“There is nothing wrong with asking for help,” Sarah said.
“You’re right.”
“I need to see the original contract. The one you had to cancel.”
“It’s at home.”
“Let’s go.”
Chapter Eleven
Cooper
I knew it was illogical, but that had never stopped me before. Many would reasonably ask what I was doing with a safe in the first place, but it had been a holdover from a previous life that still came in handy. The heavy, black door clanked open after the application of the combination to the keyboard built into the front. The month of Camilla’s birthday and the last two digits of my birth year, only with the order reversed. So even someone who knew me well, either by association or research, they would never be able to guess it.
It was far from the only thing in there, but the contract was still near the top. Secured in its legal envelope. One of the fancy ones that closed up with a string wound around a nub rather than sticking shut with glue.
My gaze fell momentarily on the small, black leather holster before I slammed the safe shut. The lock booming back into place.
“This is it,” I said, passing the envelope down from the top of the step ladder.
“You have a safe?” Sarah asked.
“Yes,” I said tersely, coming back down to floor level.
I never really understood the full meaning of the word ennui. Though it came roaring in with a vengeance after I gave Sarah the contract. I wanted her help, even needed it, but I still worried about what I was getting her into. I knew Ivanov couldn’t hurt me, at least not personally, and Camilla had Aden to protect her. Sarah could be in real danger if we went after Ivanov. I would do all I could, but I would always worry.
I watched as she dissected the contract at the kitchen table. Her marvelous lawyer’s brain doing things I could never really imagine. Shoes off and her legs crossed as she worked, Sarah’s hair tied back like it often was. She was also wearing a small pair of reading glasses I hadn’t seen before that she apparently reserved for long term deconstruction work. They made her look absolutely adorable.
I jumped when the doorbell rang, coming out of nowhere like a sign from high. Little did I know how accurate that metaphor would end up being.
“Sweetie!”
“Mom?” I asked, being enveloped in one of her world-famous attack-hugs.
“Of course, darling!”
“Aren’t you in Santa Fe? The whole artist’s retreat thing?”
“Don’t be silly, dear heart, and don’t be so surprised. Do you really think I would leave you alone in your time of need?”
“Time of need?”
She patted me on the cheek. “I had a vision that my baby needed me, so here I am. I know you don’t believe in my psychic powers, but that doesn’t stop them from being true.”
“Are you sure it was me? Camilla is having twins, after all.”
Mom pushed into the living room. “Oh, I knew about that weeks ago. She called me and told me herself. No visions needed. You, on the other hand, it wouldn’t be the first time I needed my psychic gift to know what was going on with you.”
It was better not to argue. Mom was right about me not believing that she was psychic, but it was mostly just a harmless fantasy.
“Hi, Mrs. Jones, I’m Sarah.”
“Oh, hello dear,” Mom said, looking Sarah up and down, no doubt noticing how unbelievably stunning she was. Mom had made a career out appreciating beautiful things, and not much got past her.
“Delighted to meet you,” Mom said, taking Sarah’s offered hand, “and please, call me Sequoia. How long have you two been together?” she asked, as though this were a perfectly ordinary introductory inquiry.
Of course, she assumed that Sarah was my girlfriend. It was really more wishful thinking on her part, wanting me to settle down and start a family. Even though it couldn’t really be the need for grandkids. Camilla had gotten married long before. Mom was thrilled with Aden, of course, though a son-in-law wasn’t quite the same as a son. Though she wasn’t a traditionalist by any means, Mom was still quite keen on the idea of me, her firstborn son, giving her grandchildren.
There was a very awkward moment as Sarah and I both tried to figure out what to say. We never really talk about our relationship, or what it all meant. It just sort of happened, and we went along with it. I took the bullet.
“She’s my attorney.”
I could hear Sarah’s little huff of irritation and knew it would take some serious apologizing before she would forgive me, but it needed to be done.
“I’ve never slept with my attorney,” Mom laughed, clearly not believing me.
With a sudden turnaround, Mom’s usually bright and cheery disposition suddenly shifted dark and serious like clouds rolling in on a sunny day. “Why do you need an attorney?”