walls.”
“They aren’t painted yet. As soon as I leave here, I’m going home to do that. Two weeks,” she mused happily, giving each baby a kiss before she tucked them back into their warm cocoons.
By dinnertime that evening, Faith’s muscles ached so badly she could hardly stand up straight. The result of her labors pleased her, however. The walls looked cheery, complementing the soft gray carpet and white ceiling. She liked the room.
It suited her to keep busy and to restrict her thoughts to the subject of the babies. So after eating a light dinner, she went to work recovering the cushions on a comfortable rocking chair—the only piece of furniture she’d saved from the old house. The chair had belonged to her mother. Faith remembered how on good days her mom would sit by a sunny window and rock the infant Lacy. As the cushions cut from jungle-print chintz took shape, Faith imagined herself rocking Nicholas and Abigail to sleep.
It was an image that remained with her until she received a phone call from David Reed the next day. “Faith, could you come down to my office, please? I’ve got faxes from Kipp Fielding’s legal team, and also from Michael Cameron’s attorney. I want you to see what we’re up against. We need to plan our strategy.”
“What strategy?” she asked weakly. “Lacy signed custody of the children over to me, as you know. I agreed to raise, clothe and feed them. What other strategy do we need?” She heard his sigh and the creak of his chair.
“I know you’re not naive, Faith. I explained during our first phone consultation how messy custody fights can get. On top of that, this case is quite unusual.”
“How so?” she asked, although she knew more or less what he’d say.
“Normally it’s a matter of determining visitation rights for a noncustodial parent. Occasionally Family Court has to intervene for grandparents. But your case has two men claiming to be the twins’ father, and an aunt—you—to whom the biological mom assigned full custody. To say nothing of a very influential grandpa. Fielding Junior made a fortune on Wall Street. It looks as if he’s prepared to use it to guarantee himself a grandson.”
Faith’s legs wouldn’t hold her. She fell into a chair. “So are you saying it’s hopeless?”
“No. Oh, my, no. Your position in the triangle is equal to the others at this point. Old man Fielding may have New York judges in his pocket, but his clout won’t be half as great in Boston. I’ve cleared an hour on my calendar at one o’clock. It would be in your best interests to meet with me, I think.”
“Of course.” Faith barely had time to say she’d be there before he hung up. Her nerves were completely jangled. She could practically see Reed rubbing his hands together. He’d struck her as something of a barracuda. Maybe that was good. She hoped it was. And hoped he was clever enough to solve the matter in her favor, preferably within two weeks.
Faith showered and dressed with care, then left for her appointment. After all, if she expected the man to represent her enthusiastically, it would help if she made a good impression. She hoped his fees would be manageable—another thing that worried her. They hadn’t discussed what he charged. Faith had a fair savings account, but she’d need it to allow her to stay home with the twins.
Broad-winged bats beat up a storm in Faith’s stomach as she walked downtown to the building where Reed’s offices were housed. Passing a corner café, it dawned on Faith that she’d skipped lunch. She didn’t think she could eat a bite, but she certainly hoped her stomach didn’t growl at an inopportune time during their session.
“You’re prompt,” said a matronly receptionist when Faith checked in. “Mr. Reed likes that in a new client. Just let me ring his office and let him know you’ve arrived. Can I get you a cup of coffee or tea, Ms. Hyatt?”
“No, nothing, thanks,” Faith murmured, hoping she was the only one who knew her hands were shaking so hard she’d spill a beverage. As she’d only seen one other lawyer in her life, when she needed power of attorney to take charge of her father’s welfare, she didn’t know what to expect of this so-called strategy visit.
“Come in, come in, Ms. Hyatt,” boomed a jolly voice.
Faith leaped out of the chair she’d taken in the corner of the waiting room. No wonder he sounded so jolly. David Reed resembled Santa Claus. Though dressed in conservative blue rather than a red suit, he was round and sported white hair and a full beard.
“You don’t look a thing like your sister,” he said, clasping Faith’s cold hand.
“No,” she murmured, “I don’t.”
He merely nodded, indicating she should take a chair near his desk as he closed his office door. “Well, I hope you’re more solid than you look. This fight could be long and nasty.”
Faith’s heart sank. “I…I assumed the court would uphold my sister’s wishes.”
Reed steepled pudgy fingers. A fair-sized diamond winked in the sunlight streaming through a window that overlooked Boston Common. “Your sister was less than forthright with me, Faith. May I call you Faith?”
“Please do. How, uh, in what way did Lacy lie to you?”
“For one thing, she led me to believe the baby’s father was dead. Oh, she didn’t come right out and offer to produce a death certificate, but she implied as much. She never said a word about being divorced. In essence, Lacy let me think the money she willed you and her unborn child had come to her through an inheritance.”
“I didn’t know she’d left any money. She never said anything. We hardly had time to cover the custody papers, which, to be truthful, I signed quickly to ease her mind. I never expected her to d-di-die.”
“I believe you, Faith,” Reed said, bouncing his fingers together again. “I hope the judge will. Either of the other two legal counsels could imply you want custody only for the money.”
Faith gasped. “Surely not! I’d planned to care for the babies out of my own savings. I doubt that whatever Michael settled on Lacy was a huge amount.”
“The living trust your sister set up is approximately half a mil. You, if made custodian, have access to the interest until the babies turn twenty-one. Add to that proceeds from the sale of a beach house. Another seven hundred and fifty thousand.”
Faith tried to keep her jaw from dropping but didn’t succeed.
“I see you had no idea,” David said. “I wish I’d gotten your reaction on video. Now you understand my concern. The Fielding team will surely make an issue of the money. And I’ve got no doubt that Dr. Cameron knows how much his ex-wife was worth.”
Clasping her hands tightly, Faith brought them up under her chin. “I don’t want Lacy’s money, Mr. Reed. Is there a way to put it completely in trust for the twins?”
“There is. But you might not want to be so hasty. If your aim is to win full custody of those infants, it could get costly.”
“Of course that’s my goal. As I explained, I have three bedrooms. I rented a larger place, assuming my dad would stay with me after he sold his house. In fact, he’s living in an assisted-care facility, so I have lots of space. I’ve already turned one bedroom into a nursery,” she said passionately. “I can’t believe either Michael or Kipp will offer the twins as much love and attention as I’m prepared to give.”
“Maybe not,” David said bluntly. “But one of them is the natural father. That’s why I wanted to talk to you face-to-face, Faith. Fielding’s team has demanded that the court order DNA testing. It takes four to six weeks after they give the go-ahead—and they will,” he added. “The test will establish paternity beyond any doubt. If we dig in and fight after that, we’ll be contesting a bona fide parent. I’m not saying we couldn’t win, considering the mother didn’t think highly of either Cameron or Fielding. It does mean that preparing our case will require a lot of expensive hours. I’ll need a full-time legal researcher and a legal