Authors: Theresa Rizzo
Steve took her hand and together they climbed the hill to the waiting children. Earlier anger apparently burned away, he thanked her for dinner and helped buckle the kids into their car seats.
Annie rolled down the window. “Oh, I almost forgot. Emma cancelled on me for Thursday night. Is there any way you can watch the kids from seven to ten? I’ve got Bunko at Shirley’s.”
“What about Ryan?”
“I didn’t ask him.”
“Ask him. He’d probably enjoy the extra time with them.” Steve took out his cell phone and checked his calendar. “If Ryan can’t do it, then I will. But check with him first.”
She pouted. “Fine.” Then she brightened. “Thanks, honey. Love you.”
“You too.” Steve leaned in and kissed her goodnight, then backed up as she zipped down the driveway.
He headed back toward the house, then turned at the low drone of the Harrison’s garage door opening. Jenny backed out and executed a three-point turn. She saw him, and a big smile broke across her face, warming him. Tension eased with each step as he strolled over to the idling Jeep.
“Hey. Where’re you off to?”
“Barnes and Noble.”
“Need something to read or research?”
She cocked her head sideways. “I’m teaching a friend to read and I thought I’d see if there were any basic books that might appeal to an adult.”
“Really? How’d this come about?”
Jenny waved a hand. “It’s a long story, but it’s good. I needed a project—something to get me focused on other people instead of obsessing about my own problems.”
“Good for you. Does that mean you found an attorney?”
She pursed her lips. “No, still looking. I’ve got a few feelers out.”
“I asked Allen Blakeman, but—”
“He didn’t want anything to do with it,” she broke in.
“I was going to say,” he raised his eyebrows in reproach, “that he was too busy.” He gentled the truth.
Why’d you do that, Grant? Not helping her any, hiding the truth
.
“And he wasn’t interested.”
True. No money to be made in losing. “You’ll find somebody,” he offered halfheartedly.
She nodded. “Gotta run before the store closes. See ya.”
Steve watched her drive away.
She wasn’t going to find a lawyer to take her case, but there was no need to remind her of that. Jenny seemed less sad than she’d been since Gabe died, and he didn’t want to wreck that. Besides, he was confident he didn’t need to be the bad guy. Time would prove him right.
Monday morning Jenny pulled on dressy jeans and a bulky cable knit sweater that hid the fact that she’d lost ten pounds. For the first time in weeks, she went to the trouble of using cosmetics. She carefully applied foundation to hide the dark patches under her eyes and blush to give her pale face some color. No amount of makeup could make her skin and hair glow again, but at least she didn’t look ill.
Jenny slipped into work earlier than usual, hoping if she was already there when her co-workers arrived, she’d miss that embarrassing moment when she drew attention, like a kid coming into class late. She scrolled through the daily news on her computer, hoping for inspiration for her next piece. A new yoga studio was opening on The Hill, maybe something about how yoga seemed to be growing in popularity?
She could use some zen in her life—what she
really
needed was an attorney. She’d made light of it when Steve asked, but she’d just about reached a dead end.
Focus, Jenny. Worry about that later
. She glanced at the time.
Staff meeting in ten minutes and you got nothing
.
“Hi, Jenny. How’re you doing? I’m sorry about your husband.” Betty McIntyre paused beside her desk.
“Thanks, Betty. I’m fine.” Jenny looked at the middle-aged advice columnist. Betty had a daughter graduating from high school this year. Ordinarily Jenny would have enjoyed chatting about her, but she wasn’t in the mood for chitchat and had work to do.
“If there’s anything I can do—”
“Thank you,” Jenny cut her off and smiled to take the sting out of her abrupt reply, then turned back to her computer. She flipped through several more pages and then moved to MSN headlines. Breakup relationships? The holidays were coming…how to survive the holiday with your mother-in-law? Or your husband’s ex-wife.
Judith kept calling, bugging her about Thanksgiving. She’d tried not answering the phone, but then she just left messages. And messages.
People left their desks and walked toward the meeting room. Jenny grabbed a notepad and her favorite pen, hurried in and took a seat along with five others and their boss. Karen kept the meeting blessedly short as she handed out assignments and listened to their brainstorming ideas. Jenny was rounding the conference table when Karen stopped her.
“Condolences, Jenny.” Karen smiled. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Thank you.”
“I like the piece about people with food allergies surviving the holidays. Very timely.”
“Good.” Jenny had thrown that out at the last minute.
Karen softened her voice. “If you need a little extra time or anything, just let me know.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that. I
will
need to miss Wednesday’s staff meeting. I have a meeting with an attorney that couldn’t be scheduled any other time.” Jenny didn’t explain the nature of her appointment, hoping that Karen would assume it pertained to settling Gabe’s estate.
Karen’s face dissolved into a sympathetic look. “Certainly. Whatever you need. Just let me know if you’re going to be late with that piece—we have a little wiggle room.”
“No need. I’ll get it in. Thanks.” She’d never missed a deadline and she wouldn’t start now—she wouldn’t allow George the satisfaction of messing up her life further.
She really didn’t want George’s lawsuit making her private life public knowledge with a protracted lawsuit. She didn’t need people gossiping about her any more than they already were. Surely she could convince the judge that this suit was stupid and unnecessary, and then Jenny could move on with getting pregnant.
Heck, if she could get this taken care of quickly and was lucky enough to get pregnant right away, people might even assume that she’d gotten pregnant right before Gabe died.
You were pregnant—at least for a little while
. She pushed the sad thought aside. She’d be pregnant again and this time she’d protect their baby better.
* * *
Wednesday afternoon Jenny warily examined the judge’s chambers, trying to ignore the men facing her across the gleaming wood conference table. She’d never seen the inside of a courtroom, let alone a judge’s chambers.
Stately walnut bookcases neatly filled with volumes of legal books stood floor to ceiling. Flanking American and Michigan flags guarded a big wooden desk, with several hard-backed chairs clustered nearby. Framed credentials and scholarly achievements decorated the cream wall behind the desk. It looked pretty much like what Jenny had seen on television, with the exception of the scattered profusion of live plants, the sprinkling of family photos, and the row of fiction books lining the bottom shelf of the credenza.
Susan Wiggs, Kristin Hannah, Julie Garwood and Stephen King and Dean Koontz? Romance and horror, how interesting. She thought about the painful, scary weeks surrounding Gabe’s death. Loving left one vulnerable. Perhaps romance and horror weren’t that far apart.
Jenny had arrived twenty minutes early, hoping to have some time to mentally prepare, but George and his attorney were waiting in chambers. Dressed in dark suits with hair slicked back, the two huddled men looked up at her entrance. George stared at her while his attorney quickly dismissed her with barely a glance and reclaimed his client’s attention. A woman sat in front of a small gray appliance that looked like an old-fashioned adding machine, reading something on her iPad.
Jenny took a step backward, longing to escape. A fine sheen of sweat glossed her body, chilling her, despite the heavy sheepskin coat she wore. Feeling alone and threatened, she avoided looking at the men and perched on the edge of the seat next to the court reporter.
Her heart dropped as she took in the scene. This official room suited the serious men, and her aloneness hit her like a slap in the face. This was
not
going to be quickly resolved. She was in way over her head. Her abdomen cramped painfully; Jenny hoped she wasn’t getting an ulcer.
A woman with coal-black curls breezed into the room and the court reporter immediately put away the e-reader and turned on her machine. Judge Christina Moore wore a white silk shirt and camel-colored suit with matching high heels. She glanced at the waiting group as she rounded the table and picked up a file. Resting a hip against the desk, she put on her tortoiseshell reading glasses, opened the folder and scanned it. She consulted the small gold watch on her arm before looking at Jenny.
“We’ll wait a little longer for your attorney, but if he doesn’t show we’ll have to reschedule.”
Jenny glanced uneasily at George and his attorney. She licked her dry lips. “I don’t have an attorney yet, Your Honor.”
“Why not?”
“My husband died just five weeks ago.” She gave George a reproachful look. “It’s been difficult interviewing attorneys under the circumstances.”
The judge pinned her with a firm look. “I understand how difficult this time is for you; however, you really must give this your full attention.” She paused. “I’ll give you an additional forty-five days to find counsel.”
“Judge, we all sympathize with Mrs. Harrison’s loss, but there are major issues at stake here and my client strongly believes that Dr. Harrison cannot rest in peace until the fate of
all
of him has been laid to rest.” He glared at Jenny. “Therefore, I’d ask that the court not be overly indulgent in granting a continuance. Frankly, I don’t think her difficulties in obtaining the services of an attorney are limited by any time constraints.”
The judge glanced sharply at the lawyer. “That’s enough, counselor. I’ve made my ruling.” Sitting, she picked up a ballpoint pen and studied the stand-up monthly calendar. She reached out and flipped forward to the next month, then tapped the pen against her lips.
“Let’s see…forty-five days from now puts us just about at Christmas, then there’s New Years…We’ll set the pretrial hearing for Monday January fourth.” She looked from George’s attorney to Jenny. “I assume that’s all right with everybody?”
Thank God for holidays. Jenny nodded, feeling the pressure ease from her chest. “Thank you.”
She fumbled with her monthly planner and painstakingly shaped each letter and word to record the appointment. Head down, she rearranged the contents of her purse until she heard the door close behind them.
“They’re gone,” the judge said.
Jenny looked up, embarrassed that Judge Moore knew she’d been procrastinating to avoid them. With a mumbled thank you, Jenny quickly gained her feet and headed for the door.
“Mrs. Harrison?”
Jenny slowly pivoted, feeling like a child about to be reprimanded by the teacher for dawdling.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Jenny forced a stiff smile. “Thank you.”
She hurried out the door and paused in the hallway. The meeting had been so formal—so official. George’s attorney seemed cold and heartless. He was
not
going to be civil about this. She shuddered, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling of being targeted by a bully. By refusing to give in to George, she’d put a big bull’s-eye on her forehead. Geeze, was it really worth it? All she wanted was a baby; why did it have to be this hard?
Jenny put a hand to her pounding head and headed for the parking garage. Several people clustering around the elevator prompted Jenny to veer right toward the stairs. Her steps faltered as George moved out of a doorway to her left. He smoothed the brim of his plaid cap. “Can I have a word with you?”
She kept moving toward the staircase. “I think you and your attorney have said enough.”
He fell into step beside her. “It’ll just take a minute.”
Jenny pushed through the metal door into the stairwell, then faced him. “One minute.”
He cleared his throat, frowned and then looked away as if having trouble starting. “Ya look like hell.”
She spun toward the stairs, releasing the heavy fire door. She knew she looked like a mangled kitten and didn’t need the reminder.
“Oh, hey. I’m sorry.” Her foot rested on the first step when she felt a light grip on her arm. Jenny froze and looked up at George before staring pointedly at his fat, hairy hand on her forearm. He immediately released her. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I…I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time.”
I bet
. She stared at him, unblinking.
“Look, this can stop right here, right now. It’s up to you.”
“Actually George, since it’s you who is suing me, it’s up to
you
.” She paused, wondering if it was even worth her breath to try to reason with him. “Gabe loved us both. Do you really think he’d want you to prevent me from having his baby?”
“Gabe didn’t always know what was best for him. He…” Twin lines dug deep, vertical furrows into his forehead as he struggled to find the right words. “Just give up before things get ugly. I don’t want anybody to get hurt.”
Too late
. “I’m hurt.”
“You’re hurting yourself. Look, I don’t want to fight you. Just quit before it’s too late.”
Too late for what?
“I want my husband’s baby.”
He frowned and pursed his lips. “Why are you being so stubborn about this? This is no game. Lawsuits are ugly. Lawyers play to win. They dig and pry into things that are nobody’s business. Just let it be.”
That part had been made crystal clear, but she’d been the one to show up to the fight unarmed; why was George warning her off? Had he found out something or was he just using scare tactics? “Are you threatening me?”
“Threatening you?” His eyes widened as if surprised. “Hell, no, I’m not threatening you. I’m trying to make you understand the can of worms you’re about to open up. Look, we’re reasonable adults. There has to be another way to settle this.”