The Gifted (2 page)

It was a chilly night, but Mieka, her partner, Riel, and the girls were standing in the doorway waiting for us. Zack opened the door of his hand-controlled car, grabbed his wheelchair from the back seat, snapped it together, and transferred his body from the car to the chair. When Madeleine and Lena saw him, they came running. After three years, he was still their star-spangled, candy-coated, chocolate-covered top banana.

Lena, who was six, pointed to the sky. “Granddad, did you see? There’s a misty moon.”

“The werewolves will be tap-dancing tonight,” Zack said.

Lena’s voice was filled with wonder. “Really?”

Madeleine, at seven, had long since taken Zack’s measure. “That’s just one of Granddad’s jokes, Lena. There’s no such thing as a werewolf.”

Zack put his forefinger to his lips. “Shh. Can you hear that?”

Madeleine and Lena cupped their ears and listened. “Hear what?” Madeleine whispered.

“That tapping sound,” Zack said.

Lena’s eyes were huge. “I can hear it. Granddad, do you think it’s the werewolves?”

“Consider the evidence,” Zack said. “A misty moon, a mysterious tapping sound, and” – he sniffed theatrically –“a definite tang of werewolf in the wind.” He turned to Riel. “Surely you can smell it.”

Riel, who appeared a little tired and on edge, raised his hand in a Halt sign. “I never take sides in fights about werewolves.”

Mieka slid her arm around Riel’s waist. “That’s why I love you,” she said. “Now let’s go inside so Mum and Zack can see our costumes in the light.”

Madeleine and Lena had been discussing potential Halloween costumes since August. Madeleine had finally settled on Elphaba, the misunderstood girl with the emerald green skin who grew into the Wicked Witch of the West. Lena had chosen to be Elphaba’s friend Glinda, the beautiful, bubbly blonde who became the Good Witch of the North. As they pirouetted for us in the front hall, it was clear their choices had been inspired.

After Zack snapped a dozen pictures of Elphaba and Glinda and a dozen more of Elphaba and Glinda with Mieka, who was Dorothy, and Riel, who had dressed as the Scarecrow, I dropped the chocolate cats we’d purchased into the girls’ trick-or-treat bags. Riel took the bowl of Halloween candy outside and placed it on a chair by the door, and Madeleine and Lena taped the cardboard sign they’d made to the chair back. The sign’s message was unequivocal:
Help Yourself But Think Of The Next Kid
. Mieka locked the door, the girls took off, and we adults trailed along.

Riel was quick to notice the damage to the hood of our car. “What happened here?” he said.

“When we came out of the railway underpass, somebody threw something at us,” Zack said.

Riel bent to examine the hood of the Volvo more closely. “I guess when you take a car this expensive for a spin in North Central, you’re asking for it.”

Mieka frowned. “Mum and Zack could have been hurt, Riel.”

“And I’m glad they weren’t,” Riel said. He turned to Zack and me. “I really am glad you’re okay.” He reached under his scarecrow’s hat and pulled out a handful of straw. “You’ll have to forgive me. I don’t have a brain – just straw.”

Zack’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond and the moment passed. When the girls joined us and breathlessly produced the homemade, absolutely-safe-to-eat candy apples that Mieka’s neighbour and my old friend, Jean Van Velzer, had given them, we exclaimed over the artistry of the apples and said our goodbyes.

There were many children in Mieka’s neighbourhood, and that night they all seemed to be darting across the streets with only fleeting attention to oncoming cars. Zack was wholly focused on his driving, and neither of us spoke till we were out of the residential area.

“Thanks for not getting into it with Riel,” I said.

“No point,” Zack said. “He’s not going to change his assumptions.”

“I know,” I said. “I wish he’d do something about that chip on his shoulder, though.”

“So do I,” Zack said. “But it isn’t going to happen, so we might as well get used to turning the other cheek.”

We exchanged a quick look of commiseration, then Zack leaned forward and put on a Bill Evans
CD
, and my thoughts turned to Riel.

I’d been the first member of our family to meet him. Until Riel Delorme dropped out of the master’s program at the
university, he had been my student. I liked him. He was smart, idealistic, and deeply committed to transforming the lives of the poor and dependent in our city. Like his hero, Che Guevara, Riel believed that the only way to change a society that he thought was fundamentally corrupt and racist was revolution, and it wasn’t long before Riel abandoned his studies and became involved with radical politics. He became an urban warrior, heading up a loose coalition of gangs, social activists, and the dispossessed to oppose the Village Project. Rumour had it that he’d also developed a fondness for cocaine. Margot’s late husband, Leland Hunter, the developer behind the project, was Zack’s client, so, in the public eye, we were associated with it as well.

The clash between the factions was corrosive for both sides, and I was relieved when Riel dropped his opposition to the project and joined forces with Leland. Riel had been clean for two years. He was a valuable link to the community, and Leland came to like and respect him.

From the first, Mieka’s relationship with Riel was serious. The physical attraction between them was electric, and Riel was genuinely fond of Madeleine and Lena. When Mieka broke the news that she and Riel had fallen in love, she had quoted Antoine de Saint-Exupery: “Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction.”

For a while it had seemed that all of us were looking outward together in the same direction. After Zack took over as
CEO
of the Racette-Hunter Centre, he and Riel saw each other daily. As a member of the Racette-Hunter working team, I had come to value Riel’s understanding of the complex politics of North Central. He was the project’s community liaison officer, and time and again, he extinguished brushfires of opposition before they had a chance to spread. Professionally, we worked together well.

Personally, life was less rosy. We’re a close family, but Riel kept his distance. We saw Mieka and the girls as much as we always had, and I told myself that as long as they were happy, we were happy. However, Riel had been conspicuously absent during what would have been his first Thanksgiving weekend with us all at the lake. When I asked after him, Mieka had been vague and I hadn’t pushed it.

I was still wool-gathering when we pulled into the parking lot of Open Skies. The club was festive. The path to the lobby was flanked by blazing jack-o’-lanterns, and the crisp October air was heavy with the mingled aromas of melting wax and warming pumpkin meat. The scent evoked other Halloweens in other years, and seduced by memories, I hesitated for a moment before I went inside.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Zack said.

“I was remembering the year Taylor wouldn’t let me put our jack-o’-lantern on the compost heap after Halloween was over. She’d helped me carve it and she wasn’t about to let it go.”

Zack chuckled. “So how long was the pumpkin with you?”

“Almost till Christmas. You know Taylor.”

“I do. But now she’s grown up and tonight she’s at a ‘mega-cool party’ watching
The Little Shop of Horrors
.”

“She was so excited about that party.”

“Well, that blond wig
was
pretty spectacular,” Zack said.

“It was,” I agreed. “But sometimes I miss the little girl with the braids hunkered down on the front porch with her decomposing pumpkin.”

The first half of Lauren Treadgold’s forty-fifth birthday party followed the well-worn grooves of every private party at Open Skies. The appetizers were plentiful and tasty, the spirits flowed, and the young players in the five-piece band had the good sense to play tunes that their audience recognized.

When we entered the dining room, Vince and Lauren Treadgold were there to greet us. The party invitation had asked that we come as people, real or imaginary, that revealed our inner selves. The Treadgolds had dressed as Caesar and Cleopatra – an appropriately golden and powerful couple.

There are people on whom the gods seem to bestow every gift. Vince was one of those people. He was a well-regarded orthopedic surgeon who bore a startling resemblance to the actor Ted Danson, tall and fit, with a strong jaw, artfully tousled silver hair, and icy azure eyes.

Lauren, too, was one of fortune’s favourites. Whip-thin and elegant with high-planed cheeks and doe eyes, Lauren had appeared on the cover of
Vogue
for the first time when she was sixteen years old. Soon after, she left Saskatchewan for the runways of New York, Paris, and Rome. For the next twenty years, her heart-shaped face and signature hairstyle – a severe, side-parted gamine cut – were a fixture on the glossy pages of international fashion magazines. But as I overheard Lauren ruefully note one night after too much wine, every year, stubborn as dandelions, a new crop of sixteen-year-olds appeared. When offers of plum assignments became few and far between, Lauren retired, came home, and married Vince.

The Treadgolds were always a striking couple, but that night they turned heads. Vince’s costume was simple: a belted white linen tunic, sandals, and a laurel wreath. Lauren’s white linen caftan was unexceptional, but her turquoise and gold beaded necklace was elaborate, and the rope of twisted gold on her head was studded with turquoise. Her makeup was dramatic: Egyptian cat eyes and blood red lips. The most stunning item of her costume was a golden asp bracelet that wound itself around her wrist and ended at the top of her hand in a hooded snake’s head with emerald eyes and a forked tongue.

Although Zack and Vince had been poker partners for more than twenty years, I had come to know the Treadgolds well only recently through their work for the Racette-Hunter Centre. Lauren and Vince had agreed to act as co-chairs of fundraising. In theory, their positions were purely honorary. The Treadgold name on the letterhead would underscore the fact that the multimillion-dollar project was both reputable and worthwhile.

However, the Treadgolds’ contribution went beyond the nominal. Vince had worked diligently to get donations from his medical colleagues, and Lauren, too, had taken her job seriously. Zack had been impressed by her creativity and by her sure-footed approach to everything she did. She was not a woman who made mistakes.

“Great party,” Zack said. He gazed at Vince and Lauren’s costumes. “And great costumes, especially that asp bracelet.”

Lauren touched a perfectly lacquered nail to the snake’s head. “Vince had it specially made. It’s a symbol of the healing arts, but tonight I couldn’t resist the Cleopatra connection.”

“Because Cleopatra used an asp to commit suicide,” I said.

Lauren’s eyes lit with pleasure. “I did my research. Cleopatra tested different poisons on people and animals and discovered that the bite of an asp was the most painless way to die.”

“Fortunately asps are in short supply in these parts,” Vince said. He focused his attention on us. “You two look pretty cool. Who are you supposed to be?”

Before Zack and I had a chance to answer, Georges, the club manager, dashed over, holding a cellphone. “Dr. Treadgold, the hospital just called. They need to speak to you.” Georges handed the cell to Vince and then stepped back respectfully to await the next development.

Vince thanked Georges and made his call. After he broke
the connection, he turned to Lauren. “Car accident,” he said. “I have to go back to the hospital.”

“Can’t someone else do it?” Lauren said.

“I’m sorry, Lauren. I’m it. That flu that’s been making the rounds has decimated the ranks. I have to be there.”

“It’s not as if it’s the first time,” Lauren said coldly, and she turned on her heel and walked towards the bar.

It was an awkward moment, and Zack attempted to smooth it. “Looks like you’re sleeping on the couch tonight, Caesar.”

Vince’s laugh was short. “Not the first time for that either,” he said. “I’m sorry I have to go. I was looking forward to spending time with you both tonight. Enjoy your evening.”

Not long after Vince left, Kaye Russell arrived. Kaye taught painting and drawing in the visual arts department at the university and since August she had been Taylor’s teacher. With her platinum buzz cut and round-rimmed tortoise-shell glasses, Kaye was always an arresting figure. Tonight she was wearing a black-and-white-striped T-shirt, a black leather jacket, tight black jeans, and laceless sparkly gold Keds.

Zack gave her the once-over. “Do I get three guesses?”

Kaye shook her head. “You’d need at least ten. I’m Andy Warhol.”

“My money was on Annie Lennox,” Zack said.

“Maybe I should have worn my Campbell’s Soup can raincoat,” Kaye said.

“Nah,” Zack said. “People like a challenge. With the raincoat, even I could have identified you.”

Kaye laughed and then her eye was caught by a new arrival. “There’s Julian,” she said. “I invited him, but I didn’t think he’d come.”

“Julian, the boy who’s modelling for Taylor?” Zack said. “Not exactly his crowd, is it?”

“Julian has talked about opening a small art gallery,” Kaye said. “I think it’s the perfect path for him. I was hoping he could make some connections tonight.” She waved, and Julian Zentner started towards us. He’d been modelling for Taylor for a month, so Zack and I were accustomed to seeing him around our condo, always dressed in the shabby casual clothes students in fine arts favour.

But that night he had transformed himself, and as he crossed the floor towards us, every eye at the party was on him. He, too, was wearing a white tunic, and he’d dusted his skin with powder until his body was the blue-white of skim milk. The belt of his tunic was covered with small circular mirrors. It took me a moment before I understood that he had come as Narcissus, the boy in Greek mythology who fell in love with his reflection in a pool and died because he was unable to tear himself away from his own beauty.

Tall and delicately boned, with blue-black ringlets worn long enough to curl on his graceful neck, Julian had enhanced his natural attributes for the party. His startlingly green eyes were ringed with kohl and his sensuous lips were rouged and moistened.