Page 76 of Lillian

The judge nods that her lawyer can approach with it, takes it from him, and reads the contents quickly before glancing up at me and Michael.

“Ms. Frasier, this suggests that you have not held down a steady job for several years and that you just started a new relationship with a man who lives here in Phoenix. Is that true?”It feels as if all eyes turn toward me, and I feel my mouth pop open in shock. I gape at the judge like a fish, so baffled by this turn of events that I don’t know what to say. Michael fills in the blanks.

“Your honor, my client is a successful freelance graphic designer. She has been more than capable of providing for Grace and herself the past four years.”

The judge scribbles something down, nods, and asks, “And the relationship?”

“If I may, your honor, I’m not sure why that is relevant to today’s custody hearing.”Yeah, what he said.

“It is relevant because Ms. Frasier is a foster parent. Which means the state must be notified of any substantial change of circumstance, including, but not limited to, loss of job, change of address, and change in relationship where it can affect the child under their care.”

Blood thrums in my ears, making it hard to hear what’s happening around me. The judge says something else, but I can’t make it out. Michael nudges me, and I flinch. Looking at him, he jerks his head discreetly at the judge for me to answer the question.

“I’m sorry,” I say, tail tucked between my legs. “Could you repeat that?”

The glimmer of irritation is hard to miss. “I said, is this inaccurate? Are you not engaged in a new, serious relationship with someone where you have spent several weekends away from home with him?”

“Um, no, your honor. That’s true.” He jots down another note.

“Okay, I’ll hear brief statements from each party or counsel before ruling. Let’s make it quick, please.”

He motions toward Talia’s side to begin.

Her lawyer stands up, buttons one button on his suit jacket, and starts his spiel. “You’re honor, there is no doubt that Ms. Frasier has done a remarkable job raising Grace. Nobody denies that. But we’re here because Grace’sbiologicalmotherhas proved that she is capable of caring and providing a stable life for her daughter. She’s gotten herself clean and sober, shown immense guilt and regret for her actions while she was fighting addiction, and followed all the right steps toward reunification. She just wants her daughter back.”

“Ms. Frasier?” The judge motions toward me, showing no emotion following Talia’s lawyer.

Michael looks at me, brow raised.

Right.

Fight for her.

I stand on shaky legs and smooth down my blazer and skirt. Not knowing what to do with my hands, I clasp them in front of me, and then do just that.

“When I found Grace, it was on the sidewalk outside of a safe surrender facility. Twenty yards. That’s all Ms. Wilson had to walk to make sure Grace was safe. Instead, she dumped her in a cardboard box with no blankets or formula. It’s only by luck and happenstance that she wasn’t hurt or worse. Since then, I’ve given up my nine-to-five job to move back home where Grace could have a stable home and a real family. I’ve provided for us financially through freelance work, that’s true, but what’s more important is the emotional support and love Grace gets from me and my family. Ms. Wilson doesn’t know her. She doesn’t know that Grace can’t sleep without her favorite stuffy and nightlight, or that she lovesDisneymovies and ice cream more than almost anything else in this world. She might be her mother by blood, but she’s not her mom. I am. And I’m asking you to please not take Grace away from the only home she’s ever known.” A brief pause, and then I tack on quickly, “Your honor.” I finish lamely,taking a seat. From the corner of my eye, I see Michael give me a nod, so I assume I did well.

The entirety of the courtroom is silent. All the people sitting in the benches still, waiting to have their cases heard, myself and Michael, Talia and her lawyer…all waiting for the judge to finish writing his notes in the file in front of him. Finally, he looks up.

“If there’s nothing further from either Ms Frasier or Ms Wilson, we can continue on to the ruling.” One last searching glance between Talia and me, both remaining silent, and then the judge nods and opens his mouth to seal mine and Grace’s fate.

I pacein front of the courtroom where the case for Becca’s conservatorship is set to be heard, waiting for both Becca and her lawyer. A man I’ve never met and who I haven’t had but one single conversation with since this thing moved so fucking fast. Becca should be arriving soon in the car I sent to pick her up from the ranch. After today, she’s coming home with me, no matter what I have to do. I told her to come with a bag packed, and we’d go back for the rest of her shit later.

There’s no fucking way a judge would rule in favor of granting a full conservatorship-–covering her personal and financial decisions—not with the piece of paper I have burning a hole in my breast pocket. Vince just faxed it to the office this morning, and I haven’t stopped fuming since I read it.

Heels clicking across the otherwise empty hall draws my attention. Turning, I see Becca striding toward me by herself. The driver most likely parked and is waiting for our call to pick her back up. She’s dressed in a simple, modest black dress thatstops mid-calf. In the heels, with this dress, and the way her makeup is done, she looks too old. Too grown up. But also…

“You look beautiful, sis.” I wrap her in a tight hug. “How are you doing?”

She shrugs, honestly looking like this isn’t affecting her. Not the way it is me. She’s always been the stronger one of the two of us. “Fine. Listen, I actually wanted to talk to you. This whole thing is ridiculous. I’m eighteen. If we’re fighting over money, I don’t want it. Can’t we just go in and tell the judge I forfeit the trust? Problem solved?”

Of course she would do that. She’s enjoyed the privileges of money but never cared about it. Not the way some people are. Scared of losing it, scared of not having as much as someone else. I suppose she’s had better things to worry about. “I wish it were that simple, Becca. But Mom and Dad didn’t sue for only a financial conservatorship. They’re suing for full conservatorship.”

“What does that mean exactly? Like they want to make all my decisions for me?” Her eyes pop wide open.

“Basically,” I agree. “But that’s not going to happen.” Without question, she nods at my words, placing complete trust in me. Fuck, I hope I deserve it.

A few minutes later, a man approaches us. “Lincoln?” he asks, and when I nod, he extends his hand to me and shakes it. “William,” he tells me before turning to Becca. “That must make you Rebecca.”

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