needy.”
As soon as she heard his voice, the colour spread from Mieka’s neck to her cheeks. I understood. Sean was an extraordinarily good-looking man – tall, blond, fine-featured. Only his crooked grin saved him from male model perfection.
“Plenty of champagne in the fridge,” I said. “Birthdays come but once a year.”
Sean nodded. “Right,” he said. “Joanne, I haven’t had a chance to thank you for making Ginny welcome. There’s been so much hostility towards her lately, I thought she could use some friendly vibes.”
“My pleasure,” I said. “Ginny’s good company. I just wish some of our other guests had been more open to her. She has a tough battle ahead.”
“Then she’s lucky she chose a good lawyer,” Mieka said.
Sean lowered his gaze. “Maybe I should get you to write a letter of reference.”
“Anytime,” Mieka said. She picked up the tray with the dessert plates, cutlery, and napkins. “Grab the cake, Mum. The window of opportunity is about to slam shut.”
As we started down the lawn, I gave the sky one last anxious glance. It was lowering. No doubt about it, we were in for a gully-washer, but as I placed the cake in front of Zack and our guests gathered to sing “Happy Birthday,” I was glad we’d taken the chance. The warmth towards Zack was palpable and there was no rain. Our luck was holding. I leaned over and lit the candles.
When they blazed, a smile of pure delight spread across Zack’s face. He took my hand. “Want to know what I wished for?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Because if you tell before you blow out the candles, your wish won’t come true.”
“Then I’d better get to work,” Zack said. He bent towards the blazing cake and blew. The candles guttered a little in the wind but remained stubbornly alight. Our twelve-year-old daughter, Taylor, and her two best friends, Isobel and Gracie, had crowded in beside Zack for the big moment. Bright as tulips in their spring dresses, the girls pressed their hands to their mouths, stifling laughter as Zack tried again to blow out his candles. Successful trial lawyers have a sixth sense about hidden motives, and as Gracie Falconer, her face as innocent as a pan of milk, urged Zack to give the candles another try, he smelled a rat. He leaned back in his chair and eyed the girls. “I’m exhausted,” he said. “Why don’t you young women take over?”
The girls exchanged furtive glances. “They’re trick candles,” Taylor said finally. “The only way to put them out is to drop them in water.”
“I grew up with brothers,” Mieka said. “I’ve dealt with these candles before.” She reached for the cake and began plucking out candles and extinguishing them. “Zack, if you’re interested in revenge, give me a call,” she said. “I know some really cool tricks with whipped cream.”
“Make a list,” Zack said. “If I remember correctly, Isobel has a birthday coming up.”
“My pleasure,” Mieka said. “But let’s deal with this cake first. You slice the first piece, and I’ll do the rest.” She glanced at the guests who, champagne glasses in hand, had gathered round for the celebratory moment. “Would it be okay if I propose the toast?”
Zack was clearly surprised. “Is it going to be like the trick candles?”
Mieka had made no secret of her opposition to our marriage the year before, but Zack had obeyed his first rule of dealing with opposition: stay in your opponent’s face. You’ll either win them over or they’ll walk away. Mieka hadn’t walked away.
“No trick candles,” Mieka said. “Also no whoopee cushions or dribble glasses, but don’t expect eloquence. Public speaking is number one on my personal fear factor list.” She tapped her glass and called for attention. As all eyes focused on her, she fiddled with the neck of her sweater, but when she raised her glass, her voice was clear. “To Zack – everyone here is glad that you’re part of their life.”
There was a murmur: “To Zack.” At that moment, a thunderclap split the evening quiet, and the skies opened. Laughing, gulping champagne as they ran, our guests sprinted towards the house. Mieka picked up the cake, and Zack began wheeling his chair up the ramp that led to the deck and the safety of the kitchen.
I ran over to him. “Are you doing okay?” I asked.
“Couldn’t be better,” he said, navigating the turn on the ramp. “I’m interpreting that thunderclap as a cosmic sign of approval,” he said.
I shook my head. “You are one confident guy.”
The party continued. The kids cajoled our bouvier and our mastiff into slinking back upstairs, and when Zack pushed the piano bench out of the way and moved his wheelchair into place, Willie and Pantera lumbered over and collapsed on the floor beside him. In the year and a half Zack and I had been married, the dogs had developed an insatiable appetite for show tunes. Zack has never had a piano lesson, but he has a good ear, and as he played, Taylor and her friends danced with the little kids and then, thrillingly, with some boys their own age who, according to the girls, had just happened by. In the hall, Angus and his girlfriend, Leah, alternated between slow dancing and smooching. Ginny and Ed were more public. It turned out that they were both passionate tango dancers, and as they glided by in their matching buttercup silk, Ed dipped towards me. “How do we look?”
“Like the finalists in a ballroom dance contest,” I said. Clearly the celebration was moving in a good direction.
Mieka and I had just started taking the coffee around when Sean stepped in and took my tray. “Mieka and I can handle this, Joanne,” he said. “Why don’t you kick back and spend some time with the birthday boy?”
“Good plan,” I said. “Thanks.” I went over to the table where the bar had been set out, poured two small cognacs, went over to Zack, placed his snifter on the piano, and whispered, “I’m plying you with liquor.”
He gave me a sidelong glance. “I don’t need to be plied. When it comes to you, I’m ever ready.” He let his fingers drop from the piano keys to caress my leg.
“Better hold off on that,” I said under my breath. “We have a houseful of guests.”
“Send them home,” Zack said. “Tell them your husband can’t keep his hands off you.”
I brushed an imaginary crumb from his shirt and let my fingers linger. “That works both ways, you know.”
“Whoa. Everybody out of the pool.” Zack thumped a chord that brought the loin-throbbing rhythms of
At that moment, his cellphone rang. “I thought you turned that off,” I said.
Zack shrugged. “I forgot. Want me to let it ring?”
“No,” I said. “Probably just somebody wanting to wish you a happy birthday.”
Zack flipped open his cell and answered. One look at his face and I knew the call was serious. He listened without comment. Finally he said. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. And, Debbie, thanks for the heads-up.”
“Problems?” I said.
“There’s a situation,” Zack said evenly. “And it’s something you and I should talk about.”
“Can it wait?”
“No,” Zack said. “It can’t. Let’s go to our room.”
I’d left the sliding doors to the deck outside our bedroom open to catch the fresh breeze, but now the storm was lashing and the hardwood in front of the doors was wet. I picked up a towel from my bathroom and skated it across the hardwood until the floor was dry. Zack watched as I pitched the towel in the hamper. “You are admirably unflappable.”
“Comes in handy since I met you.” I sat on the bed. “So what’s up?”
“That was the cop shop. Inspector Debbie Haczkewicz says they need me to come down.”
I groaned. “Come on, Zack, a client –
“There’s no client,” Zack said. “I’m the one they want to talk to.”
“About what?”
“It’s complicated,” Zack said. “But it starts with the reason Ned Osler committed suicide.”
“He didn’t want to live after his wife died,” I said. “I thought that was common knowledge.”
“He was also being blackmailed by a prostitute,” Zack said. “She’d filmed their sexual encounters and she was going to put them on the Internet unless Ned paid her off. That isn’t common knowledge and I hope to God it doesn’t get to be.”
A finger of lightning arced from sky to earth, throwing the trees along the creek into sharp relief. “I can’t believe this,” I said. “Ned was such a gentleman. When the three of us had dinner at his apartment, it was like stepping back in time. He was so gracious, helping me off with my coat, holding my chair before I sat down at the
