The next morning, Jane carried two cups of coffee and one cup of hot chocolate into Cordelia’s office at the theater.
“Zero minus five minutes and counting,” said Cordelia, looking at her watch. She was sitting behind her desk, two large pink stuffed bunnies on either side of her, gifts for the returning Hattie.
“You need some of this,” said Jane, setting one of the coffees down in front of her.
“Cream and sugar?”
“The requisite amount.”
“Good woman.” She rubbed her hands together. “And the hot chocolate?”
“In the small cup.”
“Excellent. Now, what should we talk about? You have to take my mind off my anxiety, Jane. I’m close to total meltdown.”
“You don’t think Radley will show up on time?”
“Or that they’ll be in a car wreck, or that Radley will slip into a fugue state and forget where he is. Or that—”
“I get it,” said Jane, lowering herself into a chair on the other side of the desk. “You’re catastrophizing.”
“And I do it so well. Speaking of that, I called my new lawyer this
morning. No more living on borrowed time. I’m about to sue my sister for legal and physical custody of Hattie. The papers should be drawn up by early next week.”
“Wonderful,” said Jane. “You’ve got a good lawyer?”
“My personal attorney says she’s the best. Now, entertain me, Jane. Sing something. Recite a poem. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Okay, I talked to David before I drove over here.”
“Ah, yes. David. I’m glad you finally decided to tell me what was really going on with him.”
“Well, I had to distract you last night, too, remember? You were pretty upset about Joanna and Freddy when we got back to the loft.”
“Magnanimous diva that I am, I’ve forgiven her for talking to you instead of to me. I see now that she didn’t want to put my life in danger.”
“That’s right,” said Jane, coughing into her fist. “I’m more disposable.”
“Not to me, you’re not. So tell me about David.” She laced her fingers together over her ample bosom.
“He’s spending another night at the sleep lab. But he did have an episode last night, which was good. They think they might have a handle on what’s wrong with him. And it’s treatable. They’ve put him on something called Klonopin. They want him to stay in town for a week or so, so they can adjust the dosage. But if all goes well, he can fly back to Atlanta next weekend.”
“The police let him completely off the hook?”
“Well, technically, they could charge him. Mutilation of a dead body, or something like that. But Nolan didn’t think it was very likely.”
“All good news.” She looked at her watch, shook it, then lifted it to her ear to make sure it was still ticking.
“Nolan called me on my cell as I was pulling into the parking lot downstairs. I asked him if he’d heard anything about Joanna and Freddy. He said they’d lawyered up—separate lawyers, which he said was smart. He thought both of them would be out by late this afternoon.”
“It’s all so awful. They’re looking at a long trial, major prison time.”
“Actually, Nolan said he’d be surprised if Joanna even served a
day. She’s got a great case for self-defense. And she’s a celebrity. The public adores her, so jurors will instinctively want to believe the best about her. And as for Freddy and the thug he hired to murder Luberman, Nolan thinks they’ll have a hard time proving it. Faye may testify—or she may not. If the DA cuts her a deal over the concealing evidence and unlawful surveillance charges, maybe she’ll talk. But if she doesn’t, who knows? They don’t even have a lead on who the thug might be. He called Joanna from a cell the night he botched the murder, but it was one of those throwaway cell phones. Can’t be traced. Nolan figured a good defense lawyer could make it all go away. All except for the death of the security guard. Freddy would still be on the hook for that.”
“Time will tell, I guess,” said Cordelia. She looked at her watch again. “Two minutes.”
“You know, he might not be here right on the dot.”
“He better be,” she said, a snarl in her voice. She turned and patted one of the stuffed rabbits. “Say, how’s your house coming along?”
“The rugs and the furniture will be moved back in today. I can sleep in my own home again tonight.”
“I’ll miss you,” said Cordelia. “It was fun having you around.”
“Excuse me,” said Cordelia’s secretary, knocking softly on the door. “There’s a man out here to see you. He says his name is Cunningham, that you were expecting him.”
“It’s just him? Isn’t Hattie with him?”
“Um, no, Cordelia. It’s just the man.”
“I’ll kill him!” She exploded out of her chair. But before she could get to the door, Radley appeared.
Cordelia was right. He did look a little like Clive Owen. Dark hair, dark stubble, intense eyes, almost a Roman face. But heavier, older.
“Where’s Hattie!”
He was wearing a long trench coat and held a brown fedora in his hands. He looked rumpled, the way Englishmen often looked to Jane. Like they needed tending, as her English grandmother used to say.
“She’s not with me,” said Radley.
“I can see that! Where is she?”
“Can we talk privately for a second?” He glanced at Jane.
“Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of her. Now talk!”
He closed the door. “You see, Hattie’s with Octavia and Cecily,” he said, leaving Cordelia standing by the door. He sat down on a chair next to Jane. “They flew back to London this morning.”
Cordelia turned to look at him. “Say that again?”
“I have a home there, and one in Northumberland. Don’t worry, she’s being well cared for.”
“You promised you bring her here, back to me.”
“I know,” he said, looking down at his hat. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Holding her body rigid, Cordelia returned to her chair and sat. “Speak. Make it fast, unless you want to see a middle-aged woman have a heart attack right in front of you.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “You’re really a lot like your sister.”
“No, I’m not!”
Pressing his lips together, he said, “What Octavia didn’t tell you the other day was that she and I are married, have been for almost seven months. It was a private ceremony at my home in London.”
“Well, that must make you feel really special to be one of a dozen.”
Again he looked down. “You’re quite a lot like your sister, actually.”
“Get to the point.”
“Octavia has been wanting to make some changes in her life. Part of that has to do with Hattie. I’ve always wanted a child, and Octavia has been hoping to spend more time with her. She’s an amazing little girl. I know a great deal of that has to do with you. She’s very well adjusted, knows she’s loved, feels at ease in the world.”
“You’re right. She sure as hell didn’t get that from Octavia.”
He gave a slow nod. “But the great thing about life is that sometimes we get second chances. That’s what Octavia craves. Neither one of us wants to shut you out of her life. You can come visit whenever you want. Call, or write. As far as her coming to visit you here in Minneapolis, we’d like to keep her with us for the next year or two, but after that, I’m sure we can work out something that will be good
for all of us. Sensible. Maybe she could spend the summer. Or Easter vacation.”
Jane could see that Cordelia was about to come apart at the seams. Her face was ashen, but her eyes glittered. “Easter vacation? You think that’s a sensible solution, do you?”
“I knew you’d be upset. And I’m very, very sorry. But Octavia is her mother. That trumps everything.”
“Even Hattie’s welfare?”
“Motherhood is an unbreakable bond.”
“You silly man,” she said, her voice quivering with suppressed fury. “That bond is broken all the time. You think there’s something sacred about biology? A mother is as a mother does. What’s sacred in this world is love—real down deep and dirty love. The kind that changes diapers and cleans up vomit. The kind that sits up all night with a kid because she’s sick or scared. The kind that helps a little girl learn to love Brie, or introduces her to noir movie classics! Has Octavia ever done any of those things?”
Radley stared at her. After a long moment, he said, “Honestly, I don’t know.”
“Well I do. The answer is no.”
“I’m sorry this is so hard for you.”
“Did you think it would be easy?”
“No,” he said, his voice grown soft. “It wouldn’t be easy for anyone to leave Hattie.”
Slowly, like a volcano spewing in slow motion, Cordelia stood and pointed at the door. “Get out of here.”
“I wish we could have come to a better understanding.”
“I understand perfectly. Octavia’s finally found herself a guy who likes kids. You’re not her usual type, but then, at her age, I expect she’s getting desperate. You’re the one who wants Hattie, not Octavia. If you don’t see that, you’re a bigger fool than even I think you are. So you better be prepared to be a single parent, Radley. On the other hand, don’t get too comfortable in that position. You can tell Octavia from me that I’m suing for custody of Hattie—both legal and physical. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you see her
for Easter vacation in a couple of years. That seem fair to you?”
Radley stood. He seemed to hesitate. There was clearly something more he wanted to say, but in the end, he put on his hat and left.
Jane was there to catch Cordelia when she fell backward, almost missing her chair. Jane guided her down safely.
Looking up with desperate eyes, Cordelia said, “What am I going to do, Jane?”
“Just what you said.”
“What did I say?”
Jane crouched down next to her. “You’re going to be Cordelia M. Thorn. You’re going to be strong. And you’re going to be smart. You’ve got a good lawyer, and you’ve got a chance.”
“And you’ll be there to help me, right?”
Taking Cordelia’s hands in hers, Jane said, “Always.”