Free Bleeding Heart by Liza Gyllenhaal

For the first time in quite a while I felt my heart contract with pain, and I didn’t like the feeling.
    “So how do you deal with it?”
    “You can’t,” I said, looking up from my drink to meet his gaze. “Some things never get resolved. You have to just learn to put them behind you and move on.”
    “Oh, Alice,” he said, shaking his head. “Who do you thinkyou’re kidding? You’re never going to be able to put something like that behind you.”

7

    I decided to wait to tell Gwen about Mackenzie’s charitable foundation until most of the construction work on the property had been completed. I needed to be absolutely sure that Mackenzie was pleased with how things were progressing before getting my friend’s hopes up. I also wasn’t ready to deal with her reaction. I knew she would want to meet Mackenzie—and pitch him—and I had to put my own concerns first. But I was aware that only a trickle of contributions for the Bridgewater House capital campaign had come in over the winter and spring—and that Gwen was feeling pretty low.
    One Friday afternoon in late May, Mackenzie arrived by helicopter just as I was getting into my car to leave. He called to me as he started down the steps from the helipad above the tennis courts, and I waited for him in front of the bank of garages.
    “You should see all of this from up there!” he told me, pointing to the sky. “The place already looks amazing—like Machu Picchu, for chrissakes!” We’d planted fast-growing grass around the retaining walls and walkways, and I could imagine how the hillsidemight resemble—at least from the air—that beautiful terraced city built by the Incas. His enthusiasm was infectious, though I’d come to realize that his spirits could just as easily swing the other way. He’d hinted that his moods were often market driven. Obviously he’d had a good week business-wise.
    “We start putting in the trees and shrubs on Monday,” I told him.
    “Fantastic!”
    Gwen was waiting for me in the Green Acres office when I got back from the site. We were heading out to the Triplex Cinema in Great Barrington for our usual Friday-evening dinner and a movie. I decided to finally fill her in about the Mackenzie Project as I drove the back way through Alford, the greening hills aglow in the soft light of early evening.
    “Are you fucking kidding me?” she said, turning toward me in the front seat.
    “No, really,” I said, smiling. “It’s for real. The official mission is to save and protect endangered horticultural spaces. It’s a private charity—Mackenzie doesn’t want the whole world beating a path to his door—so you wouldn’t have found it in the standard foundation listings.”
    “And however much he pays you—he donates that same amount as a matching fund for our region?”
    “That’s right.”
    “This is incredible! Why didn’t you tell me before?”
    “Because it seemed a little too good to be true. This whole experience with Mackenzie feels like that. You wouldn’t believe how much he’s pouring into these gardens, Gwen. Next week I’ll start putting in some of the most exquisite plantings money can buy.”
    “When do I meet him?” she asked, her eyes shining. “How do we do this?”
    “I was thinking that it’s probably better if he doesn’t knowwe’re best friends,” I told her. “It would look a little conflict-of-interesty. But the Bridgewater gardens really are the perfect fit with his charity’s mission. I thought I would just hand him one of your brochures and the capital campaign plan—and let him know that his foundation has an opportunity to do something really worthwhile right here in Woodhaven. What do you think?”
    “It’s totally brilliant!” she said. “Oh, God, Alice! This could be it! This could turn everything around for me.”

    Mackenzie had been in such a good mood on Friday, I decided not to wait. Gwen equipped me with a binder of printed material and a cover letter over her