Page 34 of Drop the Mitts

Grace gave an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Did you already order?”

Jenna shook her head, quickly peeking under the blanket of the curved car seat nestled beside her on the bench. “Just got us both water with lemon.”

As if on cue, their waitress stopped by and dropped off their water, then took their orders. Black coffee and avocado toast for Grace, a vanilla oat latte for Jenna along with the breakfast hash.

“Okay, before I forget . . .” Jenna took a sip of water. “Thank you for everything you’re doing. I know it’s been a mess.”

Grace waved a hand. “It’s kind of my mess to clean up.”

“Umm, no, it’s not.”

Grace moved her water to the side as the waitress set down her coffee along with a bowl holding small packets of cream and sugar. “I’m not moping about it, I just should’ve caught it.”

“How would you have noticed a tiny detail like that? The social worker said all procedures were followed. Are you supposed to micromanage every last detail? Second-check all their work?”

Ideally, no, but Grace had done more scanning than she would’ve liked to admit. The social worker seemed extremely competent. Easy to communicate with, experienced. She’d had no reason to doubt.

“I don’t know.” Grace sighed. “It still doesn’t make sense to me. Amey never wavered in her decision to adopt. Even after she had Hope, there’s nothing in her notes to indicate she was having second thoughts. In fact, I found a text message between her and her social worker three days later that said, ‘So glad that’s over. I feel like myself again. I can’t wait to get back to my life.’ There were no questions or expressions of conflicting emotions.”

“Maybe she was embarrassed.”

Grace shrugged and emptied cream into her coffee cup. “Maybe. But typically in situations like this you’ll see a slew of questions. About the baby, about procedure, about timing of a first visit if the adoption is open.”

“We were more than willing to have it be open, by the way.”

Grace nodded. “Oh, I know. You’d think that would’ve been her first question since she declined that option earlier.”

Jenna’s eyes dropped. “I wish I understood any of this. It was the best day of our lives when we found out Hope was coming to us. Now—” Her voice broke.

Grace reached out a hand and wrapped it over hers. She wanted to promise her it would be okay. That she’d fix this and guarantee they would never have to give Hope up. But if practicing law had taught her anything, it was the necessity for precise language. “I’ll do everything I can. But Jenna, if you and Country feel like it would be best to find?—”

“We’re not getting a different lawyer.” Jenna gave her a searching look. “Do you think we want a different lawyer?”

“No, but I would understand if you did. I didn’t exactly knock this one out of the park.”

Jenna grabbed her hand with both of hers. “I need you to stop saying things like that, okay? This isn’t your fault, and even if it was, people make mistakes. Who’s to say another lawyer would’ve done better? I know for damn sure no other lawyer would do better now. I trust you. We both do.”

Grace didn’t cry often, and especially not in public, but the corners of her eyes started to sting. She pulled her hand back and reached for her coffee. “Well, I’ll keep searching and pushing—gently—for mediation before we go to a public hearing.”

Jenna leaned back in the booth. “Maybe André will get something from his sister. I doubt she’ll say anything useful, but you never know.”

Grace blinked, then slowly set her coffee cup down on the table. “André’s sister?”

Jenna nodded. “Yeah. The therapist. He and Country were talking at poker night. Somehow he found out that she’s Amey’stherapist. I have no idea how with HIPPA and all that, and honestly, I didn’t think the two of them were close after?—”

“André’s sister is Amey’s therapist? Elodie Shaw?”

Jenna nodded again. “Did you not know that?”

No, she sure as hell did not know that. Her head dropped into a tailspin. Elodie Shaw. André’s sister.

Heat flashed through her, and a cold sweat broke out on her brow. She told him she’d been trying to meet with the therapist, hadn’t she? Maybe not. Now she was second-guessing herself.

He knew? How could André have known this and not said something? Elodie had phoned her while André was at her house with the damn tacos.

Jenna kept talking—something about André being pissed that his sister was involved, how Country had talked him down because it was her job, not a personal vendetta. How she was surprised that Grace wasn’t aware since André had talked with her the other night, which, by the way, Country had nearly decked him for. Apparently, when he gave André Grace’s address, André was under strict orders not to go over there under any circumstances and?—

“It’s fine, sorry, I need to go to the washroom. Hold that thought?” Grace stood with a shaky smile, then stood and beelined for the WC. She needed a second—just a damn second to get her head around this. She wanted to storm out the door and hunt André down, but unlike him, she hadn’t sleuthed out his address ahead of time.

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