Part 54 (1/2)

”Mr. Jones, thank you for returning my call so promptly. I'm representing Ms. Ivy Green. She has hired our firm to reclaim her rights to Isle, which I believe is currently in your possession.”

The room spun. Peter dropped down onto the sofa. ”Wait a minute.

I thought she was still in detox? She's not fit to be a mother.

Not yet.”

”Oh, Mr. Jones, no, no. There seems to be a misunderstanding. I apologize for not making the purpose of my call clear from the start. My client has not retained me to reclaim her child. It's the hardware and software I'm referring to. However, I believe my partner does in fact need to talk to you also, about another case.”

Peter listened to what Mr. Phillips had to say, then, a half hour later, he was transferred to another Mr. Phillips, who, for forty-five minutes, discussed the child-custody case he had been hired by Ivy to handle. A h.e.l.l of a one-two punch.

By the time he hung up the phone he was numb all over. In just over an hour, his whole life, which he had managed to somehow get back on track, however shakily, had once again come undone. He felt like he was at the end of his rope, like he was cracking up.

And the only person who could ever help him through the really tough times was Kate. That was who he needed to talk to right now.

But how? How could he call her, when the reason he needed her was the very reason she had left him?

So instead of calling her he sat there alone, wondering if this was it, if this was the last of his punishment for his mistakes, or was there still more to undo?

”What are you doing?” Matthew said, finding Greta in the den, crouched among a scattering of cardboard boxes.

”What does it look like I'm doing?”

”Packing.”

”Bingo.”

”Why?”

”Why?” she repeated, taking in his goofy expression. ”Why do people usually pack, Matthew? Because I'm moving.” She returned to her task of carefully settling a vase into a box.

He placed his hands on the box flaps, holding them down as she stretched a length of tape from a spool. ”When?”

”Soon. And I can do this, thank you,” she said curtly, holding the strip of tape over the box. He let go and dropped his hands to his sides.

”Greta, I'm sorry about today,” he said, watching her work. ”It's not what you think, though.”

She stopped what she was doing for a moment and shot him a warning look. He had come to understand that look very well in the last few months. She went back to her business, placing the box atop a few others.

He s.h.i.+fted on his feet and then all at once his face brightened.

”Hey, guess what! We're back to our original plan!”

She settled an antique serving dish inside a new box. ”Good for you.”

”Didn't you hear me?”

She poured foam puffs into the box.

”Greta?” he said, gripping her wrists.