“I don’t know. I can’t live with him anymore. Willem is three. He can’t be exposed to this. My son is my life,” Tracie bawled uncontrollably.
“Tracie, I’ll help you,” Adam said in a comforting voice.
“But Tony controls all the money. I can’t get my hands on any of it to pay you,” she said in the most desperate tone Adam had ever heard.
“We’ll worry about the money part later,” Adam reassured her, even though he knew that KR&S would dump a client at the courthouse steps for being a day late on a fee payment. Flipping through his calendar, he said, “Come in tomorrow at four. We’ll figure things out then. Just don’t say anything to him, and don’t worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise. See you then.” He hung up the phone.
For all the disdain Adam had for the law and the legal system, he didn’t have enough to refuse to help one of the few people he had met who really needed a good lawyer. The trembling voice of a broken, scared woman was something Adam could never turn his back on. Tracie really needed him.
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Jen Savin swallowed hard as she picked Mandy Lehman’s shower gift off the front seat of her Taurus. Mandy was the last of Jen’s friends to get married. The era of having a cohort to accompany her down the messy path of single life was over. Trudging up the slush-laden steps to the monstrous Tudor manor that the Lehmans called home, all Jen could think of was how she was left to do it alone. The final crutch had been swiped almost without warning. Mandy met Tray while fighting with him over the last copy of Sleepless in Seattle one Friday night at the video store. Eight months later, Jen was being fitted for a bridesmaid’s dress. What a way to spend a Sunday afternoon, Jen thought as she entered the house.
Mustering up all the courage she had, she moved from the foyer to the massive living room. With all the chatting going on at the grown-up tea party, no one noticed that she had arrived. The sun-filled parlor was loaded with dried flowers and a gaggle of women in their late twenties and early thirties daintily seated on furniture that had a never-been-used look. It wasn’t Jen’s crowd. Even though she had known most of the women since Jewish youth group, they weren’t close friends. Mandy was the bridge between Jen and the rest of them. Mandy and Jen had been friends long before Mandy’s father sold his patent for an automatic teller machine and became filthy rich. Even after Mandy moved to a private school the summer before tenth grade, she and Jen remained close. Remaining friends with Mandy in high school meant putting up with Mandy’s new friends. It was tolerable.
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