Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13)

by Heather Wardell

  "I hear you. Koala goes in the reject pile, I assume?"

  "Oh, yeah." I smiled at him, glad we were relaxing with each other. "And maybe we should start a new pile for the really ridiculous ones."

  He ceremoniously gave the koala letter its own spot on the couch between us. In about half an hour it had been joined by a request to start a fitness centre for dogs and one to finance someone's skydiving wedding, and what John called the 'average reject' pile was easily fifty letters high.

  "There's nothing good here at all." I filed my current letter, a parent asking for new uniforms for her daughter's school field hockey team because the girls didn't like the color of the existing uniforms, as an average reject and sighed. "I should probably just recycle the lot of them, but I can't bring myself to do it. A little longer of this, though..." I sighed again.

  John looked up from the letter he held. "Ready for a shock? This one actually makes sense. She's typed it, so it's not hard to read, and I think all the words are spelled right. And it's not obnoxious."

  I widened my eyes as far as I could. "It can't be!"

  "I know. I think I passed out for a second." He handed it to me.

  Dear Ms. Hollingsford,

  I am a thirteen-year-old figure skater and I hope to get to the Olympics some day. I'm working as hard as I can, of course, at the Centennial arena not too far from my house, but it's difficult because I can only book ice time once a week for me and my coach. There's more time available, but it just costs way too much and my parents can't afford to rent it for me. I do go to every public skating session I can and practice in the middle of the rink since most people skate around the outsides, but last week I almost knocked over a little kid so I'm not sure I can keep doing that.

  I looked up at John. "I'm a horrible person, but the image of her sending a toddler flying makes me want to laugh."

  He grinned at me. "Then I'm horrible too, because I felt the same way."

  "Glad I'm not the only rotten one," I said, and returned to the letter.

  I was thinking that maybe you could double the ice rentals of the people who are already renting ice. You could do it for a few months, or even longer if you wanted to. That way the people who've already committed to skating or hockey would be able to get the extra ice time they need.

  If you wanted to do this, you could talk to Bud Masterson at the arena and I'm sure he could arrange it.

  Whatever you decide to do, congratulations on your win and I hope you enjoy it as well as help people with it.

  Thanks for considering my idea,

  Annie Cranston

  I looked from the letter to John. "That IS a good one, actually. I like that she wants it to help everyone instead of just herself."

  He nodded. "I used to play hockey at Centennial, but the games are at eight o'clock Sunday morning so I haven't played since I started working nights. And she's right, the rink isn't fully booked. You probably could double everyone's time."

  "Any idea what that would cost?"

  "My team paid about two hundred bucks an hour. I can't imagine you'd be adding more than six hours a day, so that's twelve hundred. And I bet Bud would give you a discount for booking it all, so let's say a grand a day tops."

  "So seven grand a week, or about twenty-eight grand a month." It hurt me to think of giving up that much money, but I did like Annie's idea so I took a deep breath and made myself say, "I think we have our first winner. Seems like it could help a lot of people."

  "Yup. And if I'm lucky I might even get to play hockey again, if the league were to set up an afternoon session."

  "I'll make that a requirement."

  We smiled at each other and returned to processing letters. John found a few more he thought had potential but I didn't like any of them. Still, by four o'clock when we decided to stop because Zack would soon be home we had managed to get through one of the three boxes and were quite proud of ourselves.

  John refilled my wine glass and opened himself another beer. "Good work."

  "Yeah," I said slowly.

  "No?"

  I tipped my head from side to side. "Yes, but..." I tapped the Annie letter. "This'll cost me twenty-eight grand a month. It's a lot. Could be more, too, if we're wrong about the cost or the number of hours. And there are still two more boxes of letters plus whatever's waiting at the post office. Plus Shane's probably going to go ahead and sue me for his supposed share. If we find many more good projects I'll have to turn them down just so I'll have a little something left over. Which would suck."

  He looked surprised, but nodded and gave me a wry smile. "It's hard to believe you don't have the money to do whatever you want, isn't it?"

  "Definitely. I do, if I go into the principal, but--"

  "Tiff says not to, doesn't she?"

  I nodded, and he said "Then don't. She knows what she's doing."

  I tried, and failed, not to be a little annoyed by his blind faith in his ex-wife. She had no faith in him.

  I was saved from needing to answer, though, because my phone rang. I checked the screen, hoping against hope my number hadn't been leaked again, then answered as relief flooded me. "Hey, Claudia. We still on for--"

  "You're not going to believe this," she blurted out, her voice alive with happiness, "but we can afford the IVF treatment."

  "That's great!" I put as much surprise and excitement into my voice as I could. "Right now? I thought it would take you a while."

  "Me too," she said, "but Terrence just heard that his grandma's sister died and left him fifteen grand. It's exactly what we need. How cool is that?"

  "Totally cool," I agreed, fighting off a little twinge of sadness that she didn't know I was really the benefactor. I hadn't wanted her to know, and I still didn't, but it would feel so good to have her delight directed at me.

  "I'll talk to the clinic Monday and see when we can have our first cycle." She sniffed. "I'm so happy I can hardly keep from crying. When Terrence told me that he'd got the money earlier this week I almost passed out."

  "Why didn't he tell you right away?" I'd wondered why I'd heard nothing from her.

  She giggled. "The doofus was trying to decide whether to do something fancy to surprise me or just tell me. I'm glad he didn't waste any on a big announcement. We'll need every cent. But... oh, Angela, I'm going to get to have a baby."

  The pure joy in her voice, the joy I'd never feel, made my throat tighten, but I managed to say, "I'm so happy for you."

  "I know, that's why you're awesome. Oh, and Angela? Will you be the godmother?"

  "Of course. I'd be honored."

  "I'd better go. Terrence wants to tell his mom how we're using the money."

  That should be an interesting conversation, given that she'd know the grandmother's sister hadn't passed away, but I felt sure Terrence had figured out a way to keep it all secret. Wishing he didn't have to but knowing he did, I said, "She'll be thrilled, I'm sure."

  "Not as thrilled as I am." She started to say goodbye, then cut herself off mid-word. "Angela?"

  "Yup?" I said, worried by the sudden rush of emotion in her single word.

  "It means everything to me, you know. This money. That we got it." She sniffed again. "Just wanted you to know that."

  I could hear Terrence in the background saying, "Come on, Claud, don't fall apart," and his nervous tone sounded exactly as I felt. Had she figured it out? Why else would she be saying it like that?

  I wouldn't give the secret away unless she asked me directly, so I said, "I do know. It's amazing that it happened, and you two will be terrific parents. You can tell me more at dinner if you want."

  "No," she said after another sniff, "I think I've said everything I need to about it."

  We got off the phone and I slumped back against my seat.

  "What's up?"

  I sighed. "Can you keep a secret?"

  "Of course," he said, but as he spoke the door opened and Zack flew in and threw himself onto the couch between us and we had to rescu
e the piles of letters before he knocked them all over.

  "I'll tell you later," I murmured once Zack had told us about his party and was getting the video game system fired up.

  "Deal."

  I doubted he'd approve of what I'd done, so I decided I wouldn't tell him after all, but after we'd all played a few video games together and Zack had gone off to make himself a sandwich John said, "So, what was the secret?" and I found myself telling him the whole thing. He hadn't met Claudia and Terrence but he did know about them and their struggle to have a child, so it only took a few moments to lay out how I'd offered the money first to Claudia and then to Terrence.

  When I finished, John said, "Wow."

  "Yeah." I took a deep breath and went for it. "I guess you disapprove."

  He blinked. "Not at all. I don't much like the part about not telling her the truth, but--"

  "Me either, but otherwise she--"

  "She did want to take it, though," he went on, smiling at me. "I think that's pretty clear. But it's hard for some people to take money from friends."

  I made my best clueless face. "It is? I've never heard that before."

  He laughed and swatted me on the shoulder. "Yes, it is." He sobered. "But it doesn't mean the offer's not appreciated." His eyes locked with mine. "A lot."

  I felt my cheeks getting warm at the sincerity of his expression. "I'm glad."

  He cleared his throat without looking away. "I'm glad you're kind enough to offer."

  We sat looking at each other, unable to speak, until Zack and his sandwich landed between us and broke the moment.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Friday morning, three weeks after my life had been changed in fifty million ways, Tyler and I sat in a mediator's conference room awaiting the arrival of the reason we needed mediation.

  Shane.

  Though Tyler had insisted we try, Tiff thought this informal mediation was pointless because Shane would keep fighting until I gave him half the money. I couldn't get my head around the idea of him demanding a share at all, but I did prefer to see him for the first time in nine years here in this relatively neutral setting rather than in a courtroom.

  "Remember, let me do the talking," Tyler said yet again. He'd told me this before, and I'd agreed, but this time he went on with a new level of detail. "They may say things to stir you up. Don't let them, okay? His lawyer will be looking for anything he can use in court. Just let me do the talking, and stay calm."

  I had been calmer before he gave me the image of Shane's lawyer trying to upset me, but I took a deep breath and nodded.

  The conference room door opened, setting my heart racing, but it was just the mediator, who smiled at us and took a chair at his round table. I'd barely begun to calm down when the door opened again and three people entered. A man with silver hair and piercing blue eyes, at least twenty years older than I usually preferred but surprisingly attractive in his elegant black suit. A short-haired blonde woman of around my age in a perfectly tailored red skirt and jacket with an obviously expensive leather briefcase in her hand and a disapproving expression on her coolly pretty face.

  And a man in jeans and a dark green sweater.

  Shane.

  Though it had been nine years I recognized him like we'd never been apart. He'd gained a rounder stomach and a few wrinkles, and had lost some of his brown hair, but it was still him and his presence made the path I hadn't taken seem so clear it almost shimmered before me.

  I could have married him. For the last nine years we could have been together. Maybe we could even have had kids before my cancer. My whole life could have been different. Better.

  Complete.

  He glanced at me, then turned away, then looked back with a jerk that must have hurt his neck. "Angela? I didn't even recognize you."

  "It's me," I said, feeling stupid. "I changed my hair."

  "Take a seat, Shane," the blonde said, sounding like she was trying to hold back frustration. "I can only spare half an hour from work."

  The white-haired man gestured to the chairs directly in front of me across the large black-lacquered table, and once Shane and the blonde were seated he took the chair across from Tyler. I felt sure the round table was supposed to avoid status issues since there weren't any real power positions, but I wasn't convinced it was doing its job.

  "Introduction time." The mediator smiled around at us all. "You all know I'm Gregory Brand. Tyler Ditting is Angela Hollingsford's lawyer, and of course this is Angela."

  The white-haired man gave a curt nod and took over. "I'm Blair Anderson, and my clients are Shane Thomson and Liz Jones-Thomson."

  Something inside me gave a strangled croak of horror, fortunately audible only to me. Jones-Thomson? Had Shane--

  "My client and his wife are hopeful that Ms. Hollingsford will be reasonable and honor her verbal contract without the inconvenience of a lawsuit." He looked directly at me. "Is that the case? Will you be reasonable?"

  Stunned by the realization that Shane, the poster boy for non-commitment, was married, I couldn't speak. Luckily, that meant I was doing exactly what Tyler wanted. "My client is eminently reasonable," my lawyer said calmly, with just a hint of an emphasis on the 'my', "and as such she does not believe that a casual comment made nearly a decade ago constitutes anything even close to a verbal contract."

  "A casual comment?" Blair shook his head. "We have multiple printouts of emails in which your client and mine agreed to share winnings. We are far past a casual comment."

  "Emails, of course, can be faked. Printouts of emails even more so."

  They went back and forth in their game of legal ping-pong, and I sat feeling like my heart was the ball.

  I had wanted to marry Shane so much, but I hadn't wanted the kind of globetrotting life he was determined to have. But now I wondered if I could have put up with that for the sake of eventually having a husband and children.

  Did he have children? Would we have had them?

  I knew I should be listening but I couldn't stop thinking. Sitting across from me, looking like he was thoroughly engrossed in the lawyers' debate, was the man who could have been my boat. He had been my boat, but I'd refused to take the ticket on the terms he offered. Seeing him now made that decision seem like the stupidest one ever.

  The lawyers went back and forth a little longer, then Gregory cleared his throat. "So, if I may... what I'm hearing is that Mr. Thomson and Mrs. Jones-Thomson intend to take this case to trial unless they are given half of the fifty million dollars Ms. Hollingsford won."

  Blair nodded once.

  "And Ms. Hollingsford does not intend to give them that money, correct?"

  Tyler gave the same curt nod Blair had given, and I saw a snap of fury cross Blair's face before he resumed his neutral expression.

  "Then I'm afraid we may be at an impasse." Gregory turned to Blair. "Would a smaller sum be acceptable?"

  A sharp head-shake.

  "We are indeed at an impasse."

  I could almost hear Zack saying 'duh', and it made me smile a little though I tried to control it.

  Blair pushed back his chair and stood. "Well, then. Ditting, expect the paperwork within a week or two."

  Liz and Shane got up too, and Liz left beside Blair with Shane trailing behind. When he reached the door, he turned back and looked at me for a long moment, then a female voice called, "Shane, hurry up!" and he turned and disappeared.

  Wondering why he'd been looking at me, what he'd been thinking, I slumped into my chair.

  Gregory said softly, "You can use the room as long as you want," and slipped away.

  Tyler gave my shoulder a friendly pat. "That went exactly how I thought it would. Don't worry. We're fine."

  I pushed myself upright. "But it's going to court now."

  "Sure, and they need to convince a judge that nine-year-old email printouts are relevant. I can't see anyone forcing you to hand over the money."

  "Well, good," I said, trying to sound happier than I felt
. I was glad, to a degree, but the whole thing felt sordid and ugly.

  He patted my shoulder again. "You haven't had much fun with the money yet, have you? All those phone number leaks, the crowd outside your apartment, and now this. What have you done for fun?"

  "I've got a new Lexus sitting outside," I said, the thought of the smooth and quiet ride to the office and how calm and elegant the car felt around me making me smile.

  "Nice start. What else?"

  I told him about my parents' cruise and the money for my siblings, and added that I'd given some to a friend and had bought myself some new clothes and visited the spa, but when I'd finished he smiled and shook his head. "I mean, what have you done that knocks your socks off? You can do nearly anything you want with that interest. Think big. Think huge!"

  I looked at him, and the perfect way to spend an afternoon and a bit of the money hit me. It wouldn't be expensive, but it was definitely big. "You're right. But I'm going to think tall instead."

  Chapter Twenty

  On the Friday before Christmas, John and I stood in the gift shop at the base of Toronto's CN Tower with an excited Zack and a nervous Tiff.

  "I wish I was thirteen," Zack said for about the thirtieth time. "Then I could go."

  "I'm glad you're not," Tiff said yet again. "And I wish your dad and Angela weren't either."

  "They aren't thirteen," Zack said, with an evil grin. "They old."

  John gave his son a light swat and I said, "Not so old we can't cream you in 'Call of Duty'."

  Zack rolled his eyes. "Not after this. Not if you fall."

  "Zack!" Tiff glared at him. "Don't even joke about that."

  "Tiff, we'll be fine. Seriously. There'd be so much paperwork if we fell, so there's no way they'd let that happen."

  I knew John was right, and I knew I wanted to do this, and yet...

  In the lawyer's office I'd loved the idea of walking around outside the CN Tower 365 metres above the ground secured only by a few ropes. John and I had seen it on TV a week or two before my win and had said we should do it someday, and so when Tyler pushed me to do something exciting it had seemed like a smart choice. Now it seemed about as smart as tearing every last bill of my money into shreds and throwing it away.