Kaleidoscope (26 page)

Zack walked me to the elevator. “Jo, I know this coincidence with Riel is weird, but we’ll have to talk about it later. I’m under the gun, and Cronus and I have to focus on his defence.”

“I agree,” I said. “Do what you have to, but get Cronus off.”

Zack looked at me closely. “You don’t believe he killed Arden.”

“No, I don’t. But I can’t imagine how you’ll get a jury to believe that.”

“Neither do I,” Zack said. “In law school they told us that the trial lawyer’s greatest fear is having an innocent client. With a guilty client, you give it your best shot, and if you lose, you know that justice has probably been served. If you have an innocent client, and you know you can’t save him, you pretty much want to puke fifteen hours a day.”

CHAPTER
14

Wadena is two hours northeast of Regina. The wedding was at two-thirty in the afternoon, so we were able to drive up and back the same day. Untried buildings were always a concern for Zack, but happily the church was fully accessible, and Margot had promised she’d personally throttle any able-bodied person who used the stall in the male bathroom reserved for people in wheelchairs.

On Saturday the sun was fiercely bright and the sky was clear. It was a perfect hot, still summer day. The drive through the gently rolling farmland was pleasant, and as he gazed out the window at the countryside, the tensions that had dogged Zack since the trial seemed to lift.

Swift and graceful, a hawk swooped out the sky; it picked up a gopher and sped away. “Did you see that?” Zack said.

“I did,” I said. “Did you, Taylor?”

But our daughter, texting and listening to her iPod, was oblivious to the drama of Nature red in tooth and claw that had been played out seconds before.

“We should come out here more often,” Zack said. “Just to catch the action.”

Because Declan was under age, Zack was acting as the legal witness to Leland and Margot’s marriage, so when we arrived at the church, Zack went straight to the rector’s office to meet with the groom and his best man. Taylor and I went inside to stake out premium places near the front for us and for Barry and Ed. Margot’s wish that her Wadena friends bring nothing except jam jars filled with flowers from their gardens had been honoured. No space was empty, and the mingled scents of the vibrant flowers of June hung heavy in the air.

Taylor was wearing the botanical print she’d worn to the All-College. She was growing her hair out. When she was making art, she either anchored her hair in a ponytail or knotted it casually atop her head. Her mother had done the same thing, but Taylor was always prickly about comparisons to her mother, so I never mentioned it. Today, Taylor’s straight dark hair fell smooth and shining to her shoulders, and her eyes were bright. Exams were over – there were good times ahead.

“Have you thought any more about what you want to do next week?” I said. “We’re going to stay at the lake tonight, but we have to go back to the city tomorrow. Your dad’s going to be busy with the trial at least until Friday. You could stay with the Wainbergs or with Gracie and her dad.”

“I’m coming back with you,” Taylor said. “I talked to Lisa Wallace. She thinks I should spend the week teaching art at the Willy Hodgson Centre. It would give me a chance to see if I like the work, and give the staff and clients a chance to see if they like me. If it works out, I can volunteer in the fall.”

I didn’t reply immediately. Taylor read my expression and her forehead creased. “You said if I wanted to do it, I should do it.”

“I still think that,” I said. “But, Taylor, those kids have a lot of problems.”

“That’s why Lisa suggested a try-out. I don’t want to make a big deal about volunteering and then drop out.” Her eyes searched my face for a reaction. “Well …?”

“I’m proud of you,” I said. “Of course, I’m always proud of you.”

“So it’s okay?” Taylor said.

“Yes,” I said. “But promise me that if you feel like you’re in over your head, you’ll let Lisa know.”

“I will,” Taylor said. She looked around the church. “Hey, this place is really filling up,” she said.

“Margot predicted it would be SRO,” I said.

When Ed and Barry came in, Barry looked around happily at the flowers and at the women in their filmy summer-bright dresses. “Good for Margot for going retro,” he said. “This takes me back. When I was a kid I used to get so excited about the weddings in Stockholm.”

Taylor’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know you lived in Stockholm.”

“Stockholm, Saskatchewan,” Barry said. “Population 323, so there weren’t a lot of weddings, but I remember every single one of them.”

The string quartet that had been playing softly as the guests arrived suddenly turned up the volume. Zack, Leland, and Declan came in from the rectory and faced the congregation. When Margot’s seventeen-year-old nephew and the young man who was first trumpet in the Regina symphony walked up the aisle, the crowd hushed. The two men raised their instruments and blew the fresh, bursting opening chords of Jeremiah Clarke’s “Trumpet Voluntary,” and a chill ran up my spine.

Margot had five brothers and all were groomsmen. The five bridesmaids had all been at Linda Fritz’s dinner party. Their dresses were of the same design as Margot’s – layers of draped silk organza petals, but the bridesmaids’ dresses were
strewn with random splashes of colour. Margot’s sister, Laurie, hugely pregnant, was the matron of honour.

Margot was an incredibly beautiful bride, but as she passed us, Taylor breathed the words that, as Margot predicted, would be on everyone’s lips. “Is Margot pregnant?” Taylor whispered.

I leaned close to Taylor. “The baby’s due in December,” I said.

“So cool,” Taylor said happily.

It
was
cool and the joy on the faces of the newly married couple was tonic.

When the ceremony was over and the last picture of the bridal party had been taken, we went to the golf club, where Sis Gooding and her assistants had prepared a prairie feast: turkeys, hams, perogies, cabbage rolls, jellied salads in colours that matched the splashes on the bridesmaids’ dresses, homemade buns, vegetables from the garden. It was wickedly hot, but no one cared.

I was eyeing the spread. “No one will go hungry,” I said to Sis Gooding.

“That’s the idea,” she said. “So what’s your connection with the wedding.”

“I’m married to Zack Shreve. He’s one of the groomsmen,” I said.

Sis looked at me with interest. “Zachary Shreve. I’ve read about your husband. I’ll bet he keeps you hopping.”

“He does,” I said. “But he’s worth it.” I gazed at the table. “Did you and your assistants make all this yourselves?”

Sis laughed. “If I’d ignored the offers of help from people who wanted to contribute food to Margot’s wedding, I would have been run out of town on a rail. No, what you’re looking at is the best of Wadena. Everybody in town knows who does what well. My job was simply to co-ordinate.”

“So what did you make?” I asked.

“The strawberry shortcakes,” she said. “At the risk of sounding immodest, you’ll never taste a finer dessert.”

“I’ll make sure to get in line,” I said.

“Get some for your husband, too,” she said. “He strikes me as a man who’d appreciate a fine strawberry shortcake.”

I’d met Margot’s sister, Laurie, when Margot and I paid a quick visit to Wadena the year before. I’d been impressed then by Laurie’s common sense and humour, and when I lined up for a serving of Sis Gooding’s dessert, I was pleased to see that Laurie was right behind me.

The sisters had chosen very different paths in life. Margot had wanted a successful career, and she got it. Laurie’s life had always centred on Wadena, and the child she was expecting was her fifth. Physically, the sisters were much alike: the same cornflower blue eyes, the same wheat blonde hair, but they were alike in a more significant way: neither had time for bullshit, and that day in the dessert line, Laurie and I exchanged the usual pleasantries and got down to business.

Laurie’s voice was low and musical. “I think people around here have always assumed I envied what Margot has – the recognition, the money, the great clothes – but I knew differently. Kids aren’t for everyone, but Margot always wanted them, and I’m so glad she’s not missing out.”

“She and Leland have a great future ahead,” I said.

“They really love each other, you know,” Laurie said.

“You sound surprised,” I said.

“I’m not,” Laurie said. “It’s just that mid-life marriages are often a matter of convenience.” She laughed. “Maybe all marriages are a matter of convenience – at least to a degree. Their marriage won’t be an easy one, but it will be worth the effort.” After that gnomic remark, Laurie and I picked up our strawberry shortcake and shifted our discussion to the mysteries of adolescent behaviour.

By the third week in June, the sun sets late in Saskatchewan but most of the wedding guests were going back to Regina, so the dancing on the lawn began early. When Slim Whitman sang the first notes of “I Remember You,” and Leland took Margot in his arms for the bride-and-groom dance, I thought I had never seen two happier people.

After Slim hit his last high note, Margot approached Zack and Leland held out his arms to Laurie. Laurie laughed and pointed to her stomach, so Leland turned to me. Not surprisingly, Leland danced with precision and grace. So did Zack. Taylor kicked off her shoes and she and Declan began dancing on the grass. Then people began joining us, but when Margot noticed that Ed and Barry were staying on the sidelines, she approached them. “You guys are newlyweds,” Margot said. “How come you’re not out there?”

“Community standards,” Ed said.

Margot frowned. “Oh for God’s sake.” She held out her arms to me. “Joanne, may I have this dance?” I slid into her embrace, and we began a cheek-to-cheek number that by any criterion was a test of community standards. People smiled encouragingly at Margot and me, and when Barry and Ed joined us, there was nothing they could do but keep on smiling.

The reception was still in full swing when Zack, Taylor, and I left. We were anxious to get to Lawyers’ Bay: it had been a full week, and Willie and Pantera were waiting. As so often after a hot day, there was a storm that night. Zack and I lay in the dark and watched as sheet lightning turned the entire sky to glowing white.

“You know, I’m glad the wedding’s over,” Zack said.

“So am I,” I said. “There could have been a surprise visit from Louise or a mystery guest with explosives. But the day was perfect in every way.”

“May the perfection continue,” Zack said.

“Amen to that,” I said.

Wednesday morning, Mieka called to ask if I was free to come to a press conference in the Warehouse District at noon. Concerned about the seepage of public support for The Village, Leland had decided to make an early announcement of Peyben’s plans to build the shared multipurpose facility. Riel and Shelley Gregg, the developer who had done the renos on the Halifax Street building and who was designing the new building, would be joining Leland to answer questions. The press conference was to be held in the vacant lot where the facility would be built. The land bordered North Central and The Village, so the optics were good.

I arrived a little before noon and went over to stand by Mieka. She was on edge but happy. “I thought about bringing the girls, it’s such a big moment for Riel and for the city, but I know how these announcements can drag on, so I decided not to.”

“Good call,” I said. “A couple of times when your dad was announcing some major initiative, I took you and your brothers to the press conference. You always got bored and started kicking each other.”

For a hastily assembled press conference, the event went off smoothly. The mayor and the appropriate city councillors were there, as were local crews from each of the networks and a photographer and a reporter from our city’s paper. Shelley, Leland, and Riel were all wearing jeans and T-shirts, and as they began the formal part of the announcement, they stood behind a worktable that held a mock-up of the latest multipurpose centre that Shelley had designed. In many respects that structure met the criteria for the proposed Village/North Central facility, so the model was a useful and appealing focus for their presentation.

Riel and Leland flanked Shelley at the table. That placement, too, was good optics. The men appeared cautious, cordial, and, most importantly, equal. Riel spoke first. He listed the benefits to the city of the proposed facility and, specifically, to North Central, whose community members would be part of the process from the beginning. Leland announced that he shared Riel’s vision for the project and that while there were many details to work out, he and Riel would work them out publicly with the aid of a mediator. Peyben hoped to break ground at the beginning of September and open the doors a year later. Shelley Gregg gave a moving speech in which she said that a city grows from its heart. Her words were few, but the image was powerful and as the media people asked more questions and scrambled for more footage, I knew the press conference had been a success. Mieka and I hugged each other spontaneously for the first time since Riel had protested Leland’s honorary doctorate.