Part 18 (1/2)

”Nine's fine,” he said.

We were standing in front of my door. ”Do you want to come in for a drink?”

”No, thanks,” he said. ”Nine o'clock comes early.”

”I had a good time tonight,” I said.

Alex Kequahtooway reached out and touched my cheek. ”So did I.” Then his face grew serious. ”Be careful, Joanne. Don't take any chances.”

I unlocked the front door. ”Don't worry,” I said, ”I'm a very prudent person.”

CHAPTER.

12.

Sat.u.r.day morning I woke up to the radio weatherman telling us we were in for a record-warm December 5. ”Get out the sunscreen, folks,” he said. I looked out my bedroom window. Maybe not sunscreen weather, but there were patches of dark ground beneath the melting snow, and I could hear water dripping off the eaves. When Alex came, his windbreaker was open, and Angus refused to wear a coat at all.

”Somehow, when I envisioned this, I thought we'd all be rosy-cheeked in our toques and ski-jackets,” I said.

Angus shook his head. ”Dream on, Mum.”

Alex and I put the lights on the house while Angus and Taylor did the trees. When we were through, Taylor brought her pumpkin out and placed it on top of the painted cream can I was going to fill with pine boughs and red velvet bows. She smiled at Alex. ”Can you light him up, too?”

Alex looked at me questioningly. I nodded. ”It can be done,” he said, and he threaded the lights expertly through the pumpkin.

”Good job,” Taylor said approvingly.

”You'd be amazed at the things they teach us at the police college,” he said.

Angus ran in the house and turned on the lights, and the four of us stood on the soggy lawn a.s.sessing our handiwork. In the rotting snow, the lights looked like decorations for a used-car lot, and there was no denying that Jack was more battle-scarred than ever.

”I think my Hallmark Christmas just went down the dumper,” I said.

”Let it go,” Alex said. ”We'll come up with something better.”

I smiled at him. I liked the sound of that we.

We had an early lunch because Alex was on duty at noon. Peter drove up just as he was leaving. As I saw Peter pull up out front, I tried to think how his old green Volvo would look to someone who hadn't known it as long as we all had. Rust had eaten serious holes in the car's body, and the trunk was tied shut with a piece of rope, but the homemade canoe rack on top was still in A-1 shape. I turned to Alex. ”As a cop, are you are obligated to do something about a car like Veronica?”

He pointed towards the Volvo. ”That's Veronica?”

”Peter's pride and joy,” I said.

Peter came, and after the hugs and the introductions, Alex pointed to the canoe rack.

”You enjoy the water?”

Pete grinned. ”Sure, but I don't have a boat. That thing just came with the car. It seems kinda pointless to take it off.”

Alex nodded in agreement. ”Who knows? One day you might get a kayak or something.”

Pete's grin grew even wider. ”Exactly,” he said, and he shot me a look of triumph. I had never been a fan of that canoe rack.

Angus and Taylor came out and hauled Pete into the house to show off the cat and see if he'd brought them anything. Alex watched their retreating backs thoughtfully. ”Nice kids,” he said.

”Thanks,” I said. ”I was afraid that between Peter's car and Taylor's superannuated pumpkin you'd be ready to write us off by now.”

He shook his head. ”Actually the car is pretty much like most of the cars I had when I was a kid, and Taylor's pumpkin looks like my captain.” His words were casual, but when he turned to me, his dark eyes were grave. ”Are you planning to stay pretty close to home today?”

”I've got our TV panel at 6:30. Till then, I hadn't planned much beyond visiting with Pete and getting ready for the show.”

”Good,” he said.

”Is something wrong?” I asked.

”I don't know,” he said, ”but it never hurts to be careful.”

Our topic that night was changes in the delivery of the health-care system, and I spent the afternoon catching up on Peter's news and rereading my notes. It was a subject I was up on, but the questions viewers called in were quirky sometimes, and I wanted to be prepared. As Alex said, ”it never hurts to be careful.”

We ate early, and I was at Nationtv by 6:00. I had trouble finding a parking place. When I got to the entrance I remembered why. There was huge fir tree in the middle of the galleria, and the area around it was filled with people. I spotted Jill at the far end of the room, talking to a cl.u.s.ter of technical people who were watching a choir arrange themselves on a makes.h.i.+ft stage. When Jill saw me, she gave one final instruction to the camera people and came over.

She was wearing a dark green silk skirt and a matching blouse covered in Christmas roses. In her ears were gold drop earrings which, on closer inspection, turned out to be reindeers.

”You look like the spirit of Christmas,” I said.

”Thank you,” she said. ”I'd like to find the f.u.c.khead vice-president who came up with this community tree-lighting idea. Do you know the network's doing this all across Canada? Coast-to-coast, people are jumping in their cars so they can come down to their local Nationtv station, hang their trinket on our tree, and get a gla.s.s of warm apple juice and a dead doughnut. And people like me are trying to figure out where we're gonna find the money to pay all our technical people time-and-a-half. Do you know what I was doing when you came? Setting up to reshoot a segment because a little girl in the front row of the choir peed herself in the middle of 'Frosty the Snowman.' She didn't even stop singing. The cameramen noticed it dripping off the edge of the stage.”

I started to laugh.

”It's not funny, Jo,” she said. Then she started to laugh, too. ”Well, maybe it is funny, but a real friend wouldn't have laughed. Come on, let's go downstairs. We can run through the show when you're in makeup.”

After I was made up, Jill and I walked onto the set. I sat in my place, and Leslie Martin came over and clipped my microphone on my jacket. She was wearing dark green tights, a red and white striped jerkin, and a red stocking cap with a jingle bell on the end.

”Do you get time-and-a-half for being an elf?” I asked.

”You bet your boots! And guess whose boyfriend is getting a Nordic Track for Christmas.” Leslie flashed me a grin that was far too lascivious for one of Santa's helpers. ”I can hardly wait to rub up against those sculptured pectorals.”

Through my earpiece I could hear Jill's voice. ”I was just talking to Keith,” she said. ”I think he and the lady lobbyist must have had a falling out. He says he's coming home for Christmas, and he wonders if you'd take it amiss if he asked you for dinner.”

”I wouldn't take it amiss,” I said, ”but I may have other plans. I've met somebody else ...”

”Do tell,” she said.

I started. Then the monitor picked up Sam Spiegel in Ottawa, the director began counting down, and we were on the air.

It was a good show. Keith outlined the more provocative proposals for revamping the American health-care delivery system, and Sam and I talked about some of the initiatives the provinces were taking at home. There were the usual ideological flare-ups about who had the right to expect what from whom, but we were spirited rather than vicious, and when the phone-in segment started, the callers seemed, for once, to be more interested in light than heat. The questions were fair and perceptive, and I relaxed and enjoyed myself. Sixty seconds before the end of the show, I was half-listening to Sam talk about wellness models, when the moderator in Toronto said, ”Time for one more quick question. Go ahead, Jenny from Vermilion Hills, Saskatchewan, you're on the air.”