Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Sure,” Oliver said, relief in his voice. “That sounds great to me. Good luck in court, Violet.”
She preened. “Thanks, Oliver.”
Ah, young crushes. “Let’s go.” I waved at Clark, who was now in his office, busily typing away with his green tie tossed over his shoulder. We walked outside into the hallway and down the stairs that led to the street. “Do you want to walk?” I asked. The snow had finally stopped falling, and the sun had appeared, making for a lovely day. It was cold, but we were all dressed for winter.
“That’d be wonderful,” Yara said. “We could take some deep breaths and calm ourselves.”
Violet rolled her eyes, and the sight cheered me immensely. If she was comfortable enough to do so, she’d be fine during the hearing.
I slipped my arm through both of theirs and started toward the courthouse.
We walked down Main Street to Justice Road, which held the courthouse, the police station, and the commissioner’s buildings. They all fronted Timber City Park, which had the college to the west, more legal buildings to the east, and the beach to the south. Today, I could see the lake across the park, noticing it was a stormy gray color. I shivered as we walked toward the courthouse.
A group of people smoked cigarettes about thirty feet from the building’s entrance near several trees, their breaths spiraling puffs into the air.
Violet stiffened and then tripped.
“Hey, watch where we’re going.” I chuckled, looking down at some chunks of ice. “They obviously didn’t do a very good job shoveling here.”
“No kidding.” She kicked snow out of the way. “Though I love these new boots, Yara. You really didn’t need to buy me new ones.”
Yara stepped gingerly over another chunk of ice. “I thought they were perfect in how they match your new coat. I couldn’t help myself.”
We started to climb the steps to go inside.
Violet jerked us all to a stop. “I can’t do this.”
“What?” I scrambled to keep from sliding across the ice.
She shook her head and released us both, backing away. “I can’t do this. I’m so sorry. I can’t go in there.”
“Whoa,” Yara said, holding up a white-gloved hand, her gaze soft. “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to. Take a deep breath.”
Violet paled, and tears gathered in her eyes. “I just...I’m so sorry. I can’t.” She turned and started hurrying away, slipping several times across the sidewalk but not slowing down.
“Violet, wait,” Yara called, concern in her eyes and surprise across her face.
The girl broke into a run, heading down Oakwood Avenue.
I gasped, turning. She could break her neck if she fell.
Yara grabbed my arm. “Wait, won’t this ruin things with the judge?”
I winced. “It’s not going to be good.”
“Okay, I’ll catch her. You go inside and smooth things over. We’ll figure it all out later.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, watching a rapidly disappearing Violet.
“Definitely. I run every day.” Aunt Yara patted my arm. “Go fix this.” She turned and loped into a jog. I watched her for a moment. The woman could move. Yoga was good for the body, and I knew she practiced daily, in addition to running. I really should get back into yoga. It had been too long.
My chest aching, I stomped up the stairs and into the courthouse. It had been built when the mines were very prosperous in the area, which meant the place was stately, with marble and hand-carved oak.
I walked up the main stairs to the district court where adoptions were held. I most often worked in misdemeanor court down the other hallway, which had been added on in the eighties and was more salmon-colored and cheesy. But I loved the bigger courtroom.
I walked inside and nodded at the bailiff up front. The guy’s name was Jay Fredrickson. He was around thirty and had a damn impressive beard. It was odd, but several of the bailiffs in the courthouse had wild, mountain man beards. I wondered if they had a contest going or were just competing with each other on the side. Anyway, I waved at Jay, and he waved back, moving toward the side door that led to the judge’s chambers. I walked forward and took my place at a table up front.
The door opened, and Jay returned, followed by Judge Gary Grizzio. In his late forties, the judge had a shock of white hair, bright blue eyes, and a decent physique. I believed he played basketball in our local men’s league quite a bit. He was a district court judge, and I’d been in front of him before.
“Miss Albertini,” he said, taking his seat.
I remained standing. “Hi, Judge.”
He looked around. “Where’s your client and your witnesses?”
I took a deep breath. “My client is unable to appear today, Your Honor.”
“Why is that?” he asked, both eyebrows rising.
I couldn’t lie to a judge. “I believe she’s terrified of appearing in court.” That much was true. “She’s been on her own for a long time, and I’m afraid she doesn’t really trust the system. I don’t know if she’s had friends who’ve had bad experiences in foster care, but she tried to stay under the radar until Yara and Buddy Albertini took her in.”