The Suite Spot (Beck Sisters #2)(69)
Since Brian’s attorney filed the motion, he goes first.
“Brian Schroeder has spent the last several months making significant changes to his lifestyle,” Mr. Mortimer says. “He took a job with regular hours and steady pay. He’s begun a course of study in air traffic control. And he recently moved from an apartment he shared with three other people to his own apartment in a safe neighborhood, more conducive to caring for a child. Brian has established legal paternity and he is asking for equal parental responsibility and time-sharing of Maisie Beck, his daughter with Rachel Beck.”
Mrs. Schroeder nods a little, the ghost of a smile on her face, and I know she’s proud of her son. I’m proud of Brian too.
“Thank you, Mr. Mortimer,” the mediator says. “Ms. Thomas, you may proceed.”
“My client, Rachel Beck, is the biological mother of Maisie Beck. She’s had sole parental responsibility for the child since birth and Mr. Schroeder did not petition the court for legal paternity until four years after Maisie was born,” April says. “Ms. Beck has attempted to contact Brian Schroeder prior to mediation in an attempt to work out a parenting plan without getting the courts involved, but her efforts were rebuffed. In addition, my client sacrificed her career and left her home in Ohio, demonstrating willingness to compromise with Mr. Schroeder. Ms. Beck is seeking primary parental responsibility and majority time-sharing.”
The lawyers go back and forth, throwing the arguments we expected. The Schroeder family thinks I had no business taking Maisie out of state without Brian’s permission. April points out that Brian had no legal rights at the time I moved to Ohio. She offers my mom’s record of Brian’s visitations as evidence that he has historically been unreliable, and that he made no attempt to visit Maisie in Ohio. His attorney argues that Brian’s efforts to improve should be taken into consideration, but April counters that if this were a trial, a judge would consider Brian’s past, not his future.
“Maybe we’ll take our chances,” Mr. Mortimer says, and my stomach twists into a knot of dread. Mediation already makes me feel like Brian and I are selfish people, instead of parents who want what’s best for their child. But dredging through this muck again in a courtroom and having a judge decide the terms of our lives would be worse. Any goodwill Brian and I have left would be ruined.
I steal a glance at Brian, who has moved beyond uncomfortable to miserable. For the first time in months, he looks directly at me. For a long moment, our gazes hold. Then he blinks. And stands up.
“Your Honor, I would like to say something.”
Ms. Sheridan clears her throat. “As I mentioned, I’m not a judge.”
“Sorry.”
The room goes still, except for Rosalie Schroeder, who tugs at his sleeve, trying to get him to sit down. Brian’s dad exhales long and slow, like he’s been holding it in for months.
“This isn’t what I wanted,” Brian says. “I was pretty bummed when Rachel took Maisie to Ohio, but I started a new job and school is harder than I thought it would be, and I don’t think I can even be a half-time dad right now. This feels like fighting, and I never wanted to fight with Rachel about Maisie.”
“What do you want, Brian?” the mediator asks.
“I don’t know, ma’am,” he says. “I’m not ready for Maisie to live with me. I just … want to see her more often than … never.”
Ms. Sheridan nods. “Okay, so we have a starting point. Let’s take a short break—say, ten minutes—and when we come back, we’ll hammer out the details.”
Brian’s mother is softly scolding him as I walk out of the conference room and head for the drinking fountain. I stop in my tracks when I see Mason sitting on a chair in the lobby.
“What are you doing here?”
He gives a little shrug as he stands, and I notice he’s wearing a tan suit with a white shirt and gray-and-white-striped tie. I’ve never seen him dressed like this. It’s the least opportune time for me to want to drag him off to a broom closet, but my entire body sings for him.
“Had the urge to hang out in the lobby of a mediation office,” he says.
Tears fill my eyes as I laugh. “I don’t know whether to be happy or sad.”
“You can be both. I am.”
I slip my arms around his neck, and when I’m encircled in his embrace, it feels good. It feels right. “Thank you for coming,” I murmur, some anxious part of me going quiet at his presence.
“Wild horses couldn’t stop me,” he says, kissing my nose. “But listen, I know you think it’s impossible, but I have an idea that might solve everything.”
“What is it?” April says, her heels tapping on the tile floor as she approaches us.
“The summer is the busiest time on the island and it’s off-season in Florida,” Mason says. “Maisie could spend part of the summer with Brian while we’re busy at the hotel, and the rest of the year she can live with us, go to school, and be with her friends. And depending on his schedule, Brian would be welcome to a free cabin anytime he wanted to come visit.” He turns to me. “We bring Maisie to Florida every other Christmas to be with your mom and Brian’s family, and on the alternate year we celebrate Christmas with mine.”
April nods. “That’s roughly one of the scenarios I had worked out, but I think we have a better chance of getting Brian to agree now that the dynamics have shifted.”