And that Frank’s offer would help keep Sammie home.
“With your permission, my father would like to make his offer to Sammie on Thursday, telling him that he has to discuss the offer with you before accepting.”
“You have my permission under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I’d like to hear your father speak for himself.”
Several minutes later, all was quiet in Morgan’s house as she lay in her newly warmed bath, with a newly heated cup of tea, smiling at the shadows that danced on her ceiling.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ON THURSDAY, FIVE DAYS before their custody hearing, Leslie Dinsmore followed Sammie from her office after their meeting.
“Can I speak with you?” The words were no less threatening to Morgan in spite of the woman’s kind smile. “Sammie can wait with Molly.” She motioned to the receptionist inside the security screening area of the court offices building. Leslie had been to their house the day before, as had a man from child services, in two separate visits.
Just as Julie’s attorney friend had predicted, she was on trial as surely as if she’d committed a crime. Had they found something wrong with her home? Something that made her an unfit parent?
Leslie’s office, a room she shared with other attorneys and volunteers, was completely decorated in bright colors, from the tile on the floor to the artwork on the walls. It reminded Morgan of the day care.
“Is there a problem?” she asked, acutely aware of the big cherry stain on the sleeve of her shirt. There’d been an accident during snack time at work and the tray of drinks Morgan had been delivering to the three-year-olds had ended up on the floor by way of her arm.
“No, I just have some questions.” The woman’s flat sandals made soft sounds as she headed to the couch. Leslie Dinsmore always looked professional and today’s light cotton navy slacks and clean white blouse were no exception. She was perfectly coiffed and clean, and wearing clothes that fit her slender body as though they’d been tailored just for her.
Morgan resisted the urge to ask if anyone had noticed the tailored clothes in her closet when they’d inspected her home—all gifts from her mother.
She resisted the urge to blurt out how much she loved her son. And that expensive clothes and shoes were not as important as quality time spent together.
Keeping her mouth quiet, Morgan took a seat in an orange-colored armchair across from the blue couch.
“Every other word out of Sammie’s mouth today was Frank,” the woman said, easily enough. Her pen and papers sat on the table beside her as she turned her full attention on Morgan.
“Frank Whittier,” Morgan said. “He’s the father of Dr. Caleb Whittier, head of the English department at Wallace,” Morgan explained, the words she’d already worked out in her mind for cou
rt on Tuesday coming to her aid. “I’ve known Dr. Whittier for four years. He’s my undergrad adviser and I’ve had several classes with him. I was in his class the day that Sammie went missing, and he was kind enough to stay with my parents and Detective Warner and me that night. He kept the coffee coming, made sure we all ate and generally maintained a level of calm in the midst of all the panic.”
“So that’s the Cal that Sammie mentioned.”
“Right.” She quickly added, “Dr. Whittier and I aren’t dating or anything. My focus is fully on Sammie. But I mentioned to Dr. Whittier that you’d said that Sammie was lacking male attention and he knew about Sammie’s obsession with basketball. His father, who is retired and lives with him, used to be a basketball coach. They offered to have Sammie come over to shoot hoops on the afternoons when he used to hang out at the day care and wait for me to finish work.”
Leslie nodded, her short brown hair bobbing. And she smiled. “Sammie’s obviously thrilled with the arrangement.”
“Yes, he is.”
“He tells me that Frank is training him for tryouts for the junior high basketball team.”
“That’s right. He was invited to try out even though he’s only going into fifth grade in the fall. The coach is a college friend of the secretary at Sammie’s school. Julie talked to him about Sammie after the…campout…and he said he’d take a look at him.”
The campout. She couldn’t say Sammie ran away. It sounded so awful. And her son hadn’t really run away. He’d just gone camping overnight without permission. He’d planned all along to come home.
“Julie said that the coach has made it a practice to look at the upcoming fifth graders and that he occasionally invites boys to try out for the team a year early. They don’t play much, but they get to be a part of the team and to participate fully in all practices. He’s a firm believer in engaging kids in healthy activities at a young age so they will hopefully keep them up as they get older.”
Morgan had spoken with Coach Safford personally after she’d received a phone call from Frank, assuring her that he was committed to helping Sammie should he make the team.
“I’m glad to hear this,” Leslie said. “Sammie’s so excited and I wanted to make sure that he wasn’t reading more into something than was there.”
Morgan nodded. “It’s for real,” she said. Please, please tell the courts I’m a good mother and that my son belongs with me.