Page 81 of Puck Daddies
The second piece is Fauré. The French sits in my mouth fine. I don’t reach. I let the pianissimo be small. It works. “Shenandoah” is third. I keep it simple and don’t turn it into a showpiece. A few people hum one line under their breath and stop. I smile without moving my mouth.
This is the part that’s personal. It takes a moment for me to gather my thoughts. “I wrote this song here because I found my voice here.”
And I begin. I’ve never been much of a songwriter, and maybe the melody only makes sense to me. I don’t look at Meg until the second verse because if I do, I won’t make it to the bridge.
But I do. The last note sits. Silence. Then the room stands without a shout, just bodies up at once, and I feel my knees go weak. I bow once and point at the piano to give the pianist credit where it’s due.
After, we keep it tight. No lines. No meet and greet. We thank people as they go. When the room is empty, we sit on the floorwith the lights low and eat Bex’s honey bars and drink water. My voice feels like it will still be there in the morning. It feels better than it did yesterday. It flourishes when I let it be exactly what it is.
Like us.
28
OLIVER
Dana textsat 7:10 a.m.:Judge wants counsel and parties in chambers at ten. Bring the full packet. We’ll go into the amended notice irregularities and the lending exhibits. Dress like you own a bank.
So, I do.
I text PR a heads-up and drive Meg downtown. She’s quiet, eyes on the order we pinned to the corkboard last week. Dana meets us at security with a rolling case and her paralegal, Isla, who carries two binders. We take the stairs to the second floor because Meg hates the elevator when she’s wound tight.
Outside chambers, Callie and Luke sit with their counsel. Luke wears the grin he uses when he wants to look harmless. Callie scrolls without looking up. I feel Meg’s fingers dig into my sleeve, and I put my hand over hers.
Dana checks the time. “We’ll go over the order first, then offer exhibits one through thirteen by proffer and chain certification.”
But I can tell Meg isn’t hearing any of it. She looks placid, but that’s not her actual relaxed face.
The clerk opens the door. “Bridges v. Harbor Street Holdings. Parties and counsel.”
We’re in chambers for this. Books line the walls. A conference table takes up some of the space. The judge sits at the head with a legal pad and a pencil. We take the left side, they take the right. The court reporter sits near the window. The judge looks at the file, then at Dana.
“Good morning. I’ve read the TRO, the motion, and the submissions. Tell me what I need to know.”
Dana begins. “Good morning, Your Honor. Since the TRO entered, we have received video from the hallway camera. We also bring evidence of irregularities in the ownership chain and in the lending entity tied to Mr. Addaway’s companies. We ask that the court void the eviction notices for bad faith and abuse of process, extend the restraining order pending an evidentiary hearing, and refer the lending materials to the Attorney General and the CFPB.”
The judge turns to the other table. “Response?”
Their lawyer clears his throat. “Your Honor, this is a simple commercial dispute dressed up as a crusade. My clients deny any contact in violation of your order. Any notice was properly served by an agent. The lending materials are unrelated and tainted by questionable acquisition.”
Dana doesn’t blink. “Chain of custody is intact…” She continues, smooth as silk, just like my father would have wanted me to do, had I followed in his footsteps. Sure, we inherited a vast fortune, but every man needs a hobby, he likes to say. His is the law. He’ll never approve of mine, and that’s okay.
The judge looks at me. “Mr. Fitzwilliam, you are here as…?”
“Observer and supporting party. I helped coordinate the investigator and Dana. I’m not a witness unless the court needs me.”
He nods and looks at Meg. “Ms. Bridges, anything to add?”
She sits up straighter. “I want to run my shop without being pushed around by an ex-boyfriend and a woman who’s mad that she didn’t inherit my shop when my aunt died, per the conversation witnessed by those here and our lawyers.”
The judge raises a brow as Callie glances away. Luke too. But I nod, confirming what I saw and heard. “Go on, Ms. Bridges.”
“We fixed the inspection list in two days. We’re trying to buy the building through a community syndicate. Every time we get close to a plan, they do something to make things harder. The emails and the visits didn’t feel like business. I’m asking for the time to make a lawful offer. Nothing more.”
The judge turns a page. “Mr. Addaway?”
Luke spreads his hands. “I’m just a businessman, Judge. I offered to pay her legal bills. I gave her a card for emergencies. We have contractors who need access for safety. We own the building now. It’s ridiculous that she’s denying us access.”
Callie leans in. “She’sthe one making this personal, Your Honor. Bea’s was my life for years. I put myself through school on those tips. Bea called me the daughter she never had. That place is mine?—”
