A Little Secret between Friends
C.J. Carmichael
It's amazing how one decision could change your lifeBack in law school Sally Stowe and Colin Foster argued in and out of class. One night, after a study session in the library, Colin offered to drive Sally home. They ended up in his dorm room making love. The next day Sally discovered that her best friend, Beth, was really into this guy in Sally's class–Colin. Sally stepped aside and started seeing someone new.Sixteen years later Sally is a distinguished lawyer, up for a judicial appointment, and Colin is Beth's widower. As Sally and Colin spend more and more time together, a horrible suspicion takes hold. Could Sally's daughter be Colin's?
Sally’s first instinct was to drive away
But Colin was already walking toward her car. He had on jeans and an old—a very old—University of Alberta sweatshirt. She’d probably seen him in that sweatshirt a hundred times.
Including, if memory served her correctly, that one, fateful night over sixteen years ago…
When Colin was close enough to touch her car, she lowered the passenger-side window.
For a moment they just looked at each other, and in his eyes she recognized the sorrow that she’d been feeling.
She also saw that he was concerned about her. But there was something else she couldn’t name. It was like a spark, alive and glowing. And it reminded her that despite how she felt at times, she was a woman with half her life still in front of her.
Dear Reader,
A difficult moral dilemma is at the heart of many stories I write. This story is no different.
Imagine you are a student in your last year of university. There’s this guy who has been in many of your classes…and something about him really gets to you. He’s good-looking, charming and way too smart for his own good. You keep wanting to show him up. Then one night you’re at the library late at night together and he offers you a ride home. Sparks fly, and before you know it, this guy you thought you couldn’t stand is someone you just can’t resist.
The next morning you check in with your roommate and best friend. Before you can tell her what happened last night, she tells you about this guy she really likes—and it’s your guy!
Do you tell her to back off? Or do you leave the field clear for your friend?
In the story you're about to read, Sally Stowe faced just this situation. Sally decided to date someone else and leave the guy for her friend…and the repercussions of that decision still live with her—and her daughter—sixteen years later.
I hope you enjoy this story. If you would like to write or send e-mail, I would be delighted to hear from you through my Web site at www.cjcarmichael.com. Or send mail to the following Canadian address: #1754-246 Stewart Green S.W., Calgary, Alberta, T3H 3C8, Canada.
Sincerely,
C.J. Carmichael
A Little Secret Between Friends
C.J. Carmichael
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For sharing her knowledge of family law
and the challenges of juggling a career with motherhood,
I thank Sandra J. Hildebrand, barrister and solicitor.
Thanks also to Joe Nolan, retired RCMP officer,
and Terry Evenson, Executive Director of the Canadian
Bar Association of Alberta (and also a lovely aunt!).
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER ONE
“BE CAREFUL with that knife, Sal. You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself.”
Sally Stowe froze. The unexpected sound of her ex-husband’s voice had a similar effect to a steel blade running lightly down her spine.
Keeping her back to him, she resumed chopping the red pepper with precise, measured slices. She took a beat to catch her breath, then said coolly, “We have this custom in North America, Neil. It’s called knocking before you enter a home that isn’t your own.”
Though her exterior was unruffled—she hoped!—her mind raced. Why was Neil here? He knew Lara was on a birthday sleepover party tonight. Sally had learned long ago to get his permission for every single thing Lara did. If she so much as booked a dentist appointment without his approval, Neil would turn ballistic.
“The door was unlocked.”
As if that were an excuse. Still, it was a good reminder to be more careful. Sally crouched to reassure the six-month-old puppy whining anxiously at her feet—the cause of the unlocked door. He needed to go out so often she’d become lazy with the dead bolt, which would only engage if you aligned the door just shy of fully closed.
“It’s okay, Armani.” She gave the mutt a scratch behind his ears, then patted him on the side gently.
Strangers—and Neil—made the poor thing nervous.
In his most scornful voice, Neil said, “Armani? Who calls a dog after a fashion designer, for God’s sake?”
Still avoiding eye contact with him, Sally did her best to answer calmly. “Your daughter.” And he, of all people, ought to know why. He was the one who had fostered Lara’s taste for expensive, designer clothing—although even Neil drew the line at Armani, fortunately.
“Well, the dog’s black, at least.”
Yes. And with the patch of white on his chest, he looked a little like he was wearing a tux. But Sally didn’t share that piece of trivia with Neil. She shared nothing with her ex-husband that wasn’t required in their joint-custody agreement.
An agreement that she, as a lawyer, understood inside and out. Neil, also a lawyer, knew the agreement equally well, since he had drafted it.
As Sally went to the sink to rinse her hands, she glanced out the window at the thawing April landscape. The grass was still brown, but there would be pussy willows soon. Chunks of ice were breaking up in the river that bordered the western edge of her property.
She’d moved here, to the Elbow Valley community on the outskirts of Calgary, two years ago when Lara had turned fourteen. Sally was determined to keep her young teenager away from the influences of shopping malls, corner stores and video arcades, where Sally knew trouble could be found as easily as a super-size Slurpee.
Their stone-faced bungalow was one of the smaller homes in the estate neighborhood, but it sat on a full acre of land, backing onto the Elbow River. Sally reveled in the fact that they weren’t even considered part of the city of Calgary, though she was only a twenty-five minute commute from the office.
The country setting was perfect, but the isolation did make her nervous at times, which was why she’d finally given in to Lara’s desire for a dog. Hopefully one day Armani would develop some guarding instincts. The woman at the animal shelter had been sure he was mostly border collie, a breed known to be both protective and gentle with children.
Sally turned off the water and moved to the stove, situated on the island at the center of the kitchen. She unhooked the wok from the overhead rack and settled it on the front burner. After twisting the knob to high heat, she finally lifted her head to acknowledge Neil’s presence.
Her ex-husband still stood near the door. The family room lay to his left, the kitchen to the right. “Are you going to invite me in, Sal? Looks like you have enough food for two.”
He was right about the food. Out of habit she’d prepared enough for Lara, as well, even though her daughter was out. But if she had food for twenty, she’d never invite Neil to her table.
“What do you want? Did you forget Lara is sleeping over at Jessica’s tonight?”
“Can’t a man stop by for a friendly visit with his ex-wife?” Neil smiled, managing to look boyishly attractive, even though, like her, he’d passed forty.
He was a debonair man, her ex-husband. Medium height, slender, he wore a suit really well. His hair was dark and thick, and the lingering trace of his English accent added to his misleading appeal.
“But actually, I’ve brought over Lara’s passport application papers for you to sign.” He placed them, plus his silver pen, the one she’d given him for Christmas on Lara’s behalf, on the island.
Sally leaned over and pulled the documents closer. Neil’s father, who had worked in investment banking, had brought his family to Canada for the two years he’d been stationed to work in Calgary. When the upper executive had had a massive heart attack and died, Neil’s mother had returned to Kent. Neil, who’d been accepted to law school at the University of Alberta, had remained.
This summer Neil planned to take Lara to visit his mother. Sally hated the idea of their daughter making an overseas trip without her, but she couldn’t deny Lara the chance to get to know her one surviving grandparent.
She executed the distinctive loop at the end of Stowe, then dropped the pen. “There.”
Neil folded the pages and stuffed them into the breast pocket of his jacket. “I see you’ve poured yourself a glass of wine. Drinking alone, Sal?”
The open bottle sat on the counter behind her, next to the cutting board with the diced chicken, peppers and onions. But Sally ignored both it and Neil’s question. She’d given him what he wanted. It was time for him to leave. To her dismay, though, he sidled along the island. Moving closer.
“Come on, Sal. Let’s drink a toast to your good news. What?” One eyebrow arched in casual question. “You didn’t think I knew that my ex-wife is the front-runner to replace Judge Kendal on the bench?”
Oh, no, he’d heard the rumors. She should have guessed he would have. And that he’d be quick to react. Her professional accomplishments always triggered Neil’s worst displays of temper. Too late she wished she’d lied about dinner and said she was expecting company. Neil would never buy the story now. Especially since she’d set only one plate at the counter. Taken down just the single wineglass.
Maybe she could improvise…
“Neil, you really need to be going. I have to eat quickly. My book club is meeting here at seven.” That was only half an hour from now. And a smart man like Neil would factor in the possibility that someone might arrive early…
“Sal.” He gave her a disappointed smile. “Don’t you think I know you meet with your book club on the second Friday of every month? Not the third.”
“We had to change for April,” she said, doing her best to speak slowly. “Because of spring break.”
“I don’t think so. You always were a lousy liar. But that’s probably a good thing. Judges shouldn’t lie, should they, Sal?”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Neil. Willa isn’t retiring for another two months. And I’m sure there are other worthy candidates for the position.” Sally couldn’t be sure she would get the appointment until she had the official call from the federal justice minister.
“Who do you think you’re fooling with that bogus humility? Not me, I assure you.”
He had that smile on his face now. Beth had called it the ice-man smile. He used it in court occasionally when he was moving in for the kill on a vulnerable witness. But to Sally the ice-man smile never seemed as cruel, as ruthless, as when she felt it directed at herself.
“Whatever, Neil.”
“Justice Stowe. Sounds very distinguished, doesn’t it?”
“Neil—”
“Long-term board member of that stupid battered women’s shelter. Past president of the law society. The volunteer hours in dispute resolutions. Looks like all your goody-goody work is actually paying off.”
With each word, Sally could sense his anger building. There was no avoiding a full-scale argument now, she knew from experience. Any word, any movement, even a facial twitch on her part could set him off. Might as well get it over with, she decided.
“That’s right. It’s all paying off. With any luck, in two months I’m going to be appointed to the bench. Is that why you dropped by tonight—to offer your congratulations?”
The changes that fell over his face were utterly predictable. First his eyebrows lowered into a frown. His smile tightened. His eyes narrowed.
He moved again, rounding the island and then cornering her against the counter.
“Congratulations?” He spit out the word. “You think you deserve a pat on the back for reneging on your real job—raising our child and being a good wife?”
“I’m not your wife anymore.”
“To me you are. I may have signed those papers….”
He’d had to sign them. She’d known him well enough to serve them when he was at work, in a meeting. He couldn’t pretend to his colleagues that nothing was amiss. So he’d pretended, instead, that the divorce was his idea. She didn’t care about that. All she’d wanted was to finally be legally free of the man.
Except she wasn’t free. Would never be free. Not as long as they shared custody of Lara. Neil had their daughter alternate weekends and every Wednesday evening. He’d pick her up from dry-land training at Canada Olympic Park, take her out for dinner, then bring her home around nine.
“To me, you’ll always be mine. You’re still sexy, Sal. In some ways even more than when you were in your twenties. What do you say, babe? Maybe we should celebrate your good news in bed.”
She couldn’t stop herself from cringing. The memories of times in their marriage when she’d made love with him in order to avoid a fight came back in a rush of shame. Why had she married so quickly? So thoughtlessly?
With hindsight, none of her reasons seemed compelling enough to warrant landing herself with Neil Anderson for the rest of her life.
“Don’t look at me that way. I remember when you couldn’t get enough in the sack. But now that you’re about to become a judge, you’re too good for me. Is that it, Sal?”
He’d moved to within touching distance. Armani started whining again.
“Get out of my face, Neil. You may be scaring the dog, but you’re not scaring me. Those days are long over.”
He could scream and yell and rant at her as long as he liked. She didn’t care. As long as he was mad about something that didn’t affect Lara, it simply didn’t matter.
That’s what Sally told herself, but her body refused to take the presence of an angry, hulking man in her kitchen quite so lightly. She could feel all the old warning signs. Racing heart, damp palms, shallow breathing. She forced herself to fill her lungs with air and release it slowly.
Neil watched her face with the fascination of a scientist observing slides under a microscope. “You’re a coldhearted bitch. You’ve been judging men for years. Now you’ll get to do it in court. Break their balls and send them to jail for as long as the law allows. God help the slobs who look for mercy from you.”
Sally didn’t listen to the words. She was used to Neil’s diatribes. He had several favorite themes, from her dearth of maternal instincts for their daughter, to her hatred of men in general, and him in particular. She was frigid, a bitch, and worse…
At some point he’d start swearing and then he’d throw something, maybe punch a wall, and leave.
But tonight he was frighteningly calm and still.
And close.
He was a fanatically clean man, but he could not hide his own essence beneath the scent of his soap, his aftershave, his mouthwash. That essence, as familiar to her as his every expression, made her ill.
Yet, she refused to back away. She lifted her gaze and stared him straight in the eyes, not caring if he saw the contempt she felt in her heart.
“You always thought you were too good for me, Sal, didn’t you? Right from the beginning.”
Though his words were uttered quietly, his jaw was tight. She saw a sheen of moisture on his brow, noticed his fist clench at his side.
“Get out of my house, Neil.”
“Your house? YOUR house?”
His eyes glazed over and Sally knew this was it. He was gone. If any sliver of logic could have reached him before, now it was no longer possible. She watched him lift his hand. The wine bottle was nearby. She knew the way he thought, the way he operated. He was going to break the bottle, hurl it onto the tile flooring, or worse, throw it across the room.
Red wine was going to be spilled all over her beautiful, spanking-new kitchen…
But Neil’s hand didn’t stop at the bottle. It kept moving and just a split second before she went flying, she realized the hand was headed for her.
He pushed her violently, letting loose a barrage of cursing at the same time.
“No!” Feeling herself lose her balance, Sally threw out her arms. One hand glanced off the wok, the smoking, hot wok.
She hollered in pain, and then he shoved her again, harder this time. She felt her legs fly out from under her. On the way down her head glanced off the edge of the granite counter with a thud.
For a second all was numb. Then sensation returned in an explosion of pain.
Oh, God!
She landed on the floor, on the cold, hard tile and couldn’t stop herself from moaning. Her head vibrated with waves of pain. She couldn’t believe she was still conscious. She put a hand to the spot and felt the warm stickiness of blood.
“Neil…” she moaned. Phone the ambulance, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t get out the words. Oh, my head, my head. Help me, Neil. Surely you didn’t mean to do this.
“You always were clumsy in the kitchen, Sal.”
She couldn’t see him, but she felt his breath in her ear as he spoke the words. He must be crouching on the floor beside her. Sally tried to open her eyes, but all she saw was darkness. White dots of light.
“You’re never going to be a judge, you bitch. When I’m finished with you, you’ll be lucky if you aren’t disbarred.”
She heard his pants rustle as he stood and she had a sudden fear of being kicked. She was so vulnerable here on the floor, writhing at his feet. She forced herself to be still, to stop the moaning. No matter that she could hardly breathe for the throbbing in her head. She couldn’t let him see her broken.
Seconds ticked by. She waited for his next move. A kick? A punch? Would he throw something at her?
And then she heard his hard-soled shoes clapping on the Mediterranean tile floor. The sound receded, then stopped. The back door opened, slammed shut.
He was gone. Thank goodness he was gone.
She curled her legs up toward her chest and tried to lift her head. No. Impossible.
Armani’s paws clacked against the tile as he came to check her out. She felt his soft, warm tongue on her hand.
“Good boy,” she tried to whisper.
Blackness. Pain. The smell of blood.
Have to get up. But she couldn’t. Armani continued to whine, to nudge her hand with his nose.
Ow. Her burned hand hurt. Everything hurt. Need help.
Beth.
With her uninjured hand, she pulled out the cell phone clipped to her waist. Her thumb passed over the buttons, pressing a familiar speed-dial number by rote.
Her fingers were slick with blood, her movements uncoordinated. The phone slipped to the floor near her head. The house was so quiet, she could hear the rings. One. Two. Three.
Someone answered. It was a man’s voice. That was wrong. She didn’t want a man.
Beth. She tried to speak, but didn’t know if any sound came out. Help me, Beth.
Then all went dark.
CHAPTER TWO
CROWN PROSECUTOR Colin Foster was home watching the hockey game when the phone rang. He’d boiled himself some bacon-and-onion perogies for dinner, and a plate smeared with sour cream sat on his footstool next to a half-empty beer.
The Flames had made the playoffs and were into overtime with the Canucks to tie the series. He didn’t want to answer the damn call, but when he leaned over and saw the name on display, his priorities took a sudden shift.
Sally Stowe. Why was she phoning? He couldn’t think of a single reason. But there were plenty why she wouldn’t.
He hit mute on the remote control. His study went bizarrely silent as the action continued on the bigscreen TV. Leaning forward in his leather chair, he pressed the talk button.
“Hello?”
Nothing. Then some muffled, indistinguishable noises.
“Sally, is that you?” Was that a sob? “Are you all right?”
More muffled noises, barely discernible as words. And then one word, very faintly. “Beth.”
“Sally?” Why was she asking for his wife? What was going on?
But there was only silence from the line.
Colin waited for several seconds, maybe even a whole minute. When nothing else happened, he finally hung up and tried to think of explanations. Sally had been his wife’s best friend. In the past she would phone here all the time.
But not at all for the past six months.
Had she dialed the number by mistake? He could see that happening, easily enough. But Sally would have apologized as soon as she’d realized her error.
And what about those background noises? And that soft cry of “Beth…”
Something must be wrong. Sally’s place wasn’t far. He’d better drive over and make sure she and Lara were all right.
Colin turned off the TV, then grabbed Beth’s key chain from the hall. He was pretty sure his wife had kept a spare for Sally’s house. They used to water plants and bring in mail when either one went on a trip without the other.
Best friends. Yes, they’d been best friends all right. For as long as he’d known them, they’d been closer than sisters. They celebrated birthdays together, went on annual girl-holidays and dyed each other’s hair. They’d even decided to move into the same neighborhood so they would be close to each other.
Colin hadn’t minded. He was happy with the Elbow Valley home he and Beth had selected. And the community, with its network of biking trails, connected green spaces, and a frozen pond for skating in the winter, would have been a perfect place to raise kids.
If he and Beth had only managed to have them.
Colin went through the laundry room to the three-car garage, hitting the power button for the door opener on his way to the SUV.
As he passed the Miata convertible Beth had loved so much, he felt a twinge of guilt. There was so much he’d let slide this last while. He knew the registration on the Miata was expired, and so was the insurance, probably. Beth’s clothes were still in her closet, her mail unopened. Hell, he was pretty sure there was a container of her yogurt in the back of the fridge. Probably more mold than yogurt by now.
He had to start dealing with all this. Pull together the pieces that were left of his life. As he backed his vehicle out of the garage, Colin made a promise to himself. He was going to make a list and get busy.
Soon. Very soon.
Not tonight, but tomorrow for sure. First he had to find out why Sally Stowe was calling a woman who had been dead for six months.
SALLY WASN’T SURE how long she’d lain on the floor—fifteen minutes? Maybe twenty?—when she heard knocking at the front door.
Not Neil, was her first coherent thought. He would have just barged in.
So then, who? She wasn’t expecting anyone. Maybe a canvasser or something.
She tried to sit up, then moaned. Her head hurt so much, she must have a concussion. But her injuries couldn’t be too serious. She was conscious and her mind was working all right. Wasn’t it? Let’s see, she was Sally Stowe and today was April the twenty-third and the capital of Alberta was… Edmonton.
Yes, she was fine, she was absolutely fine. If only she could pick herself up from the floor.
There was another knock, this one at the kitchen door. For a second she panicked. Maybe it was Neil, checking if she was alive.
Or making sure she wasn’t…
Armani whined, and she put a reassuring hand on his back. She wished someone could do the same for her. Neil had never been physically violent before. She didn’t know what to make of it.
The door opened. A voice called out, “Sally? Are you home?”
Not Neil. Relief was quickly replaced by a different kind of alarm. What was Colin Foster doing here? The island blocked him from her view and it worked vice versa, as well. If she kept quiet, maybe he would leave. She certainly didn’t want him to see her this way.
On the hand, she could use some help.
In the end, the decision wasn’t Sally’s to make. Colin entered the kitchen. He must have seen the blue flame on the stove, because he came rushing around the island and almost tripped over her.
“Oh my God, Sally! What happened to you?”
He crouched beside her, as Neil had done, only this time she felt no fear. Armani seemed to sense his presence was benign, as well. He stopped whining and lay down at Sally’s side.
“My head,” she said, barely finding the strength to speak. “My hand.” She lifted it slightly.
“You burned yourself.” Colin reached to the stove and switched off the burner. “Badly. And you’ve hit your head. It’s still bleeding.”
He opened drawers until he found the clean tea towels. Taking several, he made a compress and applied it to her wound. He tied one of the towels completely around her head to hold the others in place.
Then he found a bowl, filled it with cold water and immersed her burned hand. The relief from pain was instantaneous.
“Talk to me, Sally. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. My name is Sally Elizabeth Stowe and it’s Friday the twenty-third.”
He looked taken aback at first, and then he smiled. “Well, your mind is working all right. But then it always has.”
This, coming from a man who had spent the past decade and a half debating almost everything she said, was a compliment, Sally knew.
“What a lot of blood.”
His face was awfully white, Sally noticed. He’d aged since Beth’s death, but not unattractively. A little gray sprinkled in with the chestnut-brown. A few more lines spreading out from the corners of his alert, probing eyes.
“Head injuries always bleed profusely, Colin.” She remembered Lara, when she was two, splitting her head open on the stone hearth of their first rental home, and the amazing amount of blood she’d lost in a relatively short time. Sally had hit the panic button then, but at Emergency Lara had received three stitches and been pronounced fine.
On the drive home, Neil had bitterly castigated Sally for her carelessness, conveniently forgetting that she had asked him to keep an eye on Lara while she folded the laundry.
That had been the last in a series of arguments that had convinced her she could not spend a lifetime with the man she’d married so rashly. She’d moved out the next week. Drawn up a separation agreement that Neil had never signed…
“Must have been a hell of a fall, Sally. Did you burn your hand, then lose your balance?”
She closed her eyes, remembering the vile sneer on Neil’s face just before he’d given her that second shove. The ice-man smile.
She doubted if any of Neil’s colleagues would believe that the polished, urbane man who was one of the city’s most accomplished criminal lawyers had this darker side.
Besides, even if Colin did believe her, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to know.
“That must be what happened. It’s all kind of blurry right now.”
Blurry was the right word. Her vision still wasn’t quite right. And her understanding of the situation was equally out of focus. Neil had lost his temper hundreds of times before, but he’d never laid a hand on her before. What was so different this time? Did he resent her possible judicial appointment that much?
“You look like you’re in a lot of pain.”
“I’m actually starting to feel a little better.”
“You’ll need stitches for that cut, I’m guessing.”
He was probably right.
“Should I call an ambulance?”
“I’m not that badly off. But maybe you could drop me at the Rockyview Emergency? Unless you have plans?”
Colin’s laugh was bitter. “I never have plans these days. Not that it would matter if I did. Come on, sweetheart, we’ve got to get you up off that floor.”
He started to put his arms under her then paused.
“You smell good,” she murmured.
“What?”
She couldn’t believe she’d said that. It was just the contrast from Neil, she supposed. “Don’t mind me. I’m delirious.”
“Before I move you I’d better make sure you don’t have any other injuries. Back? Neck?”
“Fine. Nothing hurts but my head and my hand.” And those were enough. “You know, a few painkillers would go down real nice about now.”
“Let’s get you up, first. Here goes.” Colin put his arms under her back, helping her to a sitting position. “Okay?”
“A little dizzy,” she admitted.
“Think you can make it to the car?”
“But all this blood will stain your seats.” There was a pool of the stuff in the kitchen. It was on her shirt and Colin’s socks. He must have removed his shoes at the door.
“I’ll take care of it,” Colin promised. “What about the dog?”
“Could you put him in the laundry room, please?”
Colin pulled off his socks so he wouldn’t track blood all over her house, then settled the dog. Next he grabbed a throw blanket from the family room and wrapped it around her shoulders. As gently as possible, he helped her up. Slowly they crossed to the back door where he slipped his shoes back onto his feet, then swung her up into his arms and carried her out to his car.
The round trip to the emergency room took under four hours, which wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Colin stuck with her the whole time, except when she was in the examining room.
“How many stitches?” he asked on the drive home.
She fingered the raw spot on the side of her head. “Four. You know, I’ve never had stitches before. If you don’t count childbirth.”
“Why would you…?” Colin began to ask. Then, “Oh…” as he figured the answer out on his own. “That must really hurt.”
“It’s not the worst part,” she assured him, then smiled at his grimace.
It was peaceful riding in the car with Colin, which was strange. She wasn’t used to being in his vicinity without a good argument brewing between them. Usually legal in nature, but sometimes political or economic. In truth, their world views weren’t that different, but from the first time they’d butted heads in law school, they’d seemed to take pleasure in picking fights with each other.
Back at her house, Colin surprised her by producing a key to her front door, then helping her inside. When she looked at him questioningly, he said, “It’s Beth’s.” He started to work it off the chain, but she stopped him.
“Keep it. If I ever lock myself out, I’ll be glad you have the spare.”
Trailing her hand along the hallway wall, to keep herself steady, Sally headed for the laundry room. As soon as she opened the door, Armani tumbled out, barking excitedly.
“I’ll take care of him. You should get some rest.” Colin crouched beside the puppy. “I’ll bet you need to go outside, don’t you, fella?”
“Thank you, Colin.” Sally couldn’t wait to get off her feet. It was almost midnight now and all she wanted was sleep. In the hospital Colin had told her he would stay the night to keep an eye on her. Otherwise, the doctor would have insisted on admitting her.
Sally tossed her bloodied clothing into the hamper and put on flannel pajamas. She managed to brush her teeth then, with relief, crawled under the covers.
Within a minute, she heard Armani and Colin return to the house. There were some noises in the laundry room. She presumed Colin was making sure the puppy had food and water for the night.
Then Colin came to her room. She’d left the door open, but he stood out in the hall.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.” The painkillers were blessedly effective.
“How long were you there? Lying on the floor before I got here.”
“I’m not sure. Lucky for me you showed up when you did.” Then she realized how strange that was. Colin never dropped by, and certainly wouldn’t do so without phoning first. “How was it you came for a visit tonight, anyway?”
Colin looked surprised. “Don’t you remember phoning?” He disappeared down the hall, returning a few minutes later with her cell phone. He’d wiped off the blood and now he pressed a button to show her the last number dialed.
She vaguely recalled fumbling with her cell phone, then dropping it. “I must have hit one of the speed-dial buttons.”
“When I answered you asked for Beth.”
“Oh.” Now that he said that, she recalled thinking of her friend in those first painful and confusing moments. Beth had always been the person she turned to during an emergency.
But how awful for him, to get a call like that. “I’m sorry, Colin. I guess it must have been instinct or something. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“That’s okay.” He disappeared down the hall, then came back with painkillers and a glass of water.
“You make a good nurse,” she told him, and immediately regretted the words. Beth had died at home and that last month had been hard. There’d been professional home care, but both Colin and Sally had helped. Then, the last two weeks they’d taken turns so Beth would never be alone.
He’d made a good nurse then, too.
“I keep saying the wrong thing.” Was it her injury? Or just being around Colin? He’d always brought out the worst in her. In law school she’d been compelled to prove him wrong at every opportunity. And when they occasionally found themselves on opposite sides of the same courtroom, sparks were sure to fly. They were so combustible they’d earned a reputation with their colleagues.
But there’d been no hint of an argument between them tonight.
“That’s okay, Sally. But it was hell seeing her suffer, wasn’t it?”
Colin collapsed into the chair across from her bed with a weariness that seemed more of the heart than the body. For the first time it struck Sally as strange that they’d never talked about this before. They’d both supported Beth through every stage of her cancer from the day she’d found the lump, to the day she’d finally died. Two years of their lives, and yet never had she and Colin shared what they were going through.
And since the funeral, they hadn’t spoken at all.
Even now, she spoke hesitantly. “This may sound trite, but she was such a genuinely good person. I’d known her since she was a schoolgirl and I never saw her do anything mean to anyone.”
“Her students loved her. She got letters from all her second-graders. Those were the letters I found hardest to read after…after she was gone.”
“She loved those kids so much.” Beth had been a natural with children. That she’d never managed to have one of her own had been her biggest regret. “And she was always so good to Lara.”
“What do you miss the most?” Colin asked.
“That’s a tough one.” There were so many things. The annual holiday they took back to the lake in Saskatchewan where they’d gone to camp when they’d been kids. Their movie dates, where they alternately laughed and cried through the chick-flicks the men in their lives refused to see. The times they’d shared a bottle of wine and just talked.
“You know, I think I missed her the most on my birthday.” For the first time in Sally’s life, the day had passed unremarked by anyone. Her parents were gone, she had no husband, and Lara, with her father that weekend, had forgotten to phone. “Beth always took me out for lunch on my birthday.”
“I remember.”
Sally shifted into a sitting position. The pain in her head had settled into a moderate throbbing. Her hand, treated with cream and wrapped in a bandage, no longer burned. “What about you? What do you miss most?”
“Her smile, I guess. Or maybe the way she always worried her eyebrows when she was concentrating.”
Sally gave a snort. “That was so annoying.”
“I know. But sort of cute, too. How about that yellow blouse she wore every Easter?”
“With the embroidered Easter eggs? God, that was so tacky.”
“She wore it because the kids loved the colors. Remember how she used to play Neil Diamond when she was in an especially good mood?”
Sally sang the first couple of lines of “Sweet Caroline,” with Colin joining in partway through. Eventually they forgot the words and, after they’d both given up on the song, their glances caught and held. Sally felt as if her own grief was being mirrored right back at her.
He really loved Beth, Sally thought. Not that she’d ever doubted it. She’d known her best friend had a great marriage. But he’d really loved her.
“Speaking selfishly,” Colin said, picking up the thread of conversation, “I’d have to say I miss her companionship when I come home from work—not to mention her cooking. She knew all my favorites.”
“And what would those be?”
“Anything with a tomato sauce. Pizza. Lasagna. She made the best chicken cacciatore.”
“Same things we ate when we were university roommates.” Beth had done most of the cooking then, too, Sally recalled. “So what do you eat for your dinners now?” she asked Colin. “Takeout?”
“No. I boil things. Microwave things. Grill things. I just can’t cook anything.”
“So by cooking, you mean combining more than one ingredient in the same pot?”
“I guess that’s what I mean.”
“I should teach you how to stir-fry. It’s sort of like cooking, only easier. And healthy, too.”
“Is that what you were doing tonight when you had your…fall?”
“Yes.” Why had he hesitated that way? Sally angled her head for a closer look at him. Two minutes ago Colin had seemed ready to spend the night in that chair. Now he was poised on the edge of the seat cushion, watching her closely.
Did he suspect that there was nothing at all accidental in what had happened to her? For a moment she considered confiding in him. But could she really trust Colin with this when she, herself, didn’t know how to react?
Besides, she had to remember that to Colin, Neil was a respected colleague. And a friend, too. After all, they’d gone to school together. And when Sally and Neil had been married, they’d gone out with Colin and Beth occasionally.
Sally’s instincts were to keep silent. She had to figure out what had happened and why. She needed to step carefully, because if she made any mistakes, Neil would make her pay, for sure.
And even though they were having a nice conversation tonight, Colin wasn’t someone she wanted to take into her confidence. Ever since she’d found out Beth was in love with him, she’d walked on eggshells around the man.
“Is Lara at Neil’s?”
“She’s at a sleepover party.”
“What time are you supposed to pick her up in the morning?”
“She’s getting a ride. She’ll be home around eleven.”
“Right. That’s taken care of, then. Where would you like me to sleep?”
Right where you are. Of course, Sally didn’t dare say that, even though it was so comforting having him close. “The spare room is down the hall to the left. There are clean towels in the bathroom closet.”
“Okay.” Colin stood and stretched out his tall, large-boned frame. He cut an imposing figure in the broad-shouldered suits he wore to work, but to Sally’s mind he looked even better in the jeans and plain blue T-shirt he wore tonight.
He left the room, and moments later Sally heard him moving around in the kitchen. Was he cleaning up the mess from her aborted stir-fry?
He was back ten minutes later. “Still awake?”
“So far,” she agreed.
“You had a lot of food prepared,” he commented.
Neil had said the same thing.
“A lot of food for just one person.”
Where was he going with that? She made a noise of disgruntlement. “I was alone, okay? I burned myself and I fell. I’ve always been kind of clumsy.”
Colin folded his arms over his chest. In the low light, she couldn’t see his eyes at all. “I’ve always thought of you as graceful, actually.”
Really? She felt something lurch inside her, a pleased yet shy reaction that reminded her of her younger self. It had been a long time since a man’s compliment had elicited such a response from her.
“I’m going to leave the hall light on, okay? You know I have to wake you up in a few hours to give you another quiz.”
“I’ll bone up on provincial capitals while I’m sleeping.”
Colin smiled. It seemed as if he was going to leave, then he changed his mind and took a couple of steps inside her room.
“Sally, I know you told me you were by yourself when you fell tonight. Are you sure about that? Is there any chance your head injury affected your memory?”
She was so tempted to tell him. But the habit of holding her best friend’s husband at a distance was too ingrained to break now.
“I was alone and I fell, Colin. That’s all.”
He looked at her sadly, as if her answer had disappointed him.
“By the way,” he said. “There’s a silver pen on your island. It’s engraved with the initials ‘N.A.’”
The pen she had used to sign the passport application earlier. Trust the crown prosecutor to have noticed that. He was looking at her expectantly now. Waiting for her confession, no doubt. But she wasn’t giving in to his courtroom tactics.
“I guess Neil must have left it here the last time he came to visit Lara,” she replied softly. Then she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.
CHAPTER THREE
AT TWO O’CLOCK in the morning, the alarm on Colin’s wristwatch began to beep. He’d been sleeping lightly and woke easily. Careful not to disturb Armani at the foot of the bed, he got up and pulled on his jeans.
When the puppy had started whimpering an hour ago, Colin hadn’t wanted him to wake Sally, so he’d let him into his room. The puppy had hopped up onto the bed as if permission were a forgone conclusion. Colin suspected this was not the case. Still, at least the dog had been happy.
Colin crept down the hallway. At the entrance to Sally’s room, he paused. The door stood open, and light from the hall spilled onto Sally’s bed, highlighting the blond streaks in her hair and emphasizing her pale complexion. One hand, the uninjured one, clutched the sheet, holding it to her chin.
She looked unaccustomedly young, vulnerable and sweet. And seeing her that way filled Colin with an uncomfortable guilt.
In the almost twenty years he’d known her, Sally had rarely let down her guard around him. He was used to her alert and wary, her keen mind poised to take advantage of his first sign of weakness.
He didn’t know why she’d developed an almost instantaneous animosity toward him. He supposed it had all began in Foundations to Law—their very first class on the first day of law school.
He’d stood up to disagree with a point she was making—about what, he could no longer remember. He’d turned her opinion into a joke and made the entire class laugh. Sally had appeared to take the insult calmly, but from that moment on, she’d made a point of gunning for him whenever she could.
She’d proved herself a worthy adversary, in a battle that Colin soon understood he was destined to lose.
Because it hadn’t taken more than a few weeks for him to realize Sally was the last woman he wanted to argue with. But his belated attempts to win her over had failed miserably.
For almost three years they had failed, and then, inexplicably, they hadn’t.
It was just a week before December exams, in their final year, when he’d offered Sally a ride home from the library and she’d surprised him by accepting. In the car that night, they had managed to have their first real conversation since they’d met. And when he’d invited her to his off-campus apartment, she’d accepted.
They’d made love that night and their relationship had changed.
Only, unknown to him, the cute education student he’d dated a couple of times previously was Sally’s best friend and roommate. Once Sally connected the dots—apparently she’d never in a million years have surmised from Beth’s glowing descriptions that her friend was talking about Colin Foster—she’d become colder and more antagonistic than ever.
He’d only just met Beth. He hadn’t been in love with her yet. “I’m not going to ask her out again,” he’d told Sally when she’d decreed their one night together would never be repeated.
“I still won’t get involved with you,” Sally swore. And that very night she was on Neil Anderson’s arm at the university pub.
Every day for a whole week Colin had fought her to change her mind. Finally, angry at her stubbornness, he had asked Beth out again and his relationship with Sally had reverted to its original footings with one twist. They still argued, disagreed and, whenever possible, avoided each other. But underlying the old antagonism was a new awareness that could leave him momentarily breathless in her presence.
To his consternation, Sally had seemed impervious to this new affliction of his, suffering none of the same side effects herself.
She was the strongest woman he’d ever known. Throughout Beth’s illness, she’d never broken down. That must be why seeing her hurt and needing his help felt like an invasion of her privacy.
He went to her bedside and flicked on the reading lamp. “Sally? Can you wake up for a minute?”
He put his hand on her shoulder and was surprised how fragile and womanly that one, innocent body part felt. Even covered in flannel. He squeezed, then gave a gentle shake. “Sally?”
“What?” Her good hand let go of the sheet in order to brush the hair off her face. “Colin?”
She sounded startled, but not afraid.
“This can’t be true,” she murmured, her eyes suddenly open wide and staring at him.
Both pupils equal in size, he noted in the logical side of his brain. His emotional half wished he could fold this woman within his arms and crawl into bed with her. She looked…cuddly. Adorable.
Sally Stowe cuddly and adorable? Impossible.
He could tell the second Sally’s full consciousness returned. Her hand touched the sore spot on her head and her eyes gained their usual sharp focus.
“There are ten provinces in Canada, fifty states in America, and the Flames are in the running for the Stanley Cup this year. Can I go back to sleep, please?”
It was a relief to know she was okay. That she hadn’t seriously injured herself with that fall. Still, he wouldn’t have minded if the more vulnerable Sally had hung around for a while longer.
“All clear,” he said, resisting the impulse to touch her cheek. “Good night, Sally.”
She closed her eyes and seemed to fall back to sleep instantly. He paused, inexplicably reluctant to leave her alone in this room.
What if, he started to think. What if…?
But he couldn’t let himself finish that question, not even in his mind. To wish he might have had a future with Sally meant repudiating his years with Beth. And he could never do that.
EIGHT HOURS AFTER he’d left his ex-wife lying on her kitchen floor, Neil Anderson’s conscience began to trouble him. He’d just dropped off the young lawyer he’d taken to dinner. They’d had sex at his place after, but he hadn’t wanted her to stay the night. Even though Lara wasn’t with him this weekend, that was one of his rules. No women overnight. Ever.
Maybe that was harsh, but it wasn’t his fault he had to live his life this way. He didn’t want to be with a different woman every month or so, shuffling them out the door when the good times were over. He wanted what every man had the right to expect. His wife in bed with him at night and still there when he woke the next morning.
Sally.
Neil’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Full of resentment, he turned toward the Elbow Valley community.
He hadn’t meant to hurt her tonight, of course. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually shoved her that hard. That was all it had been, though—a shove. It wasn’t his fault she’d been stupid enough to touch the stove, or that her head had knocked against the stone counter. When he’d left her she was conscious. He was sure he’d heard her moan.
But in the past hour he’d started to worry. What if she’d been injured more seriously than he thought? You could never tell with trauma to the head. Since Lara was out for the night, Sally could end up lying on the floor until morning.
But as he turned onto her street, he saw that she wasn’t alone. There was an SUV he didn’t recognize parked in her driveway. What the hell was going on? He glanced at his dash. It was almost three in the morning. The lights were out in the house, so Sally wasn’t entertaining late.
Unless this was a party for two.
Neil pulled up next to the SUV. He got out of his car and touched the hood of the other vehicle. Stone cold.
He turned to the house, went to the window and peered inside. Couldn’t see anything except a faint light from the hall that led to the bedrooms.
Was Sally scared to sleep in the dark?
Or maybe she wasn’t sleeping.
He didn’t like the thought of that. Not one bit.
He considered sneaking inside—he’d made a copy of Lara’s house key shortly after they’d moved into the new place and Lara had told him the security code, too. But there was the dog to contend with. Before they’d bought that miserable animal, he’d indulged in the occasional late-night foray. Those days were over now. He couldn’t take the chance that the dog would bark.
Neil shoved his hands into his pockets, frustrated.
He was a family man. This house should be theirs not hers and he should be in bed with her right now, their three kids sleeping down the hall.
Instead, Sally lived on her own and he only saw his daughter on alternate weekends and every Wednesday.
Neil’s fingers closed around the key in his pocket. He rubbed it as if it was a charm, wishing he could somehow transport himself inside without the dog noticing. He was desperate to find out if Sally was sleeping with the guy who belonged to this SUV.
If she was, it was a big deal. Sally didn’t hook up with many men. He’d made it his business to keep tabs on her life, especially her love life. It was not only his right, as the only man who had ever been married to her, it was his responsibility. They had a daughter after all.
Lara. She was the proof that he and Sally belonged together. How could they not, when the combination of their genes had created someone so wonderful, so perfect.
Neil never stopped marveling over her. Their child was beautiful, smart and kind, and on top of all that, a talented athlete. With Olympic potential. Olympic.
You’d think Sally would count her blessings to have a daughter like that. But no, she continued to work—had done so since Lara was eight months old. And not only had she spurned her traditional role as a mother, she’d washed her hands of being a wife, too.
She’d tried to marginalize him. Him, the father of her child. It was a crime. And the bigger sin was this country’s liberal legal system that made it possible for women to get away with behavior like that.
Neil cast one more fruitless glance into the house, then finally gave up and headed for his car. Whatever was going on, at least he knew she wasn’t unconscious on the kitchen floor. Though now he almost wished she were.
“STILL TIRED after your sleepover?” Sally asked her daughter on Monday morning.
Lara said, “Not really,” and then she yawned, which made both of them laugh. “Maybe a little,” she conceded.
The weekend, like all of her daughter’s weekends, had been busy. After the sleepover, Lara spent Saturday afternoon training with her ski team. On Sunday Sally had driven Lara and her friend Jessica to the ski hill at Sunshine for what would probably be their last ski outing of the season.
Sally had sipped hot chocolate in the lodge while the girls skied like mad all morning. By mid-afternoon the snow turned slushy. They’d left early, dropped Jess at home then had cheese fondue for dinner, followed by a hot bath and bed.
Now, as Lara ate her breakfast, Sally slathered cream cheese on bagels for both of their lunches and cut up fruit.
She worked awkwardly, favoring her left hand. The bandages were off, the exposed skin puckered and tender. But at least the stitches on her head were healing nicely and the headache had cleared. She felt almost normal again, and in the sunlight, with her daughter slouched on a stool at the kitchen counter, and the prospect of a regular workweek ahead of her, it was tempting to chalk up her experience with Neil on Friday as a very bizarre, frightening anomaly.
Neil hadn’t meant to hurt her. That wasn’t his style. It wouldn’t happen again.
But Sally, who specialized in family law, and had volunteered for many years with the Women’s Emergency Shelter, had worked around abused women too long to let herself get away with such easy rationalizations.
Neil had crossed a line on Friday night. It was certainly possible he would do it again if the right opportunity presented itself.
She would have to make sure that opportunity never occurred. She wasn’t naive or unempowered like so many of her clients. She could handle this situation. She could handle Neil. Later she would phone a handyman service to get the kitchen door fixed so it would be easier to keep locked. She’d make better use of her alarm system, too.
Those were both good, concrete steps to take, but Sally was afraid they wouldn’t be enough. The real problem here was that Neil was Lara’s father, and as such, Sally couldn’t barricade him from her house or her life as thoroughly as she wanted.
Had she made a mistake not reporting his assault to the police?
She knew what her answer would have been for a client in a similar situation. Definitely, she should have contacted the police, if only to have a record of her complaint.
She knew it, but she still couldn’t make herself take such a drastic step. Accusing Neil would set an unavoidable sequence of events into motion. For sure Neil would deny the charges. The ensuing battle would be horrible for Lara. Friends and associates would find themselves choosing sides. Many, she feared, would refuse to believe that Neil was capable of such behavior.
The scandal would probably wreck her chances of becoming a judge, at least this time around. And who knew when the next opportunity would arise?
Sally packed Lara’s bagel and fruit into a bag, along with a yogurt and a couple of cookies. “I guess we’d better get moving. You can finish your toast in the car.”
Lara slid to the floor. Her tight jeans and T-shirt revealed the subtle new curves to her lean, athletic body.
My baby, Sally thought, sadly. Why did she have to grow up so fast?
“I have to go to Jessica’s to work on our social studies project after school,” Lara reminded her, as she shifted her backpack onto her shoulders. “Can you pick me up at six?”
“No problem.” Sally tossed her own lunch into her briefcase then slipped on her blazer and made sure her cell phone was clipped at her waist. She let Armani inside and put him in the laundry room with his toys and water. She’d hired a pet-sitting service to come into the house around noon to take him for a walk. Still, she piled newspapers in the corner of the room in case he had an accident.
Lara stopped to give him a hug on her way out the door. “I love you, Armani.”
Following their morning routine, Sally dropped her daughter off at school, then headed for her downtown office. During this part of the drive she usually turned off the radio station her daughter liked to listen to and focused on the day ahead of her.
But today she couldn’t concentrate on her morning appointments.
Colin Foster. She’d done her best not to think of him since he’d left her house on Saturday morning, about half an hour before Lara was scheduled to come home. She didn’t want to remember how unexpectedly kind and gentle he’d been with her.
Oh, she’d seen him that way with Beth, especially in the later stages of the cancer. But Sally had never expected to experience such treatment herself.
Or to enjoy it so much.
Poor Colin must have had very little sleep on Friday night. He’d checked on her several times, and once she’d woken to see him sprawled out in the chair in her room. Their glances had connected across the quiet bedroom, then she’d pretended to fall back asleep again.
In the morning he’d made her breakfast. Boiled eggs and coffee and lightly browned toast. They’d shared the weekend paper, reading out snippets of interesting facts to each other.
He’d fussed over her a little, but not too much. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken care of her that way. Probably her Mom when Sally had the chicken pox in grade six.
Don’t be so nice to me, she’d longed to say to him. Colin Foster was easy to handle when he was acting arrogant and overconfident. This other side of him put her off balance.
Determinedly, Sally blocked the mental image of Colin at her breakfast table from her mind. Her life was complicated enough without her searching for more things to worry about.
With a sigh, she turned the radio back on, and was accosted by a mechanical beat and repetitive rap lyrics. Heavens, why did Lara like this stuff?
SALLY’S FIRST APPOINTMENT of the day was with Pamela Moore, a woman in her early thirties who was having problems with her ex-husband, Rick. According to the terms of their divorce settlement, Rick was supposed to pay just over eight hundred dollars a month in child support. He hadn’t done so for the past four months.
As she sipped her first coffee of the day, Sally thumbed through the Moore’s thick file. Ninety-nine percent of her clients were just that—people she was hired to represent. But Pam was different.
She’d first become aware of Pam’s difficult situation when she’d been volunteering her legal services at the Women’s Emergency Shelter. Pam had shown up with bruises distorting her facial features, but it didn’t take long for the two women to realize they knew each other.
They’d both grown up in Medicine Hat, a medium-size city about three hours southeast of Calgary. Pam’s family had been regulars at Sally’s parents’ café. On a couple of occasions, Sally had babysat for Pam and her two younger brothers.
So Pam wasn’t just a client, and while Sally fought hard for all her clients, for Pam she pulled out all the stops. She wanted the younger woman and her two children to have a future far better than what they’d experienced so far.
But Pam’s ex-husband seemed equally determined not to let that happen. He’d battled Pam on every step of her attempt to leave him and regain control of her life. Most inexcusable to Sally, throughout the entire struggle, he’d shown little interest in their children. And even less interest in contributing toward their financial support.
Rick’s main goal was winning Pam back. Twice he’d convinced her to try a reconciliation. On both occasions, Pam had ended up at the shelter with a few more bruises and an even more battered self-esteem.
Sally asked her why she kept giving him more chances.
“He’s the father of my children. And you don’t know the pressure he’s under. He runs his own business. He has to work so hard.”
Sometimes Sally was tempted to say, “I’m a businesswoman, too. I’m under a lot of pressure. But it would never occur to me to beat someone up because of it.” Of course, she never actually said this. Pam was smart enough to understand it wasn’t so much Sally, as herself, that she was trying to convince.
Eventually a late-night visit to Emergency to treat her broken arm had convinced Pamela to leave Rick for good. The divorce had been ugly. Despite a restraining order against him, Rick still found ways to inject misery into Pamela’s life.
Sally had just reviewed the last of the documentation in the file, when Evelyn at the front desk gave her a buzz.
“Pamela Moore to see you, Ms. Stowe.”
“Thanks. Tell her I’ll be right there.”
Though one of the younger partners at the firm, Sally had a coveted outer office with a mountain view. Early in her career she’d caught the attention of senior partner Gerald Thornton. “I like the way you think,” he’d told her. “More than that, I like the way you never give up.”
Gerald’s opinions carried a lot of weight, not only in the firm, but also in the legal community at large. It was through his connections that she’d wound up president of the Law Society of Alberta, a position that had enabled her to meet many of the province’s most influential high fliers.
Gerald was also behind the current push to get her into the Court of Queen’s Bench. As she passed by his big corner office, Sally remembered he was out of town on business this week. He’d asked her to cover in court for him later this afternoon.
In the reception area she found Pam perched on the edge of a chair, flipping through People. She tossed the magazine to the table and jumped to her feet when she saw Sally.
“I’m on a break,” she said. “I only have fifteen minutes.”
Sally had pulled strings to get Pam an office job at the courthouse, which unfortunately didn’t pay that much, but it was a start. Since black jeans were the dressiest item in Pam’s closet, she’d also given the young mother some suits she rarely wore and money for tailoring. Pam was wearing the green linen today.
“You look good, Pam.”
“I feel good. If only Rick—”
“I know. Come on, let’s talk.” Sally put a hand on her arm and ushered Pam to her office. When Pam was seated and the door closed, she quickly turned to business.
“What is Rick up to this time?” The fact that Rick owned his own business had made collecting child support a challenge from the beginning. They couldn’t request that his employer deduct the money straight from his salary, because he had no employer. Then he’d tried some accounting tricks—officially reducing his salary to a nominal amount while allowing funds to accumulate in the business.
Pam had gone to Maintenance Enforcement for help and they’d put a hold on his driving privileges in order to force him to meet his responsibilities to his children.
And now—
“The bastard sold his business. Just to spite me, I’m sure.”
“But how is he supporting himself?” Rick rented a posh condo in trendy downtown Eau Claire. And he had an extravagant lifestyle to go with it.
“He let the apartment go and moved in with his mother.”
“You’re kidding!”
“He says there’s no sense working when half his money goes to taxes and the rest to me.”
“As if. What is wrong with the man? He’s cramping his own lifestyle as well as yours.”
“When it comes to hurting me, Rick has always been willing to go that extra mile.”
“Surely he won’t keep this up for long. A man like Rick can’t be happy living with his mother. Not working.”
“He’s taking computer classes at SAIT. Claims he wants to open a new computer service business when he’s done. I can’t afford to wait him out, Sally. I’m behind on my own rent now. I could barely scrape together the money for Tabby’s antibiotics when she got an ear infection last week. I’ve asked my parents for help—again—but I can’t keep putting them in this situation.”
“I hear you, Pam.” But if Rick wasn’t working, he had no income. “What did he do with the proceeds of his business?”
“He wouldn’t tell me, but a mutual friend says he bought some land down by Pincher Creek. He isn’t renting it or anything, so there’s no income from that source, either.”
Land. Sally smiled. “We can register a support order against his property to create a lien.”
“What does that mean?”
“You need to contact Maintenance Enforcement again. They’ll file a writ against the land on your behalf. Unfortunately, that won’t put any cash in your pocket right now, but when he goes to sell—which he’ll undoubtedly want to do soon—he’ll have to pay you arrears plus interest.”
“Sally, I need money now. Or the kids and I are going to have to go back to the shelter.”
“Phone Maintenance Enforcement today. Hopefully just the threat of action will get Rick to pay. Besides, how much longer do you think he’ll be able to stand living with his mother?” Pam had told her before how the woman drove both her and Rick crazy with her nosy interference.
“I guess it’s worth a try.” Pamela glanced at her watch. “I should be getting back to work. The last thing I need right now is to lose my job.”
“Okay. Try not to worry. Rick’s not going to get away with this.” As Sally walked Pam to the elevators, she asked about the kids. Samuel was now five, Tabby three. Like most mothers, Pam’s face lit up as she talked about her children. She was smiling when they parted.
Back in her office, Sally found it more difficult to keep up her own good spirits. She was so tired of dealing with men like Rick. Didn’t he see that by lashing out at his former spouse he was hurting his own children?
If only he could be in the position of holding a crying child at night and not having the money to buy the medicine to make her better.
Or would he even care?
Weary already, though it was only ten o’clock, Sally picked up her pen and began to jot notes for the file. The phone rang before she was through the first sentence.
“Sally Stowe speaking.”
“Hi, Sal. Hard at work already, are you?”
It was Neil. Sally dropped her pen and ran her hand through her hair until she’d found the neat line of stitches at the side of her head. She traced the line back and forth with her index finger and contemplated hanging up without another word.
“How’s Lara?” he asked.
No mention of what had happened Friday night. She’d been half expecting an apology but wasn’t surprised he chose not to bring up the incident at all. Maybe he was embarrassed. She hoped so. “Lara’s fine. Gearing up for the big race next weekend.”
“I’ll be taking her to that,” he said.
It was Neil’s weekend with Lara coming up. “I know.” If she and Neil were able to get along better, she would have loved to watch the races, too. But Lara became anxious whenever she and Neil were in close proximity.
“Lara needs to be in top condition for the weekend,” Neil warned. “Feed her lots of meat—a good steak dinner or a roast beef. Not just those god-awful tofu stir-fries you like to eat.”
“I’ll make sure Lara has plenty of protein.” Sally rolled her eyes, though in truth she was comfortable with this, the negotiating of care for their daughter. She didn’t really mind Neil checking up on her this way, even though his concern was totally unnecessary. She was thankful that Neil was a good father. She could put up with his crap as long as he treated Lara right.
“And don’t let her stay up too late at night. She needs to be rested.”
“Of course.” Lord, Neil could be so overbearing.
Suddenly his voice switched from a lecturing tone to something soft and intimate. “Oh, and Sal?”
On guard, she said cautiously, “Yes?”
“How’s the new boyfriend?”
“What?” He’d caught her completely by surprise with this one.
“Don’t play innocent. I saw the SUV in your driveway on Saturday morning. It was still there until just before Lara got home.”
Neil had seen Colin’s vehicle? Sally felt suddenly ill to her stomach. How long had he been watching her house? Was this something he did often?
“This is none of your business, Neil.”
“Maybe not. Still, you ought to be careful. A judge has to be circumspect about the men she’s keeping company with. Especially a judge who hasn’t yet been officially appointed.”
The bastard was trying to threaten her. She remembered the last words he’d uttered on Friday night before he’d left her half-unconscious on the kitchen floor. He’d said he would make sure she was never appointed to the bench. He’d promised to see her disbarred instead.
Sally hung up the phone firmly. She wouldn’t let her ex play these mind games with her. He might be a very successful criminal lawyer with political connections of his own, but he couldn’t touch her. She’d done nothing wrong.
Even as she had that thought, she pictured Colin Foster reclined on the chair in her bedroom, watching her with a light in his eyes that she recognized all too well.
Had he realized how much she’d wanted to invite him into her bed with her?
Oh, Lord. How could she feel this way about the man who had been her best friend’s husband?
CHAPTER FOUR
SINCE BETH’S DEATH, Colin had started getting to work late. This was a direct corollary to his sleeping pattern, which involved tossing restlessly in bed until about four or five in the morning, at which time he would finally drop off, only to be awoken by his alarm a few hours later.
Inevitably, he hit the snooze button. Once, twice, a third time.
There was no warm body beside him to kick his shin. No cranky voice to say, “If you hit that thing one more time…”
As a teacher, Beth’s workday had started an hour later than his. A good thing, since she’d never been a morning person, while Colin loved the peace and quiet of dawn, the opportunity to savor the beginning of a day filled with possibilities. In an ideal world, he was the first to arrive at the office. He’d turn on the photocopier, start a pot of coffee, then sequester himself in his office to review the list of cases he would be prosecuting that day.
This Monday morning, however, was turning out far from ideal. After too many jabs of the snooze button, he rushed into the office only thirty minutes before he needed to be in court. Aware that his jacket was improperly buttoned and his jaw still bled from a rush job of shaving, he tried to hurry into the sanctuary of his office.
“Good morning, Mr. Foster.” The front-desk receptionist eyed him with an indulgent, if slightly worried, smile.
He ducked his head and aimed for the main corridor where he almost bowled over a prosecutor he’d worked with for years.
“Hi, Colin. Any chance you can make lunch tomorrow?”
“I’ll get back to you on that.” He nodded and picked up his pace. Only a couple more steps and he would be—
The articling student he’d hired last summer materialized in front of him. “I have a question about that file you left on my desk yesterday.”
He held up a hand, in a gesture that meant later, and finally slipped gratefully into his office. He closed the door, sighed then turned around.
Only to see one of the junior prosecutors waiting by the window. Judith Daigle had entered the law profession late, after a messy divorce at age thirty-three. She was now thirty-eight, a member of the bar and, since Beth’s death, unremittingly attentive.
“Good morning, Colin. Did you have a good weekend? I hope you enjoyed the casserole.”
Colin didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth—that he’d tossed it, and the aluminum pan it came in, straight into the garbage. Once, when he’d stopped by Judith’s house to drop off a writ, he’d seen a fat orange tabby—one of several of Judith’s cats—parading on her kitchen table. With that picture in his mind, he couldn’t bring himself to eat any of the meals she so thoughtfully prepared for him.
He wished he could think of some polite way to make her stop cooking for him.
“How was your weekend, Judith?” He slid behind his desk, aligned the buttons on his jacket, then tapped on his keyboard. Sixty-five unread messages in his e-mail in-box. God only knows how many he’d find in voice mail.
“My weekend was quiet.” Judith always gave the same answer when he asked that question.
Colin suspected she was looking to him to change the situation. As with the casseroles, he wished he could think of some polite way to make her stop.
“I thought you might want to review the Mueller case. As you suspected, he does have a record of similar offenses.”
“Is the record in his file?” Colin opened the top one in a pile on his desk.
“Yes, I—”
“That should be all I need, then.” He slipped on the reading glasses he had only just begun to need and focused on the papers in front of him, barely registering the moment when Judith left the room.
I should have said thanks, at least. He felt guilty about that. But then, Judith had a way of making him feel guilty about a lot of things.
If it wasn’t for the cats, maybe things could have been different. She owned so many. He’d counted five on that one visit. Judith was attractive. Intelligent. Obviously available. She had nice legs, too.
Not as nice as Sally’s, but then Sally was a bit of a phenomenon in that area.
He’d wondered how far he would get into his day before he thought of her. But this wasn’t even the first time. Visions of her had been in his head when he woke up this morning. And she’d come to mind a couple times during the drive to work, as well.
She wasn’t telling him the truth about Friday night. He knew that for sure. He could have bought a burned hand. But a fall against the granite counter, too? No way. Not unless she’d had a seizure of some sort.
He drew a question mark on the pad of paper by his phone. Could that be it? Was Sally ill?
He hated that possibility. But it was an option he had to consider, although Neil’s pen on the otherwise spotless counter suggested a second scenario. Perhaps Sally and her ex had argued. Then what? Colin knew their divorce had been far from amicable, but he couldn’t picture the sophisticated and courteous Neil resorting to physical violence.
Had someone else been in the house, then? After Neil left? One of Sally’s client’s disgruntled husbands?
The buzzer on the phone intercom sounded, cutting into his conjectures. “Mr. Foster? It’s time for you to go to court.”
Hell. He hadn’t even finished reviewing the files. Colin gathered them into a stack, then shoved them into his briefcase, promising himself he’d follow up on Sally’s “accident” later.
DURING THE DRIVE HOME, Colin’s speculations focused on the possibility that Sally might have suffered a seizure of some sort. But if so, why not admit the truth to him? Was she worried that if news of her illness became known, it might get in the way of her judicial aspirations?
He’d heard the scuttlebutt and knew she was a favored contender for Justice Willa Kendal’s position on the Queen’s Bench. Willa had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s a few months ago and was officially retiring at the beginning of June.
Her replacement would be announced shortly after that date and Sally was high on the committee’s list of potential candidates for several reasons. First, she was a woman, and given the current composition of the courts, that was an important factor. Although she was young, Sally had had a distinguished career. Her integrity was unquestioned. Her politics fortuitously aligned with the current reigning powers.
Colin pulled into his garage, surprised to find himself home already. His stomach felt a little off, and it only took a minute for him to realize why.
I don’t want Sally to be sick.
She didn’t look unwell, but then neither had Beth, at least not in the beginning.
Colin was suddenly so weary he could hardly get out of his vehicle. As his gaze skimmed by the Miata, his conscience pricked. He’d promised himself he was going to start doing the things that needed to be done.
And he would. But later.
In the house, he went straight to the kitchen, to the fridge, to the line of aluminum cans that filled the space that had once contained real food like milk and juice and carefully labeled Tupperware containers of leftovers.
He snagged a beer, was about to close the fridge door, when he noticed the plastic container behind the dozen ale. He’d seen it a hundred times before, and done his best to ignore it, but this time he made the effort to reach deep into the cold cavern and pull it out.
Low-fat cherry yogurt. Beth’s favorite kind.
The container felt heavy. Through the opaque white plastic, he imagined he could see the green froth of mold. Holding the container at arm’s length, he carried it to the trash, then let it drop.
It fell right on top of the aluminum pan containing Judith’s casserole.
ON TUESDAY SALLY MET Justice Kendal for lunch at a small bistro down from the courthouse. The judge was sixty-eight, unmarried, sharp of mind and tongue. She carried her short, rotund body with authority, and stress lines marred a face that would still be considered pretty if not for her stern visage.
Even though they’d been on a first-name basis for years, Sally always felt a little intimidated in her presence, as though Willa were somehow a species above the rest of humanity.
As Willa lifted her fork to her mouth, though, her hand betrayed her all too mortal origins. While Sally had noticed the tremors for almost a year, they’d only recently been diagnosed as Parkinson’s disease.
“I hope you’ve been whittling down your client load, as I’ve advised you.” Willa spoke with her usual authority, as if completely unfazed by the fact that she could barely feed herself.
Sally would have liked to lean over the table and offer a steady hand. But she knew Willa would prefer if she pretended nothing was wrong. So she did not offer to help, instead forking a strand of pasta into her own mouth.
As she did so, Willa’s attention went to the discolored skin on Sally’s hand. Sally waited for her to ask what had happened.
I burned myself cooking on the weekend. That was what she’d told everyone else who’d inquired. And each time, she thought to herself, I’m going to have to do something about Neil. But so far, she’d taken no action. She hadn’t even had her door fixed, though she was more careful about keeping it locked.
But Willa didn’t ask about her hand. “Well? Are you making all the appropriate arrangements?”
Sally pushed the remaining pasta to a corner of her plate. “I’m working on it.”
“When you get the call from the justice minister, you are no longer allowed to work as an attorney.”
When you get the call. Not if. Willa had so much confidence in her. Sally hoped it was justified. And she had been doing her best to sort out her clients in the event that she was lucky enough to get the appointment. She’d spoken to a couple of her fellow lawyers about sharing the load.
But some clients were harder to hand over than others. Pamela Moore, for instance. She was more of a friend than a client. Though it went against her usual office policy of requiring an up-front retainer, Sally had never sent the woman a single bill. Who was going to take on a client like that?
Willa reached across the table to pat her hand. “You’re an excellent attorney, Sally, but not the only excellent attorney in the city.”
Sally allowed a smile. “I suppose that’s true.” She stared out the window and saw fresh raindrops splatter on the sidewalks and streets. The dreary spring weather matched her mood today.
“I just wish it wasn’t happening this way.” She hated knowing that her judicial appointment, the highlight of her career, was only possible because Willa Kendal had a chronic, eventually fatal, condition.
“Don’t get maudlin, Sally. I can’t handle that sort of thing. If it wasn’t my retirement, it would be someone else’s.”
In Canada, where judges were appointed for life, not elected, openings occurred under two circumstances only—the retirement or the death of an existing judge.
“This is your chance. You’ve earned it.”
“Thanks, Willa. You’ve been such a supportive friend to me.” Willa had hired her out of law school. Sally had articled at Willa’s firm, then later, when Willa had been appointed to the bench, she had introduced Sally to Gerald Thornton, who had brought her in as a junior partner at Crane, Whyte and Thornton.
“You think you don’t give as good as you get?” Willa abandoned her efforts to eat and downed the rest of her cola. Since court was in session this afternoon, she wasn’t drinking wine, her preferred luncheon beverage. “Now, tell me about that girl of yours. Is she still skiing competitively?”
Sally nodded. “The last race of the season is this weekend.”
“She’s pretty serious?”
Again Sally nodded. “Her coach seems to think she has Olympic potential.”
“You have mixed feelings about that?”
Sally wasn’t surprised at her friend’s perceptiveness. You didn’t get to be a judge without developing the ability to read people accurately. Once again, Willa was on the mark.
“I can’t help but wonder if Olympic-level skiing—with all the pressure, demands and risk of injury—is the right course for Lara. She says, yes, but she’s only sixteen. Is that really old enough to be making such an important decision?”
“What does that charming ex-husband of yours think?”
Sally tried not to resent Willa speaking of Neil in such positive terms. She reminded herself that Neil did seem to hold a special appeal for older women. And Willa knew nothing about the reasons for their divorce. Sally had never taken her into her confidence on that particular subject.
“He’s thrilled. He wasn’t much of an athlete when he was younger. I think he’s living vicariously through our daughter.”
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