“No on semi-formal dress because last year the boys kept pretending to hang themselves with their ties. No on a PowerPoint presentation of baby pictures, and no on having the principal read lame poems about the future. Yes on ham, yes on Nanaimo bars, and yes on getting the class picture taken at Waterfall Park.”
“You’re amazing,” I said.
“Especially since when I was in Grade Eight, there weren’t any ceremonies when we made it to high school. The teachers just booted us out the door.”
“And look how well you turned out,” I said.
“Any complaints?”
“Just the same old lament. I wish you didn’t work so hard.”
“I’m cutting back. I’ve turned down a couple of big cases lately.”
“Alleluia,” I said. “So are you finally going to start handing off some of your files to Sean?”
Zack shook his head. “No, not to Sean. I have somebody else in mind, but we haven’t had a chance to talk, so nothing’s official.”
“That’s a surprise,” I said. “Have you told Sean?”
“Yeah. I told him last night when we were driving back from the cop shop.”
“How did he take it?”
“Not great. He didn’t throw me out of the car or anything, but he was disappointed.”
“Understandably,” I said. “I’m sure he thought he was the heir apparent. He’s been working with you for a long time.”
“True, and while he was working with me, I was able to get a pretty good idea of his capabilities.”
“Good enough for an associate but not for a partner?”
“Yup. Sean is competent, but he’s not partner material.”
“That’s sad,” I said. “He’s devoted to you.”
“I’m not having him euthanized, Jo. As I reminded Sean last night, he has options. He can go to another firm or he can stay on as a senior associate at Falconer Shreve and eat what he kills.”
“What does that mean?”
“Right now, Sean gets a percentage of his billables and if his billables are high, he gets a bonus. As a senior associate, he’d get to keep pretty much everything he brought in.” Zack raised his hands, palms up. “He eats what he kills.”
I shuddered. “That terminology’s a little brutal, isn’t it?”
Zack pushed his chair back from the table. “Life is brutal. Madeleine could tell you that. On the five occasions she and I watched March of the Penguins , she alerted me to the line, ‘Not all penguins survive.’ ”
After we’d cleared away our breakfast things, Zack went to shower and dress and I went to Taylor’s room to get her moving. She was a girl who loved creature comforts, and her bedroom caught the morning sun. Nested in her sheets with the sunshine warm on her face and her cats, Bruce and Benny, at her feet, Taylor had many reasons for staying in bed, but even more reasons for getting up. I kissed her hair. “Time to get up,” I said.
She threw back her sheets and bolted upright. The hormones were kicking in. “Tonight’s the meeting about the Farewell. I am soooooo excited.”
“I guess we should start thinking about what you’re going to wear,” I said.
“I know what I’m not going to wear,” Taylor said.
“That’s a start,” I said. “So what are you not going to wear?”
“The same thing everybody else is wearing: sparkly T-shirt, short ruffly skirt, and sandals with plastic flowers.”
I sat on the bed beside her. “You sound like your mum. When we were in high school, we were both invited to the Battalion Ball at Upper Canada College. Your mother knew that all the girls would be wearing little pearl earrings, pearl necklaces, strapless pastel dresses with tulle skirts, and shoes with illusion heels so they wouldn’t be taller than their dates.
Taylor moved closer. “So what did she wear?”
“A slinky black silk dress with a high neck and long sleeves. She also wore spike-heeled shoes that made her about six inches taller than the boy she was with. He didn’t care. Every time he looked at her, he just about fainted because he