Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)(29)

“It’s only until Friday,” Brad promised, and it was as much a promise to her as it was to us. “Can you last that long, Casey?” he asked.

She gave him the same silent treatment she had me.

“You should stay,” Cody said.

I wanted to hug my son for his generous heart. I knew it had taken a great deal for him to say those words. I’d never loved him more.

“Friday—another two days. If you can stick it out, so can we,”

Brad said, trying again. “Can you do that?”

Reluctantly Casey nodded.

“Okay, agreed.” Brad sounded relieved. So was I.

“No more of this, right?” I said.

Casey met my eyes, then Cody’s. “I’ll stay, but I won’t like it.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

With that Casey went down the hall, past Cody and Chase, and into her bedroom, closing the door hard. After she was gone, Cody returned to his own room, holding Chase by the collar. Brad slid one arm around my waist and I leaned against him as I tried to absorb what had just happened. I’d noticed that Casey had made enough noise to alert us to her escape plans. That told me she didn’t really want to go. She wanted us to stop her. For the f irst time since her arrival, I started to think I might actually understand this rejected child. I prayed we could prove to her that we did care.

All of us, even Cody.

Chapter 10

“Hutch” Hutchinson

Gritting his teeth, Hutch hung up the phone after speaking with his attorney, John Custer. He could feel his blood pressure rising. John, who’d been a longtime friend and conf idant of his father’s, had suggested a settlement offer to the nuisance lawsuit. The woman who’d f iled was in her forties. Her ridiculous claim was that Mount Rainier Chocolates had caused her to gain weight; furthermore, because she was overweight, she was viewed in a prejudicial light by prospective employers. But Hutch hadn’t forced her to consume his candy. She was the one who’d chosen to overeat.

What had happened to self-discipline? Hutch wondered as he often did these days. It wasn’t as if he’d added an addictive element to his chocolate or crammed them into her mouth. As far as Hutch was concerned, if he gave in to this lawsuit he was making himself—and every other candy manufacturer—vulnerable to a thousand more. This lawsuit was an opportunistic attempt to repeat what had happened with the tobacco companies years earlier. What he really wanted, he decided as he leaned back in his off ice chair, was for this woman to withdraw her suit. But there was no chance of that, since the plaintiff—no doubt encouraged by her attorney—saw the suit as an opportunity for easy cash. Gail tapped politely at his door.

“What is it?” he asked, far more waspishly than he’d meant to. His assistant came into his off ice. “I thought you’d want to know your mother just pulled into the parking lot.”

“Thanks.” Hutch nodded and didn’t hesitate to apologize. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“I know.” She forgave him with a faint smile. “That was John Custer on the phone, right?”

“Right.”

“Is everything okay?”

He shook his head. “It looks like this lawsuit’s going all the way to court.” His wasn’t the only company that had been faced with nuisance suits, many of which were settled out of court, as John was quick to remind him. A settlement was easier than suffering through the ordeal of taking the matter to a jury. According to John, juries were f ickle and there were no guarantees. Hutch wished he knew what his father would’ve done. Perhaps he was foolish not to listen to his attorney’s advice.

“Oh, Hutch, I’m sorry,” Gail was saying.

“Yeah, me, too.”

If this lawsuit did end up in the courtroom, the media would inevitably come into play. They might not show him in a sympathetic light, either. His father had once told him there was no such thing as bad publicity, but Hutch wasn’t convinced. And he could do without the stress of this ludicrous situation.

“Should I send your mother in?” Gail asked on her way out the door.

Hutch nodded. He felt protective toward his mother and, as much as possible, tried to spare her any worry. In return, she felt it was her duty to look after him, to enquire about his diet and whether he got enough sleep and had enough of a social life. In most instances Hutch didn’t mind. Lately, however, she’d been on this marriage kick. She said it was because she didn’t want him to repeat his father’s mistakes and bury himself in work.

Bury, in his father’s case, had been the literal truth. The company had killed him, and after his latest medical checkup, Hutch could see that he was headed in the same direction. Well aware of his tendency to work too hard and too long, he was taking measures to prevent that. The knitting class was a good example, along with his gym membership. He cringed, remembering that he’d only been there once, the day he’d plunked down his membership fee. He resolved to start exercising that very afternoon—no more excuses or delays. A few minutes later, Gail opened his door and his mother stepped inside, a frown on her usually serene face. She was dressed for a day on the town, in a crisp lavender pantsuit with a matching purse and shoes. “I haven’t heard from you all week,” she said.

Had it actually been that long? “Sorry, Mom, I guess the time got away from me.”