The Endless Knot

“I noticed that,” I said. “And I noticed something else. When Glenda was alone with me, her mannerisms and her voice were decidedly female, but when her father came into the room, there was a subtle shift back: the voice was lower and the stance was more masculine – trying to make the situation easier for her father, I guess.”

“And Sam tries to make the situation easier for Glenda,” Zack said. “Even in private, he corrects himself if he refers to Glenda in the masculine. They’re good people. A lot of my clients are scum-buckets, but Sam Parker isn’t. I wish I could get him off.”

“But you’re not going to.”

“No, we’re pretty well fucked. Criminal lawyers learn how to make the most of what they have, but I haven’t got anything. The Crown, on the other hand, has motive, opportunity, your friend the ex-premier as eyewitness, and the proverbial smoking gun.”

“Zack, don’t say anything else.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Too much shop talk?”

“No. It’s not that.” I pulled up in front of my house. “I was going to wait till lunch to talk about this, but Jill Oziowy called this morning. She wants me to do a nightly commentary on the Sam Parker trial for NationTV.”

“Whoa,” Zack said. “Do you want to do it?”

“Yes, I think I do. I’m stalled on that book I’m supposed to be writing, and covering Sam Parker might give me the boost I need.” I took his hand. “Besides, I’d get to see you every day.”

Zack fixed his eyes on me. “That might not be a good idea.”

“Too much proximity?”

“No, I could spend every hour of the day with you and it still wouldn’t be enough.” He raised my hand to his lips. “Selfishly, I wanted you to keep thinking I was a nice guy.”

“You are a nice guy.”

“Not when I’m in court,” he said. “But that’s my problem. You want the NationTV job, and that’s good enough for me.” He squeezed my hand. “Come on. Let’s eat outside. This day is too perfect to waste.”

The swimming pool in my backyard was an albatross – a ’60s knockoff of art deco with ornamental tiles in peculiar shapes that were impossible to replace and an ancient and cranky circulation system. From May till October, it whined for attention, and siphoned money from my bank account. Every year, I threatened to get it filled in; every year, I gave in to my youngest daughter’s plea to extend the pool’s life for one last year. That afternoon, as Zack and I came around the side path to the backyard, I was glad I had capitulated.

Under the cloudless cerulean sky, the pool was restored to its former glory. Shafts of sunlight pierced the surface of the water, bathing the chipped turquoise paint in a forgiving glow, transforming my elderly pool into a jewel shimmering with promise. Zack wheeled himself to a grassy spot near the pool, then breathed deeply, as if he could gulp the beauty of the moment into his lungs.

“I could stay here forever,” he said.

“Me too,” I said. “But we don’t have forever.”

Zack’s brow furrowed into a mock scowl. “Sure we do,” he said. “Today we’re just a little short of time.”

I went inside and arranged our lunch on a tray; then, on impulse, I added the vase of marigolds I’d picked that morning.

When I came back out and placed the tray on the table beside Zack’s chair, he was appreciative. “Nice,” he said. “All of it, but especially the marigolds.”

“You gave me an orchid,” I said.

“The first time we made love,” he said. “Definitely an orchid occasion.”

I handed him his sandwich. “I love orchids,” I said. “But I like marigolds too. They endure.”

“I’ll remember that,” Zack said. For the next half-hour we sat with the sun on our faces, eating seed rolls filled with slices of Gouda and Granny Smith apples, drinking iced tea, sketching plans for the weekend ahead, and trading the latest about friends and family.

Zack sighed when he heard Angus had elected to go to the opera instead of the lake. “Angus is the only guy I can consistently beat at poker. Besides, I was looking forward to his tales of life at law school.”

“I can help you out there,” I said. “According to my son, law school is kick-ass.”

Zack beamed. “Good for Angus. The law is a kick-ass profession.” His smile grew rueful. “Well, most of the time. Anything else I should know?”

“A boy came calling for Taylor this morning.”

“She won’t be eleven till next month.”

“I’m hoping this is just a friend who happens to be a boy. He was wearing a pentangle – like Gawain.”

“Should I know who Gawain is?”

“As a matter of fact, you should. Gawain was one of King Arthur’s knights. The boy with the pentangle told me that Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is the most important book in his life.”

Zack chuckled. “Well, if Taylor has to have a boyfriend, I guess we’re lucky he’s into chivalry.”

“We’re lucky people,” I said.

“We are,” Zack agreed. He glanced at his watch. “I should be getting back. So what are you going to do this afternoon?”

“Pack up the car and visit Howard Dowhanuik.”