Finding Isadora(45)

After Alyssa had fallen asleep, I changed into pajamas and curled up on the couch to read through some of my old children’s books, contented for the first time in days. Tonight was like a tiny window into the future, and I liked the view very much.

* * *

When we were all seated at my parents’ table for a Sunday breakfast of oatmeal yogurt pancakes and fruit, Jimmy Lee asked Alyssa, “Did you two have fun last night?”

“Oh, yes!” The girl went into a long description of everything we’d done.

When she finished, I asked my dad how their evening had been. He launched into an equally lengthy and enthusiastic narrative about the meeting, the ideas that had been discussed, and how effective Gabriel had been.

“We’d still have been there, futzing around trying to decide what to do,” Grace chimed in. “But Gabriel got us focused and organized. Now we have a couple of committees and a plan of action. We’re going the lawsuit route, knowing it’s as much about publicity as getting into court and winning. Anyhow, the first step is to identify plaintiffs for a class action.”

“And Gabriel’s going to be your lawyer?”

“Well, sure,” my father said.

“Let me get this straight. The goal is to get the government to change its policy and to increase funding levels, right?”

“Right on.”

“If that happens and this never goes to court, what does Gabriel get out of it financially?”

He gave me a puzzled look. “Nothing. But he’s not doing it for money. He’s volunteering his time like the rest of us.”

“And covering the disbursements. And maybe turning down paying work because he’s occupied with this class action. And with organizing all of you people.”

He shook his head. “What are you getting at, Izzie? You don’t think this is a good idea?”

“Yes, of course I do. It’s a great idea.” And Gabriel was a damned saint for doing it.

“You’re not making a lot of sense,” Jimmy Lee pointed out.

“She has issues with Gabriel,” Grace said quietly. “You know what it’s like, meeting a future in-law and trying to figure out the relationship.”

I concentrated intently on slicing a pancake, trying not to flush.

Jimmy Lee snorted. “Yeah, but Gabe is nothing like your parents.”

“It’ll all work out,” I said quickly, hoping it would prove to be true. “Now, let’s talk about when you’re going to visit the clinic.”

We made plans, finished breakfast, and an hour later, moving sluggishly after the big meal, I hiked home.

Along the way, my cell rang. It was Richard. “Have a good time with your folks?” he asked, then before I could answer he rushed on. “I’ve only got a minute, Iz. I’m at the office with a couple of other associates, working on that merger. But I wanted to let you know you may be getting a call from Caroline Winston.”

“Who?”

“Eric’s mother. I saw her yesterday and she’s not what I thought. Well, in some aspects she is. Too young to have a kid that age, no education past high school, not much in the way of job skills. But she seems like a concerned mom who’s trying her best in a tough situation. She’s paying off debts her ex ran up—and ran out on—and she’s working two jobs. Anyhow—” He broke off and I heard voices in the background.

“I have to go,” Richard said. “Anyhow, Ms. Winston kind of likes the idea of what I’m proposing, but wants to know if she can trust me. I guess a mother has to be suspicious when an older guy wants to hang out with her son.”

“Oh yeah, I didn’t think of that. But Richard, obviously you’re not some kind of sick—”

He interrupted. “She has no reason to know that. She wanted character references. I gave her your name, and Mom’s and Frank’s. So she may call. Thanks, Iz, have to run.”

He hadn’t given Gabriel’s name as a reference.

He also hadn’t said anything about getting together this evening. Experience told me he might well be working late even though it was Sunday. Would he make time to call Gabriel about the DNA test?

* * *

When I got to the clinic, I put Pogo out in the small walled courtyard at the back, then chatted with Betty, who was handling reception.

“You have a new client tomorrow afternoon,” Betty said. “I have to say, she was a bit fussed you weren’t working today. I suggested she come in and see Felipe but she refused to settle for anyone but you.”

“Really?”

“Her name’s, um, let me see…” Betty did a brief hunt for her reading glasses and located them perched atop her silver curls. She jabbed them on and consulted the online appointment calendar. “Althea Fitzsimmons. She has a Persian cat called Princess Anne.”

Crow-woman.

Betty pulled off her glasses and set them down. “You have a fan there. Where did you meet her?”

“In the most unlikely place. A ballroom at the Hotel Van.”

She started to ask another question, but the doorbell jingled and we both looked up.

My parents walked in with a shy Alyssa clinging to Jimmie Lee’s hand. The girl’s gaze darted around the unfamiliar room then focused on me as I went to greet her.

“Hi, Izzie,” she said shyly. “This is your clinic?”