“You want some eggy bread?”
Her mother was in the compact kitchen, wearing her old dressing gown and slippers. She had a pan on the stove heating, and was whisking something in a bowl, which Hope guessed was eggs. Eggy bread was the Lawrence version of French toast.
The room had a window that allowed in morning sun, and looked over one of her mother’s flower beds. With white walls, and blue curtains, it was immaculate, like every other space in the house.
“Yes, please.”
“Kettle’s hot.”
Hope dropped a nonbleached peppermint tea bag into a cup and poured over boiling water.
“I messed up, Mom.” The words came out as she sat in the seat that had been hers for many years. Ryan had taken the one opposite. She hadn’t told her mother the truth yet, and it was wrong of her. She’d change that now.
“How?”
Hope found herself talking again. Her mother deserved to hear the story from her, and not anyone else. She then told her about Ethan’s cousin coming to town.
“And you say this Mr. Herald is here in town with the Wildlife crew?”
“He is, and I kneed him hard in the groin like you taught me, when he asked to help me on the shoot when John Finch got here.”
“Good girl,” her mother said, as if she’d just achieved straight A’s. “But you need to fight this, Hope. You can’t let him get away with what he’s done.”
“He has damaging footage of me doing things, Mom. If it gets out, I could be charged, and my career would be well and truly ruined. Jay drugged me, and then set it up so that it looks like I’m using heroin.”
The only indication her mother was angry was the tight line of her mouth.
“He needs to pay for this, Hope. You need to be strong enough to make him pay.”
Could she? Was she strong enough to take him to court and have that footage shown? It was damning; there was no doubt about that. But she did have a good reputation.
“I was scared, Mom, and I ran. I see now that maybe I should have done something, but I was so ashamed of what he had, and yes, hurt that everyone was so ready to believe Jay over me.”
“Did you speak to everyone?” Her mother looked at her.
Hope shook her head. She hadn’t. After Casey had dismissed her, and told her exactly what she thought of Hope in a voice loud enough to carry all the way to the staff at their desks, she wanted to simply run and hide.
“It’s my word against Jay’s.”
“Your reputation was immaculate until that moment, Hope. You have no idea if the same could be said for this Jay.”
That was certainly true, Hope realized. She’d not given Jay’s reputation any thought.
“Think about this seriously, Hope, and if you decide to fight, we’ll make sure it’s done right.”
“Thank you, it means a lot that you believe in me.”
“Why did you think I wouldn’t? I’ve never known you to lie, and know that your work is your life. You’re my daughter. I would not doubt you in something like this.”
Hope swallowed down the tears.
“It was Newman and Ethan who saw Jay first. They told him we were doing the shoot with John Finch, before I could stop them.”
Her mother laughed. It was dry and a bit brittle, but a laugh nonetheless.
She and Ryan had often wondered about the number their father, who was also a lawyer, had done on her. Had she once been young and spontaneous? Had she laughed readily, and—her mind couldn’t picture it, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to—flirted?
“I think you should do it, and show this Jay you’re not going to be pushed around. I also think you’ve got a case against him.”
