The Nesting Dolls Read online

  My husband didn’t answer. His focus was elsewhere. The Wainbergs’ home, like the homes of all of Zack’s partners, was fully accessible, but snow had drifted onto the ramp leading up to the front door. “Look at that,” Zack said. “Sorry, Ms. Shreve, but you’re going to have to push me up.”

  I’d just pulled the chair back, so I could take a run at the incline, when Noah Wainberg appeared at the front door. “Since Taylor arrived, I’ve been watching for you,” he said. He zipped his parka, picked up the shovel leaning against the house, and cleared the ramp. We were inside and warm within minutes. Zack removed his toque and glanced up at Noah. “I owe you one.”

  “No, you don’t. You gave me a chance to get out of the house.” Noah nodded in the direction of the party. “I hate these things, but Delia wanted a party… ”

  “And what Delia wants, Delia gets,” Zack said.

  Noah didn’t smile. “If it’s within my power – yes.” He removed his coat, revealing an impeccably tailored two-button pinstripe and a claret Windsor-knotted tie. He was dressed for the part and he would handle his duties as host without complaint, just as he unquestioningly handled everything that came his way.

  Few people realized that Noah was a lawyer who had been in the same year at the University of Saskatchewan College of Law as the members of the Winners’ Circle. He had been an indifferent student, and after graduation he had spent a year articling with a lacklustre firm, waiting for Delia to come back from Ottawa where she was clerking for another outstanding graduate of the College of Law, Mr. Justice Theo Brokaw.

  The partners of Falconer Shreve Altieri Wainberg and Hynd marked the day they opened their first office as the beginning of their real lives. Noah was not the Wainberg of the firm’s name, but as someone who knew the law and could be trusted to be discreet, he played an invaluable role in managing sensitive information and sheltering clients who didn’t want to advertise their need for legal advice.

  His services to Falconer Shreve went beyond the professional. All the partners owned cottages on a horseshoe of lakefront property that was less than an hour’s drive from Regina. The community on Lawyers’ Bay was gated because the cottages were often used for meetings and, occasionally, as a safe haven for clients who needed time away from prying eyes. Noah made certain the properties were kept in running order. Quietly and efficiently, within the office and outside it, Noah took care of what needed to be taken care of and that included the Wainbergs’ only child, Isobel.

  Delia and I weren’t close, but because of our girls’ friendship, Noah and I were often together. He was quiet and easygoing, and I always welcomed his company. That night, after a young woman in a crisp white blouse, black mid-calf skirt, and sensible shoes appeared and took our coats upstairs, Noah gestured in the direction of the party. “Shall we join the others?”

  “Not so fast,” Zack said. “Joanne and I want to hear about the guest of honour. Stripped of his ceremonial red robes and ermine, is he as much of a preening turd as he was on the bench?”

  Noah shrugged. “Beats me. He’s not here.”

  Zack glanced at his watch. “Two-thirty. The party started at two, so the guest of honour is half an hour late. One of the perks of being on the Supreme Court is making everybody hang around awaiting your dramatic entrance. I guess Theo still savours the moment.”

  Noah made a fist and slapped it into his palm. “This isn’t the Supreme Court,” he said tightly. “It’s Delia’s party, and Theo Brokaw should have the decency to show up on time.”

  “Agreed. But by definition, egoists set all clocks to their own time.” Zack patted Noah’s arm. “Now if I remember correctly, you make a fine martini. I wouldn’t mind testing my memory.”

  “Follow me,” Noah said.

  The Wainberg house was designed for entertaining, with expanses of glass that offered guests a panorama of the ever-changing prairie sky, and a large open-plan reception area where deep couches beckoned and servers with trays of food and drink could move with ease. The party had moved quickly to a rolling boil – voices were vibrant, laughter exploded percussively against the cool riffs of a jazz pianist, and the air was heady with the blend of perfume, cologne, and body heat.

  Most of the guests were people Zack and I would see many times before the old year ended. By then, we would be able to finish one another’s stories, but the Wainbergs’ party was an early one. The season had not yet lost its shine, and there was still real pleasure in seeing old friends and hearing news. When the servers brought out Noah’s signature mesquite-smoked turkeys, there was a round of spontaneous applause. It was a good party. Everyone was having fun except Delia.

  Striking in black dress pants and a sleeveless white sequined shirt that showcased her admirably toned upper arms, Delia roamed, tense and distracted, seeking the guest of honour who was yet to arrive. Noah’s eyes seldom left his wife. Finally, he came over to the fireplace where Zack and I were trapped by a Falconer Shreve client named Roddy Dewar, who was rich, litigious, crazier than a bag of hammers, and hence much prized by the firm.

  As always, Noah was quick to read the situation, and he knew that Zack and I had wearied of Roddy’s fulminations. Noah gave the man a conspiratorial wink. “They just brought in the smoked turkeys. Better move fast. Those birds have a way of vanishing.”

  Roddy’s food lust was legendary. “A word to the wise is sufficient,” he said. Then he snatched the last cheese blintz from a passing tray, popped it in his mouth, and bolted for the birds.

  Zack watched his progress, then raised an eyebrow at Noah. “Did you know that the soul leaves the body four minutes and seventeen seconds after death? Roddy was just about to provide Joanne and me with scientific proof. Once again, we are in your debt.”

  Noah’s smile was rueful. “And payback time is here already. The Brokaws still haven’t shown up and Dee’s making herself crazy. Could you talk to her, Zack? She’ll listen to you.”

  “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 chil
d 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.

  “I’ve appeared before you many times,” Zack said. “Obviously, I didn’t make much of an impression. I’m Zack Shreve.”

  “And you’re a lawyer,” Theo Brokaw said, and his tone was self-congratulatory.

  “I am,” Zack agreed.

  “Well, so am I,” Theo Brokaw said. “At least I used to be.”

  For once, my husband was flummoxed. Myra smoothed over the awkward moment. She touched Theo’s elbow, and he moved smartly towards the Wainbergs. Delia opened her arms in greeting, but her eyes were anxious as she scanned Theo’s face. “Welcome. I’m so glad you could come.”

  Theo Brokaw stared at her, his forehead creased in bafflement. “You’ve gotten old,” he said. Before Delia could react, he bent towards her, buried his face in her neck, and breathed deeply. “Ah, but your fragrance is the same,” he said.

  Until she disentangled herself, Theo clung to Delia in a way that was both passionate and strangely youthful. The situation was awkward, but Delia handled it with grace. “I’ll have to send Chanel No. 5 a thank-you note,” she said. She turned to her husband. “Noah, why don’t you pour the Brokaws a drink, so we can all celebrate their arrival in Regina.”

  Zack shot his partner an approving look. “I wish we could join you, but Joanne and I will have to take a rain check. We need to get the girls to their Christmas concert.”

  Myra’s eyes widened in recognition. “You’re Joanne Kilbourn,” she said.

  “I am,” I said. “And I was looking forward to talking to you and Justice Brokaw, but we’re already late.”

  “I understand,” Myra said. She stepped closer to me and lowered her voice. “We’ve made an unfortunate first impression, but I would like to talk to you about our project. It has merit and I believe it’s still feasible. May I call you?”

  My heart sank. Theo was clearly no longer ready for prime time. “Of course,” I said. “You have my number.”

  Theo Brokaw had been watching his wife and me with interest. “We live over a store,” he said brightly.

  Myra’s voice was gentle. “It’s one of the new condos in Scarth Street Mall. We wrote Ms. Kilbourn about it, Theo.”

  “Well, whatever you call it, it’s still rooms over a store,” Theo said. “And it’s handy for me because it’s close to the courthouse.” He gave Zack a conspiratorial wink. “You know how important that is.”

  “I do,” Zack said. “Have a pleasant evening.” He opened the door and wheeled
out into the wild weather.

  With Noah’s help we made it to our car, but the weather was growing increasingly ugly. It is a truth universally acknowledged that the first snowfall means that everybody in town forgets how to drive. When the first snowfall is a blizzard, the potential for skids, fishtails, and rear-end collisions rises exponentially. Our trip to the school was a white-knuckler. Zack was driving. Steering the car through the drifts on Leopold Crescent demanded strength and attention, and we didn’t exchange a word until we hit Albert Street. City crews were on the job there; Zack’s shoulders relaxed and he shot me a quick glance. “Wouldn’t want to do that every day,” he said.

  I reached over and rubbed the back of his neck. “Better?”

  “Thanks. What do you think is going on with Theo Brokaw?”

  “Whatever it is,” I said, “it explains his sudden retirement from the bench.”

  “He’s not exactly compos mentis,” Zack agreed.

  “Yet the e-mail exchanges we had were perfectly lucid,” I said. “Myra must take care of their correspondence.”

  “Promise me something,” Zack said.

  “What?”

  “If I ever get like Theo, tip me into the nearest snowbank.”

  By the time we pulled up in front of the school, we were late. Gracie and Taylor were sanguine but Isobel, whose standards for herself were high, bolted from our vehicle before Zack had come to a full stop.

  The parking lots at Luther were chaos. Everybody was in a hurry, but nobody was getting anywhere. Seemingly every parking space but the one with the handicapped sign was taken. We had a disabled persons’ ID parking card, but unless a client’s needs were urgent, Zack never used it. My husband and I glanced at the seductive space and then at one another. Handbells were waiting to be rung. I rummaged through the glove compartment, found the card, and propped it on the dashboard. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Gracie and Taylor dashed through the snow towards the gym, and Zack and I followed behind. It was tough sledding, but we made it. As we stood inside, brushing off the snow and checking out seating possibilities, a good-looking boy with blond dreadlocks and a tentative smile approached us. His manner was breezily confident, but his voice was uncertain. “Hey Zack. How’s it going?”