The Gift

  Lou blessed himself as the warning signal appeared at 11:25. They moved the boat around, trying to get into position so that they’d be one of the first to cross the starting line. At 11:26 the preparatory flag went up. At 11:29 the one-minute signal flag went down. Lou waved his arms around wildly, trying to signal to Quentin where to place the boat.

  “Right starboard, starboard right, Quentin!” he yelled, waving his right arm. “Thirty seconds!” he yelled.

  They came dangerously close to another yacht. Lou’s fault.

  “Eh, left port! LEFT!” Lou yelled. “Twenty seconds!”

  Each boat fought hard to find a good position, but with thirty boats in the race, there could be only a small number that would make it across the starting line in the favored spot close to the committee boat. The rest would have to do their best with stolen wind on the way up the beat.

  Eleven thirty heralded the start signal, and at least ten boats crossed the start line before them. Not the best start, but Lou wasn’t going to let it get to him. He was rusty, he needed some practice, but he didn’t have time for that. This was the real thing.

  They raced along with Ireland’s Eye on their right and the headland to their left, but there was no time to take in the view now. Lou thought fast and looked around him at all the yachts racing by, with the wind blowing in his hair, his blood pumping through his veins, feeling more alive than he’d ever felt. It was all coming back to him, what it felt like to be on the boat. He was slower, perhaps, but he hadn’t lost his instincts. They raced along, the boat crashing over the waves as they headed toward the weather mark, one mile up in the wind from the starting line.

  “Tacking!” Quentin shouted, watching and steering as the team prepared. The runners trimmer, Alan, checked that the slack on the old runners had been pulled in. The genoa trimmer, Luke, made sure that the new sheet had the slack pulled in and gave a couple of turns on the winch. Lou didn’t move an inch, thinking ahead about what he needed to do and watching the other boats around them to make sure nothing was too close. He instinctively knew they were tacking onto port and would have no right of way over boats on starboard. His old racing tactics came flooding back, and he was quietly pleased with how he had positioned the boat right on the lay line to the weather mark. He could sense Quentin’s confidence in him gaining at their now favorable position when the tack was completed, powering toward the mark with a clear passage in. It was Quentin’s belief in him that Lou was fighting to win, just as much as first place.

  Quentin made sure that there was room to take and started the turn. Geoff, the cockpit man, moved quickly to the old genoa, and as the genoa backwinded, he released it. The boat went through the wind, the mainsheet was eased a couple of feet, and the boom came across. Luke pulled as fast as possible, and when he couldn’t pull anymore, he put a couple more turns on the winch and the grinding began. Quentin steered the new course.

  “HIGH SIDE!” Lou yelled, and they all raced to hang their legs over the windward side.

  Quentin whooped, and Lou laughed into the wind.

  After rounding the first mark and heading toward the second with the wind on their side, Lou jumped into action in time to hoist the spinnaker, then gave Quentin the thumbs-up. The rest of the team instantly got busy, tending to their individual duties. Lou was a little too much fingers and thumbs, but he could tell it was coming together.

  Watching it rise to the top, Lou happily called, “UP!”

  Alan trimmed the spinnaker while Robert grinded. They sailed fast, and Lou punched the air and roared. Behind the wheel, Quentin laughed as the spinny filled with wind like a windsock, and the wind with them, they raced to the next mark. Quentin allowed himself a quick look astern, and it was some sight: there must have been twenty-five boats with spinnakers filling, chasing them down. Not bad. He and Lou caught each other’s eyes and smiled.

  AFTER THIRTY MINUTES OF QUEUING for the ice rink, Lou and his family finally reached the front.

  “You guys have fun,” Lou said, clapping his hands together and stamping his feet to keep warm. “I’ll just go to the coffee place over there and watch you.”

  Ruth started laughing. “Lou, I thought you were coming skating with us.”

  “No.” He scrunched up his face. “I’ve just spent the last half an hour watching men my age making fools of themselves out there. What if someone sees me? I’d rather stay here, thank you. Plus, these are new and dry clean only,” he added, pointing to his trousers.

  “Right,” Ruth said firmly, “then you won’t mind taking care of Bud while Lucy and I skate.”

  “Come on, Lucy.” Lou had an instant change of heart at that and grabbed his daughter’s hand. “Let’s get us some skates.” He winked at Ruth, who looked amused, and made off to get their ice skates. He got to the counter ahead of Smug Family Man. Ha. He felt a sense of silent victory.

  “What size?” The man behind the desk looked at him.

  “Ten, please,” Lou responded, and looked down at Lucy and waited for her to speak up. Her big brown eyes stared back up at him.

  “Tell the man your size, sweetheart,” he said, feeling Smug Family Man breathing down his neck as he waited.

  “I don’t know, Daddy,” she said, almost in a whisper.

  “Well, you’re four, aren’t you?”

  “Five.” She frowned.

  “She’s five,” he told the man. “So whatever size a five-year-old would take.”

  “It really depends on the child.”

  Lou sighed and took out his BlackBerry, refusing to have to line up again. Behind him, Smug Family Man with the baby in the pouch called over his head, “Two size fours, a size three, and an eleven, please.”

  Lou rolled his eyes and mimicked him as he waited for his call to be answered.

  “Hello?”

  “What size is Lucy?”

  Ruth laughed. “She’s a twenty-six.”

  “Okay, thanks.” He hung up.

  Once on the ice, he held on to the side of the rink carefully. He took Lucy’s hand and guided her along. Ruth stood nearby with Bud, who kicked his legs excitedly while bouncing up and down and pointing at nothing in particular.

  “Now, sweetheart”—Lou’s voice and ankles wobbled as he stepped on the ice—“it’s very dangerous, so you have to be very careful. Hold on to the sides now, okay?”

  Lucy held on to the side with one hand and slowly got used to moving along the ice while Lou’s ankles still wobbled on his thin blades.

  Lucy started to skate faster. “Honey,” Lou said, his voice shaky as he looked down at the cold, hard ice, dreading what it would feel like to fall.

  The distance between Lucy and Lou widened.

  “Keep up with her, Lou,” Ruth called from the other side of the barrier, walking alongside him as he moved. He could swear he heard teasing in her voice.

  “I bet you’re enjoying this.” He could barely look up at her, he was concentrating so much.

  “Absolutely.”

  He pushed with his left foot, which skidded out farther than he planned, and he almost broke into a split. Feeling like Bambi getting to his feet for the first time, he wobbled and spun, arms waving around in circles as he tried to keep his balance. But he was making progress. He looked up now and then to keep his eye on Lucy, who was clearly visible in her fire-engine-red coat, halfway around the rink ahead of him.

  Smug Family Man went flying by him, arms swinging as though he was about to take part in a bobsled race, the speed of him alone almost toppling Lou. Behind him, Smug Family Man’s kids raced along, holding hands, and were they actually singing? That was it, Lou decided. Slowly letting go of the barrier at the side, he tried to balnace on wobbly legs. Then, bit by bit, he slid a foot forward, almost toppling backward, his back arching as though about to fall into a crab position, but he somehow managed to rescue himself.

  “Hi, Daddy,” Lucy said, speeding by him as she completed the first round of the rink.

  Lou moved out f
rom the side of the rink, away from the beginners who were shuffling around inch by inch, determined, albeit foolishly, to beat Smug Family Man.

  Halfway now between the center of the rink and the barrier, Lou was out on his own. Feeling a little more confident, he pushed himself farther, trying to swing his arms for balance as he saw the others doing. He picked up speed. Dodging children and old people, he quite unsophisticatedly darted around the rink, hunched over and swinging his arms, more like an ice-hockey player than a graceful skater. He bumped against children, knocking some over, causing others to topple. He heard one child cry. He broke through a couple holding hands. He was concentrating on not falling over so much that he could barely find the time to apologize. At one point he passed Lucy but, unable to stop, had to keep moving, his speed picking up as he went round and round. The lights that decorated the park trees above them blurred as he raced around, along with the sounds and colors of the other skaters. Feeling like he was on a merry-go-round, Lou smiled and finally relaxed a little bit, as he raced round and round and round. He passed Smug Family Guy; he passed by Lucy for a third time; he passed by Ruth, whom he heard call his name and take a photograph. He couldn’t stop, and he wouldn’t stop; he didn’t know how. He was enjoying the feel of the wind in his hair, the lights of the city around him, the crispness of the air, the sky so filled with stars as the evening began to close in at the early hour. He felt free and alive, happier than he remembered being for a long time. Round and round he went.

  ALEXANDRA AND THE CREW HAD taken on the course for the third and final time. Their speed and coordination had come together better over the last hour, and Lou had fixed any previous hiccups that he’d had. They were coming up to rounding the bottom mark, and they needed to once again execute the spinnaker drop.

  Lou made sure that the ropes were free to run. Geoff hoisted the genoa, Lou guided it into the luff groove, and Luke made sure that the genoa sheet was cleated off. Robert positioned himself to grab the loose sheet under the mainsail so that it could be used to pull in the spinnaker. As soon as he was in position, everyone prepared for everything to happen at once. Geoff released the halyard and helped to stuff the spinnaker down below. Joey released the guy and made sure it ran out fast so that the spinnaker could fly flaglike outside the boat. When the spinnaker was in the boat, Luke trimmed the genoa for the new course, Joey trimmed the main, Geoff lowered the pole, and Lou stowed the pole.

  Spinnaker down for the last time and approaching the finishing line, they radioed the race officer on Channel 37 and waited for recognition. Not first in, but they were all happy. Lou looked at Quentin as they sailed in, and they smiled. Neither of them said anything. They didn’t need to. They both knew.

  LYING ON HIS BACK WITH people flying by him, Lou held on to his sore rib cage and tried to stop laughing, but he just couldn’t. He had done what he had been dreading and achieved the most dramatic and comical fall of the day. He lay in the center of the rink; Lucy was by his side, laughing, trying to lift his arm and pull him up. They had been holding hands and skating around slowly together when, too cocky, Lou had tripped over his own feet, gone flying, and landed on his back. Nothing was broken, thankfully, other than his pride, but even that he surprisingly didn’t care about. He allowed Lucy to believe she was helping him up from the ice as she pulled on his arm. He looked over to Ruth and saw a flash as she took yet another photo. They caught each other’s eyes, and he smiled.

  They didn’t say anything about that day. They didn’t need to. They all knew.

  It had been the best day of their lives.

  CHAPTER 24

  The Turkey Boy 4

  SO HE SPENT THE DAY with his brother and he spent the day with his wife at exactly the same time.” The Turkey Boy wrinkled his nose.

  “Indeed,” Raphie sighed, knowing how incredible it sounded.

  “How do you know that? Did Lou tell you? I wouldn’t trust that Lou bloke, if I were you; he sounds like a bit of a sap.”

  “No, I didn’t hear it from Lou. I heard it from his wife, and I heard it from his brother.”

  “Oh.” The boy went silent. Then he perked up. “Hey, what are you doing investigating him, anyway? What did he do?”

  Raphie was silent.

  “Yes!” The boy rubbed his hands together with glee. “I knew you’d get the flash bastard on somethin’. Go on, tell us the rest.” He smiled with excitement, pulling his chair closer to the table so that he’d hear Raphie’s words as soon as they left his mouth.

  CHAPTER 25

  It All Started with a Mouse

  ON THE MONDAY MORNING FOLLOWING his weekend of sailing and skating, Lou Suffern found himself floating down the hall to the office with the bigger desk and better light. It was Christmas Eve and the office floor was near empty, but the few souls that haunted the halls—dressed in their casuals—offered pats on the back and firm handshakes of congratulations. He had made it. Behind him, Gabe helped carry a box of his files. Being Christmas Eve, it was the last day Lou would have to prepare himself before the Christmas break. Ruth had wanted him to accompany her and the kids into the city for some last-minute shopping, but he knew the best thing to do was to get a head start in his new job.

  So down he and Gabe went, to his bigger office with better light. When they opened the door, it was almost as though angels were singing inside, the morning sun lighting a pathway from the door to the desk and shining directly on his new oversized leather chair as though it were an apparition. Having already breathed a sigh of relief, Lou now took another deep breath for the new task ahead of him. No matter what he previously achieved, the feelings of having to reach again were never ending. Life for him felt like an endless ladder that disappeared somewhere in the clouds, constantly wobbling and threatening to topple and bring him down with it. He couldn’t look down now or he would freeze. He had to keep his eyes upward. Onward and upward.

  Gabe placed the boxes down and whistled as he looked around.

  “Some office, Lou.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Lou grinned.

  “It’s warm,” Gabe added, hands in pockets and strolling around.

  Lou frowned. “Warm is…a word I wouldn’t use to describe this”—he spread his hands out in the vast space—“enormous fucking office.” He started laughing, feeling slightly delirious. Tired and emotional, proud and a little fearful, he tried to take it all in.

  “So what exactly is it that you do now?” Gabe asked.

  “I’m the business development director, which means I now have the authority to tell certain little shits exactly what to do.”

  “Little shits like you?”

  Lou’s head snapped around to face Gabe, like a radar that had found a signal.

  “I mean, just a few days ago you would have been one of those little shits being told what to…never mind,” Gabe trailed off. “So how did Cliff take it?”

  “Take what?”

  “That his job was gone?”

  “Oh.” Lou looked up. He shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t tell him.”

  Gabe left a silence.

  “I don’t think he’s well enough yet to talk to anyone,” Lou added, feeling the need to explain.

  “He’s perfectly fine,” Gabe told him.

  “How do you know?”

  “I know. You should go and see him. He might have some good advice for you. You could learn from him. He’s decided to become a landscaper. Something he’s always wanted to do.”

  Lou laughed at that.

  Gabe didn’t blink, and stood looking at him as if disappointed.

  Lou cleared his throat awkwardly.

  “It’s Christmas Eve, Lou. What are you doing here?” Gabe’s voice was gentle.

  “What do you mean, what am I doing?” Lou held his hands up questioningly. “What does it look like? I’m working.”

  “Except for security, and a few stragglers, you’re the only person left in the building. Haven’t you noticed? Everybody’s out there.” Gabe po
inted out at the busy city.

  “Yeah, well, everybody out there isn’t as busy as I am,” Lou said childishly. “Besides, you’re here, too, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t count.”

  “Well, that’s a great answer. I don’t count then, either.”

  “You keep on going like this and you won’t,” Gabe said. “You know, one of the most successful businessmen of all time, a certain Walt Disney—I’m sure you’ve heard of him, he has a company or two here and there—said, ‘A man should never neglect his family for business.’”

  There was a long, awkward silence during which Lou clenched and unclenched his jaw, trying to decide whether to ask Gabe to leave or physically throw him out.

  “But then”—Gabe laughed—“he also said, ‘It all started with a mouse.’”

  “Okay, well, I’d better get to work now, Gabe. I hope you have a happy Christmas.” Lou tried to control his tone.

  “Thank you, Lou. A very happy Christmas to you, too. And congratulations on your warm, enormous fucking office.”

  Lou couldn’t help but laugh at that, and as Gabe closed the door behind him, Lou was alone for the first time in his space. He made his way to the desk, ran his finger along the walnut border to the pigskin surface. All that was on the desk was a large white computer, a keyboard, and a mouse.

  He sat down on the leather chair and swung around to face the window, watching the city below him preparing for the celebrations. A part of him felt pulled outside, yet he felt trapped behind the window. In fact, he often felt as though he were trapped inside an oversized snow globe, responsibilities and failures sprinkling down around him. He sat in that chair, at that desk, for over an hour, just thinking. Thinking about Cliff; thinking about the events of the past few weeks and about the best day of all with his family, about the lessons he had learned. He thought about everything. When a mild panic began to grow inside him, he turned in his chair and faced the office. Faced up to it all.