Michael seized the upper hand. “The problem is the terms of her probation. She’s not supposed to associate with felons.”
Edward frowned. “Who’s a felon around here?”
“Right now, the Emory boy is pretty damned close.”
“To being a felon? There’s been no trial.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t,” Edward reasoned. “Her crime didn’t involve the underworld. It was a driving accident, for Christ’s sake. If you take the spirit of the law, not the letter, the felon thing would never apply to her. She’s not a violent person. She isn’t a criminal. But okay, fine. The words are in the probation agreement. But a felon, by definition, is someone convicted of a crime. Chris Emory hasn’t been convicted of anything. If it happens down the road, she’ll stay away. Right now, there’s no need. I don’t recall anything in the agreement that contradicts that.” He glanced at his watch. “Hey, I have to run. My lawyer’s waiting. We’re reviewing contracts. Should I have him look at the probation agreement while he’s here?”
There was no probation agreement in my file here. The former GM hadn’t had it, and neither did Edward. He had read it back when I first received it, but the only people outside the Massachusetts AG’s office who had copies were Michael, my lawyer in Boston, and me.
Michael stood stone-faced.
“We’ll talk later,” Edward told me and set off with that long stride of his across the reception area to the door that led into the Inn.
“Arrogant son of a bitch,” Michael breathed and attacked me as if it were my fault. “You were awful quiet. Didn’t you have anything to say to him, or were you always the passive one in the relationship?”
The words were all wrong. I was suddenly furious, both at Edward for barging into my life and at Michael for being a prick. My voice remained in the privacy range, but barely. “What would you have had me say? I have not talked with the man in four years. I did not invite him here, and I sure as hell didn’t text him just now to say I needed help. I was doing fine before either of you showed up.” I took a fragmented breath. “I am my own person, Michael. I live alone, and I live clean. If you want to report me, go ahead, I’ll hire a lawyer to defend me on the facts. Edward is right. Chris isn’t a felon. The terms of my probation sayfelon,notaccused of a felony. And,” I barreled on, “for the record, I wasn’t passive in my marriage. Edward and I were equals. I had strengths he didn’t have and vice versa. We complemented each other perfectly, and we were happy. Had it not been for my accident—for my taking my eyes off the road for onefuckingminute—we’d be back in the life we loved with our daughter Lily—and two or three other children,” I added in a broken voice. “I wanted four in all, he wanted three. That was the worst of any disagreement we had.”
Slammed with grief, I ran out of breath, but not before silently noting another mistake we had made. Between enjoying Lily and building my career, we had put off having other children. And then, after Lily died, our bubble of invincibility was gone.
I didn’t often think about what might have been. My chest didn’t seize up; I had that much control, at least. But composure? Slim to none. The sudden silence was too dense even for sounds of the harp to breach.
Michael seemed startled, like he hadn’t expected an outburst from me, like my vehemence told him how upset I was but he had no clue what to do.
I had no clue what he would do, either. In the void, though, it struck me that I might have sounded unstable, which wasn’t something I wanted my probation officer to think.
Swallowing, I took a slow, palliative breath. “Sorry. I’m on overload. It’s been a difficult week.”
“Him showing up? I totally get it.”
He totally didn’t, if he thought that Edward’s showing up was all, but I didn’t have the strength to remind him of the rest. In that instant, only one matter was prime.
“About my having been married to him, he and I need to talk. He knows that you know, but he needs to know that no one else does. No one here even knows my married name, and I want it to stay that way. I won’t be telling people Edward’s my ex, and I don’t want him to do it, either.” The message was for Michael as well, which was why I ended on a pleading note.
He got that, at least. “I won’t tell.”
“Thank you. It’s confidential information. It’s no one’s business but Edward’s and mine. And now you.”
“I promise,” he said, his voice distinctly personal, “but you have to promise to avoid the Emorys. I mean it, Maggie. This whole business is so frigging public. Your face is a hundred times prettier than anyone else on probation, so people remember it. Suddenly there it is in the news, and I’m getting calls from the head of the department saying, ‘What the hell? Get on top of this, Shanahan.’ That’s whatI’mdealing with.”
I nodded. “I understand.”
His smile was too kind. “Good. Just so we’re clear.”
We were. I understood his problem. That didn’t mean I agreed with his interpretation of my probation terms. In that, Edward had won hands down.
***
I might have followed Edward right then and demanded to know why he was here. But I was still reeling from the little flashback of his eyes and Lily’s, and didn’t think I could bear seeing either again just yet.
Besides, I had one client, then another, then a walk-in. The last was a local bestselling author who wanted to talk about the possibility of my doing her makeup for a photo shoot in April. She was the most excitingof the three. Her genre was political suspense, which meant that she wanted to look like a hip forty-year-old from Washington, DC, rather than a crunchy sixty-year-old from Devon. We talked about makeup and hair and even clothes. By the time she left, I felt I had made another friend.
Which, ironically, made me all the more irritated with Edward. I had a nice life here. His coming threatened to destroy it.
***
