Gail Bowen - The Brutal Heart

“I guess we should start thinking about what you’re going to wear,” I said.

“I know what I’m not going to wear,” Taylor said.

“That’s a start,” I said. “So what are you not going to wear?”

“The same thing everybody else is wearing: sparkly T-shirt, short ruffly skirt, and sandals with plastic flowers.”

I sat on the bed beside her. “You sound like your mum. When we were in high school, we were both invited to the Battalion Ball at Upper Canada College. Your mother knew that all the girls would be wearing little pearl earrings, pearl necklaces, strapless pastel dresses with tulle skirts, and shoes with illusion heels so they wouldn’t be taller than their dates.

Taylor moved closer. “So what did she wear?”

“A slinky black silk dress with a high neck and long sleeves. She also wore spike-heeled shoes that made her about six inches taller than the boy she was with. He didn’t care. Every time he looked at her, he just about fainted because he couldn’t believe he was with such a knockout.”

It had been a long time since Taylor curled up on my knee, but that morning she put her arms around my neck and moved in close. “I guess you don’t have a picture of her at that dance.”

“No, Taylor, I don’t. I’ve kept a lot of other pictures of your mum. Whenever you’re ready to look at them, you let me know.”

Taylor nodded. “I’ve always just liked looking at the art she made.” She drew closer. “That’s been enough.”

For once, Taylor and I didn’t hurry our time together. We each had our own thoughts, and we both realized moments like this had become finite. Taylor was the one who broke our reverie. “I’d better get ready for school,” she said. “At the Farewell, I’m actually getting some dorky prize for attendance.”

She started to leave, then stopped. “What did you wear to the dance?”

“Little pearl earrings, a pearl necklace, a strapless pastel dress with a tulle skirt, and illusion heels so I wouldn’t be taller than my date.”

Taylor’s smile reflected both love and pity. I felt a pang. It was the smile her mother had given me a thousand times in the years when we were best friends.

When I came out of the shower, Taylor was in my bedroom dressed, munching a piece of toast with peanut butter, and looking critically at the outfit I’d planned to wear to court: a champagne blouse and slacks outfit that I’d loved for fifteen years.

“How come you’re getting all dressed up today?” she asked.

“I’m going to court with Ginny Monaghan.

Taylor rolled her eyes. “Boy, you should hear the jokes the kids tell about her. They say she’s a cougar.”

“Nice,” I said.

Taylor chewed thoughtfully. “It is kind of mean, isn’t it? And you know, last night, she really did seem nice. None of the boys would dance with Gracie because she’s so tall, and Ms. Monaghan told Gracie that it was great being tall – you could see more.” Taylor turned her attention back to my clothes. “Is this what you’re wearing?”

“I like it,” I said.

“I like it too,” Taylor said. “Except you wear it everywhere.” She cocked her head. “That scarf Zack gave me for Christmas would make it look a little less…”

“Boring?”

Taylor raised an eyebrow. “I was going to say ‘beige.’ ” She flashed off the bed and came back with her scarf: a Paul Klee print that was neither boring nor beige. She held it against the blouse. “Okay?”

“More than okay,” I said. “Thanks. Now you’d better scoot. You don’t want to forfeit your dorky prize.”

I’d just opened my laptop to check out the press coverage of Ginny’s case when the phone rang. It was Ed Mariani, sounding buoyant. “I know it’s never too early to call you,” he said. “You’re like Barry – an early bird. After all that travelling yesterday, Barry was up at the crack of dawn, fresh as a daisy, doing his sit-ups. He still has a twenty-eight-inch waist. I tell him that, after the age of forty, no man but a drag queen has a twenty-eight-inch waist, but he just pats the place beside him on the mat and invites me to join him in a few stretches.” Ed sighed. “As if I could. These days, even bending to tie a shoelace is a hero’s journey for me. But I didn’t call to whine. Your Martha Washington geraniums are ready to be hardened, and when Martha’s ready, she’s ready. Can I drop them by some time this morning?”

“Sure, but can you make it in the next hour? I promised Ginny Monaghan I’d be in court with her this morning.”

“How come?”

“Quid pro quo. I’m going to stay with her campaign until E-Day, then use Ginny’s experience for that script about women in politics I showed you.”

“Shrewd move,” Ed said. “What you wrote is thoughtful and well researched, but it’s a little…”

“Beige?” I said.

Ed laughed. “Well, the exploits of a sexual swashbuckler would add colour.”

“And make a point,” I said. “Ginny seems to feel the rules for female swashbucklers are different from the rules for men.”

“She’s right, of course.”

“I know she is,” I said. “And because of her politics, she doesn’t have a lot of natural allies.”

“Including me,” Ed said. “To be honest, Jo, when I saw her at the party, I was prepared to leave her a wide berth, but she was your guest, and you looked a little desperate. I thought I’d take her off your hands for a while, but I really liked her. Anyway, if you want some company today, I’d be happy to come. Take one for the team.”

“Ginny’s not on your team, Ed.”

“Ah, Jo, you have no idea how large and varied our team is. The walking wounded cover the earth. The least we can do is offer one another a little support when the terrain is unfriendly.”

Half an hour later, I’d finished reviewing the media stories on Ginny Monaghan, and I was dressed and trying to find a lipstick that wasn’t a stub. Taylor came back, ready for school, to give me a final inspection. “Cool,” she said. “And that lipstick I gave you for Christmas would be perfect with that scarf.”

“The lipstick in the gift with purchase?”

“It was full size,” Taylor said. “Anyway, since you weren’t using it, I kind of borrowed it back. Want me to get it?”

I held up the stub in my hand. “Anything’s better than this,” I said.

Taylor went to her room and came back triumphant. “Here,” she said, handing me the lipstick. “It’s called Tiger Eye – great colour, eh? And Mr. Mariani’s outside with a ton of plants for you.”

I took the lipstick. It was muted but managed to pick up the deep red in the scarf. “Perfect,” I said. “Taylor, how do you know these things?”

Taylor scrunched her face in dismissal. “Everybody knows that stuff.”

I filled in my lips and threw the lipstick into my handbag. “I owe you,” I said “Now, let’s go help Ed unload.”

He was standing in the driveway with the trunk of his Buick popped and a tray of Martha Washingtons in his arms. The blossoms were dark red rimmed with silver. “Halos,” I said. “My favourites.”

“Wait till you see what I have for you out back.”

Taylor picked up her backpack. “Can I look after school? I’m already late.” She kissed Ed on the cheek, and he beamed.

“Aren’t you and I about due for another evening of Barry’s paella and some serious art talk?” he said.

“Definitely,” Taylor said. “Except not this Saturday because it’s Marissa’s birthday party and not Friday because Isobel and Gracie are coming over to watch scary movies, but any other time is good.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Ed said. We watched her bounce off. “She’s growing up,” Ed said.