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  There was some initial difficulty finding a therapist for her but Wesley’s latest phone call indicated a new possibility, a learned Canadian professor named Nola Desmond who was another of Professor Beck’s former students.

  Zoe pushed aside all her other concerns and returned to her conversation with her husband.

  “How are the sessions with Portia’s new therapist going?”

  “Quite promising at the start, I think. As you discovered, Portia relates better to a woman and Nola Desmond is still young enough to be perceived as sympathetic to Portia’s situation. I got the sense that Aylward is concerned about how little time Professor Desmond can devote to Portia with her own demanding job at the university.”

  “Is it possible for Portia to go there to meet the professor?”

  “Not at the moment, I’m afraid. I think there’s been too much disruption in her life and she needs to feel secure in one environment. The truth is, my darling, the girl should be in a facility where she can be observed and medicated as necessary until she is capable of receiving the talk therapy that will eventually help her the most.”

  “But I thought that was what Marian and Aylward were trying to avoid? None of you agrees with using heavy medication and, as far as I can see, the poor girl is much too fragile to be removed from everything and everyone she knows. It would throw her into an even worse downward spiral.”

  Wesley Philips turned his gaze on his wife’s concerned face. She was such a compassionate and amazing person. With all that was going on in their own lives, she was capable of expressing sincere concern for a young person she had known for only a short period of time and who was now living some thousands of miles away.

  “You are right, of course, my angel, but what else can be done? I am sure Marian is becoming tired with this constant supervision and Aylward has other family responsibilities. You know Portia’s own parents have to get themselves sorted out before they can play a role in this.

  In any case, I don’t want you worrying about it. Your new Portal division is more than sufficient input from us.”

  “No, really, Wesley, can’t we do something more useful for Portia? I feel I made a good start with her. Can’t we do something over Skype, for example?”

  It was the kind of out-of-the-blue statement that opens up possibilities he would never have considered. Wesley’s mind began to hum as he debated the feasibility of this idea. He had read a recent extract about new text therapy services called Talkspace and BetterHelp which could appeal to young online addicts who wanted an app for everything. The article had underlined the disadvantages for the therapist when he or she could not detect such signs as changes in facial expressions or tone of voice.

  Zoe’s brilliant suggestion might provide a useful new version of the face-to-face interaction that was the gold standard for the profession. It would not likely supersede the need for the close relationship between therapist and patient in normal situations, but in this case, where Portia already had a good connection to Zoe, it could be the answer.

  “Zoe Morton, have I mentioned you are not only the most beautiful woman in the world but also the most brilliant? I will contact Aylward at once. You have quite possibly solved the Portia dilemma and added something useful to the entire psychotherapy profession.”

  He swept her up in his arms and danced her around the table with her feet off the floor and her laughter ringing up to the heights of the ceiling.

  Chapter 11

  His father’s plan for the renewal of the restaurant and the renewal of their marriage had given Terrence and Jillian Beck a brand new start. Jillian’s experience in the markets used by the large grocery chains, meant Terry’s life was immediately relieved of major time-consuming worries and he could concentrate on the business of running his food business with the skills and innovations he had always dreamt of.

  First on the list was a new menu with seasonal produce fresh every day, and the involvement of his customers in what they preferred among the dishes. This one intervention galvanized the entire operation. The new spirit could be felt from the front reception all the way to the staffers who maintained the dishwashing machines and kept the kitchens clean. Word spread about the new atmosphere in trendy Beck and Call Cuisine and it was not long before the first Michelin star was awarded with a strong recommendation that a second star was entirely achievable.

  Terry’s attitude was transformed and he was well aware that Jillian’s daily input made all the difference.

  Relieved of money worries, the couple pulled together at home and at work and returned home together after a long, demanding day with happy hearts. Jillian was excellent at front-of-house management. Her experience as a grocery store manager gave her the right touch with customers. Soon she was recognized by the regulars and asked her opinion of the best menu options. Terry watched as she blossomed before his eyes. He often wondered how he could ever have thought his wife was ‘mousy’. She was a charming hostess and took great care with her appearance and that her work outfits fit well and allowed her to move freely from reception to kitchen as needed.

  What Terry had not expected, however, was his wife’s facility with the wait staff. She handled their emergencies and family issues with the caring of a real mother figure and the skill of a personnel manager. She soon had substitute staff on call whenever needed and made sure they all met the high standards of the restaurant.

  Terry Beck was able for the first time to concentrate on the kitchen, his staff there, and the preparation of high quality meals that never wavered from a superb standard. He was proud of the restaurant, proud of his wife’s contribution and proud of the staff team. Everyone said it was the best place to work they had ever known.

  When reservations for the evening meal jumped up in number, Terry realized the newest member of the team was also having an effect. Devon had taken on his grandfather’s suggestion of designing an advertising campaign for the restaurant. It was his first client in what was a new start-up tech company.

  Devon’s basement days were over. He and his associates had brand new, high spec offices in a downtown, purpose-built facility. It was designed to be an incubator for technology ideas. Each of the open office areas linked to central pods where ideas were shared and examined. Large white boards and screens replaced bare walls, allowing notations and calculations of seminal thoughts to be displayed for all to see. Devon’s active mind was stimulated by this innovation and although he was one of the youngest occupants of the building, his Tech Strategies Company soon garnered attention.

  His promotion for his father’s restaurant took the form of a large display board at an intersection where drivers and their passengers were a captive audience until the traffic lights turned green again.

  Devon had created an active screen presentation with appealing photos of the restaurant and some signature dishes featuring his father with the staff in the sparkling kitchen. The final screen grab consisted of contact numbers, and specials, under the words of a customer who praised the whole restaurant experience as “Friendly and efficient service with excellent food and atmosphere.”

  * * *

  Terrence had been summoned by his son to a meeting in his new offices to discuss a further development in the ad campaign. They met in one of the pod areas.

  “This set up is most impressive, Devon. Does it work as well as it appears to?”

  He had observed enthusiastic interactions among tech types who were clustered at a white board working out a schematic for some complicated networking idea.

  “Let me just say, Dad, it’s several magnitudes of improvement over the old basement. I am learning every day and although I am one of the youngest here, everyone treats me as an equal.”

  Terry could hardly believe this confident young man was the diffident character who once walked around at home hiding behind dark glasses. He was ashamed he had never spent time getting to know his only son and learning about his interests. It was another thing he had to thank his fath
er for. The elder Beck had been the one to recognize Devon’s potential and invest in the boy’s future.

  He looked down at the table top to hide his chagrin, then noticed something familiar.

  “Hey! Isn’t this our campaign?” Under a Perspex cover were displayed an assortment of projects the companies in the building were involved in. Front and centre was the billboard idea of Devon’s. Terry felt a rush of pride in his son and knew it was a unique emotion for him. He determined to do better by Devon in future. He had a lot to make up for.

  “Wait till you hear my new idea, Dad. It’s why I asked you to come today. This is something started in Chicago a year or two back. It’s based on a model for ticketed reservations but with a digital slant.

  There’s a computer software program called Tock which allows restaurants to manage table inventory and create different types of tickets, all the way from fully pre-paid meals to ordinary reservations. You can even go as far as seat auctions on very popular nights or occasions. What do you think about doing a trial?”

  Terry knew reservations were not a guarantee of customers turning up. Some people reserved a table at several sites and picked their favourite at the last minute after other possible diners had been turned away. The idea of prepayment to secure your reservation would discourage this practice. Cell phones could now pay online at the time of booking making the process much simplified and more secure.

  “Put a package together for me, so I can see the results in Chicago and elsewhere. I’ll discuss it with your mother and look at the price. It would be a real feather in our caps to be the first to try this in Toronto. Well done, Dev!”

  He reached over and shook his son’s hand. He was pleased to see the reaction from the men at the white board when he gave the boy a high-five and walked away with his chin held at a very proud angle.

  * * *

  Jillian Beck was determined not to lose the wonderful feelings she had enjoyed since the week’s holiday in Mexico. She hardly thought of it as a holiday any more. It had been so much more than that. It had jump started her whole life in a way she would never have believed possible. Instead of a disintegrating marriage she now had a vibrant work and home life and she was utterly determined to keep it this way. Many a night in bed with Terry she sent a fervent prayer winging to her father-in-law for his generosity and thoughtfulness in gifting the finances that had made all the difference in their lives.

  She had noticed Mondays were their least busy nights in the restaurant and she persuaded Terry to establish a bi-monthly family meal on that night so all of them could take a break from the regular routines and keep in touch with each other. They agreed to arrange the meal at a late hour and serve dishes prepared already, so the staff could go home and leave them alone for some family time.

  On the first Monday night, there was a certain amount of grumbling as Abigail and Louise could not immediately see why they had been dragged from their usual pursuits to eat together.

  Abigail, in particular, would have preferred to be anywhere else other than at a table where she was sure to be served a portion of humble pie for her role in the magazine scandal about Zoe Morton.

  She finally arrived late, to find the meal underway and the conversation flowing freely as a couple of bottles of good wine circulated around the table. Her father was in full flow praising Devon’s valuable contributions to the restaurant business, so she slipped into the empty chair beside her mother and helped herself to a mixed salad.

  “Sorry I’m late!” she murmured.

  “Good to see you, Abi,” was the quick reply.

  While her father raved on about Devon’s skills, Abigail slunk down a notch and chewed quietly hoping to be ignored for as long as possible.

  Her sister was next for interrogation. ‘What’s happening with you, dear, now the college year has ended?” began her mother.

  Louise sat up and put her fork on the plate as if to make an announcement. She waited until everyone’s eyes were on her.

  “Well, I have news! I have a job!”

  “That’s great! It will really help defray your college costs. Well done!”

  “That’s not all,” she continued. “You know how grandfather is funding an apartment for me so I can complete this year without the hassles of other noisy students sharing with me?”

  Heads nodded around the table.

  “Well, I finally found a quiet place not far from college and I even have a very amenable partner to share the additional costs.”

  “Who?”

  “When did this happen?”

  “What’s been going on?”

  Louise had prepared herself for this level of curiosity. She smiled and waved her hands to get everyone to settle down so she could respond. Her mother noticed how lively Louise’s brown curls were. It was as if they had a life of their own these days and it suited the girl’s youthful energy. Strange, she thought, as Jillian was working to subdue her own wild locks for her new role in the restaurant, her daughter was celebrating her similar hair inheritance with enthusiasm.

  “Let me explain! It’s a very nice apartment and it’s expensive. My boyfriend……”

  Here there was an outcry of surprise. Louise Beck had never before wasted time on boyfriends, at least none that anyone in the family had heard about. They peppered her with questions until she gave in and finished the rest of her story.

  “You see, I met this grad student one winter morning, and after Mexico we have been getting closer. I think he missed me. He’s got a permanent job in the winter with his uncle’s architecture company and they found a place for me where I can get experience but still complete my final courses for my degree qualifications. I will have options about what kind of work I can choose in the end, as it’s a big firm involved in a variety of building and renovation projects.”

  Louise stopped for a breath. She had never before revealed so much about herself to her family members at one time. It felt good to be the centre of attention for once, especially as she had such an amount of great news to convey.

  Congratulations began and Terrence suggested raising glasses for a toast. Jillian called a halt.

  “Wait a minute! I don’t even know the name of this paragon of virtue. Who is he and when do I get to meet him?”

  “Hold on mother! I won’t be subjecting Jason Schuster to this family’s interrogations until I am sure he can withstand you lot. It’s early days yet but I do like him. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Jill, our little girl is growing up in a hurry,” advised Terry. His wife had to be content with that, but privately she was determined not to let Louise leave the restaurant until she had secured the address of the new apartment, if not a firm date and promise for her to meet this Jason Schuster.

  Abigail was just as surprised as the rest about Louise’s news. She raised her glass in a salute to her sister but again felt pleased she was not the subject of enquiries. There was still an outside chance her dire mistake had not been noticed by her family. Everyone seemed to be very involved in one way or another in their own lives. Hopefully, the whole nasty magazine business could be buried.

  The meal continued through two more courses until everyone was replete with good food and good company. Terrence Beck surveyed the table around which his family was gathered and sighed happily. This was such a contrast he could hardly believe it. If someone had told him a few short months ago his entire life could be transformed like this, he would have laughed in derision at the thought.

  Now he felt both gratitude and humility. Much of this success was due to the efforts of others in his family. For too long he had tried to control everything by himself. What a disaster it had been! When he was on the very edge of disintegration, a few days in the Mexican sunshine and his father’s generosity, had changed every aspect of his life and this meal together was evidence of it.

  There was just one niggling thought left. For the entire meal his daughter Abigail had been silent. The girl did not look as polishe
d and confident as usual. He sensed something was wrong. As the party began to break up, he drew Abigail to one side and asked her to help him clear the dishes. She was about to insist she had places to go but she realised she could not be convincing about the lie, and gave in. They piled dishes onto two trolleys and pushed them into the rear kitchen area where her father began to load the dishwasher. Over the clattering of dishes and glasses he began to speak.

  “Right then, Abi! What’s going on? I’ve never seen you so quiet.”

  She suddenly understood how damaging her silence had been. She needed to unload her worries and ask for help and she needed to do it now.

  “Dad, I lost my job through a horrible mistake and I have no idea how to make amends for it. I’ve ruined everything!”

  Chapter 12

  It was a chastened Abigail Beck who moved into her father’s old room in the Forest Hill mansion of her grandparents. She had revealed everything to her father, agreed that her grandparents needed to know what had occurred concerning Zoe Morton, and borne the disappointment of all parties involved.

  The irony of her position was not lost on her. After making scathing remarks for years about her cousin Portia, now she was employed as a help and support of that very same Portia.

  Her father had arranged this solution after she explained to him the desperate state of affairs in which she had lost her job and was about to lose her apartment now that her meager savings were almost gone. How she wished she had not spent so much money on her appearance. No one at her new abode would give a care about how she looked.