Read Online Heaven to Betsy (Emily #1) by Pamela Fagan Hutchins - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Pamela Fagan Hutchins
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appreciated the change of subject. “Jack’s representing the woman who killed the guy who fell into the pool at the wedding.”
“No,” my mother breathed.
Without her war paint, she looked closer to her age of fifty-five. Lines radiated from her mouth and eyes. Her white-blonde hair hung limp and thin. But her eyes flashed with interest.
“She’s not even in this country legally,” she said. “How can she afford Jack?”
I nibbled a corner of toast experimentally and swallowed. It went down okay, so I kept going, talking between bites.
“The court appointed the case to him. He has to take it. That’s how it works.”
She harrumphed. “So that woman doesn’t pay a cent in taxes while the rest of us work to pay the bills for her defense when she murders a U.S. citizen in cold blood.”
What she said was the truth, or at least part of it. I knew well how Mother felt about this issue. Things hadn’t been easy for her, especially after Dad left, and she resented anyone she perceived as getting assistance that she didn’t or couldn’t get. It was harder for me to decide exactly where I stood on it. Especially after meeting Sofia yesterday.
“Well, she’s our client, so you’re going to have to make the best of it. Besides, her daughter is missing. She’s only six.”
She shook her head, pulling her pink, flowered housedress together at the collar. “What will my friends think when they hear you’re working on her case?”
“Hear? Why would they even need to?”
“Well, you know. They’re all very
interested
in what’s going on with you.”
I munched my toast and closed my eyes. I wondered if Jack would represent
me
pro bono if I accidentally committed a violent felony against my mother.
***
Right on time I walked through the door of the Williams & Associates offices. Snowflake was waiting for me. I hefted my purse onto the desk and pulled out a baggie. In it, I’d saved a toast crust for her.
“Sit.” The dog sat her tiny bottom on the floor immediately. “Good girl.” She took the snack I offered her and smacked it with gusto. “Where’s the resident despot?” She swallowed but didn’t answer.
As expected, the remaining odors of Jack’s spicy breakfast lingered in the air. I activated my emergency plan, snatching a baggie of saltines from my purse and popping one in my mouth. I sucked lightly on it, absorbing the salt into my tongue and softening the cracker before chewing slowly. Ah.
I took a seat at my desk. The computer was already on and I wiggled the mouse to wake it up. Shaking my head, I typed in my username and the RodeoQueen password. The computer logged me in and pulled up my home screen. The background was rodeo me, in a crown and sash. I growled, long and low. Jack knew not what he was doing, messing with a pregnant woman first thing in the morning. I opened my settings and clicked through options until I was able to change the offending image. I replaced it with a nice, soothing beach scene and exhaled.
Time to beard the lion in his den. I rang the bell with vigor.
Silence.
Picking the bell up, I started walking down the hall, ringing it for all I was worth.
“Ready or not, here I come.”
No answer.
From inside Jack’s office, I heard a creak and a thump. Rustling and clacking noises. Then a smack. I made it to the doorway. I sucked in a breath for courage, and breached the ramparts.
Jack sat at his desk, laptop open in front of him. From this view, without his hat on, I could see gray woven into his hair.
He looked up. “Yes?”
I scanned the room suspiciously, looking for signs of the twenty or so people it would have taken to make all that racket. Or possibly a herd of runaway steers. The room was empty, though, except for him. Empty and normal looking. God knew what he’d been doing in here, and I sure as heck didn’t want to know myself, but somehow I couldn’t keep from asking anyway.
Walking to his desk, I said, “What was all that
“No,” my mother breathed.
Without her war paint, she looked closer to her age of fifty-five. Lines radiated from her mouth and eyes. Her white-blonde hair hung limp and thin. But her eyes flashed with interest.
“She’s not even in this country legally,” she said. “How can she afford Jack?”
I nibbled a corner of toast experimentally and swallowed. It went down okay, so I kept going, talking between bites.
“The court appointed the case to him. He has to take it. That’s how it works.”
She harrumphed. “So that woman doesn’t pay a cent in taxes while the rest of us work to pay the bills for her defense when she murders a U.S. citizen in cold blood.”
What she said was the truth, or at least part of it. I knew well how Mother felt about this issue. Things hadn’t been easy for her, especially after Dad left, and she resented anyone she perceived as getting assistance that she didn’t or couldn’t get. It was harder for me to decide exactly where I stood on it. Especially after meeting Sofia yesterday.
“Well, she’s our client, so you’re going to have to make the best of it. Besides, her daughter is missing. She’s only six.”
She shook her head, pulling her pink, flowered housedress together at the collar. “What will my friends think when they hear you’re working on her case?”
“Hear? Why would they even need to?”
“Well, you know. They’re all very
interested
in what’s going on with you.”
I munched my toast and closed my eyes. I wondered if Jack would represent
me
pro bono if I accidentally committed a violent felony against my mother.
***
Right on time I walked through the door of the Williams & Associates offices. Snowflake was waiting for me. I hefted my purse onto the desk and pulled out a baggie. In it, I’d saved a toast crust for her.
“Sit.” The dog sat her tiny bottom on the floor immediately. “Good girl.” She took the snack I offered her and smacked it with gusto. “Where’s the resident despot?” She swallowed but didn’t answer.
As expected, the remaining odors of Jack’s spicy breakfast lingered in the air. I activated my emergency plan, snatching a baggie of saltines from my purse and popping one in my mouth. I sucked lightly on it, absorbing the salt into my tongue and softening the cracker before chewing slowly. Ah.
I took a seat at my desk. The computer was already on and I wiggled the mouse to wake it up. Shaking my head, I typed in my username and the RodeoQueen password. The computer logged me in and pulled up my home screen. The background was rodeo me, in a crown and sash. I growled, long and low. Jack knew not what he was doing, messing with a pregnant woman first thing in the morning. I opened my settings and clicked through options until I was able to change the offending image. I replaced it with a nice, soothing beach scene and exhaled.
Time to beard the lion in his den. I rang the bell with vigor.
Silence.
Picking the bell up, I started walking down the hall, ringing it for all I was worth.
“Ready or not, here I come.”
No answer.
From inside Jack’s office, I heard a creak and a thump. Rustling and clacking noises. Then a smack. I made it to the doorway. I sucked in a breath for courage, and breached the ramparts.
Jack sat at his desk, laptop open in front of him. From this view, without his hat on, I could see gray woven into his hair.
He looked up. “Yes?”
I scanned the room suspiciously, looking for signs of the twenty or so people it would have taken to make all that racket. Or possibly a herd of runaway steers. The room was empty, though, except for him. Empty and normal looking. God knew what he’d been doing in here, and I sure as heck didn’t want to know myself, but somehow I couldn’t keep from asking anyway.
Walking to his desk, I said, “What was all that
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