Chương 9
For the first time that day, I wasn't an applicant or a risk profile.
I was simply a man being embarrassed by his neighbor.
It felt strangely useful.
Delaney asked Mrs. Ellis whether she would be willing to sign a written commitment for emergency backup and regular afternoon coverage during my first two weeks.
Mrs. Ellis read every line before signing.
When she finished, she tapped the document with one fingernail.
“This does not mean he gets to call me every time someone sneezes.”
“I heard that.”
“You were supposed to.”
At two o'clock, Marisol arrived with Luis.
She was five feet two inches tall, wore navy medical scrubs, and looked angry enough to make Hale reconsider litigation as a profession.
She hugged me before saying anything.
Then she hit my shoulder.
“You bought five car seats before asking us?”
“I was busy.”
“You are stupid.”
Luis stood behind her carrying two coffees.
“I said this.”
“You encourage him.”
“I tell him not to use the table saw without glasses.”
“That is not emotional guidance.”
Their fourteen-year-old daughter Sofia had come with them because school had dismissed early for a teacher conference.
She sat near the door staring at her phone until June spotted her through the glass.
June waved.
Sofia looked behind herself first.
Then she waved back.
Delaney spent another half hour verifying details.
Marisol's CPR certification was current because she worked as a dental assistant.
Their home was not licensed for foster placement, so overnight backup would happen at my house unless separately approved.
Luis could manage transportation in an emergency.
Sofia could not be listed as a caregiver, despite her insistence that she had been keeping her father alive for years.
Luis looked offended.
“She burns rice.”
Sofia did not look up from her phone.
“You once put dish soap in the dishwasher.”
“That was one time.”
“Foam came out the kitchen.”
Marisol told both of them to stop.
For twenty seconds, nobody in the room was discussing death, custody, trauma, or liability.
Then Delaney's laptop chimed.
She read the message.
Her face closed again.
“What?”
I asked.
“The regional office wants a secondary review.”
Rachel sat forward.
“On what basis?”
“Public attention and placement scale.”
“Is that mandatory?”
“Not usually.”
“Then why now?”
Delaney gave her a tired look.
“You already know why.”
Rachel stood.
“We are due back before the judge in less than ninety minutes.”
“I know.”
“Can they delay the placement?”
“Yes.”
The word emptied the room.
I looked through the window.
Leo was now sitting at the little table beside Sofia.
She had apparently been allowed into the waiting area.
He was showing her something made from plastic blocks.
Sofia listened seriously.
Maya was beside them coloring.
Ben had finally eaten a carrot.
I turned back.
“How long can the review take?”
Delaney shook her head.
“Hours.”
“Days?”
“Potentially.”
Rachel was already collecting papers.
“Then we put it before Lawson.”
“Rachel.”
She stopped.
I looked at Delaney.
“If the secondary review finds a real problem, I want to know.”
Rachel stared at me.
“Bernard, they can use delay to kill this.”
“I know.”
“And every hour creates more placement pressure.”
“I know.”
“But if somebody who's not in this room sees something we missed, I want them to say it.”
Rachel stepped closer.
“You don't have to make their case for them.”
“I'm not.”
I looked through the glass again.
Leo had moved Ellie's carrier beside his foot.
Even while building blocks with a teenager he had known for six minutes, he kept one shoe touching the carrier.
“I told the judge not to trust my answer.”
Rachel followed my gaze.
My voice came out quieter.
“I meant it.”
At three seventeen, Delaney received the secondary review request in writing.
It contained eleven questions.
At three twenty-four, we had answered eight.
At three thirty-nine, we had answered ten.
The eleventh asked what the department would do if my business suffered a significant income reduction during the provisional period.
Nobody had a good answer.
I stared at the financial sheet.
Then I called Luis over.
“If I step back from production for three months, what happens?”
He looked at me.
“The shop survives.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
“Useful.”
“You want truth or comfort?”
“Truth.”
He glanced toward Marisol.
Then back at me.
“We lose custom volume.”
“How much?”
“Maybe twenty percent.”
“Thirty?”
“Could.”
“Payroll?”
His jaw tightened.
That was the real question.
“Maybe we cut hours.”
I looked toward the conference-room door.
The workshop had six employees.
Not numbers.
People.
Tasha had a mortgage.
Devon had twins in community college.
Luis had a family sitting ten feet away.
My decision to save five children could take money out of other households.
Nobody in the courtroom had mentioned that.
They shouldn't have needed to.
It was my responsibility.
“I can't do that.”
Luis frowned.
“Do what?”
“Make everybody else pay for this.”
He stepped closer.
“Don't become dramatic.”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
He lowered his voice.
“We can move the schedule.”
“We can subcontract finishing.”
“Devon wants overtime anyway.”
“Tasha can handle client meetings.”
“You don't know that.”
“I work there.”
“So do I.”
“Not lately.”
That irritated me enough to look at him.
He smiled slightly.
“Good.”
“What?”
“You've been walking around like a guy volunteering for execution.”
“I'm trying not to wreck six families.”
“Then don't.”
He tapped the financial sheet.
“But don't invent a wreck before it happens.”
At three fifty-two, Delaney submitted the response.
At three fifty-eight, nothing had come back.
The bailiff appeared in the doorway.
“Judge Lawson is ready.”
Rachel closed her laptop.
“So are we.”
I wasn't.
But readiness had stopped being useful somewhere around breakfast.
We filed back into Courtroom 3B.
The children remained in the waiting room with a family-services aide, Mrs. Ellis, Marisol, and Sofia.
Luis sat behind me.
Hale stood at the state table with Delaney.
Judge Lawson entered at four three.
He looked at Delaney first.
“Status?”
May you like
She rose.
“The department has confirmed an adequate provisional support plan.”
