Gail Bowen - The Nesting Dolls

“Sure.” Zack’s eyes scanned the room. “Where is she?”

“Outside on the deck, freezing and smoking and trying to track down the guest of honour on her cell.”

Zack was clearly exasperated. “What’s with her lately? People forget parties all the time, and the Brokaws aren’t young. Theo didn’t wait for mandatory retirement, but he’s got to be past seventy.”

“Seventy-two,” Noah said.

“So it slipped his mind. Big deal. Now that he’s moved back to Regina, he and Delia can sing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ any time they want.”

Noah’s expression was weary. “Tell Dee that, and remind her that she doesn’t have to sneak outside because she wants a cigarette. This is her house and people are damn lucky to be in the same room with her.”

Zack patted Noah’s arm and headed for the deck. It wasn’t long before he and Delia rejoined the party. I wasn’t surprised. Communication was never a problem between them. Noah appeared with a plate of smoked turkey and a glass of wine for his wife, and when she rewarded him with her three-cornered, cat-like smile, his relief was palpable.

Fuelled by alcohol, the party followed the inevitable trajectory from good cheer to raucousness to the loss of inhibition that teeters on danger. The discreet appearance of servers with pots of coffee and trays of honey cake, cheese, and fruit saved us from our baser selves. Soon, restored to civility by caffeine and one last bite, people began brushing one another’s cheeks with their lips and moving along. It was time for us to leave too. Gracie’s father, Blake Falconer, and Noah and Delia would be attending the afternoon concert on Sunday, so this afternoon Zack and I were responsible for shepherding the three girls. The choirs were to be robed and ready fifteen minutes before the concert started. But I was currently mired in conversation with a sad-eyed wispy woman, expensively dressed in a leather blazer and slacks the exact shade of her stiffly lacquered platinum ponytail and her platinum cuff bracelet. She was weaving slightly, and her eyes seemed to be focused somewhere past my right ear. She was complaining about her only child who apparently brought her neither comfort nor joy.

“I’ve been trying to remember my last good Christmas, and I cannot.” She shifted her eyes to meet mine. “Don’t waste your time trying to think of something to say. I’m a solo act.” When I saw Zack wheeling towards me, I exhaled. I had never learned how to extricate myself gracefully from a conversation that was heading towards a land mine, but Zack always seemed to know how to make a smooth exit. I was in the clear.

My solo act hadn’t volunteered her name, but Zack knew it. He took her hand. “As always, you look lovely, Louise,” he said.

She shook an admonishing finger at him. “You’re the only remotely interesting person at this party and you let that little toad monopolize you.” She cocked her head. “The toad’s name eludes me, but you know who I mean – the one who looks like the fat boy on the Snakes and Ladders board.”

Zack laughed. “Nothing wrong with your powers of description. His name is Roddy Dewar.”

“Well, let Roddy Dewar find his own amusement,” Louise said. “I long to talk to you.”

“Unfortunately, my wife and I are just leaving,” Zack said. “Our daughter, Taylor, and her friends are due at their Christmas concert.”

“At Luther College. I am due at that too,” Louise said, “but I’m too drunk to go.”

“There’s another performance tomorrow,” Zack said. “Enjoy the party and hear the carols when you’re more in the mood.”

Louise leaned down and kissed Zack. She missed his face and hit his shirt. “You’re worth every penny my ex-husband pays you,” she said. She frowned. “There’s a smear of lipstick on your collar, and I fear I put it there. Next time you send Leland a bill, add a couple of hundred for a new shirt.”

Zack took her hand. “No payment necessary, Louise. I’m honoured to have your lipstick on my collar.”

“Jesus, you’re sweet,” she said, and she swayed off towards the bar.

I squeezed Zack’s shoulder. “You are sweet, you know,” I said.

Zack raised an eyebrow. “Hang onto that thought the next time Pantera chews up one of your grandmother’s Christmas-tree ornaments.”

Taylor, Isobel, and the third member of their triumvirate, Gracie Falconer, breezed in, already dressed for outdoors. Gracie and Isobel had grown up together. They were the same age; both were only children and both had a parent who was a founding partner of Falconer Shreve. Their ties were close, but when Zack and I married, Gracie and Isobel had embraced Taylor. Now the three girls were inseparable. That afternoon at the Wainbergs’, they had found the food and politely endured questions about school and holiday plans from their parents’ friends, but as Gracie flung her scarf around her neck, she made it clear they were ready to move along. “Let’s make tracks,” she said.

Isobel frowned at her wristwatch. “We have to hurry,” she said. “We’re supposed be there in ten minutes, and the weather will slow us down.”

I handed Taylor the car keys. “Why don’t you girls go to the car? We still have to get our coats.”

Delia and Noah walked with us to the door and waited while the young woman who’d taken our things retrieved them.

“I was surprised to see Louise Hunter here,” Zack said. “Leland says she’s become a recluse.”

“How would Leland know?” Noah said. “He’s never around.”

Zack shrugged. “Leland’s company is involved in some serious international deals.”

“And that excuses everything,” Noah said mildly. Our coats arrived, and Noah held out mine. “Anyway, I thought Louise might enjoy a party, so I added her name to the invitation list.”

Delia cocked her head. “I didn’t realize you and Louise Hunter knew one another.”

“Life sometimes gets too much for Louise and she calls me.”

“And you take care of her till she sobers up,” Delia said.

“Peyben is one of the firm’s biggest clients,” Noah said quietly. “And Louise was once married to Peyben’s owner.”

Delia linked her arm through her husband’s. “You take care of a lot that we don’t know about, don’t you?”

“Thanks for noticing,” Noah murmured.

It was a nice moment, but like many nice moments, it was interrupted by the outside world. When the doorbell rang, Zack was closest to the door and he reached over and opened it.

Theo and Myra Brokaw were standing on the step. The storm was still in full force, and the Brokaws had linked their arms, presenting a united front against the elements. Zack pushed his chair back, and Theo and Myra stepped past him into the safety of the entrance hall, frowning in concentration as they stomped their boots and brushed the snow from their shoulders.

Like many couples in a long marriage the Brokaws had grown to look like one another. Both were tall and lean with thick eyebrows, deep-set dark eyes, and strong features. That afternoon, both were wearing ankle-length grey cashmere coats with festive red scarves knotted around their necks. For people who were late for a party in their honour, they were remarkably unperturbed, but they had an explanation for their tardiness. “I’d forgotten how challenging a Saskatchewan winter can be,” Myra Brokaw said. “We had quite the adventure getting here.”

Zack moved his chair aside, and extended his hand to her. “I’m glad you triumphed,” he said. Then he turned to Myra’s husband. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Judge Brokaw.”

Theo Brokaw’s chiselled features were transformed by a smile that was surprisingly winsome. “Do I know you?” he asked.