Chapter 11: Sole Custody

The man in the gray suit leaned in so only I could hear.

"Don't sign anything he puts in front of you," he said. "Not one page."

"Who are you?"

"A friend of your father's, a long time ago." He glanced at the stage. "His attorney will be in touch. Please answer when he calls."

Then he turned and walked back to his table.

I didn't have time to ask anything else.

Dean came down the steps, and his face was red.

"Security," he said into the microphone, without noticing it was still on. "Somebody get security."

Two men in dark jackets started toward me from the doors.

Zelda got there first, in her sensible boots, and put herself between us.

"Touch her," she said pleasantly, "and I'll tell this room what the brochure says about your family values."

The two men stopped.

Brandy had her hand on Dean's sleeve.

"Please, let her go," she said, loud enough for the front tables. "She's been through so much. She's not herself."

Several people at the front looked at her.

Not one of them nodded.

"Dean," I said. "I'll see you in court."

I walked out through the center aisle, past the tables, with my coat over my arm and my stitches pulling.

Nobody spoke.

At the door, a woman in a green dress touched my elbow.

"My sister had a placental abruption," she said. "Her husband was in the next room, and he still didn't hear it. I'm so sorry."

I couldn't answer her.

I nodded, and kept walking.

At six the next morning, the email arrived on my phone while I sat beside Maddy's incubator.

It was from Dean's attorney.

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