“Dad, I’m in the middle of a huge case—and anyway, that’s in Maryland, what do you want me to do from Manhattan? Isn’t there someone else you can ask?”
“I’m asking you.”
“But I’m not that kind of lawyer.”
“Well, maybe you should be.” Disappointment oozed through the phone as readily as the smile.
“Dad...” Sam tried to assuage his guilt by pointing out the obvious. “I can’t be. Not if I want to run for office.” He needed the big profile cases, not the little ones that didn’t get noticed.
“Never mind. I’ll figure something out.”
John disconnected before Sam could say anything else. He stared out the window at the busy street below, and his mind wandered to that nursing home and its residents. Those poor people. But why was it his problem? Didn’t he just decide it was best to take care of his own interests? He turned his attention to his phone, which was heavy with his father’s request.
With a sigh, he sent his father a text.Send me the name of the place. I’ll look into it and see if my friend Janice from law school is still in that area. Maybe she can help.
The response from his father was almost immediate.I knew I could count on you.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said out loud. He shut down his computer and gathered his things, gym bag included. As he slipped his phone into his pocket and peered out the window down to Lexington Avenue, he made a mental note to research that facility. It was already dark, and Manhattan was lighting up for the evening. People pulled their coats tighter against the fall chill as they navigated the always vigorous New York City streets.
Sam put on his coat and headed down in the elevator. He nodded good-night to the night watchmen in the lobby and pushed the door open to the cool evening air outside. A brisk walk to the gym would be a nice warm-up, so he picked up his pace.
Thoughts about the case, the new evidence he’d found and the nursing home claimed his attention. So when he heard his name, inthatvoice, he started, nearly bumping into someone. He hadn’t heard that voice in sixteen years, but it was never too far from his memory. As he turned, he knew he was being summoned by his past.
CHAPTER THREE
MAYA
New York, 2012
DESPERATIONHADMAYAwaiting for Sam against the office building. A Google search had easily told Maya that Sam worked in this building as a corporate lawyer. Maya wasn’t surprised, just disappointed.
Maya stayed in the building’s shadow as she decided what to do. If he saw her first, he might just walk away, and that would not do. A review of her finances had confirmed what she knew: there wasn’t any money for a lawyer. She fiddled with her pendant ofGanesha, the remover of all obstacles.Well, here is a huge obstacle. Remove it. She shivered in the evening chill.
She had considered making an appointment with Sam under a false name, but then everyone on his staff would have seen her. She didn’t need that. He certainly didn’t need that. All she needed was for him to take care of Samantha’s situation and she’d be on her way. She had gone home with Samantha this morning and distracted herself with work until she could find an excuse to return to Manhattan. She guessed that Sam would leave the office sometime after six, and planned on waiting in this spot until he came out.
The office door opened, and her heart hammered in her chest as if it recognized him before her eyes did. She could tell it was him, just from his walk. Confident without being cocky, Sam had the stride of an athlete. He was wearing a long coat over his suit, which did nothing to hide the fact that his shoulders were broader than she remembered. Not for the first time, she wondered how else he had changed in the past sixteen years. He turned his head slightly, and Maya swallowed hard as she took in his strong jawline and the weak-knee-inducing smile she remembered so well. Not to mention that dimple. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe there was another way. What was she thinking, dredging up the past like this? He started walking away. No, she needed him for Samantha. Maybe she should have at least put on some lipstick.
Maya jolted back to reality. “Sam! Sam Hutcherson!”
He turned at the sound of her voice, and Maya’s breath caught. She remembered how the brown of his eyes could blaze as if lit from inside, or smolder as if made from melted chocolate. She quickly flashed to the last time she’d seen them—hard as coal, red-rimmed, wounded. Tonight, his eyes were sharp. He dropped his bag.
“Sam, it’s me.” Her stomach fluttered.
Sam opened his mouth, but paused before he spoke. “Maya?” It was barely a whisper. “Maya.” In an instant, his voiced changed, becoming stronger, cooler—indifferent. “What are you doing here?”
The sound of his voice, without the warmth it used to hold for her, was familiar and foreign all at the same time. Like a favorite song she hadn’t heard in a long while, but to which she still knew the words. She took a few steps closer to him. Had he always been this tall? She took in air to steady herself. “Sam.” She held her hands palm-up, as if trying to calm an unpredictable animal, her voice soft but determined. “I know it’s been a lifetime. I just need to talk to you.”
He darted his eyes from his gym bag to her and back to the gym bag.
“Please, Sam, I know I have no right.” She risked another step closer. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I had another choice.” Her voice trembled, despite her confident words. The all-too-familiar burn built up behind her eyes as tears threatened to fall. She blinked them away.
“Trust you?”He turned the hard-as-coal eyes on her as he shifted his weight and crossed his arms in front of him.
“I’m desperate, Sam.” It was from instinct rather than conscious thought that she waited for him to drop his hands to his pocket and tap his coin like he used to. He kept his gaze fixed on her, but sure enough, he released his arms and tapped his pocket. She met his eyes. Maya had seen Sam flip that coin countless times, always with the words, “Heads, we do this, tails, we do that.” Though the last time she’d heard those words from him, she had left him.
He clenched his jaw and she could almost feel the heat radiating off him in waves of mistrust and suspicion. Understandable. She fought to maintain eye contact with him. With a pang of sadness, she realized that his face, once an open pathway to his emotions, was now unreadable to her. He shook his head and sighed, mumbling something to himself as he rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin. Did his hands still hold the calluses she remembered? Was his touch still as gentle? She flushed. Sam huffed and adjusted his bag.
“Fine,” he said, finally. His tone was terse, but something about him had softened. “Coffee. I can do coffee.” He indicated that she lead the way and they fell into step together.
