Page 55 of Nine Week Nanny
"Okay, thank you for the call. I'll have my assistant get those dates to you as soon as this afternoon. How quickly will we know when we will meet?"
"Once I talk to the other Mr. Carrigan, I can give you both the date."
"Thank you."
The line clicks dead a second later, leaving me staring into the pane of glass, the muffled voices of the board still carrying through the door.
Chris isn’t circling anymore. He’s here. And if he thinks he can treat Lennon like a bank account with legs, he’s about to find out just how hard I’ll fight.
I slammy office door shut, already dialing Vic's number. Blood pulses through my temples as the phone rings. Once, twice?—
"Pope. What's the latest crisis?"
Vic Gesser has been CHG's corporate attorney since the beginning.
"I need a family lawyer, Vic." My pacing stops at the window. Beyond the glass, palm trees sway, mocking my inner storm with their carefree dance. "Not corporate. Family law. The best one in Palm Beach. Today."
"Slow down. What happened?"
I sink into my desk chair, swiveling to face the ocean. "My shithole of a father is contesting guardianship of Lennon."
"Your father? The one you haven't spoken to in?—"
“Six years. Yes." My free hand curls into a fist on my desk. "He filed papers. There's a hearing in ten days."
Vic's sigh travels through the phone. "Pope, you know this isn't my area. The firm doesn't handle family court matters."
"I don't care. Find me someone who does."
"It's not that simple. Family court is its own beast?—"
"It is that simple. I need the best family lawyer in Florida, and I need them today."
A pause. "This is getting personal for you."
"Of course it's fucking personal. I may not have known this kid before this, and this was supposed to be an easy safety landing spot until his cousin could get her shit together, but he is my brother. And no matter what, he can’t live with Chris.”
The front door opens downstairs. Sloane and Lennon must be back from Seabreeze. Lennon's voice floats up, higher and more animated than I've heard before, talking about something called a sea hare. Sloane responds with that warm laugh I'm starting to recognize.
My chest tightens.
"Pope? You still there?"
"Yeah." I lower my voice. "I need someone who specializes in this. Who understands what we're up against and who will make sure that dickhead doesn't come anywhere near this kid."
"You want my honest advice? Find someone local for this. Florida’s family court has its own rules, its own judges. You need someone with relationships."
"Fine. Call your contacts. Get me names. I need someone, man. Make it happen."
"I'll make some calls."
"Today, Vic. Now.”
I hang up and stare at the wall. The family photo of Lennon and Maria that Camila gave me sits in plain view.
I barely know the innocent boy sleeping under my roof. Three weeks ago, he was an abstract concept, my father's son with his third wife. A responsibility I agreed to shoulder temporarily.
Now, I've seen how he wraps his arms around himself when he's scared, how he stares at the floor instead of making eye contact. I recognize how he flinches at sudden movements.
