The Nesting Dolls

mother’s story again? We don’t want to be met with any surprises. The Boy Scouts are right about being prepared.”

We were committed. Taylor ran down the hall and returned with Declan’s jacket and her own. Declan took his jacket, but shook his head when Taylor started to put on hers.

“I should be there,” she said.

“No,” Declan said. “You shouldn’t. My mother would never forgive you if you saw her when she was drunk.”

The insight was both mature and poignant. Declan might have appeared to be fortune’s favourite, but being the only child of Leland and Louise Hunter brought its own burdens. Declan touched Taylor’s arm. “I’ll call you,” he said. He turned to Zack. “You know where we live. I’ll meet you there.”

The Hunters’ house was a new and massive structure in a neighbourhood of other new and massive structures. The neighbourhood was a favourite of professionals and executives who were on second or third marriages to much younger women. With their elaborate topiary, lacquered doors, great rooms, and sparkling chandeliers, the houses had all the artful surgery, high gloss, and fragile beauty of their young mistresses. Like them, the houses seemed temporary – not places for the long haul.

The scene we walked in on was surreal. A knapsack and a battered sign with the words HOME FOR CHRISTMAS hand-lettered on cardboard had been tossed on the marble floor in the entranceway. In the great room, a man in an army surplus camouflage jacket, waterproof pants, and steel-toed boots slumped on a loveseat upholstered in silver silk. Louise sat facing him on the twin of the loveseat. Between them was a rectangular glass table that held a bucket of ice and a bottle of Grey Goose. Louise and the man both had drinks in hand. They looked like a couple on the world’s most mismatched blind date.

When we came in, the man bolted up and shot an accusing look at Louise. “That’s Zack Shreve. I’ve seen him on the news. You didn’t say anything about a lawyer. You just said your kid was coming.”

Zack took control. “Relax. Declan happened to be at our home visiting, so my wife and I decided to drop by to see Louise. Just obeying an impulse. Declan, why don’t you sit with your mother’s guest. Mr…?”

“Usher. Paul Usher.” Louise’s visitor was surly but he wasn’t stupid. Zack hadn’t thrown him out. Paul Usher resumed his seat, no longer looking like a man on the defensive. He had sniffed money.

Zack nodded pleasantly. “Mr. Usher. I’ve seen you and your sign many times on the traffic island at College and Albert. I pass by you on my way to the office. You’re hoping to get home for Christmas – a commendable wish – and I think if we all act wisely, your wish may be granted. Now, please excuse us. Declan will refresh your drink while my wife and I chat with our hostess.”

Declan knew how to pick up a cue, and long practice had taught him how to pour drinks.

Louise’s step was unsteady as she led us down the hall, but she didn’t spill a drop of her vodka. The overhead light was blazing in the study; Louise doused the light, turned on a floor lamp that cast a gentler glow, and lowered herself carefully onto a creamy leather chair by the window. I sat in the chair that faced it. Zack wheeled in close to Louise. “This must be a nightmare for you,” he said.

Zack wasn’t going to condemn her, and Louise’s relief was palpable. She put her drink on the end table and clasped her hands on her lap like an obedient child. “There seems to be no end to my stupidity,” she said.

Zack moved closer. “We all have nights we wish we could redo. Let’s see what we can do to salvage this one. Now, tell me exactly what happened. Take your time, but I need to know everything.”

“I spent the afternoon at my studio practising,” Louise said. “Leland has promised to drop by Christmas morning, and I planned to surprise him by playing the Prelude in C from The Well-Tempered Clavier. Our first Christmas together I played him the entire work, and he was charmed. Of course, that was in another lifetime. I’ll never be that good again, but the Prelude in C is so easy that it’s a study piece for students. I thought there was a chance I could carry it off.”

She raised her drink to her lips, hesitated, and then replaced the glass on the small inlaid table beside her. “I’ve been practising every day. It’s been going well, but today I was having problems with my hands. They were shaking. I thought one drink would steady me.” Louise looked longingly at the tumbler on the little table, but she didn’t touch it. “The rule is no drinking in the studio.”

“Is that your own rule?” Zack asked, and his voice, roughened by his cold, was oddly intimate.

Louise shook her head. “It was Noah’s idea, as was the studio, but I agreed. He thought – we thought – I needed a place where I had to stay sober to do what mattered to me.”

When Louise didn’t continue, Zack touched her arm. “But today that didn’t work,” he said.

Louise’s face contorted with self-loathing. “The first drink helped, but of course for me there’s no such thing as one drink.”

“It’s a lonely battle, isn’t it?” Zack said.

Louise had been skittish, waiting for the whip of opprobrium. When it didn’t come, she relaxed. I remembered Noah commenting once on Zack’s tenderness with his clients. “He’s like the Horse Whisperer with them. It’s fascinating to watch. No matter what they’ve done, he somehow convinces them he understands, that he’s able to see the world through their eyes. They stop being afraid and they start trusting him. That’s the first step to a successful defence.”

By anyone’s criteria, Louise Hunter’s behaviour during the past ninety minutes had been lunacy, but her account was straightforward and unapologetic. She trusted Zack to get her through. “I was very drunk when I left the studio. Actually, I’m still drunk.” She flexed her hands and stared at them. “Sadly, events are starting to come back to me. The old couple who live in the other apartment on my floor were getting off the elevator when I was getting on. They were carrying groceries and I bumped his arm, knocked the bag out of his hand. All these grapefruit rolled out. What would old people need with all those grapefruit? I started to get down on my knees to help, but the old man stopped me. He has Alzheimer’s but he has moments of clarity. He said, ‘You’ve been drinking. If you get down, you won’t be able to get back up.’ He was right, so I got in the elevator and went out back to the parking lot. I was driving very slowly and very carefully. I didn’t want to do anything… ” Louise narrowed her eyes, searching for the word. “Irretrievable,” she said finally. “I didn’t want to do anything irretrievable. I guess I was driving too slowly because I thought I saw a police car starting to follow me.”

“But you do have your licence back, don’t you?” Zack said. “You only lost it for six months and that was in the spring.”

“The May long weekend,” Louise said. “The Great Victoria Day DUI round-up. And I didn’t – I don’t – want to lose my licence again, so when I saw this man standing on the traffic island, I opened up my car door, jumped out, handed him the keys to the Mercedes, gave him my address, and told him to drive me home.” She tried a laugh. “You have to admire that kind of thinking. The folly of what I had done hit me when he followed me into the house.”

“Had you invited him in?” Zack asked. There was no censure in Zack’s voice.

“Of course,” she said. “I’d promised to pay him, but when I saw him standing in my living room I panicked. That’s when I went into the bathroom and called Declan.”

“And told him you’d been in an accident,” Zack said.

Louise appeared beaten. “It was the simplest explanation. I don’t remember hitting Mr. Usher, but he says I did, and I’ve been wrong before.”

“Whatever happened, calling for assistance was the right thing to do.” Zack’s voice was raspy. “Why don’t you go upstairs and relax. We’ll take it from here.”

Louise pushed herself to her feet. Her step was unsteady. She held out her arms. “What’s the matter with me?”

Zack shot me a supplicating glance. “Could you help Louise, Joanne? I’m going to need Declan.”

“Of course,” I said. I linked my arm through Louise’s and we headed for the front hall.

By the time we reached the bottom of their curved staircase, she was hanging on me. Louise Hunter was a small woman, but she was a dead weight, and the stairs were steep and slick. When we made it to the second floor, I stopped to catch my breath. Zack’s coughing jag echoed up the stairwell and I felt a stab of anger. I didn’t offer help as Louise wove her way down the shining parquet of her hallway. At the end of the hall, she turned and looked back at me. “I have to pee, and I don’t want to fall in the bathroom. You’ll have to help me.”

I did. I also helped her remove her makeup, brush her teeth and hair, and don a silky nightgown the same shade of champagne as the silk sheets that matched the walls of her huge and lonely bedroom. She refused to let me remove the platinum cuff bracelet I’d noticed when I’d met her at the Wainbergs, saying that it was a gift from