“If that won’t spoil your appetite, nothing will. He reminds me of an old mule that my grandpa had when I was a kid.”
“I can see the resemblance. Long face, big ears, toothy smile.”
“I was referring to the other end of the mule.”
Holly laughed. “Messages?”
“Marilyn Vidal has called twice.”
“Get back to her and tell her I’m due in court. I’ll call her after this hearing.”
“She won’t like being put off.”
Marilyn, the powerhouse orchestrating her campaign, could be irritatingly persistent. “No, she won’t, but she’ll get over it.”
Holly went into her private office and closed the door. She needed a few minutes alone to collect herself before the upcoming custody hearing. The encounter with Sanders—and she hated herself for this—had left her with an atypical uneasiness. She was confident that she could defeat him at the polls and retain the judgeship to which she’d been temporarily appointed.
But as she zipped herself into her robe, his parting shot echoed through her mind like a dire prediction.
* * *
Crawford?”
Having arrived early, he’d been trying to empty his mind of negative thoughts while staring through the wavy glass of a fourth-floor window of the venerable Prentiss County Courthouse.
His name brought him around. Grace and Joe Gilroy were walking toward him, their expressions somber, as befitted the reason for their being there.
“Hi, Grace.”
His mother-in-law was petite and pretty, with eyes through which her sweet disposition shone. The outside corners tilted up slightly, a physical trait that Beth had inherited. He and Grace hugged briefly.
As she pulled back, she gave him an approving once-over. “You look nice.”
“Thanks. Hello, Joe.”
He released Grace and shook hands with Beth’s dad. Joe’s hobby was carpentry, which had given him a row of calluses at the base of his fingers. Indeed, everything about Joe Gilroy was tough for a man just past seventy.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
Crawford forced himself to smile. “Great.”
Joe appeared not to believe the exaggeration, but he didn’t comment on it. Nor did he return Crawford’s smile.
Grace said, “I guess we’re all a little nervous.” She hesitated, then asked Crawford if he was feeling one way or the other about the hearing.
“You mean whether I’ll win or lose?”
She looked pained. “Please don’t think of the outcome in terms of winning or losing.”
“Don’t you?”
“We only want what’s best for Georgia,” Joe said. Interpreted, that meant it would be best for her to remain with them. “I’m sure that’s what Judge Spencer wants, too.”
Crawford held his tongue and decided to save his debate for the courtroom. Talking it over with them now was pointless and could only lead to antagonism. The simple fact was that today he and his in-laws were on opposing sides of a legal issue, the outcome of which would profoundly affect all of them. Somebody was going to leave the courthouse defeated and unhappy. Crawford wouldn’t be able to congratulate them if the judge ruled in their favor, and he wasn’t about to wish them luck. He figured they felt much the same way toward him.
Since both parties had agreed to leave Georgia out of the proceedings entirely, Crawford asked Grace what arrangements she’d made for her while they were in court. “She’s on a play date with our neighbor’s granddaughter. She was so excited when I dropped her off. They’re going to bake cookies.”
Crawford winced. “Her last batch were a little gooey in the center.”