Reesa waited until she was sure Sarah was calm before she drove to the courthouse. She was on the docket for that morning to substantiate the reasons for her Dodd removal on Thursday and to get a court order for the removal. A no-brainer, if you asked Reesa. One comatose baby, a kid with kidney failure, and another not thriving, the parents in jail for a slew of crimes. She would ask the judge to put the children on a permanency track.
She tried to push away the anger at the unfairness of it all, but it was getting more and more difficult. She needed to find a way to recapture her distance or she’d do no one any good.
Once through the security check, she detoured to the courthouse cafeteria. She hadn’t slept well and had awakened with just enough time to dress and have a quick cup of coffee. She still had a few minutes left before she needed to sign in.
Breakfast was in order. Reesa ran her plastic tray past juices and pastries and ordered eggs and bacon. Popped two slices of bread in the toaster and collected utensils and condiments while she waited for the toast. Then she took a table against the wall.
There weren’t too many people sitting at the tables. It was after ten and everybody was grabbing fruit and coffee to carry to their respective floors. She saw a couple of lawyers she knew. A couple of caseworkers who looked tired and disheveled. And knew she was looking at herself.
She finished her food and headed for the ladies’ room to freshen up her makeup and smooth down her suit. She added extra lipstick then wiped it off. After twenty-three years as a caseworker, she looked like one. Most days she didn’t even think about it, but today, for some reason it rankled.
Her poor mother, rest her soul. “Don’t let yourself go, or he’ll find somebody younger and prettier.” Hell, she couldn’t even get Michael off the recliner. And as far as finding someone younger—Reesa sighed—she wished he would.
She put the lipstick back on. Surely, she didn’t mean that. They’d had a good life. They couldn’t give up just because Michael was going through a rough patch and she was burned out at her job. Surely there was more to their relationship than that.
AS SOON AS she’d signed in, Reesa took her place on the bench outside the courtroom. There were a couple of Formica tables and plastic chairs in the wider section of the hallway, but here it was easier to ignore the complaints, the whispers, the negotiations that took place before ever going into court.
Today the hallway was surprisingly quiet. And the people sitting along the bench were wrapped in their own thoughts or paperwork. She reached in her briefcase and pulled out the newspaper she’d picked up from her front door step. She usually left it for Michael, but this morning, she’d crammed it into her briefcase—a little act of passive-aggressive retaliation.
The newspaper rattled as she turned the page. Not a soul looked up, not the processor, not any of the line of people waiting to give depositions, file paperwork, and receive more paperwork in return.
Reesa had to admit as she moved from the sports section to the crossword puzzle, she’d rather be sitting here in the slightly fetid, under-air-conditioned hallway of family court than out on the streets inspecting squalid, hot apartments or even in Ilona Cartwright’s sterile offices.
But the morning was marching on, and she hoped the judge would get to her before they broke for lunch. She had a stack of paperwork waiting for her at the office—a stack that never seemed to grow any shorter.
She glanced up at the no-cell-phone notice and realized she’d forgotten to call Tanya Aguda about getting Ms. McKinney placed in a subsidized senior living facility. The older woman had stepped up to the plate to report the abuse. Put her life in jeopardy to do it. And she lived in constant fear. Who wouldn’t living in that environment?
Reesa would call in a couple of favors if she needed to. See if she could get her something nice, maybe with a little garden.
She keyed a note to self into her phone, folded the newspaper, and placed it on the empty seat beside her. She doubted Michael would want to read it after she had “messed it up.”
She pulled out a yellow legal pad and a manila folder for another case coming up the following week. She read and made notes and glanced at her watch as eleven became noon and her appointment time came and went. Nothing unusual in that.
But if they didn’t get to it soon, she’d have to come back for the afternoon. And she’d get further behind.
“Docket number . . .”
At last. Reesa hastily closed the folder. Clutching it to her chest, she grabbed her briefcase, then stood and made her way to the heavy mahogany door. Her knees were stiff, her back hurt; she needed to go to a lady’s exercise class, one where they wore sweatpants and oversized T-shirts, not skimpy neon short shorts.
She nodded to the clerk and made her way to the deputy attorney general who was repping the division for the White hearing.
Across the courtroom, the court-appointed attorneys for Mrs. White and “Darrell” looked bored. The Whites were not in the courtroom.
The defendants’ attorneys explained that their clients were under indictment for drug possession and child endangerment. They were still in jail, not being able to make bail.
The judge was shown the photos Reesa had taken during the removal. She explained step by step and in detail the timeline of the actual removal. The report of the abuse, the request for emergency removal. The violence of the male resident, finding the comatose baby, the mother’s reaction. She followed this with a report of her subsequent follow-up on the boys’ health.
“They are all still hospitalized, Your Honor. One may need lifelong continual care.”
The DAG presented a police report of the incident.
The defending lawyers had no objections.
The judge okayed the removal, and Reesa was out on the sidewalk before he adjourned for lunch. The first thing she did was call Tanya Aguda and arrange an appointment for Ms. McKinney, who had saved the lives of two young boys and a baby and who deserved to live without fear.
SARAH WAS GETTING out of the car when she saw Wyatt striding up the driveway from the street.
“Looking very beautiful in your power suit,” he said and leaned over to give her a quick kiss. “How did it go?”
“It didn’t.” Sarah had been driving aimlessly around, wondering why Ilona Cartwright had turned them down without even looking at the case. Worrying about Reesa’s reaction and trying to figure out what to do next. Reesa said there was a long time before they had to have a game plan in place. But Sarah didn’t like not knowing. She wanted a game plan and wanted to know that it would work. And she wanted it now.
Wyatt smothered her in a hug. He smelled clean and strong and Sarah had to fight the urge to just let down, let someone take care of her for a change. “She just said she couldn’t take the case. Then Reesa got very upset. Wyatt, I’ve never seen her so angry before.”
“I think she’s been under a lot of stress lately between Michael’s injury and her job.”
“I don’t know, it was more than that.” She looked up at him. “How did you know I’d come back?”
“I was going to lunch and saw you drive by.” He flicked her chin. “Which still sounds like a good idea. Come on, we’ll splurge and go to TailSpin.”
“I need to get back to work, then I have to pick up Leila at the bus.”
“And you need to eat before you can do any of those things. Humor me.”
Hadn’t she just been thinking that she wanted someone to take care of her? “Thanks, I’d like that.”
They walked back to the street, past the clock shop, and toward the center of town. Since it was Monday, some of the stores and restaurants were closed. But most would be open seven days a week until the season was over. The clock shop was a block closer to the ocean than most of the stores, which meant it didn’t get as many browsers as the other stores did. That was fine with Sarah. She wasn’t dependent on foot traffic. She didn’t sell souvenirs or beach paraphernalia. Just clocks and watches. Most of her merchandise was pricey and not something you’d pick up on your way to the beach.
They strolled down the sidewalk. And Sarah thought how comforting it was to live in a small town where everyone at least recognized one another, even if they didn’t know you outright. Despite the influx of summer tourists, the locals still waved at each other, always had time to stop and chat.
“This is my family.”
“Who is?”
Sarah looked up at Wyatt, who was frowning curiously at her. “Who is what?”
“You said this is my family.”
“I did?” Sarah’s stomach twisted. “I meant all of this. The people here. Since Sam died my friends, my . . .”
Wyatt smiled the way he did when he didn’t quite believe something but was giving her the benefit of the doubt.
Please don’t ask if I mean you, she thought and mentally crossed her fingers. She’d already blurted that stupid thing to Reesa about being her friend. She’d sounded like she was in third grade or something. Anything she might say to Wyatt would be laughable. And she wasn’t even sure what she would say. I love you? I think I love you? I want to love you?
Sam had loved her. And she had loved him. She’d scored big-time with him, but she wasn’t sure she could be that lucky twice in this life. And she was afraid to let go of Sam and take a chance on nothing.
The TailSpin was a nouvelle fish restaurant that catered to tourists looking for a dining experience after a day of sand and sun and residents who were looking for a place to dine away from the rackety noise of the beach.
It was a streamlined space, with curved booths along both walls and two rows of tables in the center of the long room. It was light and airy with aqua-wash walls and a minimalist industrial-shore ambiance.
The hostess, a young girl who only had eyes for Wyatt, showed them to a booth. Sarah slid in. Instead of going to the other side, Wyatt slid in beside her. The hostess handed them menus and went back to her post.
“Let’s order, then you can tell me about the nonevent this morning.”
Sarah nodded. She’d slipped into a momentary comfort zone, but Wyatt’s reminder brought it all back. Her appetite flew south, but he was right, she needed to eat. And, besides, he’d badger her until she did.
As soon as the waiter had taken their order, Wyatt turned to her, “Okay, spill.”
Sarah started at the beginning, filling him in about meeting Reesa, about the sterile office and Ilona Cartwright.
“When Reesa introduced me to her, she turned to me with such a weird expression. I tried to look her in the eye, you know, like equals, confident, but it was like looking into a black hole. I swear. Just blank, grabbing me and pushing me away at the same time. I don’t know. We shook hands, I think. She told us to sit down, that she hadn’t had time to look at the information Reesa had sent her. She opened the folder. Then suddenly she closed it and said, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t take the case.’ Reesa got really upset. And practically shoved me out of the office. And that was it. It doesn’t make sense.”
“She didn’t explain why?” Wyatt asked and handed her a breadstick.
Unthinking, Sarah broke it in half and took a bite. Swallowed. “No, just that she couldn’t help us.”
“What did Reesa say?”
“I don’t even know. Something about being too close to the case because she was my friend, and I freaked and begged her not to stop being my friend.” She dropped the breadstick halves onto her plate. “Like, that was the stupidest thing I could have thought of, like it was even important when Leila’s future is at stake.”
Wyatt laughed and gave her a quick hug. “Of course it’s important. You like to compartmentalize . . . and it may work with clock parts, but life is a lot messier and it doesn’t like being put nicely away. Get used to it, love. You’ll be a lot happier when you do.”
“I am happy,” Sarah protested as the waiter placed a bowl of mussels in red sauce between them. “At least I will be when this is all completed.” She mentally crossed her fingers. “If it works out right.”
“It will or it won’t. We’ll all do our best. Now let’s worry about right now and eat.” He’d reached for a mussel just like it was any ordinary day. Like he was oblivious or clueless. But he was none of those.
Fix the now. And right now she was hungry.
“Reesa said the lawyer’s pro bono work might be filled for the month,” Sarah said when they were halfway through the bowl of mussels. “But I think she was being sarcastic. I told Reesa I could pay. But she said I wouldn’t have enough for Ms. Cartwright’s fees.”
“There are other lawyers. Are you sure you even need a different lawyer?”
Sarah shrugged. “I didn’t think so. I thought it was just a matter of the paperwork working its way through the system. Surprise on me. I don’t want to be caught unprepared again.”
She leaned back while the waiter replaced the mussels with two rectangular plates of broiled flounder and pilaf with a ratatouille condiment.
“If I don’t have enough money on hand, I’ll have to borrow it.” She dropped the fork she’d just picked up. “I don’t mean borrow it from anyone or anything like that. I meant take a second mortgage on the house or sell it outright.”
“And then where would you live?” He picked up her fork and wiggled it at her, before handing it back.
“Or I could sell the store.”
“And become one of the idle rich?”
She speared a piece of flaky fish. “In my dreams.”
Wyatt cut a piece of fish, piled pilaf on the back of the fork English style, slid it into his mouth, and chewed, savoring the taste. “Why don’t you just hold off on anything extreme until we know how serious Carmen really is.”
That stopped her for a second. “Why wouldn’t she be serious?”
“She might be. She might really have turned over a new leaf. But it’s just as possible that she has a new boyfriend who is pulling her strings. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“No, and I was lucky to even have gotten Leila back after both failed attempts. Usually they just send you to wherever there’s a bed.”
“I know, hon. You’ll figure it out. And you’ve got a whole crew of people in your court. Your family, like you said. So try not to worry and make this the best time ever.”
In case it’s soon gone forever, Sarah finished for him.
After a brief skirmish over Wyatt’s buying lunch, which he won, they left the air-conditioned restaurant for the heatpulsing sidewalk. Two blocks later they parted at the corner, Wyatt to return to his store, Sarah to hers. They’d seen each other more in the last few days than they had in a while.
In the back of her mind, Sarah was afraid it wasn’t a good idea. It didn’t seem fair for Leila to be sent back to Carmen just when she was getting along so well with Wyatt. There were bound to be repercussions when she returned. Either afraid of him or mean to him. He’d make himself scarce for a while and the cycle would continue. Or she wouldn’t come back at all.
But Sarah wouldn’t contemplate that yet. It would all work out. It had to.
She walked around to the backyard, where she retrieved her briefcase and the box of documentation from the car. It wouldn’t hurt her to organize what she had and review some of the incidents she may have forgotten.
After letting herself into the shop, Sarah deposited her briefcase and the box on the floor and walked through to the front room. She normally loved Mondays, when the shop was closed and she could come and go as she pleased. Work all day if she wanted. Or just sit in the quiet.
She stepped out to the center of the room, breathed in the scent of wood and wax and oil. There were no lights on. A few dust motes were suspended in the air near the window where a ray of sunlight sliced to the floor. But that was all. Just her. Alone. And in the silence she could hear it. The ticking of the clocks, steady as a heartbeat.
Could she really contemplate selling this to keep Leila? Could she give up what Sam had loved most in the world? She could still repair clocks without having a retail space, but the store brought in the bulk of her income. And the building was paid for, along with the house; she wouldn’t be able to find a place cheaper without leaving the area. And that’s not something she wanted to consider.
This is where she had learned to be human. To stop hating and being afraid, to trust and to love. She wasn’t sure she could keep all those in her heart if she had to give up her soul, which was forever a part of Sam and his shop.
Sarah smiled for a moment, thinking of Sam, could swear she could hear his monotone humming as he worked in the back room.
She walked around the perimeter of the room, letting her hand run over the carved cabinet of the old Bavarian cuckoo clock, the beveled glass of the grandmother clock that she and Sam bought from an estate sale. It had been in terrible repair but together they had brought it back to life. It was not for sale.
She should have asked Reesa just what amount of money she would need to hire Ilona Cartwright. She’d pay whatever it took, but the cottage and the store were more than buildings; they were her center, her soul. Surely the sale of a couple of clocks would be sufficient.
ILONA MANAGED TO concentrate for about an hour while her coffee grew cold and she tried not to think about the Hargreave folder sitting unopened on her desk or to be impatient with the intern who was taking a hell of a lot of time researching something that was probably easily found by googling. She could have done that herself.
After an hour, she’d satisfied herself that she really didn’t have to open the folder and convinced herself that it was mere curiosity about the case that let her hand slide over and open it.
She’d prepared herself for seeing the name again—she knew right where it was on the page. She steeled herself and read the initial removal report. Birth mother, Carmen Delgado, history of drug and alcohol abuse. Known prostitute. Father, Sonny Rodrigues, deceased. Leila Rodrigues. Seventh of eight children, different fathers, all in foster care. The future didn’t look bright for Carmen Delgado.
Like Reesa said. A no-brainer.
In a few years Carmen would probably be dead. Leila would forget her, hopefully.
Ilona didn’t remember either of her birth parents. But she’d had Aunty. Aunty was good; she’d made sure Ilona went to school and learned her lessons and her manners. As it turned out, Aunty wasn’t really her aunt, but she didn’t care. Ilona had thought it would last forever, but the only thing that lasts forever is misery.
Aunty starting forgetting things; sometimes she couldn’t remember Ilona’s name. She forgot to buy milk, didn’t know what the salt was for. She got afraid of Ilona, thought she was trying to steal her social security check. Wandered off and one day the police found her. Alzheimer’s, they said.
The service came and got Ilona; she scratched and kicked and screamed, begged them to let her stay and take care of Aunty, but they wouldn’t. They pushed her into a car and drove away. Aunty went to a home. Another home that wasn’t a home.
Ilona jumped when the intercom buzzed. She reached for it and knocked over the cup of cold coffee. The coffee spread out over the desk blotter. She grabbed all the folders she could muttering, “Dammit, dammit.”
She dumped the folders on the chair Sarah Hargreave had sat in and punched the intercom. “Inez, bring some paper towels, pronto. There’s a bit of a spill.”
It galled her to have to admit it. She never did things like that. Wasn’t clumsy. Didn’t make messes. Never.
“ILONA, WHAT IS wrong with you? How many times do I have to ask you not to run through the house like a hoodlum? Look what you’ve done.”
Ilona looked down at the shards of the coffee cup on the white tile floor, the coffee making a puddle at her feet and the grotesque stain down her mother’s white wool skirt. She’d been so excited, she’d forgotten to pay attention to how she was behaving. Stupid. She’d been so stupid.
“So what do you want?”
Ilona hung her head and thrust out the soggy report card without looking up. “I made all A’s.”