“I was hoping you’d be here,” she said, beaming. “Hi, Mrs. van Dorn.”
“Hello, Daisy. And congratulations on your photographs. You had a very, very impressive layout in the magazine.”
“That was Kim’s doing,” Daisy said.
“It wouldn’t have happened without the photos. We’re a team, all of us,” Kim said. She loved seeing Daisy’s excitement and pleasure. Kim knew the feeling of finding the sweet spot in a career. She hadn’t felt it herself in a long time, but she still remembered feeling that way as an intern, working in broadcasting, following a sportscaster around a sweat-fogged locker room, analyzing plays. “Is your cousin Olivia here? I wanted to thank her again for that incredible location shoot.”
“She was planning to come,” Daisy said, “but she went to see her sister Jenny at the hospital in Kingston. Jenny and Rourke had a little girl last night.”
They raised a toast to the new arrival, then Kim turned expectantly to Daisy’s date. She felt a peculiar affinity for him—a redhead like her. He had laughing eyes, and he regarded Daisy with unabashed adoration.
“This is Logan O’Donnell,” Daisy said. “Charlie’s dad.”
Oh. Maybe, then, they weren’t a couple at all. That was pretty clear from Daisy’s tone and choice of words. And even clearer from the not-quite-ineffable sadness that passed between them. It must be incredibly hard, sharing a child while leading separate lives. For the first time, Kim came close to understanding why AJ’s mother had kept him away from Bo.
“I should have known by the red hair,” she said. “You have a beautiful little boy.” Kim wasn’t exaggerating. She’d seen Charlie a few times while meeting with Daisy about the photo shoot. Charlie was a gorgeous baby, and he was almost unbearably sweet, the kind of child that made women Kim’s age yearn for one of her own. She indicated the banner behind the dais. “Is O’Donnell Industries your company?” she asked.
“My father’s.” He started to go on, but an announcement blared from amplifiers onstage.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Here’s the next entry in the battle of the bands—Avalon’s own home-grown musical group, Inner Child.”
The crowd erupted as the lights came up. The appearance of the band onstage banished the last of Kim’s misgivings about the evening. She must have let her anticipation show, because her mother gave her a gentle push toward the front of the room.
“Go ahead,” she said in Kim’s ear. “I know you’ve been looking forward to hearing them.”
Kim nodded and moved toward the stage. She greeted people along the way, surprised to realize so many faces were now familiar to her. She had found something unexpected here in this place—a sense of community. A feeling of caring pervaded the gathering. The people here genuinely wished each other well. She found Sophie Bellamy-Shepherd there, beaming proudly up at Noah, the band’s drummer.
“My first time to hear them perform as a group,” Kim said to Sophie.
“I think you’ll be impressed.”
AJ was already in the front of the hall, standing with a group of kids below the edge of the raised stage. Kim and Sophie watched them as the group came out, tuning up and doing a few quick riffs. “How’s he doing?” Sophie asked.
“He’s holding a lot in,” Kim said. Emotion welled in her chest as she watched AJ. At the moment, his face shone with anticipation, his gaze riveted on Bo. “He seems okay, but he needs his mother, Sophie. There’s no denying it. It’s like the light inside him gets dimmer every day, no matter how hard Bo tries to keep his spirits up. This is fun for him, but tomorrow, he’ll wake up and miss his mother more than ever.”
“His mother must be heartbroken, too,” Sophie said. “Before moving to Avalon, I lived apart from my kids, and it was the hardest thing I ever did. I wish I could say this will all be resolved right away, but the system moves so slowly, it’s just excruciating. The emergency writ of appeal is bogged down in court, though, which makes me wonder which part of ‘emergency’ they don’t understand.”
Lately, Kim had studied the situation, and now understood what a quagmire the immigration system was in. It was one of those things she’d never thought about much, until now. Until it touched the life of a boy she cared about. “In the past, I’ve had clients dealing with immigration issues,” she said. “Not to sound like a skeptic, but professional athletes seem to have an easier time with the INS than working people.”
“Yes, it’s kind of hard not to notice that.”
“I did have one client who came close to being deported, a baseball player from the Dominican Republic. Pico—I haven’t thought about him in years.”
“What happened to him?” Sophie asked.
“I worked with him when I was an intern with my last firm. Raul de Gallo—he was on the Dodgers’ farm-league team. His teammates nicknamed him Pico de Gallo, due to his height. He showed a lot of promise, but the immigration suit was such a distraction that it affected his game. Then, just before he was about to be deported, the decision was reversed.”
“Do you recall why?”
“Something about his mother, I think. Turns out she was born in the U.S. Virgin Islands, which made her eligible for naturalization. That’s how I remember it, anyway.”
“We’ve got someone looking into Yolanda Martinez’s family background. The records are a whole new nightmare.”
“I won’t give up hope,” Kim said.
“They’re about to start.” Sophie gestured toward the stage.
Kim found herself as riveted as AJ appeared to be. The unlikely group was made up of Bo on bass, Noah on drums, a local cop named Rayburn Tolley on keyboards, and the lead singer and guitar player, Eddie Haven. Bo claimed Eddie was the true musician among them, and he proved it with a crisp delivery
