what?”
“Let’s talk about it later,” Jill said.
It was a mild night, but when I told Jill I’d left my car at home and suggested we walk downtown to our old standby, the Hotel Saskatchewan, she said she’d rather drive to the Chimney. It was an odd choice. The hotel bar was a place for grown-ups to unwind: elegant surroundings, deep soft chairs, and discreet bartenders. The Chimney was a family restaurant in a strip mall not far from where I lived. They made good pizza, and my kids liked the open fireplace, but it wasn’t Jill’s kind of place.
As we drove up College Avenue and turned onto Albert Street, she was uncharacteristically quiet. In fact, she didn’t say anything until we’d found a table and ordered two bottles of Great Western.
When the waiter left, Jill glanced around the room as if she were seeing it for the first time. “This is nice, isn’t it?” she said absently.
“I’ve always liked it,” I said. “But it must be thirty degrees in here tonight. Somebody should have told whoever’s in charge of the roaring fire that spring has sprung.” I leaned towards her. “But listen, I’ve been dying to know what happened with Keith. I know he’s been busy since he moved back to Ottawa. Did he just have too much on his plate?”
“It was more of a mutual decision,” Jill said. “We’ve been looking at the demographics – thinking we should try to hook a younger audience.”
She wouldn’t meet my eyes, and I knew the truth withoutasking. “And so you decided to replace Keith with Glayne Axtell.”
“She did a good job tonight,” Jill said defensively.
“Keith’s done a good job ever since the show started,” I said, and my voice was so loud the people at the next table turned and looked at us.
Jill winced. “Jo, please. Don’t make this any worse than it already is.”
The waiter brought our beer, and I took a long sip. The heat in the restaurant and the turn in the conversation were beginning to make my head spin.
Jill’s voice was guarded. “I know Keith’s done a good job, Jo. The panel just needed – I don’t know – a fresh look.”
“Spring cleaning?” I said. “Jill, we’re not talking about a piece of furniture here. We’re talking about a friend.”
Suddenly, Jill looked furious. “Christ, Jo, it’s never easy with you, is it? All right, here it is. We think it’s time you considered other options, too.”
I felt as if I’d been kicked in the stomach. “You mean I’m out as well? What about Sam?”
Jill was icy. “He’s staying. Sam has an avuncular quality. We thought he’d be a nice mix with Glayne and … the other new panellist.”
“Who is it?” I asked. And then, I knew. “Oh fuck, Jill. Is it Tom? Are you getting rid of me so you can hire your boyfriend?”
She didn’t say anything. I stood up and grabbed my coat. As I pulled it on, I knocked my beer over. I was beyond caring. It had been a long time since I’d made a scene in a restaurant. I headed for the front door, but before I opened it, I turned and looked back at Jill. She was sitting, looking numbly at the mess I’d left behind.
The Chimney was less than four blocks from my house. Even in the state I was in that night, I was home in lessthan ten minutes. The Chimney’s proximity to my house was, I suddenly realized, the reason Jill had chosen it in the first place. Once we had been as close as sisters. I guess she figured she owed me an easy exit. But I wasn’t grateful; the thought of her planning the logistics of my firing made me sick to my stomach.
When I got home, Taylor was already in bed, and Angus was so full of news about an ’85 Camaro he’d seen for sale up the street that he was oblivious to my mood. Leah, who was sensitive to emotional currents, looked at me with concern, but I told her it had been a tough show, and she said that she had tuned in for the phone-in segment and she understood.
When she and Angus finally left for the late movie, I