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deck chairs by the lake: Paul Daw, a psychiatrist who’d done part of his early training with Jack, and his date, another in a seemingly endless supply of giddy young women. When Jenny caught Paul’s eye she shook her head at him and grinned. Paul just shrugged. Apart from Nina, Paul was the closest friend Jenny had. He was a great listener, a professional listener, and Jenny had spent countless hours with him over the years just talking. It was one of an increasing number of things she couldn’t seem to do comfortably with her husband any more. The girl’s name was Cerise. “French for Cherry,” Paul said as they climbed the hill to the cottage. He’d met her at the University of Ottawa pool, where she worked as a lifeguard and taught grade schoolers to swim.
    The guest of honor, Al Sutton, arrived a few minutes later in a rented car. Jenny got the inside poop on him from Jack during the drive up. He was single, thirty-two, and had trained in some of the most prestigious medical centers in America. “A prime catch,” Jack had said. Looking at him now, Jenny was inclined to agree, albeit for different reasons. He had that glow some people had. Like Nina. You took one look at him and you just knew he was somebody special. He had a quick smile, boyish dimples and shining blue eyes. Jenny liked him right away and hoped he would join the department.
    Will and Nina, who’d stopped off en route for gas, arrived as the others were climbing the steps to the Fallons’ Pan Abode. Will was still surly, but Nina seemed her usual cheerful self. Jenny introduced Al to the Armstrongs, then helped them unload their gear.
    “Okay,” Jack said from the porch. He’d donned a ridiculous looking chef’s hat. “All present and accounted for. Let’s get the barbecue fired up.”
    All and sundry agreed.
    * * *
    After dinner, Jack took Will and Al Sutton out for a power boat tour of the lake. Will had been hitting the beer cooler pretty hard since his arrival, the booze doing wonders for his mood, but he turned sullen again when Jack refused to let him drive the boat. They got back just after dark and joined the others in the cottage, where Paul was playing the piano and leading a hearty sing-along.
    When the singing tapered off, Jenny talked Paul into playing a few of his original ballads. Afterward, she told Al Sutton about the collection of CDs Paul had recorded over the years. “He’s really an incredible musician,” she said. “I keep telling him he should try for a recording contract, but he can’t be bothered. He gives the discs out as Christmas gifts.”
    Later, Jack summoned the whole crew outside to a crackling lakeside fire, a deck chair waiting for each of them. Jack sat next to Jenny, Al beside Nina, leaving Will to squeeze in next to Paul and his date.
    Al turned out to be the life of the party. The man was a born storyteller and as he spoke Jenny imagined simpler times, friends gathered round cook fires to feast on the hunters’ spoils and enjoy yarns spun by animated imps like Al. At the moment he was sharing a wicked little anecdote about his days in the ER of a busy Detroit trauma center, something about a pick-up artist and his final conquest, a fellating disco queen with epilepsy.
    “What our boy didn’t realize,” Al was saying, playing mostly to Paul’s date, “was that whenever this gal got excited, she pitched a fit. An exceedingly violent fit. Anyway, he got her out to this drive-in movie and coaxed her head down into his lap, and everything was going along famously until she got overheated and started to convulse. Now, as I’m sure you’re all aware, when you see someone having a seizure, you stick something between their teeth so they don’t ‘swallow their tongue’. In this case, our boy had already obliged.”
    Cerise said, “You’re joking.”
    Al showed his dimples. “Not a word of a lie. I was sitting in the ER doing charts when these two hobbled in. His disco pants were soaked with