Margaret held out a folder. “Since she doesn’t have legal recourse the only thing she can do is slander you, compromise your reputation, and make things uncomfortable for you. If needed we can prepare and request an order of protection against her, but right now she only qualifies as a nuisance. She has no legal claim to the child, but she can make your life difficult by talking to the media if she can get them to pay attention, that sort of thing. So, our advice is to give her a small lump-sum payment on the condition that she signs a contract stating that she will be given no additional monies or assets by yourself or your agents. If she attempts to extort you or slander you, we will bring a civil lawsuit against her. It will cost her any net worth she has plus legal fees.”
“I don’t want to give her money. She’ll come back for more.”
“That’s why she has to sign the paper to get the money. To safeguard against repeated attempts,” Margaret assured me.
“She doesn’t even want Sadie,” I said quietly. “She just wants a payoff. It’s disgusting.”
“Consider it valuable proof that Sadie was better off with you and that you made the right choice at the time,” Robert offered. I nodded, accepting the compliment.
“Thank you both. I’ll take this and—and speak to Jenna about it. I hate it but I know you’re right. This is the only way out.”
“There is a confidentiality agreement in the appendix. Make sure she initials it.”
“Thank you again.”
I walked them out and looked over the documents, resigned to the fact I was about to write Jenna a check for a hundred thousand dollars to walk away and never look back again.
27
Rachel
I rinsed my mouth out, and then tried to brush my teeth without gagging myself. It was the second time I’d thrown up, and I felt sick all the time. Ever since I heard that voicemail. I was turning myself inside out worrying about what Max was hiding from me. Had he really forced Sadie’s mother to give her up? I was literally sick over it.
I had to pull myself together. Not to mention the fact I worked in a diner where greasy food smells were everywhere. Normally I thought the French fries and chicken fingers smelled mouth-watering, even in the mornings. I loved yummy, salty home cooking. Lately, everything turned my stomach, though. Truth was, I was still working just the dinner shift. I didn’t take on any extra hours because I was beside myself over the argument I’d overheard on voicemail, over the cold and distant way Max had treated me and the radio silence from him since then. I couldn’t concentrate. I just slept and felt queasy and cried. It was a mix of feeling completely devastated and anxious along with puking. I didn’t really need the side order of vomiting to go with the emotional distress, but it wasn’t optional evidently.
Laura called and I let it go to voicemail. Then she called right back. I knew she’d keep calling till I answered, so I picked it up.
“Hi,” I said.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing, I just haven’t been feeling great. I’ve got a stomach virus I think. I just—”
“What else is wrong?” she asked, using her cop voice.
“Max and Sadie left town on a trip. It wasn’t planned, it was all of a sudden. He just walked in late and said they were leaving in the morning and I had the week off. That’s it. No explanation, not even a phone call.”
“So you slept with him and then you two are hanging out and you’re acting really happy and then he skips town with his kid?” she said.
“I don’t think he committed a crime, if that’s what you’re implying,” I said.
“That’s shady. He’s hiding something. Do you think maybe there was a death in the family? Something like that?”
“He’s not close to his family. They’re not even in Sadie’s life. So I doubt it. I mean, I’d love it if that were the explanation but it’s not an excuse for him taking off without telling me why or giving me any indication of—”
“Did you just dry heave?”
“Yes. Sorry. I tried to eat yogurt. I thought the good bacteria in it would settle my stomach. It was peach flavored.” I gagged again.
“I’m coming over and bringing soup. No arguments,” she said.
When she got to my apartment, she let herself in with her key. I got up off the couch and looked around helplessly. I should have picked up the mail and the catalogs and the empty cups where I’d tried to drink water or tea. It was a mess. I was a mess.
I took one look at her and burst into tears. Laura set the soup down and came and wrapped me in her strong hug. “I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay. Either he comes back and apologizes to you and everything is fine, or else he’s a jackass and I frame him for drug trafficking. Either way, you’re good.”
“Do not frame him for anything,” I said seriously.
“I was kidding,” she said. “What?”
“You were only kidding. I know you.”
“I have never framed anyone in my life,” she said.
“I believe you. But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t if you thought it was karmic justice.”
“I do like to imagine myself as an avenging angel with a badge. A sort of law-abiding would-be vigilante,” she said.
“You have got to quit watching the CW, I swear,” I said, returning her hug. She laughed.
“At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor. Now come try some soup.”
“All I’ve heard from him is a voicemail and it had to be a pocket dial. Because I heard an argument between him and some woman, her saying that he took her baby because she was poor and young and alone and him saying she’d better be quiet and stay away,” I admitted.
“Shit,” she said. “I can
