Chapter 7: Window Lettering

I took the pen out of Heath's hand.

He smiled, because he thought he had won.

I clicked it twice, closed the folder over it, and held both out to him.

"I won't sign anything," I said. "Not today, not with witnesses, and not with you holding the pen."

"Melina." His smile thinned. "Think about what you're doing."

"I am. Tell the judge whatever you want."

Cory took a half step toward me.

"Em, please."

"Don't call me that."

The man with the hose was standing completely still now.

Heath took the folder back.

His eyes went across the neighbors, then to Amber on the steps, and he lowered his voice to a friendly murmur.

"This is a mistake, and you'll be sorry."

"Then I'll be sorry somewhere else."

I got into Megan's car and shut the door.

Megan backed out of the driveway so carefully that the tires didn't make a sound.

In the mirror I watched Amber take one step toward our car, then stop and turn to look at Cory.

He didn't look at her at all.

Megan drove two blocks before she said anything.

"You know your two o'clock is today."

"I know. My desk is in your trunk."

"Then where do you want to work?"

I took out my phone and texted Thatcher Holden.

"My home office is in transit. Can we do this in person instead of on video? I can come to the cafe."

He answered almost at once.

"Yes. Fair warning, the espresso machine is sitting in the middle of the floor like a very expensive dog."

Megan dropped me on Hillsborough Street at one-thirty with my tablet and my laptop, and she squeezed my shoulder before I got out.