“Hendricks, are you still there?”
“Yes, sorry . . . the top of the page says it’s an adoption order . . . Ithink. . . Arthur, she’s signing away all rights to Max as being her son. Can that be right?” I scan it again in disbelief.
I’m certain that’s what it says, but it’s also too good to be true. And sad, so desperately sad.
“Can you read the page to me?” he asks, so I do, starting from the top and without skipping anything in case it’s vital. “Okay, I’m going to send a courier to you right now to collect this in person, but can you get home and scan it to me so I can read it before the original arrives? Then I’ll contact her team. He’ll be with you in two hours.”
I nod. I don’t even realize tears are streaming downmy face until they fall onto my lap in big wet globs.
“Hendricks?”
“Sorry . . . yes, give me ten minutes, and I’ll send it. Thanks, Arthur.”
“Congratulations. This is a good day for you all.”
Carefully slipping the paper back into the envelope, I turn the engine on and head home.
Beyond a couple of the housekeeping staff, Burlington Hall is quiet when I arrive, and I don’t stop until I reach my study. I’m on autopilot, hands shaking, as I scan the paper and email it over.
I read it again. Words likerescindandwithdrawswim before my eyes. I’ve no doubt this isn’t the end yet because the solicitors will need to go over everything with a fine-tooth comb, but it’s a start. A beginning.
When I walk out of my study, I feel ten stone lighter. My shoulders are softer, there’s a spring in my step that the dogs notice, and sensing weakness, they walk me straight up to the treats cupboard.
On the way, I notice things that usually blend into the background. Max’s framed finger-paintings from his kindergarten days hanging along the wall, the Spider-Man costume slung onto the kitchen stool after he removed it this morning before we left for school, a ratty drawstring bag he keeps his snails in inexplicably filled with glitter. All of it.
Handing over the treats, I sit on the floor with Dolly, Maud, and Hamish in the middle of the kitchen,soaking it all in. This place has been home to Max. The only home he’s ever known and will continue to know. The home I knew as a child.
I hadn’t realized how tightly I was gripping our reality until it was almost taken away, and the relief is too great for me to hold on to any longer. Tears stream down my face quicker than Maud and Dolly can lick them away.
I’ve been living with a constant niggle of worry that one day Max would be taken from me. He’d be gone as Story was gone. As my dad was gone.
But we survived.
I turn at the sound of footsteps walking down the hallway, only to see Clementine clock me, pause mid-stride, and turn away.
“Not so fast.” Drying my eyes, I run after her in time to see her dart into Lando’s study. “Clementine, don’t be so fucking childish.”
The door rebounds against the wall from the force of her pushing it open, and I catch it just before it slams into my face. As calmly as I can, I close it behind me and prop myself against it. If she wants to bolt, she’ll have to push past me first.
She’s leaning against Lando’s desk, arms crossed defiantly over her chest like she’s ready for battle.
“We need to talk.”
Her chin juts. “I don’t have anything to say.”
“Then I’ll talk . . .” I summon the will to stay calm, which comes quicker than I expected. Perhaps as I’ve already dealt with one evil today, the second will come easier. “Are you in a relationship with Santiago Torres?”
Her mouth purses tight. “No.”
“Have you ever had?—”
“You’re a vet, Hendricks. Not a fucking solicitor.”
My eyes roll heavily at the dramatics, but she’s right. I am a vet. And I know a scared, defensive animal when I see one. Any doubt I had about her and Torres vanishes.
“What’s going on? Can you explain what I saw?”
Her mouth rolls tight.
