“And,” Williams went on, “there are the emotional damages to consider. For Ella. For all of you.”
“Us? We don’t need anything from that family,” Lucy’s father interjected. “My only interest is for my daughter.”
“I understand, but let’s examine the emotional suffering already established. Ella was an exceptional student you say.”
Even from where she sat on the stairs, Lucy could see her father’s posture change. “She was valedictorian.”
“Exactly,” Williams said. “Ella was supposed to start Tufts University this fall.”
Was.The living room went silent as the words hung thick in the air.
“You shared with us that you had to defer her acceptance, correct?”
Lucy’s mother sniffed and nodded.
“So we don’t know when Ella will go to Tufts. Or even if.”
Lucy rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes. They’d not told Ella. Even though Lucy feared she already knew, no one had said the words out loud since the day her father made the difficult call to the school’s registrar. They didn’t dare.
“None of us knows what the future holds,” Williams explained. Her voice was hushed and soft, the way Lucy imagined her own heart beat in its rib cage. “That’s why we try to protect our clients by collecting damages. So they may have some alleviation through compensation.”
Despite their deferment call to the office of the registrar, each day it seemed some new correspondence arrived from Tufts in the mail. Welcome postcards. Orientation details. All while Ella lay in a hospital bed three towns away. What if Tufts wouldn’t hold her place? What if she never recovered enough to attend any college anywhere?
Lucy hadn’t realized she was gripping the plate so hard until it slipped from her hands. Down the stairs it tumbled like a rolling disc, the crackers and squares of cheese flying like projectiles. It landed in two distinct pieces on the landing with a clatter. Lucy’s parents leapt up from the couch.
“Lucy?” her mother cried, hurrying over. “Are you alright?”
Her father surveyed the mess on the landing and turned back to the attorneys. His resolve was unwavering. “Go after him,” he said. “Go after his insurance. His business. Whatever you can get your hands on. I want this kid to pay.”
When Lucy arrived at the Sandy Page the next morning, she felt drained. All night her thoughts had returned to the conversation between the attorneys and her parents.
A dull ache already spreading across her forehead, she walked into work thinking of her bed at home, wondering how she would keep it all inside for another day. She was met by the scent of freshly brewed vanilla coffee (Brad’s doing). Soft piano music emanated from a few carefully placed speakers (also Brad). At that hour, the morning light coming off the harbor was gauzy. It was an instant balm to her rawness, and Lucy realized she didn’t want to be anywhere else.
“Good morning!” Leah chirped from behind the register. Lucy was still trying to figure Leah out; that day she was dressed in white linen pants and sandals with a sleeveless coral top, her hair swept up in a simple clip, managing to look beachy but somehow still elegant. Leah was a type-A boss lady in the flesh, and Lucy thought that was pretty cool. But Lucy could tell that beneath all that Leah had her anxieties. About the shop displays. About the coffee Brad picked. About the customers coming in and the ways they could better serve them. Even with her warm smile and bright demeanor, there was a hint of unsettlednessabout Leah that others probably didn’t see. But Lucy did. Lucy understood anxiety; she wore it to work each day, like a shadow tracing her silhouette. So it was oddly comforting to be around someone who seemed to worry like she did but somehow kept it under wraps. Maybe there was hope for her.
“Luce, c’mere.” Leah was also the only person who’d ever called her that, but Lucy didn’t mind. “What do you think of the flyers I made for our teddy bear tea party?”
It would be the Sandy Page’s first official children’s event. Already they’d selected two picture books to be read aloud and discussed setup. The children would arrive dressed for tea, with a stuffed animal of their choice. (All are welcome here!) Lemonade would be served with cookies. Lucy had been shocked when Leah asked her to run the show. It felt like a pretty big deal.
Lucy examined the flyer and her excitement flagged. There were multiple fonts. Garish colors. Weird-looking bears. Had her boss been drunk? “It’s… cute.”
“You hate it.”
“It’s nice, it’s just…” Where to begin?
Brad appeared. He had a radar for dramatic tensions. “Ugly,” he said decidedly.
“What’s wrong with it?” Leah gasped. “I spent all night working on this.”
“That was your first mistake,” Brad said. “I will never understand why you insist on bringing in sticky children and serving sticky sweets around all your crisp, clean books.”
Lucy tried to hide her smile.
“It’s part of our community outreach,” Leah reminded him. “And it draws business.”
“Well, please don’t make it my business,” he said, before making his escape. “You can make me stock shelves and clean out vermin, but I draw the line at kids.”
Lucy took the flyer gently from Leah’s grip.
