“Good career move?” I said.
Ginny made a moue of mock disgust. “You’re so cynical, Joanne.”
We both laughed. “So what’s next?” I asked. “Milo called about the breakfast rally.”
“Bring yogurt,” she said. “I have to choke down all that grease, but there’s no reason you should.”
“This isn’t my first breakfast rally,” I said. “I know to bring yogurt.”
“Good. Hey, Keith tells me he’s bounced a couple of ideas off you, and you’re brilliant.”
“Keith overestimates my contribution,” I said. “They’re his ideas. I just confirm that they’re brilliant.”
“Well, whatever you’re doing, thanks. This campaign is a mess. We need all the help we can get. Speaking of help, I really appreciate Mieka letting us shoot a couple of TV spots at her business.”
“You’re taping at UpSlideDown? How did that happen?”
“Keith arranged it. He said it would be perfect. It’s in the constituency, and those yummy mummies and their toddlers will help people forget my libidinous hijinks.”
“And Mieka was all right with it?”
Ginny’s smile was puckish. “My libidinous hijinks?”
I laughed. “The TV spots. She’s not exactly right wing.”
“I might be conservative, Jo, but I’m not a dinosaur. And the TV shoot was Mieka’s idea.”
We were interrupted by a man who wanted Ginny’s autograph, then by a woman who asked Ginny if it was true she supported same-sex marriage. When Ginny said she did, the woman called her an abomination and huffed off. “I believe I just lost a vote,” Ginny said mildly.
I was reading the history of Ranch Ehrlo in the souvenir program, trying not to listen to Ginny defend her stance on Canada’s role in Afghanistan to a very angry young man, when I saw Blake Falconer. He was still wearing a suit and tie, but he looked unkempt. His eyes were red and swollen and his face was haggard. I went over and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Hi there,” I said.
For a moment, it seemed he couldn’t quite place me. “Sorry,” he said. “I wandered off there for a bit.”
“Are you okay?”
He tried a smile. “Bad day. But Gracie’s playing, so here I am.”
“Why don’t you sit with us?” I said. “Ginny saved a place for Zack, but he has a meeting.”
Blake nodded. “I’m aware of the meeting.”
“Did you get a DVD?”
“No. My relationship with Cristal was… different.” His voice broke. “Jesus, the hits just keep on coming, don’t they?” He took out a handkerchief and blew his nose.
“When was the last time you got some sleep?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said.
I touched his arm. “Go home and go to bed,” I said. “I can bring Gracie by after the game.”
“Thanks, but she always looks for me in the stands.”
He sat beside me, head down, staring at the gleaming wood of the gym floor. Only when the teams were announced, did he raise his eyes. Gracie flushed and freckled, her explosion of red curls tamed into a ponytail, swept the stands with her eyes, found her dad, gave him the thumbs-up, and ran into place. The Brodnitz twins, sleek in the Luther black and gold, had already found their places, and they were bouncing lightly on their toes, impatient to start.
When the whistle blew, the stands erupted. At first it seemed the teams were evenly matched. Close to the half, the score was 32-26 for Luther. The fans leapt to their feet and stayed there despite the rising temperature. Taylor knew nothing about basketball, but, her face shining with excitement, she was on her feet cheering or groaning whenever everyone else wearing the black and gold cheered and groaned. Only Blake and Ginny seemed immune to the contact high. Blake watched through unseeing eyes, his face frozen in a half-smile. The noise in the gym was ear-splitting, but Ginny observed the action with professional concentration. She didn’t cheer for her daughters: her connection to their game was deeper than that. When either of them took possession of the ball, Ginny would stretch her own strong wide hands, willing them to play their best.
And after the half, their best was sensational. The coach might have been unwise in praising the Brodnitz twins so fulsomely to their teammates, but she hadn’t been inaccurate. The other young women on the team played with enthusiasm and skill; some, including Gracie Falconer, showed flashes of real ability, but Emma and Chloe Brodnitz were brilliant.
Strong, quick, and tenacious, the twins generated their own force field: creating plays, leaping, shooting, scoring. Their game had nothing to do with chalkboards and strategies, and everything to do with body wisdom. They didn’t react. They seemed to know what was going to happen next, and when it happened, the twins were already there. Luther won: 72-48. The Brodnitz twins had been responsible for fifty of those points. As the opposing teams shook hands, Ginny permitted herself a small smile. During the obligatory team hug, Chloe and Emma remained distant, and they moved away from the celebration quickly. Em glanced in our direction, saw her mother, and she and Chloe ran over to our front-row bench.
Ginny treated her daughters as peers. “Nice game,” she said. “A couple of plays that I imagine you’d like to reassess but, on the whole, great job.”
Chloe gazed at the crowd. “Is Dad here?”
“I don’t think so,” Ginny said.
Em narrowed her eyes at her sister. “Get used to it. The case is over.” Then she turned to her mother. “You can come back to the locker room if you want. A couple of the girls said they’d like to meet you.”
Ginny stood up. “My pleasure.” She turned to me. “See you at the breakfast?”
“I’ll be there,” I said. “Em and Chloe, it was a thrill watching you tonight.”
“Thank you. It was nice of you to come,” they said in unison.
Gracie, a girl as generous as she was gregarious, finally broke from her teammates and came running over to us. Damp with perspiration, she was still making connections. “Taylor, there are some girls you absolutely have to meet. I know you’ll absolutely love them, and they’ll absolutely love you.”
Taylor looked at me beseechingly. “Is it okay?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
Gracie rolled her eyes. “I overuse that word, don’t I?”
“Maybe,” I said. “But you’re so absolutely great, nobody cares. Now, I think your father and I should get out of here. This room is a steam bath. We’ll meet you outside.”
Gracie groaned and threw her arms around her father. “Dad, I didn’t even say hello to you. I am such a loser.”
Blake buried his face in his daughter’s crinkly red hair. “You’re not a loser,” he said. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
The sorrow in Blake’s voice was palpable. Gracie stepped back and gave her father a searching look. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Joanne and I will meet you out front. It really is a steam bath in here.”
Reluctant to have the evening end, students from both Sheldon and Luther were lingering in the halls, and progress was slow. When Blake and I finally made it out of the brightly lit school into the gentle half-light of gloaming, I took a deep breath. “Feel that coolness,” I said. “I’ve always loved this time of day.”
“For a lot of years now, I’ve hated it,” Blake said. “When the sun goes down, there are no more distractions – it’s time to face reality.”
“Is reality that bad?” I said.
“Tomorrow’s Cristal’s funeral,” he said. “It doesn’t get any worse than that.”
The sprinklers had been turned off, and as we walked the ground was cool and spongy beneath our feet.
“Did she mean that much to you?” I asked.
“She saved me,” he said flatly. “And if I hadn’t been such a coward I could have saved her.”
The relationship among the partners and families of Falconer Shreve was particularly intimate. We lived within blocks of one another in the city, we all owned cottages on the same bay at the lake, and the daughters of three of us were close friends.
In the year in which they articled, the members of the Winners’ Circle went their separate ways. Delia Wainberg went to the Supreme Court; Blake, Kevin, and Chris Altieri were scooped up by big-name law firms
