Page 62 of No Kind of Hero
Joan nodded. “Nothing but running out on her kid. Not that common in a mom, like I said, unless it’s drugs. Are we sure?”
“Yes. Well, I’ve never met her, but Evan says he’s sure. The baby doesn’t have any problems.”
“Dad have any abuse issues?” Matter-of-fact still, and Joan’s gaze was level.
“No.” Beth repeated it. “No. If he did, Dakota would know. Russell would know. And I’d know, too.”
“Not necessarily. In any case,” Joan went on while Beth was still grappling for an answer, “if she alleges that, given the running away, you’ve got a can of worms even if it isn’t true. But we’ll hope not. Just a heads-up. Meanwhile, you’re all set. File and serve notice, and we’ll see what happens. No rental applications means she’s probably with the parents, that the thought?”
“Yes.” Beth was still trying to recover. “She’s on the helpless side, apparently.”
Joan studied her, and Beth heard the thought and rejected it.Victim material.She might very well have thought it, too, if it had been anybody but Evan, the man who’d written the book on self-control, not to mention decency. “Anyway,” Joan finally said, “if you don’t turn her up, you move on to serving notice by publication. Four weeks, but it’s still better than waiting.”
“I’ve got a process server lined up,” Beth assured her. “We’re good to go.”
“You won’t be handling the actual hearing, though, I assume,” Joan said.
“No.” Beth busied herself straightening the already-straight stack of papers and returning them to their folder. “I’m not in town for long, and of course, this isn’t my specialty. I wanted to get Evan started in a less . . . a less daunting way. More personal. But he’ll do the rest with you. I appreciate you checking over my paperwork.”
“As long as he comes on down and gets himself set up with me,” Joan said. “Shoot me a copy once you’ve filed, and I’ll take over once I hear from him. He’ll be less likely to follow through, though, if he didn’t pay for what you’ve done.”
“No,” Beth said. “It was a favor.”
“And your idea.” Joan’s gaze was level.
“Yes.”
“You sure he actually wants to cut ties?” Joan asked. “I see that you want him to, but I don’t see him sitting here.”
Beth could feel the heat rising into her cheeks in a way it never did if she was on the other side of that desk. She went for rationality, for logic, but it wasn’t easy. “What I see is a man closing his eyes and hoping she’ll stay away. If I’m wrong, if some part of him wants his family back? He won’t follow through, and that’ll be my answer. But I think I’m seeing something I see all the time in estate planning. Wishful thinking. The mom who thinks everybody understands her wishes and that her kids will share, so she doesn’t have to write it down. Except they don’t, and you end up with two sisters-in-law fighting over a cut-glass vase that costs a whole lot less than your time to sort it out, and telling you it’s ‘the principle of the thing.’ They’ll go through the house on the day of the funeral and whip that crocheted spread right off the bed. At least my client’s dead by then and doesn’t have to watch.”
Joan smiled, and the hard moment passed. “Yep. The plus of this job is the repeat business. The minus is—well, the repeat business. Watching creatures of habit make the same mistakes over and over again.” She stood up and shook hands. “If you think he really does want her gone, and you reallydon’tthink she left for a reason—tell him not to drop it. I understand the urge, but advise him to resist. Motherhood’s a strange condition. Just ask me. I have three grown kids. By this point, I’ve done pretty much everything I’d advise a client not to. Pesky things, human emotions.”
Beth was still turning the conversation over in her mind when she handed over the manila envelope to the process server an hour later, crossed her mental fingers, and sent him on his way. She’d called Evan to doublecheck before she’d filed the petition, and he’d said, “Do it.” So surely it was the right move.
Joan served a different clientele. That was why she expected the worst. Family law attorneys only saw couples who didn’t want to be together, while estate planning attorneys saw people with estates to plan. Which was a more functional thing, even a happier thing in a way, despite the death part.
She’d never thought that much about her selection of specialty. There’d been an opening, they’d wanted her, she’d taken it, and she’d liked it. Death and taxes were the only certain things in life, and she didn’t want to do tax law or bankruptcy. Estate planning might involve planning for death, but death happened whether you planned for it or not, and meanwhile, you werehelping. She could see the load lifting from her clients’ shoulders when their affairs were in order, and she liked being the cause of that. She liked making plans, creating order from chaos, just as she suspected Evan liked making houses look better. Estate planning was like a big jigsaw puzzle. Aninteractivejigsaw puzzle. Or . . .
All right, it wasn’t like a jigsaw puzzle at all, but there was a way that worked best, and she liked figuring out what it was.
“Henry,” she told the dog, “I don’t hate what I do. Huh. That’s a relief.”
The day was warming up, and they were headed back to Dakota’s. She’d go over and help Evan at the theater, and she’d . . . be there.
She’d heard all the reserve in him when she’d told him the process server was on his way. Surely that was anxiety over the next steps, not Evan hesitating to cut April out of his and Gracie’s life, like Joan had thought. One thing about Evan—he wassure.He thought it, he planned it, and he got it done.
So why hadn’t he done this?Didhe still want April? Evanwasloyal. And Aprilwasthe mother of his child. She knew how fiercely he loved.
She wanted to run, or to swim. But she needed to wait with Evan. And she was only here for five more days. She needed to do what she could.
Her phone rang in her purse, and she pulled it out. Her mom.
Adult. You are an adult.“Hi, Mom,” she said. “How are you?”
“Hello, sweetie,” her mother said, and Beth’s shoulders lost a little of their tension. “I was wondering if you wanted to come for dinner tonight. Your father’s going to barbecue, and we’ll eat out on the deck.”
If Beth was changing, and she devoutly hoped she was, her mom was having to change, too, or at least adjust to Beth’s changes. That took time and practice, and shehadtime. Five days. “I have plans,” she began, “but I can—”
