When the lady started up the car, the stereo came on at an ear-shattering level. It was David Souls "Dont Give Up on Us. " She immediately turned it down, mumbling, "Sorry about that. "
Tully figured it was as good a song to apologize for as any, so she just shrugged and looked out the window.
"Im sorry about your grandmother, if I havent said that already. "
Tully stared at her weird reflection in the window. It was like looking at a negative version of her face, colorless and insubstantial. The way she felt inside, actually.
"By all accounts she was an exceptional woman. "
Tully didnt answer that. She couldnt have found much of a voice anyway. Ever since the encounter with her mother, shed been dry inside. Empty.
"Well. Here we are. "
They parked in front of a well-kept Victorian home in downtown Ballard. A hand-painted sign out front read: BAKER AND MONTGOMERY, ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
It took Tully a moment to get out of the car. By the time she did, the woman was giving her a soft, understanding smile.
"You dont need to bring your suitcase. "
"Id like to, thanks. " If there was one thing Tully understood, it was the importance of a packed bag.
The woman nodded and led the way up the grass-veined concrete walkway to the white front door. Inside the overly quaint space, Tully took a seat in the lobby, close to the empty receptionists desk. Cutesy drawings of big-eyed kids lined the ornately papered walls. At precisely four oclock, a pudgy man with a balding head and horn-rimmed glasses came to get them.
"Hello, Tallulah. Im Elmer Baker, your Grandmother Harts attorney. "
Tully followed him to a small upstairs room with two overstuffed chairs and an antique mahogany desk littered with yellow legal pads. In the corner, a standing fan buzzed and thumped and sent warm air spinning toward the door. The social worker took a seat by the window.
"Here. Here. Sit down, please," he said, moving to his own chair behind the elegant desk.
"Now, Tallulah—"
"Tully," she said quietly.
"Quite right. I recall Ima saying you preferred Tully. " He put his elbows on the desk and leaned forward. His buglike eyes blinked behind the thick magnifying lenses of his glasses. "As you know, your mother has refused to take custody of you. "
It took all her strength to nod, even though last night shed practiced a whole monologue about how she should be allowed to live alone. Now, here, she felt small and much too young.
"Im sorry," he said in a gentle voice, and Tully actually flinched at the words. Shed come to truly loathe the stupid, useless sentiment.
"Yeah," she said, fisting her hands at her sides.
"Ms. Gulligan here has found a lovely family for you. Youll be one of several displaced teens in their care. The excellent news is that youll be able to continue in your current school placement. Im sure that makes you happy. "
"Ecstatic. "
Mr. Baker looked momentarily nonplussed by her response. "Of course. Now. As to your inheritance. Ima left all her assets—both homes, the car, the bank accounts, and stocks—to you. She has left instructions for you to continue with the monthly payments to her daughter, Dorothy. Your grandmother believed it was the best and only way to keep track of her. Dorothy has proven to be very reliable at keeping in touch when theres money coming. " He cleared his throat. "Now . . . if we sell both homes, you wont have to worry about finances for quite some time. We can take care—"
"But then I wont have a home at all. "
"Im sorry about that, but Ima was very specific in her request. She wanted you to be able to go to any college. " He looked up. "Youre going to win the Pulitzer someday. Or thats what she told me. "
Tully couldnt believe she was going to cry again, and in front of these people. She popped to her feet. "I need to go to the restroom. "
A frown pleated Mr. Bakers pale forehead. "Oh. Certainly. Downstairs. First door to the left of the front door. "
Tully got up from her chair, grabbed her suitcase, and made her halting way to the door. Once in the hallway, she shut the door behind her and leaned against the wall, trying not to cry.
Foster care could not be her future.