go to museums and you don’t.”
Juliet turned the child so she could look her straight in the face. “So, you’re okay with her moving in with us?”
Mary Jane’s nod was enthusiastic. “When are you coming?” she asked her aunt, sliding back down to the quilt. “Today? Does Hank know? And what about your shop and people?”
“I don’t know how soon,” Marcie said, her blond hair shadowing her face as she smiled down at the child. “Maybe next week if I can get the arrangements made. And no, Hank doesn’t know yet and I’m going to ask Tammy if she wants to buy out my half of the business. She’ll have to hire someone to take over my clients, or I can try to find someone for her.”
Mary Jane nodded. “Hank’ll sure be surprised.”
“Yeah.” Marcie frowned. “But if we really loved each other, we would have wanted to get married a long time ago,” she said. “And since neither of us has ever wanted that, I think we probably don’t.”
“So if he doesn’t love you that much, Hank pro’bly’ll get over it pretty quick,” Mary Jane said, her forehead creased in a frown.
“Probably.”
“Man, he’s dumb!” the child said.
Marcie’s answering smile faded quickly. And then the conversation faltered. Remembering back nine years, to her own feelings of panic and uncertainty, Juliet tapped her daughter on the knee.
“There’s a reason Aunt Marcie is moving in with us, sweetie,” Juliet said.
“Because she’s going to work at a studio?”
“No. Because she’s going to have a baby.”
The little girl’s mouth dropped, her eyes wide. “You are?” She stared at her aunt.
With a tremulous smile, Marcie nodded.
The sound of waves lapping against the sand was comforting in its unchanging routine. Juliet concentrated on it.
Mary Jane glanced at Marcie’s slim belly, and then back up. “A boy or a girl?”
“I don’t know yet,” Marcie said. “It’s too soon to tell stuff like that.”
Looking down again, Mary Jane asked, “But you’re sure it’s in there, right?”
“Positive.”
“Well, then, we’re going to have to get the crib out of the attic.”
And that was that.
Juliet hoped the second topic of conversation would go even a quarter that well.
MARY JANE INSISTED the baby was going to be a girl—to make them two pairs. She spent the next twenty minutes, as they unwrapped the cheese and bread and fruit, trying out different names. So far she’d settled on six of them. She ate enough, steadily, so the food was disappearing, although her mother and aunt had done no more than eat a grape or two.
Juliet shifted her weight, the sand hard beneath her.
“So what was the second thing to talk about?” Mary Jane asked, chocolate-chip cookie crumbs on her lips as she chewed. Clearly, she thought she’d heard the worst of it.
“I…” Juliet started. Stopped. Looked out at the ocean. “I…”
“Your mother has a new client,” Marcie said. “And you’re not going to like who it is and you’re probably going to think there’s more to it than there is, but there isn’t, and you’re just going to have to trust us on that one.”
“Huh?”
“Blake Ramsden’s been charged with fraud and he’s asked me to represent him.” It wasn’t how she’d wanted to break the news, but other words failed her.
Mary Jane’s mouth froze. The cookie in her hand crumbled. And her eyes creased, their depth lit with sheer panic in the bright sunlight.
“And you told him no, right?” the child asked as though warding off a blow.
Juliet was aware of Marcie next to her, watching them, but she kept her gaze focused strictly on her daughter. “Is that what you’d want me to do, Mary Jane?”
“Yes.”
On one hand, Juliet completely understood—had expected this, even—but another part of her was disappointed.
“She’s only eight years old,” Marcie’s voice came softly beside her. Juliet listened for the waves—for reassurance—and for whatever voice inside was going to tell her what to do next.
“He’s a man I once knew, Mary Jane. Someone who was kind to me, made me laugh, gave me the greatest gift I will ever receive…”
The little girl stared, the expression in her eyes a mixture of belligerence, fear and a small hint of that peculiarly mature blend of tolerance and innocence with which she normally approached life.
“And I think someone might be framing him for a crime he didn’t commit,” Juliet continued. She’d always told Mary Jane the truth. In the end, it was the one thing the child could count on and Juliet wasn’t going to let her down. Their entire relationship was built on that trust. “If he doesn’t find a way to prove that, he could spend the rest of his life in jail.”
Juliet waited. Continued to watch her daughter’s bent head. The child was hugging one upraised knee, the remains of her chocolate-chip cookie still clutched in one hand. Little bits of melted chocolate oozed through her fingers.
“Why does it have to be you?”
She could hardly make out the mumbled words.
“Because I’m familiar with the case. Because he trusts me. And because I’m one of the best defense attorneys in the state.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“I know, sweetie, and I thought about that,” Juliet said, hurting, as she watched her daughter struggle. “But there’s no reason this can’t work out just fine for all three of us.” She’d worried about finding the right words, but in the end, they just started to flow.
“How many times, in the past eight years, have you met any of my clients?”
Mary Jane glanced up. “None.”
“Okay, so percentages say you don’t have a whole lot to worry about there. If you’ve never met one of my clients, and they’ve never met you, why should this time be any different?”
“I guess…”
“Now,” she hurried on when Mary Jane took a breath as though preparing to argue. “Second, there’s me.” The little girl looked scared again. “For eight years, my life has been very, very blessed because of you. Sometimes I start to feel a little guilty about that.” The admission wasn’t easy. “Because Blake Ramsden doesn’t even know about you
