Forever Beach (24 page)

But she didn't have to live on the streets. She lived in a big old mansion in a rich town on the ocean. She could have been soft there. But she'd left her soft spot behind at the home with Sarah Hargreave.

W
HEN
S
ARAH DROPPED
her off at home, Reesa didn't go inside; she waited for Sarah to drive away, then she got into her car and drove to the Child Protection office.

It looked the same as it always did, the way it always would. Desks crammed wherever there was space. Computers of every year, make, and model wherever they would fit. Stacks of hard copy folders, papers, printers, photocopiers, fax machines.

A few caseworkers were on the phones or leaning over keyboards. Fingers in the dike.

Reesa bypassed her desk and crossed the room to the door to the supervisor's office. She tapped at the glass. Paula Finch, hair disheveled, glasses balanced on the tip of her nose, a pen behind one ear, a pencil behind the other, looked up. She motioned for Reesa to come in.

“Have a seat.”

Reesa moved a pile of folders off a chair and pulled it up to the desk.

She had a moment of sheer panic, the urge to change her mind and run. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Mrs. Finch pushed the glasses up her nose and gave Reesa her full attention.

“I'm . . . I've . . . decided to leave child services.” She blurted out the last words without stopping to think.

Paula Finch nodded slowly. “I don't guess I can change your mind?”

Reesa shook her head. She felt absurdly close to tears. She'd spent almost twenty years as a caseworker. But she couldn't do it anymore.

“I have some vacation time coming up. I'd like to finish up the paperwork on my open cases and finish the White boys' permanency hearing. But no new cases. Then I'll use my vacation for the rest of my notice.”

“That's doable. I'll send you the forms.” Paula chuckled. “Forms. We couldn't figure out how to get to the john without them. Ah hell.” She sat back in her chair, then looked up at the ceiling and back to Reesa. “I'll hate to lose you, but I'm not surprised.”

“You're not?”

“I've seen it coming. You've been a great caseworker, an even better case manager, passionate, indefatigable, and most of all organized and you can type with more than two fingers.”

They both smiled at that. It was bittersweet for both of them. Paula had been case manager when Reesa first came to this office. When Paula moved up to supervisor, Reesa moved up to manager. And though they weren't exactly friends, they didn't get in each other's way and between them, they kept things running as smooth as social services could run.

“You were bound to burn out sooner or later. The passionate ones always do. You're smart to know your limit. And even though I hate that you're leaving, I know it's the wise thing to do. We've both seen what happens when people linger too long.” She glanced over Reesa's head, and Reesa knew where she was looking, at Eddie Quinones. “It's hard to think of Eddie
as a young passionate social worker, isn't it? Now he just puts in his time, takes his paycheck, and tries not to get too involved with his cases.”

Reesa tried to remember Eddie being anything but the way he was now. Lethargic, plodding, unruffled by the horror, unexcited by the successes, and perfectly willing to let someone else do his job. Reesa didn't want that to happen to her.

“Have any idea what you'd like to do? I'll give you a reference.” Paula smiled. “A good one.”

“I do have a few ideas, but I'm going to take some time to do volunteer work.”

Paula's smile turned into a grin.

“That's a girl. Then consider something with decent hours and good pay, where you don't have to get down and dirty.”

Reesa laughed. “I'll take that under advisement. And Paula. Thanks. We did good work.”

“We did, but you're not gone yet. Got anything on your docket other than the White boys?”

“A couple of things. One that I'm just kibitzing.”

“Good, I'd hate to think it was that case that drove you away.”

Reesa shook her head. “Just the straw.”

Paula nodded and pushed the glasses up her nose. “Don't be a stranger.”

“I won't. I'll be around another few days.”

Reesa went out to her desk. Sat down. Spread her fingers over the surface. Looked over the neatly stacked papers and folders, the stuffed in-box, the empty out-box.

She straightened her already straight desk, throwing out whatever looked redundant or useless. A few things she left.
She'd be back; she had cases to close and to transfer, then Pete and Jerome White, and their baby brother, to place, and then she would pack up what was left.

It was easier to walk away than she'd thought it would be, because in her mind, she had already packed out. She paused at the door and looked back inside. Same as it ever was. Then she drove home, where she changed into slacks and a T-shirt and drove to Hands Around the World.

T
hat's just crazy,” Karen said as she refilled Sarah's glass of iced tea and stuck another sprig of greenery in the glass. “I hope you like mint,” she added. “It's taking over the yard.”

Sarah took a long sip. “It tastes good.”

“You don't think she did it on purpose? It's possible that it just came up on her pro bono schedule?”

Sarah gave her a look. “High-profile attorneys don't usually show up at review hearings. More likely never. She somehow finagled her way into the hearing just to put the screws to me. Regardless of how it affects Leila. Ugh. What's her problem?”

“And you're positive you're not being paranoid?”

“Positive. Ask Reesa. She was pretty upset. She went back and said something to her. I couldn't hear and she wouldn't tell me what she said. But I could tell she was fighting mad.

“And the bit— The woman just stood there, stood there like a statue.” Sarah lowered her voice even though the girls were
in Tammy's room playing dress-up and couldn't hear. “Now, Leila is going to have to go to unsupervised visits at Carmen's apartment. She won't even let me take her over there. She specifically asked for Danny, because I turn Leila against her. That is such a crock. I go out of my way to be fair. Carmen is the one who says things like I can't be Leila's mother because our skin is different. I'm the only poor dumb schmuck who's playing by the rules.”

Karen pulled her chair closer and sat down. “Listen. The appeal is being heard in three weeks. No way is Carmen going to win that. They can't just say oh, she's got a job now, she can have the kid back. They only look at court procedure to see if anything was amiss during the previous trial, and with Judge Beckman presiding, you know there wasn't. Carmen and her lawyer are just posturing.”

“How can you be sure? Everything that was supposed to be finished and cleared hasn't been. Every possible glitch has happened. Maybe Nonie, Ms. Cartwright, has been manipulating it from the beginning.”

Karen made a face. “Sarah.”

“All right, that is paranoid. It just is so unfair. What if something happens to Leila while she's there? We won't even have Danny I-just-left-for-a-minute-to-call-my-next-appointment Noyes to oversee.”

“Skinned knees are not signs of abuse, just being a kid. The finger marks, that is questionable. But you documented it, right?”

“Of course. We're the original selfie family. Not easy to transfer the documentation photos to my laptop and delete them before Leila demands to see the regular ones. Which by
the way, check this out.” Sarah opened the photo app, scrolled through until she found the one of Leila reading to Wyatt.

“Is that cute or what? I call it the long and the short of it.”

“Precious. What does he think about all this?”

“He's been a rock. I called him as soon as I dropped Reesa off to let him know how it went. He said the same thing you and Reesa said. Everything will work out.”

“Good man.”

“I know, but I'm kind of worried about him.”

“His injuries?”

“No, up here.” Sarah pointed to her temple.

“He's depressed?”

“A little. He doesn't show it, but I think he feels responsible. I mean those men were already dead by the time the team got on-site, but still it's got to be traumatic to see two dead guys floating around and not imagine them desperately trying to get out before the cabin filled with water.”

Karen shivered. “Gaw, that creeps me out. Is he going to see someone?”

“Like a shrink? I have no idea. I mean, he's okay. He's just not his usual cool dude self, you know?”

“Hmmm. I'll have Stu talk to him.”

“Talk to who?” Stu asked as he walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, hon, I didn't hear you come in.”

“Then it was a good thing you weren't saying mean things about me.” He leaned over and kissed her.

“Hey, Sarah. How'd it go today?”

Karen stood up. “You don't want to ask. Still on hold until the appeal is heard, Leila still has to make weekly visits.”

“Christ, is this what my taxes are going to?”

“Don't start talking about taxes. We're depressed enough. Sarah is worried about Wyatt's state of mind. I thought you might talk to him, see how he's taking all the fallout from the rescue last week.”

“There is no fallout. Bastards were out drunk. Hit a jetty, turned the boat over, and drowned themselves. The guys saved as many as they could. End of story.”

“Will you just talk to him?”

“Yeah.”

“Love you bunches.”

“You'd better.”

He started to leave.

“Hey, why are you home so early?”

“Not. Louis Raft wanted to borrow my wet saw, told him I'd swing by on my way to the site, and bring it to him.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You're not planning on having me renovate any of the bathrooms in the next couple of weeks.”

“No, lovey. For once nothing is leaking, we won't tempt fate.”

He saluted and went out the door.

“You guys have a good relationship, don't you?” Sarah asked.

“Yes. Even when he's being the pig in my farm. But yeah, we do. Speaking of which. Word is you've been seen going into Wyatt's quite often these days.”

“Well, he was banged up. So I went round to see if he was okay.” She winced. “Trying to be a friend instead of a whining self-centered brat.”

Karen snorted. “And?”

“And I cooked and brought him takeout. That's what friends are for, right?”

“Right? And?”

Sarah shrugged. “And Victor told me I'd better get my shit together and claim my territory before this blonde named Caitlyn steals it.”

“That Victor. He does have a brain cell left,” Karen said. “And
is
Wyatt properly claimed?”

“We've never really talked about it, though . . .”

“Though what?”

“This is going to sound like something Jenny would say.”

“Spill.”

“The first day when he was on painkillers, he did say something about when he got hit and he thought he might die, he thought of me.”

“Oh?”

“And not in an I'm-a-walking-disaster way.”

“Of course not. What else?”

“And something about he'd been thinking about us being something more than we are.”

“Whoa.”

“But he hasn't mentioned anything more about it.”

“I'll add it to the list of things for Stu to find out.”

“I don't think he even remembers saying it.”

“So how do you feel about it?”

Sarah drank more tea and considered. “I've already got my hands full with the store, and keeping Leila, and providing her with a good home. It's a lot to juggle.”

“An extra pair of hands, especially large masculine hands in all the right places, could really help out.”

Sarah laughed. “Oh thank you. I can't remember the last time I laughed over silly stuff. I should do it more often.”

“Mi casa su casa, girlfriend. We have plenty of sillies over here any time of day or night.”

“And I appreciate it, Karen, I really do. But now I'd better get Leila and get back to the store before Alice thinks I've run away.”

They went down the hall and opened the door of Tammy's bedroom to bedlam. The huge dress-up box had been emptied and clothes were everywhere: shiny recital costumes, Halloween costumes, thrift store dresses. Leila was wearing a pink satin tutu and a tiara; Bessie, a cowgirl vest and holster and two big ostrich feathers held on to her head by a sequined headband. Tammy clomped around the room in a pair of high heels over her sneakers, a boa of multicolored feathers around her neck and a football helmet on her head.

Sarah and Karen exchanged glances.

“Ah, the imagination is a messy thing.”

“I just wonder what the story is about,” Sarah said.

“Okay, girls, time to clean up. Leila has to go home.”

After the obligatory
no
s, and
oh
s, and
does she have to
s, the girls, with much help from Sarah and Karen, managed to get all the clothes back into the box.

“Can Leila come to the carnival with us next week?” Tammy asked as they all walked Sarah and Leila to the front door.

“Can I?” Leila asked. “Please?” She made those little prayer hands that told Sarah she was being suckered. Unfortunately, her answer depended on what the new visitation schedule would be.

Bessie and Tammy added her pleas to Leila's. “Pl-e-e-e-ease,” like three little cherubs.

“Maybe,” Sarah said. “I'll call your mom tomorrow.”

Leila climbed into her car seat and Sarah strapped her in.
She backed out of the driveway with Tammy and Bessie waving with both hands and yelling, “Bye, bye, bye!”

Leila waved and called, too, and then they were driving down the street.

“Had a good time?” Sarah asked.

“Yep,” Leila said and nodded vigorously.

“I'm so glad.”

“You're my sunshine” came from the backseat. “Mommee sunshine.”

I
LONA WAS CONSIDERING
takeout—Thai—or calling Garrett to see if he was free for dinner, when the concierge stopped her as she headed for the elevator.

“Ms. Cartwright. A package came for you today. Hold on a sec.”

Ilona walked over to the desk. She hadn't requested any files to be sent over, and she didn't remember ordering anything online that hadn't already arrived.

He returned with a cardboard box and slid it across the counter. “It isn't heavy, but I can have Felipe bring it up when he gets back from his break.”

Ilona tested the heft of it. “Thank you, but I can manage.” She turned the package around to look for a return address. It was taped and addressed but had no postage and no return address. There was, however, a sealed legal-size envelope taped to the top.

“How did this arrive?”

“Messenger service. Around four o'clock.”

Hmm. Ilona didn't get hate mail. Not recently anyway. But an unidentified package was cause for some circumspection.
She lifted the envelope away from the box and looked at it more closely. Then she recognized her father's handwriting.

Now what the hell was this? A get-out-and-stay-out box?

“Thank you, Hector.” She took the package, while Hector ran ahead to press the elevator button.

“Have a good evening, Ms. Cartwright.”

Ilona carried the box up to her apartment and left it on the entry table while she changed out of her suit and heels. She went into the kitchen and looked in the fridge. Closed the door. Got out ice and made herself a gin and tonic.

Opened the drapes and looked out over the waves. There was a ship on the horizon, no more than a glint of white on the water. A cruise ship or a tanker.

She got out a coaster, put her glass down on the coffee table.

Then she went to the entryway and came back with the envelope.

Sat down. Looked at the writing. Turned it over. It had been sealed.

N
O MAIL FOR
me?

No, miss, not today.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, miss. I'm sure. Maybe tomorrow.” The maid looked sympathetic.

Nonie hated for people to feel sorry for her. There wouldn't be anything tomorrow. Everyone knew it. “It doesn't matter.”

“Yes, miss.”

I
LONA PUT HER
glass down, went to the writing desk for the letter opener. Her hands were steady as a rock as she pulled out
the letter. If she was expecting something dramatic or maudlin, she was disappointed. It was just a note.

            
Dear Ilona,

                
The staff was cleaning out some of your mother's things for Goodwill and ran across this box of things she'd saved. I thought you'd like to see them. Hope you're doing well. Give me a call sometime. We'll have lunch—Dad

Lunch? When was the last time they'd had lunch together? That would be never unless he wanted something. What could he possibly want now? She dropped the note in the wastepaper basket and glanced toward the box.
Things she saved.
He was cleaning out June's things. Not him but the staff. What was the rush? Selling the house? Retiring to Florida? Moving his mistress in?

And why send them to Ilona? Unless she'd saved things about Ilona. That's what mothers normally did. Saved things like report cards, prom corsages, graduation photos. Somehow she couldn't see June doing that. Probably legal stuff. And she really didn't need to see any more legalese tonight.

She didn't want to think about law or courts or the look on Reesa's face when she'd said,
This is low, even for you
.

Reesa hadn't even given Ilona a chance to defend herself. As if she needed defending.

This wasn't about her and Sarah, this was about legalities. About families being with their own. Not given up and forgotten about. Not taken away because they were old and infirm. Not because— This had nothing to do with Sarah Hargreave.

Ilona refused to question her motives. It wasn't about winning. Not today. Today was about . . .

What was it about? Ilona walked back to the couch. Sat down. Closed her eyes. Good God, what had she done?

S
ARAH TRIED TO
prepare Leila for her Saturday unsupervised visit as they got ready for bed. Leila was wearing her favorite pink pajamas.

Sarah pulled back the covers, and Leila climbed in.

“It will be like your other Saturday visits, only a little longer and it will just be you and Carmen.”

“Danny,” Leila said.

“No, this time Danny will drop you off and pick you up later.”

“Danny comes.”