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“This is your home, Genevieve,” Sam announced as they pulled into the driveway. “I hope you like it. It’s all we’ve got.”
Amanda and Audrey had spent the winter decorating the nursery. They’d painted the walls a playful blue and stenciled sailboats and sea animals all over and painted them in pastel colors. A fluffy white rug covered the center of the hardwood floor with a rocking chair gifted from Susan. As Amanda placed Genevieve in her crib for the first time, she felt overwhelmed with the privilege of being able to raise a baby in such a remarkably beautiful and safe home.
A small part of her was jealous that Audrey and Noah had gotten the Sheridan House. But it was just up the road. She could go there whenever she wanted.
And Genevieve would think of it as a second home.
Amanda set up the baby monitor and padded downstairs to make lunch. Sam was at the kitchen island with his laptop, reading about historical sites in Massachusetts and the laws that protected them. Amanda knew he was excited about the prospect of the hidden room in more ways than one. Calling the Sunrise Cove Inn a historical site would draw even more tourism. He hoped that tourism boost would allow him the funds to build a complete spa in the back half of the property, which had been his original dream anyway. She kissed his ear. He was always on the hunt for the next best thing.
“The historian can’t make it here for another two weeks,” Sam said. “He insinuated that a big historical site was just discovered outside of Boston, and he’s tied up.”
“I wish he would have told you what it was!” Amanda removed cheese, cold cuts, lettuce, and onion from the fridge and began to prepare two massive sandwiches. Gone was salad-obsessed Amanda. She sometimes couldn’t believe the extent of her hunger.
“It’s good he needs time,” Amanda said as she spread mayonnaise across a slice of wheat bread. “I won’t be able to make it till then either. I want to settle in first with Genevieve.”
Sam smiled. “That’s right. You’re our on-site legal counsel.”
“That’s me.”
Amanda set down her knife and frowned. She realized she hadn’t said anything to Sam about the email from the Massachusetts Board of Bar Overseers yet. It was one of the worst things that had ever happened to her. But it was dwarfed by so much goodness.
Amanda and Sam ate their sandwiches and recounted the craziness of the past forty-eight hours before Genevieve woke up and needed attention.
“It’s only the beginning!” Amanda said with a laugh as she sped off.
It wasn’t till the following day that Amanda returned her attention to her suspended law license. In the shadows of the nursery, she googled her ex-client Hilton Arnoult. At the sight of his face, a shiver went down her spine. She hadn’t seen him since the day she’d lost the case and he’d been sent to prison.
Hilton Arnout looked made of money. His face was peaches and cream, his hair tousled and blond, his outfits Ralph Lauren and impeccable. He was Amanda’s age or a little bit older, a Harvard graduate who’d only gotten in because his father golfed with the dean. She knew that because Hilton had told her; he’d practically bragged about it. He was one of those rich-blooded Americans who’d been given everything he wanted since birth.
When the Arnout family had reached out to the Law Offices of Harris & Harris last autumn, Susan had been over the moon. “These people have real money, Amanda,” she’d said after she took the first call. “They want us to represent their son. Their precious son. It’s going to be a windfall for us.”
Amanda tiptoed down the hall, clinging to the baby monitor with one hand and her phone with her other. Her mother answered on the fourth ring.
“Hi, honey!” Susan sounded busy and happy. Amanda pictured her at the kitchen counter with a bottle of wine and Scott by her side. “How are you and Genevieve?”
“We’re wonderful,” Amanda said, rubbing her chest.
“I know you said you wanted a bit of time to nest at home,” Susan said, “but just let me know when I can come over. I can do anything. Cook. Clean. Hold her while you shower. Whatever.”
Amanda smiled. “Thanks, Mom.” She paused. “Listen, I wanted to ask you about the Arnout case.”
Susan’s tone shifted to business. “Those people have no right to do this to you. We need to take action immediately.”
“How?” Amanda asked.
Susan was moving. Amanda could hear her footfalls through the phone.
“I mean, are you really sure they had something to do with it?” Amanda asked. “Maybe I made a mistake. Maybe the state board has me on something else.”
“What? Amanda, no.”
“Tell me, Mom. Did I mess up the Arnout case?” Amanda asked, her head throbbing. Suddenly, she desperately wanted to dive back through time and redo that case. To look at it from every angle again. To flip it over and turn it inside out. “I mean, would you have done it any differently?”
“If you remember, I worked with you on the Arnout case,” Susan said. “You ran everything past me.”
Amanda’s heart thudded.
“The Arnouts refuse to admit that their perfect boy did anything wrong,” Susan said, “and you’re paying for it right now. But it won’t be forever, okay? We’re going to figure this out.”
