Gail Bowen - The Nesting Dolls

“But she’s blowing this,” I said.

“And she knows it,” Zack said. “Yesterday in the car, Delia told me she was afraid. I’ve known her thirty years, and this is the first time I’ve heard her say she was afraid of anything.”

I sat on the bed, so that Zack and I were at eye level. “Is she afraid of losing Jacob?”

“That, and everything else. Delia feels as if her life is unravelling. She thought when she signed the papers giving up her child, she’d closed the chapter.”

“And now the child appears as a grown woman, hands Delia a baby, and is raped and murdered.” I touched one of the lines that bracketed Zack’s mouth like parentheses. “I guess that sequence of events is enough to overwhelm anyone.”

Short of the Fezziwigs’ Christmas party, there was no more festive scene than the Lantern Inn’s dining room on that wet December morning. Instead of a fiddler striking up Sir Roger de Coverley, there was the silvery staccato of Vivaldi’s “Winter,” and the buffet didn’t appear to feature cold boiled beef and mince pie, but the atmosphere of the room was one of Dickensian hopefulness and good cheer.

Delia had found a table for two near the fireplace. She stood to motion me over when I came in. In her black leather-trimmed sweater, white turtleneck, fitted jeans, and black Fluevog lace-up boots, she looked successful, fashionable, and utterly miserable.

“If this table is too close to the fireplace for you, I can ask them to move us,” she said. Her face was pale and strained and her husky voice cracked into the odd little hiccup it made whenever she was on edge.

“It’s good to be warm,” I said.

“Thanks for coming. I know you’re angry.”

“I promised Zack I wouldn’t smash a grapefruit in your face.”

She flashed her three-point cat smile. “That’s a start.”

The server poured us coffee and asked if we needed menus. When we said we were going with the buffet, she nodded gravely and told us we’d made a very wise choice.

“First wise choice I’ve made since I got here,” Delia said.

During breakfast Delia and I made a deliberate attempt to keep the conversation light. She and Noah had talked, so the story of Jacob and Pantera gave us one safe topic. The skating rink Zack and I were putting in at the lake gave us another. Delia was intrigued, and she had enough questions about exactly how a skating rink came into being to get us smoothly through to our second cup of coffee.

As the server cleared our plates, Delia held out her coffee cup in a mock toast. “Well, we made it. No grapefruit smashing. Not even a raised voice. So I’m going to push my luck and ask you whether Nadine won you over when you went back to her cabin.”

“I like her very much,” I said carefully.

“So you’re on her side.”

“No,” I said. “I’m on your side, but I’m hoping you can extend an olive branch to Nadine.”

“She doesn’t want an olive branch,” Delia said. “She wants the whole tree – full custody, and she’s not going to get it. I’m prepared to offer Nadine access. She can visit Jacob in Regina when she has time off from teaching. She can even come out to the lake with us for a couple of weeks every summer. But Jacob will never be left alone with her.”

“You think Nadine poses a threat to Jacob?” I said. “Where did that come from?”

“Abby’s will,” Delia said flatly. “Joanne, most wills have a subtext. A father bequeaths equal parts of his estate to each of his three sons, but he leaves the watch that has been passed down through the family to his youngest son. There’s a message there.”

“The youngest son is the father’s favourite,” I said.

Delia nodded. “In her revised will, Abby left Nadine Perrault money and property but she made certain that Jacob came to me. Clearly there’s something in Nadine’s background that makes it impossible for Jacob to be left in her care.”

“Abby and Nadine were inseparable from the time they were ten,” I said. “It’s difficult to believe there was anything of significance that they didn’t know about one another.”

“There’s no disputing the facts,” Delia said. “Three weeks ago. Abby changed her will. Something convinced her that Nadine would not be a fit parent, and that Jacob belonged with us. We may not be able to see the logic, but it’s there. Once we’ve figured out what caused Abby to leave the bulk of her estate to Nadine but grant custody of her son to us, we have our case.”

“And winning the case is all that matters?” I said.

Delia’s mouth twisted in an ironic half-smile. “We seem to be moving into dangerous territory. I’d better get the bill.” She caught the server’s eye and picked up her bag. “Is Zack up for our meeting with Nadine’s lawyer this morning? He sounded terrible when I talked to him, but he minimized it.”

“It’s his decision,” I said. “But I think he should stay in bed. The cold is worse. He has a fever and he’s coughing.”

Delia’s face pinched with worry. “Has he seen a doctor?”

“I think he’s better off just staying in bed until we go to the airport. Sitting in a waiting room filled with sick people doesn’t strike me as a great idea. I’ll call our family doctor as soon as we get back to Regina.”

“But Zack is going to be all right?” Delia said.

“He’s had his flu shot, and he’s strong as an ox. You know that.”

She looked at me hard. “No, I don’t know that. I’m sure you’ve read all the same articles about paraplegia that I’ve read. I’ve worried about Zack’s health from the moment I met him. He always says that when he became part of the Winners’ Circle he felt like a drunk discovering Jesus – reborn. But for me it was like finding a family, and Zack has always been the one I was closest to.”

“You’re very much alike.”

“Both damaged high achievers.”

“I’ve never thought of you as damaged.”

“I present well, and the law saved me – just as it saved Zack. Chris Altieri used to say that for Zack and me the law was redemptive.” Delia’s eyes welled. She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. “Sorry. Tell Zack I can talk to Nadine’s lawyer alone. And tell him please to take care of himself. I can’t handle another loss.”

Delia paid the bill, and we threaded our way through the laughter at the festively decorated tables. Anyone seeing us together, two middle-aged women, affluent and amiable, would have thought we didn’t have a care in the world.

When I got back to the room, Zack’s breakfast was on its tray uneaten, and he was lying down. I sat beside him on the bed and rubbed his shoulder. “Feeling lousy?” I said.

“Lousy would be an improvement,” he said.

“I told Delia you were going to stay in the room until we left for the airport. I’ll call Alwyn and let her know we’re confined to quarters for the day.”

“No reason for you to stay here,” Zack said. “I’m just going to sleep. You and Alwyn only have a few hours. You were planning to go to church together, weren’t you?”

“Yes, and then back to her house for tea.”

“Well, do that,” he said.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

“Yep. But just in case, say a prayer for me.”

“I always pray for you.”

“Well, keep up the good work, and leave your cell on vibrate.”

It was the third Sunday in Advent and St. Mark’s was full. The recessional hymn was “Let There Be Light,” but the voices of a host of the faithful were unable to stave off the torrent that greeted us when we left the church. Alwyn squinted at the pewter sky. “What do you want to do?”

“Let me call and see how Zack’s doing, and then we can decide.”