Summer stared at Owen trying to see past her words, but the walls she had in place were tall and thick, and it was pretty clear she wasn’t used to being challenged. Summer considered ways to convince her that she wasn’t challenging her adversarial skills, but she couldn’t come up with anything to say that wouldn’t reveal the core of the matter—that her doubt about whether Jex was guilty wasn’t simply reasonable, it was absolute. Unfortunately, Owen probably wouldn’t deem the source of her certainty to be credible. Hell, the idea she could hear voices and see outcomes didn’t resonate with many people after what had happened in Santa Cruz, giving her little reason to think things would be different here where no one had any positive experience with her special skills. And that was the point, right? She’d moved here with Faith to start a new life. One where she worked nine-to-five and work life didn’t bubble over into her dreams. She should start that new life now by ignoring Owen’s baiting and leaving this place.
She tamped down her draw to Owen’s allure and simply said, “I’m sorry you don’t agree with the verdict. Our decision was unanimous, and I don’t have anything else to say about it.”
“Well, that’s really helpful.”
Summer could swear there was a trace of wistfulness underneath the sarcasm in Owen’s tone. She got it. Owen, like everyone else, had a facade they showed to the rest of the world to accomplish what she needed to get done. Her instinct was to tell Owen everything—what she’d seen, what she knew in her soul, even if it didn’t align with the evidence presented in court, but she had a facade of her own and it didn’t allow for slips. She thought of Faith, starting fresh at a new school where no one had preconceived notions about her odd mother who had visions and heard voices, and her decision was made. “I’m sorry.”
She reached out a hand to soften the blow and was surprised when Owen accepted the gesture. For the second she clasped Owen’s hand, she felt defeat and the burden that came with it—the power of the feeling completely out of proportion with the gravity of the case they’d just heard. Owen was a deep well, and she needed to walk away or risk drowning in her depths.
The elevator banks weren’t as full as they had been that morning, but Summer bypassed them for the escalator, not wanting to deal with the onslaught of emotions that would come from the crushing closeness of so many people. On the ride down, she looked around. The courthouse here in Dallas was over twice the size of the one in Santa Cruz, and much less personal, but being here dredged up good memories as well as bad. She could hear the echo of her grandmother’s words. She’d helped many people, but it wasn’t her duty to make them listen. She’d done her part and it was time to move on. A new place, a new life—not just for Faith—but for her as well. She stepped off the escalator and faced the large, looming doors, ready to be on the other side of them.
“Excuse me, miss.”
She turned and stared at the stranger who’d brushed against her and the floor shifted, tilting her out of balance. She opened her mouth to say something but promptly shut it again because the word that formed—DANGER—made no sense. He was short, shorter than her, and slim. She could take him in a pinch, but what she could physically see didn’t signal she’d need to. Deep blue eyes, close-cropped blond hair, and a kind smile—nothing to signal danger. Even the hint of a scar above his left eye looked like the kind you’d get doing normal things like falling off a bike, but everything she couldn’t see rumbled beneath the surface like a dangerous volcano.
“Are you okay?” the stranger asked and reached for her arm.
Summer edged away, unnerved by her own impoliteness. “Yes,” she said, desperately trying to calm her breath. “I’m fine.”
He held a piece of paper toward her. “Do you know where the 282nd court is?”
Summer summoned the wherewithal to point toward the security guards manning the entrance to the building. “They’ll know.”
“Thank you.”
His smile was warm and kind. Nothing to indicate he was ominous in any way, but Summer was desperate to escape his presence nevertheless. She nodded and rushed out the door, determined that once she left this place, she would never return.
An hour later, she pulled up in front of Faith’s school and waved to her daughter, who was standing outside, apart from the other kids, feigning nonchalance. Faith tossed her backpack in the rear seat and climbed into the passenger side. Summer took a deep breath and squelched the tumble of feelings she’d had from the courthouse to focus on her daughter, whose energy was a mix of adrenaline and anxiety. “How’d it go today?”
“Fine.”
“Now see, in my world, ‘fine’ means not fine. Like really not fine. How not fine was it?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Summer wanted to push or, short of getting Faith to open up, intuit what she could, but she’d resisted both. Tuning her out was hard, but hearing every random thought of a girl on the cusp of being a teenager was harder. Besides, Faith had always come to her when she needed help, and she had to trust that she would this time. New beginnings in strange places came with all sorts of baggage. Hell, she was having trouble adjusting, making it completely unrealistic to expect Faith would fit right in. She wasn’t going to solve Faith’s problems by being a prying, helicopter mom, but she did have another idea. “I’m on board with the no talking, but I finished up jury duty today and I think we should celebrate. How about we pick up Nan and go out to eat?”
“Yes!” Faith fist-pumped the air. “Can I pick the place?”
“Too late,” Summer said. “I have an incredible craving for Thai food.” The craving had started moments before she left the courthouse. Letters floated in the air in front of her, and she struggled to keep her eyes on the road. “How about Simply Thai? It’s downtown. I think.”
“Thai is great.”
Summer grinned. “A daughter after my heart. We haven’t had good Thai food in months.”
“Yep. It’s been a steady stream of Nan’s top ten funeral casseroles since we moved in.”
Faith’s comment had no tone, but Summer felt a pang of guilt nevertheless. For uprooting their little family, for disrupting her grandmother’s quiet life, for not having the means to take care of her daughter on her own. “We won’t always have to be so careful. It’s just with the move and all…I’ll find steady work soon.”
Faith drummed her fingers on the console. “It’s cool. So you wanna tell me about jury duty or save it for dinner?”
“It was pretty cut-and-dry,” Summer said. “We found the defendant not guilty.” Summer immediately flashed to Owen’s heated stare as she read the verdict in the courtroom and then again when the attorneys had come back to the jury room to talk to them. She’d felt the sear of Owen’s annoyance burning into her skin long after she was out of Owen’s presence. She’d made her mad. She got it, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Owen’s case had holes, and she might be used to other people glossing over that, but Summer wasn’t that person. The whole experience had worn her out, and she was grateful her only connection to the criminal justice system in Dallas was the short-lived stint on the jury. No matter how intriguing and nice to look at Owen Lassiter might be.
“You sure there wasn’t more to it?” Faith asked.
Summer shrugged to disguise her surprise at Faith’s insight. “Nope.” She wasn’t lying. Not entirely. There wasn’t more to it. At least not anything she could put into words. The heavy onslaught of feelings she’d experienced at the courthouse was likely more about past baggage than any future portent. “I did get paid a whopping twelve dollars for my time. Check’s in the mail.”
“Remind me not to order any appetizers at dinner.”
“Or dessert,” Summer said with a faux serious expression. “Seriously, though, maybe we should try that new frozen custard place after dinner. I ate creepy cafeteria food for lunch and I could use a treat.”
“Welcome to my world.” Faith sighed dramatically. “Today, the only edible thing in the cafeteria line was an apple. I’m starving.”
“You know, Nan would be happy to pack a lunch for you.”
“Uh, have you met her? I’m not sure how your side of the family lived to procreate. I love her, but she’s not so good with the cooking. I have enough problems being the new girl without unwrapping a sack of surprise entrees in the cafeteria. I’ll take my chances with the mystery meat everyone else is eating, thank you very much.”
Summer’s heart broke a little at the mention of problems, and her stomach clenched with the memory of the issues she’d faced back when she was Faith’s age. She wanted to press Faith for details, take action, but she knew it wasn’t that simple, and any action on her part was bound to make things worse. The best thing she could do was to be available to listen if Faith decided she wanted to talk.
A couple of hours later, they were back in the car, this time with Nan riding shotgun. “What’s this place we’re going to for dinner?” Nan asked.
“Mom picked it out,” Faith said. “How did you hear about it, Mom?”
“Around,” Summer said, not wanting to admit she’d pulled the name out of the ether as she was leaving the courthouse. She thought back to the jury room with the stack of to-go menus—something Faith would’ve mocked for being so last century—trying to remember if this place had been one of those, but she didn’t think it was. Yet, she’d known from the moment she left the courthouse that she needed to go to this place, and she needed to go there soon. Please let the food be good or else Faith and Nan were never going to let her live down the choice.
The front of the restaurant was marked by a bright red awning and red doors. “Simply Thai” was painted in elegant script across the doors, and everything about the curb appeal was welcoming and open, but as she drove past, looking for a place to park, Summer gripped the steering wheel, tensed and anxious at the prospect of approaching this place, welcoming ambiance to the contrary.
“Mom, are you okay?”
Summer looked in the rearview mirror and saw Faith staring back at her, her eyes scrunched with concern which she quickly sought to allay. “Sure, why?”
“Well, for one thing, you’re gripping the steering wheel like you’re scared it’s going to fly off, and for another, if you want that parking spot, I suggest you turn into it before the line of cars behind us starts honking.”
Summer smiled to hide the fact she’d lost track of where they were for a moment and steered the car into the space. When she turned the car off, Nan’s hand reached out to grab hers.
“You okay?”
Summer pulled the keys from the ignition and jingled them in the air. “I’m great other than the fact I’m starving. Let’s order all the things and eat until we can’t move. What say you?”
“I vote yes,” Faith said, tugging at the door handle to display her exuberance.
“Who am I to stand in the way?” Nan asked with a shrug, her eyes tracking Summer as she stowed her keys in her purse, clearly not convinced there was nothing going on.
“Later,” Summer whispered. She shot a look at Faith, who was already out of the car. “I promise.”
Nan humphed. “Fine. Dinner is a stress free zone.”
Two minutes later, Nan’s words floated through Summer’s head as she stepped up on the curb toward the door of Simply Thai. Stress free would be nice. The move to Dallas had been fraught with complications from the logistics of moving their belongings to the stress of trying to find a job with what had to be one of the most unconventional résumés around. Not as unconventional as, say, astronaut or magician, but once people started asking for specifics about what exactly a consultant for the district attorney’s office actually did, she tended to falter. Maybe she needed to spend some time coming up with a better script for her job interviews. One that didn’t leave her mumbling something about evidence and witnesses and jury prep in rambling sentences that didn’t actually piece together.
She glanced around, but the door to the restaurant was no longer in view. She could’ve sworn it was only a few steps from the curb, but all she could make out now were concrete stairs leading to the back door of another building. The building didn’t have a sign, but it looked like the rear entrance of a store or club. The air around her became gray as if the sun has suddenly set and the streetlights hadn’t gotten the message. She searched through the haze for some clue about what she was supposed to see, hear, do, but all she heard were the hard footfalls of someone running, and the sound was fading into the distance.
“Mom?”
She shook her head, but the fog was gone. The sidewalk was back beneath her feet, and the door to the restaurant looked as inviting as it had when they’d pulled up here moments ago. Something had happened here, would happen here—she didn’t have a clue what, but it wasn’t good and it wasn’t specific enough for her to do a damn thing about it. She touched a hand to her head and focused on Faith. “Sorry, I’m a little faint, but it’s probably due to the crappy cafeteria food from lunch.”
Faith grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the door. “Let’s cure that with a big bunch of super-spicy food.”
The restaurant was packed, typical Friday night in Dallas, but miraculously, they managed to slip in just as another family was leaving. Summer watched Faith’s gaze linger on the mom, dad, and two kids exiting the restaurant, and she wondered if Faith ever longed for the typical family structure or if she was okay with just the two of them. Three now that Nan was a regular fixture. If she concentrated really hard, she might get the answer, but she’d tried really hard to cultivate headspace where Faith could think her own thoughts without worrying her mom was monitoring them. She’d gotten so good at tuning out Faith’s feelings, she sometimes sensed a distance between them she regretted, but not more than giving her daughter the gift of privacy.
They followed the hostess to the back of the restaurant, a crappy section, but Summer was relieved to be tucked away from the rest of the crowd. They slid into the booth and began perusing the menu.
Faith immediately began pointing out her favorite dishes. “What do you like, Nan?”
“I have no idea. This is my first foray into the land of Thai food, but everything sounds wonderful. How about we have a little bit of everything? And dinner’s on me,” she said, punctuating her remark with a hard glare in Summer’s direction.
Summer recognized the look as one meant to deter all detractors, but for some reason she couldn’t articulate, it was important that she take care of the tab. “Not tonight,” she said. “You’ve done enough for us. The least I can do is introduce you to the wonder and spice of Thailand. You’re going to love it.”
“Anything will be better than the endless casseroles,” Nan replied. “I appreciate that everyone loved my Charlie, but he’s not having to eat the damn things.”
“I thought you loved the casseroles,” Faith said. “I mean, you do serve them pretty regularly.”
“Faith,” Summer said, shaking her head and wondering when exactly kids started developing filters.
“Not,” Nan said. “But the damn things kept coming, even weeks after the funeral, and I couldn’t bear throwing them away, so they piled up in the freezer. I’m tired of them too, but since I can’t cook worth a damn and your mom’s too busy looking for a job, they’ve kept us alive. Am I right?”
“How about we share the load?” Summer said. “You two can each get a night, we’ll go out to eat one night, and I’ll cook the rest of the time? I need to start pulling my weight, especially since I can’t seem to find a permanent job and the temp company wasn’t very patient with the fact I couldn’t show up today because of jury duty.”
“Deal, but you don’t have to feel bad about working hard to find a new start.” Nan patted her hand. “I know I seem crochety a lot of the time, but I’m really happy to have you both here. Charlie’s death left a big hole. It’s not the same talking to him when he’s not here in person.”
“Does he talk to you, Nan?” Faith asked.
“Well…”
Nan glanced at Summer and Summer nodded. It was inevitable that Faith would have questions like this, considering she was already starting to see signs that Faith had the same gift she shared with Nan. Not for the first time, Summer wondered if her mother also had the ability to hear the dead and read people’s thoughts and had simply chosen to hide it or ignore it. Lord knows she’d never used it to try to improve their relationship. Her mother had never been receptive to talking about what it meant when Summer started having visions and hearing other people’s thoughts at the tender age of ten. Summer never wanted Faith to feel as adrift as she had, confused and scared by the friends she couldn’t see but who constantly occupied her thoughts. That was part of the reason, when she’d decided she needed to leave Santa Cruz, she accepted Nan’s generous offer of hospitality. Landlocked Dallas was no comparison to seaside Santa Cruz, but there was no substitute for family who loved and accepted you for who you were.
“Charlie does talk to me,” Nan said. “He even gives me recipes he says I should try to make for you all, but I suppose being dead has affected his memory of my disasters in the kitchen.”
“I thought I saw him one night last week,” Faith said. “When I went to get a glass of water.” She giggled. “He was wearing an apron.”
Nan laughed with her. “I know exactly the one. I’ll show it to you when we get home. I’ll even give it to you if you learn to cook. Get your mom to teach you—she definitely got your grandfather’s cooking gene.”
Faith started scrolling through her phone. “Looking up chicken tikka masala recipes, right now. Can’t wait.”
Summer watched the exchange between her daughter and her grandmother, and their easy camaraderie cemented her decision to stick around for a while. She hadn’t found a job yet, and she’d already pissed off the most beautiful woman she’d met, but she’d find a way to make a home here because family was important, living and dead, and she wanted her daughter to appreciate everything she had.