Amy stared out the window into the night. No neon lights intruded into the writing room. Amy and Roxanne had little in common, but that didn’t mean the door to the character’s soul was shut. Imagination is the key to many doors. And Amy sensed she was ready to follow Roxanne into the darkness and lead her toward the light.
Amy opened a new document and brainstormed as many ideas and possibilities for the story as came to mind. Some produced immediate affirmation; others she left on the page but doubted they’d make the final cut. It was midnight when the third yawn in less than a minute interrupted her concentration. She’d planned on going to bed early and ended up staying up later than normal. She saved her work and closed the computer.
Jeff was lying on his side asleep. He’d left the bathroom light on for her. Amy felt guilty that their last conversation of the day had been about fantasy football. She brushed her teeth, put on her pajamas, and crawled quietly into bed.
“Were you writing?” Jeff asked.
“Yes. I started a new novel. I thought you were asleep.”
Jeff rolled over so they faced each other in the darkness.
“I may have dozed for a few minutes, but I didn’t want to go to sleep until I told you that I love you.”
Amy reached across and gently touched his face. When she did, the tragedy of Roxanne’s loneliness and the void in her marriage bed hit Amy with renewed force.
“I love you, too,” Amy said, her voice cracking slightly. “Thank you for always being there for me, for us.”
Jeff took her hand in his and kissed it.
“And I always will be,” he said. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
Jeff’s regular breathing resumed in a matter of seconds. Amy lay awake. The world she was about to enter with this new novel was not a place she wanted to visit in real life. It was much better to lie in bed with an honest, uncomplicated man who installed replacement windows for a living.
The following morning Jeff had to leave early because his crew was going out of town for a big commercial job.
“Will you be late for supper?” Amy asked as she poured a cup of coffee.
“It depends on how much we get done. This is either a three-or four-day project. Mr. Crouch wants us to be finished in three days, but I don’t know if that’s possible.”
“Then I’ll plan on picking up Megan from dance practice and Ian from after-school care.”
“Thanks.” Jeff gave Amy a quick kiss and turned toward the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob. “When did you dream about a new book?”
“The night before I went back to work.”
“Do you think that’s a sign?”
“Of what?”
“That you were supposed to return to the law firm. Once you made the decision, you got an idea for a story.”
“Maybe, but don’t worry. I’m not going to quit my job.”
“Me, either.”
Megan came downstairs a few minutes later. She was dressed more nicely than usual. Amy guessed it was an outfit designed to boost self-confidence.
“Do you want a banana on your cereal?” Amy asked.
“Yeah. Where’s Dad?”
“He had to leave early for work.”
Amy fixed a bowl of cereal for Megan, cut up a banana on top, and added milk. Megan was sitting at the kitchen table with a far-off look in her eyes.
“Are you ready to face what’s waiting for you at school?” Amy asked.
Megan looked up at her. “Mom, that’s not very helpful. I know I have to go, but I’m not looking forward to it.”
“Sorry, I thought your friends were going to meet you—”
“Yes, but it’s still going to be tough.”
“Do you want me to drive you to school?”
“No. That won’t make any difference.”
Amy gave up. She left the kitchen and called upstairs for Ian, who came down jumping two steps at a time.
“Thanks, Mom,” he said when Amy fixed his cereal for him.
“I’ll be picking both of you up today,” Amy said. “Don’t forget you’re going to after-school care with Tommy and his brother.”
“Yeah, he says it’s a lot of fun. They have good snacks and a bunch of stuff to do.”
After Megan and Ian left the house for the bus stop, Amy had several minutes before she needed to leave for the office. She checked her makeup. It was as good as it could be at age thirty-six and a half. After pouring a cup of coffee in a travel mug, she called Natalie’s cell phone. Her friend had been out of town during the holidays visiting family in Ohio.
“Are you driving car pool this morning?” Amy asked.
“Yes, I’m on my way to pick up Braxton. He had a cold yesterday and stayed home, but Kim claims he’s better and is sending him to school. All I need is for Braxton to dump a cupful of germs on Ben and Noah so they end up sick.”
“It’s that time of year.”
“How’s work? I thought about you a bunch.”
“I felt like a hippie who had to reenlist in the Marine Corps.”
“Ouch. Is it terrible?”
“Not really.”
Amy told her about the women bringing their copies of A Great and Precious Promise to the kitchen during lunch on the first day.
“That’s cool. They realize you’re a celebrity.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but it made me feel special. There’s a lot of work to do. In addition to my responsibilities for Mr. Phillips, I’ve been assigned to help a fresh associate.”
“What’s the new lawyer like?”
“Okay for now.”
“Any interesting cases?” Natalie asked, then quickly added, “I guess you can’t tell me.”
“No, but there’s at least one litigation matter I’m sure will be all over the papers when it gets going. Of course, the reporters won’t get it right. At least I admit my writing is fiction.”
Amy started to mention Megan’s crisis but decided not to over the phone.
“When can we get together?” Natalie asked. “I know you’re crazy busy.”
“I’m not sure, but I want to set something up with Ms. Burris. I’ll try to figure that out and let you know.”
“You’re a sweetie. I’m here at Kim’s house now.” The phone was silent for a moment. “And here comes Braxton. Kim is stuffing tissues into the pocket of his coat. It looks like Dallas has a red nose, too. I can’t hold my breath all the way to school, and I’m more worried about the kids than myself. Pray for me!”
“I will. Talk to you later.”
Amy hung up the phone and smiled. If only the worst challenge in life were the threat of a runny nose. She sipped coffee as she drove to the office. After the late night spent in the writing room, she needed a jolt of caffeine to get going.
“Good morning, Janelle,” Amy said when she entered the reception area.
“Good morning,” the receptionist replied in a slightly breathy voice. “I called my mother last night and told her about you. I didn’t mention your offer to sign a book for her. I want it to be a surprise. She’ll be thrilled.”
“Let me know. I always keep a few copies in the trunk of my car.”
“Oh, and Chris came in earlier and asked about you. Should I buzz him or do you want to check in with him?”
“I’ll go upstairs and see what he wants.”
Amy checked her watch as she climbed the stairs to the second floor of the office. It would take at least fifteen to twenty minutes to organize the mail and computer in-box for Mr. Phillips before he arrived.
The staircase went up ten steps to a landing and then another six steps to a wide hallway. During the mansion’s previous existence, the hallway led to six bedrooms, an upstairs study, and a second-story atrium. Several partners had their offices on the second floor. The room that served as Chris Lance’s office had most likely been a child’s bedroom. The door was closed, and Amy knocked.
“Come in!” the younger lawyer responde
d.
Even though the office was small, it still had a nice view of the yard and a pair of enormous live oak trees. Chris’s desk was positioned to the right of the door so he could look out the window.
“Janelle said you wanted to see me. I only have a few minutes because I have to get everything ready for Mr. Phillips when he arrives.”
“Sure.”
Chris swiveled around in his chair and picked up a file that was on a credenza behind him. On the corner of the lawyer’s desk Amy saw a photograph of a young woman in her twenties with dark hair, a young man in his twenties also with dark hair, and a chestnut-colored horse. She stared at the picture. It looked vaguely familiar.
Then she remembered.
She’d seen the same image during the visit to the living room when she saw the vase of flowers that turned up in Natalie’s house. Chris turned around and opened the file.
“I know you probably haven’t had a chance to look at the DVD of the will signing, but there’s also a CD that contains a conversation Mr. Phillips had with Dominick and Natasha around the same time as the preparation of the will. There’s a note from Mr. Phillips in the file that the purpose of the conversation was to negate claims of undue influence. I listened to it last night and think it might help our case. I’d like you to transcribe it.”
He handed the CD to Amy.
“How long is it?” she asked, forcing her gaze away from the photo.
“About five minutes.”
“Is this the only copy?”
“Yes.”
“And the DVD you gave me? Is there a copy of it?”
“No, and we need to have backups. You can do it at your desk, or we can send it out for a professional to do it.”
“Let’s keep it in-house. I don’t think it’s a good idea for either of these to leave the office.”
While they talked, Amy glanced again at the picture on the desk.
“I’m not trying to be nosy, but who is in the picture?” she asked, pointing to it.
Chris reached across and picked it up.
“My wife, Laura, and her older brother, David. They grew up around horses on a farm in Virginia.” Chris stared at the photo for a moment. “David died about two years ago in a car wreck. This was the last time they were together.”
“Don’t worry about David,” Amy said. “He’s in heaven.”
Startled, Chris stared at her.
“What?”
Amy felt her face flush. She covered her mouth with her hand, but it was too late to take back her words.
“I mean, I’m sure he’s in heaven,” she said.
Chris narrowed his eyes.
“I don’t see how you can claim to know what’s happened to someone who died,” he said. “My wife is more religious than I am, and even she’s not sure where her brother is today. I’m not convinced he’s anywhere at all.”
“I apologize,” she said. “I shouldn’t have offered an opinion.”
“Why did you?”
Amy could tell Chris Lance was about to turn lawyer on her, and she wanted to withdraw from the awkward situation before his cross-examination intensified.
“It was a sense. That’s all.”
“Based on what? And don’t claim women’s intuition. That wouldn’t cover something like this.”
“No, it’s not intuition. I’ve been a Christian since I was a little girl.”
“That doesn’t explain anything, either.”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“Try. Are you a psychic?”
“No, I don’t believe in that.”
“But it looks to me like that’s what you are. Talking to the dead, stuff like that, is what psychics claim to do.”
“I don’t talk to the dead.” Amy looked at her watch. “I really need to go downstairs and organize Mr. Phillips’s mail. Forget what I said.”
Chris stared at her for a moment. “That’s not possible. And even though it doesn’t have anything to do with your job, I would appreciate an honest answer from you.”
“May I go now?”
“Whatever,” Chris said with a wave of his hand.
Amy fled down the stairs. She could see that Chris had one of the traits common to successful trial lawyers—a dogged determination to ask questions until every rock was turned over and the ground beneath it carefully inspected.
“Why did I do that?” she muttered to herself when her right foot touched the main floor of the mansion.
Letting her light shine sounded nice when talking to Ms. Burris and Natalie, but turning it on a photograph in a skeptical lawyer’s office wasn’t fun. Amy had felt strangely drawn to the man in the picture, but it wasn’t until Chris mentioned his deceased brother-in-law’s name that the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle dropped into place. She knew in her heart that David was with the Lord.
Amy reached her desk and tried to compose herself. Instead, an unexpected wave of emotion swept over her. The wonderful truth that the young man was in heaven was so sweet and tender and powerful and comforting that it suddenly overwhelmed her. And for a moment, the goodness of God in preparing a place for his children was greater than the embarrassment she felt over the conversation with Chris. Amy dabbed her eyes with a tissue. This was not the way she’d imagined her morning would begin.
After saying a quick prayer for Emily and her baby, she started opening Mr. Phillips’s mail.
thirteen
Amy made it through the rest of the day without seeing Chris Lance. She ate lunch at her desk and continued to whittle down the backlog of Mr. Phillips’s work. By 5:00 p.m., she estimated she would be caught up by midday on Wednesday. Of course, new batches of dictation continued to be channeled by the senior partner into her queue. Immediately after she logged off her computer to go home, Mr. Phillips buzzed her phone and asked her to come into the office.
“Amy,” he said without looking up from some papers he was examining on his desk, “I have a meeting this evening with the board of directors for Plaxo Industries. I need you to come and take notes.”
Amy swallowed. “Jeff is working out of town, and I have to pick up Megan from dance class and Ian from his after-school program.”
Mr. Phillips looked up. “Can someone else do it? There’s a chance this meeting will get contentious, and I want an accurate record of what’s said and who says it. I can’t referee and write at the same time.”
In the past, Amy had almost never turned Mr. Phillips down when he asked her to perform extra duties, and she hated to refuse so soon after coming back to work. She struggled for a tactful way to respond. There was a knock on the door.
“Come in!” Mr. Phillips barked.
It was Chris Lance. He saw Amy and started to back away.
“No, stay,” Mr. Phillips said. “Chris, you claim to be a fast typist, don’t you?”
“I get by pretty well,” Chris responded slowly.
“We’re about to find out. You’re coming with me to a corporate board meeting this evening and taking notes on your laptop.”
Chris glanced at Amy, and she knew he suspected what had happened shortly before he came into the room.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be glad to do it.”
“Good,” Mr. Phillips said. “We’ll leave in fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks,” Amy said to Chris, who ignored her.
Driving away from the office, Amy knew she had to develop a backup plan for child care in case Mr. Phillips asked her to work late again. She’d simply not thought about it yet.
She picked up Ian first.
“How was after-school care?” she asked as soon as he was seated in the car.
“Okay, I guess. Ms. Bolton made me do my homework first. That took over an hour before I got to do anything with my friends.”
“But it also means you don’t have any schoolwork to do after supper. How were the snacks?”
“Good, but they ran out of brownies, and I only got one.” Ian put his backpack on the floorboard of the car.
“Tommy didn’t tell Ms. Bolton the truth about his homework. We’re in the same math class and both of us had fifty problems to solve. He told her he didn’t have any homework. Should I have tattled on him?”
Amy thought about the exposing the deeds of darkness verse from Ephesians but wasn’t sure if it applied to Tommy’s math homework.
“That’s a hard one,” she said. “What do you think is the right thing to do?”
“I wanted to tell on him because I was mad that he got out of the work when I didn’t. But then I thought that he’ll get in trouble at school if he doesn’t do it before tomorrow. Ms. Bolton talked about something she calls the ‘honor system.’ That means it’s up to us to tell her the truth about stuff like homework.”
“Were you glad you told her the truth?”
“Yeah. I would have felt bad if I’d lied about it.”
“I’m proud of you.”
Ian was silent for a moment. “Do you and Dad always tell the truth?”
“We try to.”
“It’s hard to think about you telling a lie.”
Living up to a child’s expectations of adult conduct was tough. Amy wondered again about the wisdom of saying something to Chris Lance about his deceased brother-in-law. She was trying to tell the truth, but there was no way for Chris to verify it.
They reached the dance studio. Amy left Ian in the car while she went inside. Megan had already changed out of her leotards and was wearing her school clothes. Ms. Carlton handed Amy an envelope.
“Here’s the bill for January. Sorry about the increase, but I had to sign a new lease on the studio, and the rent went way up. Also, the practice mats were worn out and needed to be replaced.”
“I understand,” Amy said. “We appreciate what you do for the girls.”
The Living Room Page 13