“We need a third piece of paper.” Lane looked at Arthur.
Arthur shook his head. “It’s okay,” he told Lane. “You take care of it.”
Joseph wrote down a figure and folded the paper in half.
Lane worked out the price of books and tuition in his head, then multiplied by two. Then he thought, Fuck you! He wrote down a number, added two zeroes, and showed it to Arthur, who blanched.
Joseph slid his number over to Lane and waited for Lane to do the same.
Lane opened his brother’s piece of paper and looked at the figure. He worked the numbers in his head. It’ll cover school for Christine and Matt with some left over.
“Your figure is a bit imaginative,” Joseph said.
“Yours is a bit frugal.” Lane folded the paper in half and folded it again. “Besides, my number includes Mr. Pham’s expenses.”
“A very generous fee.” Joseph pretended to sip his coffee.
Lane waited and watched his brother. He could hear Arthur set his cup on the table.
Roz groaned.
Joseph tapped his close-cut manicured fingernails on the cup.
Lane closed his eyes. “Perhaps the best way to settle this is the way a family would. A bit of give and take. We add the two numbers and divide by two. Then I phone Thomas to get his approval.” Lane opened his eyes.
Joseph rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger. “Agreed. Thomas will contact me with the amount we’ve agreed on, then?” Joseph stood up.
“I don’t foresee any complications.” Lane remained seated. He watched his brother open the back door, enter the kitchen, and close the door behind him.
“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to him?” Arthur asked.
“We did that a long time ago.” Lane drank his coffee.
“How does it feel?” Arthur asked.
“How does what feel?”
Arthur looked at his coffee cup. “Being bought off.”
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 7
chapter 22
“Explain,” Lori said. “You look like shit.”
Lane smiled. “You really do know how to cut through all of the crap, don’t you?”
“At least you’re smiling now.” Lori looked at Keely. “She’s got some good news.”
Lane looked at his partner. “Well?”
“I went to talk with the ladies at Jelena’s Alterations. They have this plan to keep the business going and take care of Zacki. She stayed at Rasima’s place the other night.” Keely crossed her arms.
“That is good news.” Lane sat down.
“He’s officially out of here.” Lori hooked her thumb over her shoulder to indicate Gregory’s office.
“And Stockwell is gone.” Keely leaned against the wall.
“Smoke has his own reality cop show,” Lane said.
“You’ve got to be kidding!” Lori stared open-mouthed at Lane.
“No way,” Keely said.
“No, I’m kidding. He’s just playing golf, networking, and enjoying his retirement.” Lane shook his head.
“Sounds like being in hell. I hate golf,” Keely said.
“I prefer quilting with the girls.” Lori began to smile.
“What?” Lane asked.
Lori laughed. “I wonder if they sell Scotch at those fancy golf clubs?”
“Thank you for being here.” Dr. Alexandre wore a navy blue skirt and a pink blouse. She made sure that everyone had either coffee, tea, or water. Christine and Arthur sat on the couch. Lane and Matt sat across from them in chairs.
Christine asked, “Why did you want us to be here?”
Alexandre said, “I’ve got Lane’s point of view. Now I’d like to see the big picture, the family picture. By the way, do any of you know his first name?”
“I don’t know,” Christine said.
“Don’t ask me,” Matt said.
“I promised not to tell,” Arthur said.
“It’s Paul,” Lane said.
Matt shrugged.
Christine said, “What’s so bad about that name?”
“St. Paul’s words are often quoted to condemn people like me,” Lane said.
“Oh,” said Christine.
The doctor turned to Arthur. “How are you feeling?”
“A bit better every day. Waiting for the results of the biopsy.” Alexandre nodded at Arthur. “How is Lane doing?”
Arthur looked at Lane. “Better, I think. He saved a girl in kindergarten and her older sister. He was punished for solving the crime. It took its toll.”
“Why is that?” Alexander asked.
“Smoke is an asshole,” Christine said.
“He was punished for doing the right thing. He was punished for saving the little girl’s life. He was punished for putting a killer in jail. He was punished for defusing a situation at Tsuu T ’ ina. Smoke even tried to take credit for the success of that operation.” Arthur took a sip of tea.
“And Uncle Lane’s been withdrawing from us,” Christine said. “Pulling away. He gets angry all the time.”
“He takes care of us,” Matt said. “He takes care of all of us. I just think he’s been really sad lately.”
“Why do you think that is?” the doctor asked.
“The work,” said Matt. “Our home life. Uncle Arthur’s illness.”
“You think it’s me, don’t you?” Christine said.
“No,” said Matt. “I think it’s us. We create a lot of stress for both of them.”
“Actually, it’s neither of you,” Lane said.
“What is it, then?” Alexandre asked.
“I don’t know how to put it into words yet.”
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 9
chapter 23
“I’m going downtown to see the malabarista,” Lane said to Arthur as Matt came in the door and kicked off his shoes. His heavy canvas pants were stained from the knees down with dirt and grass from working at the golf course. “Do you want to come?”
“Why?” Christine stepped into the kitchen.
“Why not?” Matt smiled. “Let’s go.”
“Can Daniel come?” Christine asked.
“Ask him,” Lane said.
“Okay.” Christine went to the top of the stairs. “Daniel? Come on!”
Arthur looked up from the papers he had strewn across the dining room table. “It’s about time we got out of here. Summer’s almost over.” He let Lane get a jacket for him so he could hide the plastic tubes and drainage containers.
“I’ll phone Keely,” Lane said.
Twenty minutes later, they were jammed into the Jeep and driving along the valley bottom between condos, businesses, and skyscrapers.
“What’s a malabarista?” Daniel asked.
“A juggler. In this case, it’s two guys. One plays music and the other…” How do I say what he does?
“Juggles?” Christine asked.
“And does tricks,” Lane said.
“You said he did some flips on stilts,” Matt said.
“That too.”
“That the guy with one leg?” Daniel asked.
“Yes,” Lane said.
“So they play music, juggle, and do gymnastics,” Arthur said.
“Just like the two of you.” Matt laughed at his uncles. “Always juggling.”
They parked just south of the river and west of the hotels and condos next to Eau Claire. A series of pathways met at Prince’s Island, where walkers, joggers, cyclists, and babies in strollers funneled across a bridge over a pond. Ducks and geese fought for scraps and territory under the bridge and along the shore.
“Where will they be?” Christine asked as she took Daniel’s hand.
“Just over by the water park, I think.” Lane looked across the promenade, where parents were drying their children as they exited the paddling pool. Beyond the pool, older folks sat alone or together on the benches on either side of the promenade. A steady stream of people approached the bridge on their way to the park or the restaurant on the island.