hooking school, a fender bender, a dirty urine, anything, and they can take you from me, and me from you. Your lawyer made that plain enough.”
Such a helpful little SOB, that lawyer. Somewhere along the line he’d confused pontificating with zealous advocacy.
“My lawyer, the social worker, the judge.” Luis scrubbed his hand through his hair, and gave her a look from old, sad eyes. “I’ll bring in the ponies, and then maybe you’ll be willing to spring for cheesecake.”
He banged out of the kitchen, taking another bite of sandwich as he went, leaving a ringing silence behind.
Why in the ever-loving hell had Sid started that riff about Luis being moved? He’d come home in a decent mood, his impression of the school surprisingly positive after the first week, and she had to go pissing on his parade with that talk about…
The phone rang, interrupting her self-castigation.
“Sid Lindstrom.”
“Hello, Mrs. Lindstrom, I’m Amy Snyder, the caseworker assigned to Luis Martineau. How are you?”
“Unpacking,” Sid said, not correcting the social worker’s choice of title, “but getting there. What can I do for you, Ms. Snyder?”
“Call me Amy. I wanted to touch base with you, see how you’re settling in, and let you know I’ll stop out next week some time during business hours to introduce myself to you and Luis. May I say hello to him now?”
“He’s out with the livestock. If you like, I can have him call you back in a few minutes.”
A slight pause, suggesting Sid had either given the wrong answer, or the woman was typing in her contact note as they spoke.
“I’ll talk to him when I make my home visit. Do you have any questions about moving out here? You have Luis enrolled in school?”
“I have. I did want to ask when the review hearing is. I understand we’re supposed to attend one in the next few weeks, and Luis is already anxious about it.”
Another pause while the worker probably looked at the court order from Baltimore.
“I’ll put one in the works when I come in on Monday, and the court will send out the hearing notice. Luis is encouraged to come because the judge is supposed to see the kids in the courtroom regularly.”
“Luis knows the drill. We’ll look forward to meeting you in person next week.”
They hung up, and in the pit of Sid’s stomach, in the place that never forgot she’d already lost a brother, and Luis wasn’t hers to keep yet, unease germinated and tried to set down roots.
“Heaven help me, lime cheesecake sounds like just the antidote.”
* * *
What was a kid supposed to do with his weekends in the country?
Sid put the question to herself as she climbed out of bed early Saturday morning—bedroom curtains weren’t in the budget yet, and the sun apparently rose earlier out here than it did in the city. She made pancakes, breakfast being her fave meal of the day, and sat down to consider which room she might focus on putting to rights.
All of them, none of them. A straight week of laundry, unpacking, washing glassware, dusting corners, and trying to domesticate left her without motivation.
“You cooked.” Luis scrubbed his hand over his eyes as he came down the kitchen steps. Even the guy’s sweats were nudging into high-water territory.
“Alert the media. I left your plate in the microwave. Coffee’s hot.”
Luis got to bottom of the steps and stretched. “I think I’ll have tea.”
“When did you become a tea drinker?” And when had he developed such defined biceps?
“I’ve always liked it. My mom used to fix us tea without the tea. Mostly hot milk and sugar. Where’s the syrup?”
“Hell if I know,” Sid said, though maple syrup doubtless lurked in the cupboards somewhere. “You’ll have to rough it with butter and sugar.”
“I like butter and sugar. You heard back from Dewey, Cheatham, and Howe about the estate yet?”
It all comes, said Rabbit, from watching Rocky and Bullwinkle reruns. “I called Mr. Granger
Such a helpful little SOB, that lawyer. Somewhere along the line he’d confused pontificating with zealous advocacy.
“My lawyer, the social worker, the judge.” Luis scrubbed his hand through his hair, and gave her a look from old, sad eyes. “I’ll bring in the ponies, and then maybe you’ll be willing to spring for cheesecake.”
He banged out of the kitchen, taking another bite of sandwich as he went, leaving a ringing silence behind.
Why in the ever-loving hell had Sid started that riff about Luis being moved? He’d come home in a decent mood, his impression of the school surprisingly positive after the first week, and she had to go pissing on his parade with that talk about…
The phone rang, interrupting her self-castigation.
“Sid Lindstrom.”
“Hello, Mrs. Lindstrom, I’m Amy Snyder, the caseworker assigned to Luis Martineau. How are you?”
“Unpacking,” Sid said, not correcting the social worker’s choice of title, “but getting there. What can I do for you, Ms. Snyder?”
“Call me Amy. I wanted to touch base with you, see how you’re settling in, and let you know I’ll stop out next week some time during business hours to introduce myself to you and Luis. May I say hello to him now?”
“He’s out with the livestock. If you like, I can have him call you back in a few minutes.”
A slight pause, suggesting Sid had either given the wrong answer, or the woman was typing in her contact note as they spoke.
“I’ll talk to him when I make my home visit. Do you have any questions about moving out here? You have Luis enrolled in school?”
“I have. I did want to ask when the review hearing is. I understand we’re supposed to attend one in the next few weeks, and Luis is already anxious about it.”
Another pause while the worker probably looked at the court order from Baltimore.
“I’ll put one in the works when I come in on Monday, and the court will send out the hearing notice. Luis is encouraged to come because the judge is supposed to see the kids in the courtroom regularly.”
“Luis knows the drill. We’ll look forward to meeting you in person next week.”
They hung up, and in the pit of Sid’s stomach, in the place that never forgot she’d already lost a brother, and Luis wasn’t hers to keep yet, unease germinated and tried to set down roots.
“Heaven help me, lime cheesecake sounds like just the antidote.”
* * *
What was a kid supposed to do with his weekends in the country?
Sid put the question to herself as she climbed out of bed early Saturday morning—bedroom curtains weren’t in the budget yet, and the sun apparently rose earlier out here than it did in the city. She made pancakes, breakfast being her fave meal of the day, and sat down to consider which room she might focus on putting to rights.
All of them, none of them. A straight week of laundry, unpacking, washing glassware, dusting corners, and trying to domesticate left her without motivation.
“You cooked.” Luis scrubbed his hand over his eyes as he came down the kitchen steps. Even the guy’s sweats were nudging into high-water territory.
“Alert the media. I left your plate in the microwave. Coffee’s hot.”
Luis got to bottom of the steps and stretched. “I think I’ll have tea.”
“When did you become a tea drinker?” And when had he developed such defined biceps?
“I’ve always liked it. My mom used to fix us tea without the tea. Mostly hot milk and sugar. Where’s the syrup?”
“Hell if I know,” Sid said, though maple syrup doubtless lurked in the cupboards somewhere. “You’ll have to rough it with butter and sugar.”
“I like butter and sugar. You heard back from Dewey, Cheatham, and Howe about the estate yet?”
It all comes, said Rabbit, from watching Rocky and Bullwinkle reruns. “I called Mr. Granger