behind. She hit the brakes just as the door swung shut in her face.

It was a cartoon moment, and I had to suppress a smile. “Are you okay?” I asked.

She turned on her heel furiously. “No,” she said. “I am not okay. I don’t want Sean Barton in there with my client.”

“How much trouble can two men get into in a public washroom?”

Margot curled her scarlet lips. “Come on,” she growled. “You’re not that naive.”

I met her gaze. “No,” I said. “I’m not. It was a joke.”

“Thank God,” she said. “I’d hate to think Zack had saddled himself with a dunce. Anyway, I’m glad I ran into you. I forgot about Zack’s birthday party. I could make up an excuse, but the truth is I was working on a file and I forgot all about it.”

“The one excuse Zack understands,” I said. “But we missed you. It was a lot of fun.”

“So I heard,” Margot said. “I really do wish I’d been there. Zack’s a lot easier to take these days. You’ve curbed that mammoth ego of his. He’s almost bearable.”

“I’ll pass along your compliment.”

“Don’t. He might have a relapse.” Margot stared at the door to the men’s room, her brow creased with annoyance. “What’s taking them so long?”

“My guess is that apart from the obvious, they’re talking,” I said. “Some of the most intriguing conversations I’ve ever had have been in the powder room.”

Margot narrowed her eyes. “Holy Crudmore. I met you in the bathroom at the Hotel Saskatchewan, didn’t I?”

“You bet. All those mirrors – I had multiple images of you warning me off Zack.”

With her artful cleavage, her closely fitted, expensive black suit, her chunky gold bracelet, and her spike-heeled pumps, Margot was the image of burnished sophistication, but her grin was as open as the main street of her hometown, Wadena, Saskatchewan. “Don’t rub it in,” she said. “I never wanted anything permanent with Zack. He’s way too aware of how good he is. He gets under my skin. Once he made me so mad I threw a box of tacks on the floor of his office, so he’d puncture the tires of his wheelchair.”

It was hard not to smile. “Somehow, I can’t imagine Zack letting that one get away.”

“He didn’t. He enrolled me in a course on anger management and sent me a dozen roses and the bill for the course.”

A biker with shoulder-length auburn curls, a leather jacket hooked on his meaty finger, and studded leather pants tight as a lizard’s skin strode past us into the men’s room. On the back of his T-shirt was a message: “If you can read this, the bitch fell off.”

Margot followed his passage meditatively. “I’ll bet that guy’s lawyer is ready to suck gas.” She gazed at the door to the men’s room. “Do you think they fell in?” She walked over and pounded on the door. Almost immediately, Jason emerged. He looked grey. The events of the day were taking their toll, but Margot didn’t cut him any slack.

“Next time you have to go to the john, take me with you,” she said. “I have five brothers. If I see anything I haven’t seen before, I’ll throw a hat over it.” She grabbed his arm and, high heels clicking on the marble floor, steered him towards the lobby.

Sean appeared next. When he spotted me, his face lit up. “I saw you in court,” he said. “Ginny went back to check on Chloe – can I buy you lunch?”

“Sure,” I said. “But it should be my treat. We were very grateful for your help driving Zack after the party.”

“But Zack wasn’t grateful enough to see me as partner material.” There was an edge in Sean’s voice, but his crooked grin was still engaging. “What the hell. Let’s have lunch.”

When Ed came through the door of the men’s room, Sean was clearly taken aback. “I didn’t see you in there.”

“Stalls,” Ed said.

I looked between them. “Do you two know each other?”

“Ginny introduced us at the party,” Sean said. “It’s nice to see you again, Ed.”

“Sean’s going to join us for lunch,” I said.

“On second thought, I’d better pass,” Sean said, patting his trial bag. “I should go back to the office and run over a few things.”

“I understand,” I said. “There’ll be other times.”

“I hope so,” Sean said. “See you later, Ed.”

“Sooner rather than later,” Ed said. “We’ll be in court this afternoon too.”

“It will be worth your while,” Sean said, then he strode out the door without looking back.

Ed watched him thoughtfully. “They play rough, don’t they?” he said.

“Who?”

“Lawyers like Sean,” Ed said.

“The stakes are high: people’s futures.”

“I guess you’re right,” Ed said, smoothing his cotton shirt. “Let’s fortify ourselves against what’s to come.”

When we stepped out of the courthouse, it was easy to forget the sad mess of mismanaged lives we’d left behind. The sun was bright, the sky was silky blue, and a breeze was stirring the branches of the trees across the street in Victoria Park. Ed took a long slow breath and exhaled contentedly. “The air at this time of year is so delicious, I could eat it with a spoon,” he said.

I pointed across the street. “If you want something more substantial, the vendors are out. Care to dine al fresco?”

“It would be my pleasure. Are you finding this whole Monaghan-Brodnitz battle as heartbreaking as I am?”

I nodded. “The things we do to our kids.”

“And to one another,” Ed said. He shook off the sadness. “Let’s get a move on. Bratwurst at its peak is a dish to savour, but it’s quick to wizen.”

We avoided the subject of the trial during lunch. It was good just to talk about summer plans and feel the sunshine on our faces. When he’d finished his brat on a bun, Ed wiped his mouth on the paper napkin and turned to me. “Are you up for another?”

“I took extra sauerkraut,” I said. “One is my limit.”

“Indulgence is a land without limits,” Ed said. “Tennessee Williams had it right: ‘Nobody gets out of this life alive.’ ”

“True enough,” I said. Five minutes later, brats on buns in hand, we made our way back to the courthouse.

Sean was at the lawyers’ table shuffling papers, and Ginny was reading a computer printout that she held up when she saw us. It was an article titled “Self Injury – From a Teen Perspective.”

“Did you learn anything?” I asked.

Ginny’s lips tightened. “Just that there’s a lot to learn.”

“How is Chloe?” Ed said.

“Fine, I guess.” Ginny folded the printout carefully and dropped it in her bag. “I stopped by the girls’ school on the pretext that they’d forgotten their lunches. They, predictably, were furious at me.” Her voice was heavy with discouragement. “Even when I make an effort, I do the wrong thing.”

Ed reached out a plump hand and patted her arm, but he was wise enough to stay silent. I looked over at the lawyer’s table where Margot sat. It was empty. So was Jason’s seat in the first row.

Ginny followed the direction of my gaze. “Shouldn’t they be here by now?”

For the next ten minutes that question, spoken or unspoken, was on the mind of everyone in the courtroom. Madam Justice Gorges was a stickler for punctuality. The door through which she would enter cracked open every minute or so. At first, there was whispering; then people fell silent, waiting. The hush was electric with anticipation, like the hush in a theatre when an actor has failed to make an entrance.

Just as people began surreptitiously to check their BlackBerrys, Margot swept in, grabbed her barrister’s robe from the back of her chair, shrugged it on, and sat down. Her face was flushed, and she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, steeling herself. Jason followed her slowly. He collapsed into his seat and stared straight ahead. Ginny strained towards him, whispering his name, but he ignored her.

Almost immediately, the door from the judge’s chambers opened. When the court clerk entered and declared court in session, we spectators rose and Madam Justice Gorges entered. Her face revealed nothing. Margot sprang to her feet. I could see that her hands were clenched into fists. She was fuming.

Madam Justice Gorges was cool. “Thank you for joining us, Ms. Wright. I assume you have some thoughts regarding the custody assessment.”

Margot’s intake of breath was audible. “Madam Justice, if I may address the court, I have consulted with my client over the break and he has advised me that he no longer wishes to pursue custody and access issues at this time.”

For a beat, there was silence, then the whispers began. Madam Justice Gorges looked fierce and the whispers stopped. But Ginny was beyond admonishment. She turned to me, her face uncomprehending. “ ‘At this time’? Does that mean he’s going to try again?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Ask Sean, but I think this is over.”

Ginny turned towards her ex-husband. “Why?” she asked. Jason Brodnitz stared fixedly at his counsel’s back.

Madam Justice Gorges had the husky rasp of a woman who enjoyed a good smoke and a shot of bourbon. “Mr. Brodnitz,” she said. “Is your lawyer correct? Is her statement an accurate reflection of your intentions?”

Jason nodded.

“The court clerk will require a verbal response,” Madam Justice Gorges said coldly.

Jason Brodnitz stood. “Yes, my lawyer is expressing my wishes.”

Now it was Susan Gorges’s turn for fury. “Mr. Brodnitz, the court takes custody and access matters very seriously. Our resources of time and money are limited, but we have expended both in our attempt to arrive at a fair and equitable decision that would serve your daughters’ well being. Now, at the eleventh hour, having wasted our time and our money, you decide that you don’t want to play.” The judge’s eyes drilled into Margot. “You’re an experienced barrister. A rigorous examination of your client before he brought this matter before the courts would have unearthed his ambivalence. You could have advised him accordingly and saved this court the time and expense of a frivolous suit. That said, if Mr. Brodnitz no longer wishes to pursue custody and access issues at this time, the court must honour his decision.”

Margot knew when to suck it up. “Thank you, Madam Justice,” she said. She lowered her head slightly. “I apologize to the court for the inconvenience.”

Susan Gorges then turned her attention to Sean. “Mr. Barton, does your client consent to the withdrawal of Mr. Brodntiz’s claim?”

Sean rose. He was unruffled. He swivelled to look at Ginny, then turned back to the judge. “There was no way we could have anticipated this, Madam Justice. May I consult with my client?”

“Of course. I understand this sudden reversal must have come as a shock.”

Sean came over to Ginny. “Do you consent to Mr. Brodntiz’s withdrawal of his claim to pursue custody and access issues at this time?” His voice was loud, clearly intended to be heard publicly.

Ginny’s voice was low and urgent. “I don’t consent to anything, Sean. I don’t want this surfacing whenever Jason decides the time is convenient.”

“That won’t happen,” Sean said. Then he smiled. “Trust me. This is over.”

Ginny nodded, then looked past Sean to the court clerk. “I consent,” she said.

Susan Gorges directed her gaze at Sean. “Can you assure this court that you’ve done your job and your client understands exactly what it is she’s consenting to?

“Yes, Your Honour. I’ve done my job. Ms. Monaghan is fully aware of the implications of her decision.” And he added, “She is also fully aware of the gravity of her decision. No one wants to further waste the time and resources of this court.”

“That’s reassuring,” Susan Gorges said. “Court will now adjourn so the parties may formalize a consent judgment. We’ll meet in the conference room on the main floor. I assume Ms. Wright and Mr. Barton know the location.”

The court clerk said. “All rise.”

Madam Justice Gorges disappeared through the door at the back of the courtroom, and the room erupted. The media pressed towards Ginny. Sean stopped them. “We have nothing to say at this time. Nothing.” He turned to his client. “Ginny, this won’t take long. I’ve already started on the consent form.”

Ginny rose. Her face was tentative, like that of an accident victim who can’t quite believe she’s escaped without injury. She reached out her hands to Sean. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said.

“It was a good win,” he said, smiling.

Ginny turned to Ed and me. “It’s over. Wow! This changes everything.” She scanned the area around us to make sure that she could speak privately. “Time to kick-start the campaign again.”

The juices were flowing. Ginny cocked her head and gave me an impish smile. “You disapprove,” she said. “If I were a man, would you be disapproving?”

“Yes,” I said. “But I’d be offering my hand. Congratulations, Ginny.”

“Thanks,” she said absently. Her mind was already occupied with the next move. “We only have two weeks, so we’ll have to move fast. We should have a strategy meeting tonight – I’ll have somebody call you about the time and place, Joanne.”

I touched her arm. “Ginny, I know I promised not to offer advice, but I think you should spend the evening with the twins – no politics. Your daughters are going to need you to help them understand what happened here today.”

Ginny slapped her forehead with her palm. “I’m an idiot.”

“There’s a lot coming at you at once.”

“And my job is to handle it,” Ginny said furiously. “Well, no more amateur mistakes.” She squared her shoulders and headed towards the side exit where Sean was waiting. Then the two of them disappeared.

“People are full of surprises, aren’t they?” Ed said. “Jason didn’t strike me as a man who would make that kind of sacrifice.”

“You think he withdrew because of Chloe?”

“Without a doubt.” Ed said. “When I was in the stall in the men’s room, Sean and Jason were quarrelling. They kept their voices down, but I heard one of them – it must have been Jason – say, ‘If that got out, it would destroy their lives.’ ”

“I guess Sean decided he had to go for broke.” I said.

Ed’s face was grim. “He wouldn’t have played that card without Ginny’s consent.”

“She must have known Jason would protect the girls.”

“So she called his bluff,” Ed said. “Well, good for Ginny. But the next time you see her, tell her she lost my vote.”

Willie was waiting just inside the door when I got home. I bent down to give him a nuzzle. “Where’s our big, sparkly, star-spangled top banana?” I whispered, and Willie roared towards the office we’d added to the back of the house. Pantera was, as always, lying across the threshold, protecting his master. Taylor’s cats were, in the weird way of cats, flopped over Pantera’s back, asleep. I stepped over them and went to kiss my husband. He was in jeans, an open-necked brown shirt, and an ancient blue sweatshirt.

“I take it court is adjourned,” I said.

Zack ran his hand over his head wearily. “I won my case.” He pointed to a worn and eyeless Care Bear on the couch by the window. “Francesca gave me our friend over there as a thank-you present.”

“She’s happy with the outcome, then.”

“She’s relieved,” Zack said. “I don’t think Francesca has been happy in a very long time.” He stroked his jaw. “Anyway, it’s over.”

“Sean’s case is over too,” I said.

“Whoa,” Zack said. “That’s a surprise. Susan Gorges must be taking the chief justice’s admonition to speed things through the courts seriously.”

“The case never got to the judge,” I said. “Jason decided not to go for custody.”

Zack’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

“Well, I gather the issue was resolved in the men’s room.”

“Issues often are,” Zack said. “God, I’ll bet Margot was pissed.”

“She was,” I said. “And judging from her demeanour in court this afternoon, I don’t think she knew what was coming.”

“Margo doesn’t often let herself get broadsided.”

“I guess today just wasn’t her day. Actually, I probably know more about what happened than Margot does. Ed Mariani was in the men’s room when Sean and Jason Brodnitz had it out. Ed says Jason backed down because he didn’t want his daughter Chloe’s personal life brought up in court.”

“That doesn’t mesh with what I’ve heard about Brodnitz, but I guess even selfish pricks can love their kids.” The corners of Zack’s mouth twitched. “Boy, I’ll bet Susan Gorges tore a strip off Margot: ‘A responsible barrister would have examined a client rigorously, exposing any ambivalence before this court’s time and money was wasted,’ et cetera, et cetera.”

I laughed. “That’s just about word for word.”

“I’ve appeared before Madam Justice Gorges more times than I care to remember,” Zack said. “Margot has my sympathy.”

“So you’re over the time Margot threw tacks in front of your chair?”

Zack chortled. “She told you that? Not her finest hour – or mine, to be fair. But it was nothing personal. Just lawyers butting horns – you know, like elks.”

“Female elk don’t have horns.”

“Margot has strap-ons,” Zack shook his head. “I usually have a pretty good feel for these things. I can’t believe the Monaghan-Brodnitz case just went away.”

“It didn’t just ‘go away,’ ” I said. “Chloe Brodnitz used the blade of a box cutter on herself last night.”

The fun went out of Zack’s face. “Was she trying to kill herself?”

“No. According to Ginny, Chloe was careful not to cut anything that would affect her game. The school has a charity basketball game coming up, and Chloe didn’t want to jeopardize her performance.”

“So she was letting the world know she needed help.”

“That’s what the ER doctor thought.”

Zack shook his head. “Poor kid.”

“Yes, especially because the other kids look at her and see a golden girl who just glides through life. Gracie Falconer thinks Chloe and Emma are robots: talented, no freckles, no weight problems, no self-doubts.”

“Does anybody ever get out of high school unscathed?”

“I take it that’s a rhetorical question.”

Zack grinned. “Yep. Anyway, it’s always good to know what’s going on. I’ll wait a couple of days before I approach Margot.”

“What are you going to approach her about?”

“Becoming a partner at Falconer Shreve. She’s a terrific lawyer, and your warnings that I have to cut down my caseload are beginning to seep in. I want to be around to grope you in our golden years.”

“I want that too,” I said. “I’ll try to ignore the fact that Margot’s a gorgeous blonde with a great body.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your body,” Zack said. He drew me close. “What are you doing for the next half-hour?”

“Not a thing,” I said. “And we have longer than half an hour. After school, Taylor’s going to get her hair cut.”

For me, getting ready for sex meant kicking off my shoes, taking off my clothes, brushing my teeth, and sliding into bed. Nothing physical was simple for Zack, and I had learned to stay away when he was forcing his body through movements that were both painful and, in his eyes, demeaning. That afternoon, I lingered outside, carrying the geraniums Ed had brought into a spot where they’d get the afternoon sun, and casting a critical eye on a juniper that had not wintered well. When I decided that Zack had had enough time to get ready, I went back in the house. There was a complication. The doorbell was ringing, shrill and insistent, and the dogs were barking. I peeked out the window and called to my husband. “Better lay low,” I said. “It’s Margot, and I don’t think she’s going away.”

Margot didn’t wait to be invited in. When I opened the front door, she pushed past, planted herself firmly in the centre of the entrance hall, and cast an accusing eye about her. “All right. Where the hell is he? And don’t tell me he’s not here. I can see his car.”

“I’ll get him,” I said. “Margot, it’s a gorgeous day, why don’t you wait for Zack out on the deck?”

Saskatchewan girl that she was, Margot took off her stilettos and padded down the hall in her bare feet. It was an endearing courtesy, and I found myself warming to her. I took her onto the deck to the round wooden table we used for family dinners. “Make yourself comfortable,” I said.

“Tell Zack I’m going to kill him,” she said.

“I’ll pass that along.”

Sensing big doings, the dogs followed me back into the house. Zack was pulling on his jeans when I got into our bedroom. “It’s Margot,” I said. “She wants me to tell you she’s going to kill you.” I looked at him more closely. “Incidentally, do you realize you’re not wearing any underwear?”

Zack glanced down. “Shit. Jo, it’ll take me more time to get undressed and dressed again than it will take to hear Margot out. Her storms are intense, but they pass quickly.” He pulled up his zipper and snapped the top button. “Besides, going commando will make me feel tougher.”

“Shall I make myself scarce?”

“God, no. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

When Zack and I went out to the yard, I left Willie and Pantera in the house. Neither of them handled conflict well, and from the moment Margot spotted Zack and sprang out of her chair, she was ready for battle.

“What the hell happened to my case, Zack? And don’t play innocent. There’s no way Little Boy Blue could have pulled that off without some grown-up advice.”

Zack was sanguine. “If Sean got advice, he didn’t get it from me. He handled this on his own.”

Margot eyed Zack suspiciously. “You really didn’t know?”

He met her gaze. “I really didn’t know. Why didn’t you ask your client?”

She slumped into her chair. “I did. He’s not talking. This doesn’t make sense, Zack. Jason was ready to go the distance this morning. Then he and your little protege waltzed into the boys’ room together and my client emerged a changed man.”

“Love at first sight?” Zack said.

“You’ve become a romantic,” Margot said acidly. “And it’s clouding your judgment. My client didn’t fall in love with Sean, but something sure as hell happened. I did everything but bang my forehead on the pavement to get Jason to change his mind or at least explain, but no deal. When we went back into court, I had to tell Madam Justice Leather Lungs that we were withdrawing, so of course she minced me up into tiny pieces. Meanwhile my client’s standing beside me with this hangdog expression, like someone kneed him in the ’nads. All in all, it’s been a lousy day.” She gazed at the garden with longing. “God, this is nice. Am I ever going to live in a big house like you, loverboy?”

Zack and I exchanged glances.

“Why don’t you stay awhile, Margot?” Zack said. “Have a drink. Relax.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “In our family, we have a saying: don’t take the bait – it has a hook in it. What do you want, Zack?”

“You. The firm needs another senior trial lawyer, and you’re our first choice.”

Margot sat down again, but she positioned herself on the edge of her chair, ready to spring. She narrowed her eyes to slits. “Are you suffering from some deadly disease?”

“I want to spend more time with my wife,” Zack said.

“Fuck that,” Margot said. “But as an opening gambit, it’s not bad. That said, I’m happy where I am. I like being on my own. I don’t want you breathing down my neck.”

“I wouldn’t be breathing down your neck,” Zack said. “I’d be at home breathing down Joanne’s neck.”

“Until a serious client showed up, then you’d be down at the office faster than a speeding bullet. I know you, Zack. You have to be Numero Uno. You’d never let anyone else handle a really big case.”

“I’d let you handle a big case because I respect your work and I trust you. Contrary to what you may believe, I’m not an egomaniac. I take on tough cases because clients deserve the best representation our firm can give them.”

Margot chortled. “And that’s you.”

“Until you join the firm, yes.”

“You think I’m as good as you are.”

“I think you will be.”

“Bullshit.”

Zack held out his hands, palms up. “The offer’s on the table.”

Margot gazed at our yard and house with undisguised lust. “I’ll have to look at the books, of course,” Margot said. “If Falconer Shreve is tanking, I’m not bailing you out. In any event, I’ll want a limited liability partnership, and I want a draw from the profits – a substantial draw.”

“Why don’t I get the drinks while you two negotiate,” I said. “Margot?”

“Gin and tonic, please, but light on the gin. I don’t want loverboy to charm me out of what is rightfully mine.”

I turned to Zack “Loverboy?”

“Heavy on the gin,” he said. “Numb myself against defeat. And thank you, Ms. Shreve. I’ll take care of dinner.”

“Does he really cook?” Margot asked.

“He orders in,” I said. “But he does it well.”

Pantera made a break for the yard as soon as I opened the door. Every second away from Zack was agony to him. Willie, loyal and dumb as ever, stayed with me. The phone was ringing. I picked up and heard Sean Barton, sounding surprisingly vulnerable. “Joanne, it’s Sean. I wanted to thank you for coming to the custody hearing. You brought us luck.”

“You must be delighted at how the case worked out.”

“Delighted and relieved,” he said. “For a while there, I didn’t think it would go our way.”

“Well, it did, and that’s cause for celebration.”

“And hope,” Sean’s voice was tentative. “Have you talked to Zack about what happened in court today?”

“Of course. He was really pleased.”

“That’s a good sign, isn’t it?” Sean didn’t wait for an answer. “So is he around?”

I glanced out the window. Margo was sitting on the grass rubbing Pantera’s belly, and Zack was watching them, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

“He’s busy at the moment. Could he call you back?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be here at the office for the next couple of hours. After that, he has my cell number. Any time is good.”

I took out the tray with the drinks. Margot pushed herself to her feet, wiped her hands on her skirt, and reached for her glass. There was mud on her skirt and a smear of dog drool on her jacket.

I groaned. “Margot, your suit.”

She shrugged. “That’s why God gave us dry cleaners, and I miss having a dog. Until I moved to Saskatoon to go to university, there wasn’t a day in my life when I didn’t have a dog. My dad farmed, so there were always yard dogs. Whenever there was a runt in a litter, my dad would say, ‘Well, we’ll have to find a little bullet for that one.’ So of course, I’d pitch a fit until I got the puppy.” She beamed at the memory. “Every dog I ever owned was named Bullet. Dogs on farms never live long – giving them all the same name made life easier.”

Margot’s childhood had been a happy one, and as she talked about her twelve-year-old niece, Larissa, it struck me that A.E. Milne was wrong when he said we can’t retrace happy footsteps. Like her aunt, Larissa was growing up in duck-hunting country, and as Margot described teaching her how to clean ducks so she could charge rich hunters top dollar to deal with the mess of blood and feathers their expensive rifles brought down from the autumn skies, her eyes shone.

After Margot’s sleek BMW disappeared down Albert Street, Zack was smug. “I would call that a good afternoon’s work,” he said.

“It’ll be handy having a partner who knows how to clean ducks,” I agreed.

Zack snaked his arm around my waist. “Duck hunters,” he said happily. “Another client base to tap.”

“I hate to puncture your balloon,” I said. “But Sean called while Margot was here. I think he’s hoping his win today might change the partnership picture.”

Zack frowned. “Why would it? Sean caught a break today. It happens. Margot’s client turned out to be a more decent human being than our client. If a first-year law student had been representing Ginny Monaghan, the outcome would have been the same.”

“Is Sean really no better than a first-year law student?”

Zack shook his head. “That wasn’t fair. Actually, Sean’s pretty good. Otherwise, we would have let him go long ago. He’s just not partnership material.”

“Why not?”

“Truthfully? Because Sean doesn’t understand that the law is about human problems. At the centre of every case, there’s a real human being in trouble. The law is there to help them get justice. Sean doesn’t care about that; he just sees the law as a means to an end.”

“Money?”

“No. I’ve never heard Sean even mention money. It’s something else.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I just know human beings aren’t part of the equation.”

Taylor and I hadn’t talked about how she was getting her hair cut. Except for a brief flirtation with hair products when she was in Grade Six, she had always worn her dark hair long. Braided, ponytailed, or brushed loose, it had been one of her glories, but when she bounced through the front door that afternoon, it was clear she had decided it was time to move along.

The new haircut was boy short, with just a wisp or two around her face – très mignon, as the French would say. The gamine look transformed her face: her brown, long-lashed eyes seemed even larger; her cheekbones, more defined; her generous mouth, broader; her pretty neck, longer. The marriage of Taylor’s birth parents had been a disaster, but they had given Taylor a deep and enviable genetic pool from which to draw, and she’d been lucky. She’d inherited her mother’s talent but not her wildness, and even with the fierce mood changes of adolescence roiling inside her, Taylor had Stuart Lachlan’s steadiness. She also had his dark hair and delicate colouring, a combination that somehow softened her mother’s dramatic features. In every way that mattered, Taylor had always been a lovely girl, but suddenly I saw the physical beauty of the woman she would become, and I knew Zack saw it too. We exchanged a quick glance.

“Well,” Zack said.

Taylor’s face crumpled. “You hate it. I know it’s… extreme, but I thought… well, never mind what I thought.”

Zack clapped his hands together. “It’s a knockout,” he said. “Your mother and I are just a little overwhelmed at how terrific you look.” He wheeled towards the door. “Hey, where’s that camera Blake and Gracie gave me for my birthday? I’ll take a picture and you can see for yourself.”

I walked over and put my hands on my daughter’s shoulders. “It’s a great haircut, Taylor, and you look sensational. You are sensational.” I felt my throat tighten. “I’ll get the camera. It’s in Zack’s office.”

The grey, eyeless Care Bear Francesca had given Zack to celebrate her freedom was still on the couch. I stared at it for a moment, then went to the bookshelf, took down the camera, and walked up the hall, grateful beyond measure for a life filled with incandescent moments.