her own way and not a terribly gracious loser when foiled. The only person she’d ever seen stand up to Ellen and win was Abigail. It was back then that Catherine first understood the power of a mother lion fighting for her cub.
“That’s right. My plans are fluid for the time being. There’s no hurry for me to go back.” She chose not to mention the job offers she’d had. She didn’t want Ellen’s input right now, and because Catherine was leaning toward teaching, she would have the rest of the summer at Hope House. “I can stay in Pleasant as long as I need to.” Catherine could tell her aunt didn’t think that was fortunate at all.
“What about your home?”
“I put my condo on the market this week. No use doing things halfway.” She’d already emailed her housekeeper to store the few things that were left. Then she’d texted her Realtor to tell her the house would be ready to show next week. When she was ready to move on, there would be nothing tying her down.
“It sounds like you’re burning bridges. You’ve certainly made sure you can’t go back. What are you thinking, Catherine? Yours was a very prestigious job.”
“I suppose, if that sort of thing impresses you.” And that was just the sort of thing that did impress her aunt. Conrad, Connor & Cassidy—the Three C’s as the staff called them—had a highly regarded reputation. “To me it was just my work—family law.”
“But you held other people’s lives in your hands!” Ellen pointed out. “You had the ability to change their futures. That’s very important.”
Too important, sometimes, Catherine thought. She didn’t want to be responsible for the world. She didn’t want to be accountable for anything right now. She’d never been completely comfortable with courtroom drama. Nor did she want to carry the burdens of other people’s heartbreak on her shoulders. One of her last cases had proved to be the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. A custody case, it had involved all the drama, intrigue and heartache of an afternoon soap opera—deception, trickery, deceit and revenge. Sadly, a small child had stood at the center of the swirling controversy. That was what had bothered Catherine most.
“It also wears a person out emotionally,” Catherine said to Ellen. “It’s difficult to stay aloof from the issues and the people involved without becoming calloused.”
She didn’t want to be a cynic who kept people at a distance, avoided personal relationships and concentrated only on the work. She hadn’t liked the person she was becoming.
Impulsively Catherine threw her arm around her aunt and gave her an affectionate squeeze. Even that didn’t stop Ellen from expressing her opinion. “It sounds like a disastrous decision to me,” she said. “Throwing away a lucrative career…and for what?”
Some things just never change, Ellen’s quest for income and status being one. She and Uncle Max had been kind to want to adopt her, Catherine thought, but it never would have worked.
“I like to think of it as an opportunity,” Catherine said frankly, “a chance to reinvent myself. There’s a profession out there that doesn’t drain my energy and steal my spirit.” Like teaching, perhaps.
Emma and Will approached at that moment, saving her from any more of her aunt’s comments. Ellen walked away, shaking her head.
“Don’t mind your aunt,” Emma said gently, obviously having overheard the conversation. “Her intentions are good. She has different values, that’s all. You’ve always been a sweet girl with a very tender heart. Your grandmother wondered how you could be in such a ruthless occupation. Apparently you couldn’t after all.” Emma eyed her as if she were x-raying her soul.
“I still remember the day you came from your aunt and uncle’s to live with Abigail. You were a tiny, lost child with a pink backpack, clutching a teddy bear with a red scarf and one missing ear. Your eyes were so big that they took up most of your face.”
Catherine glanced at Will, unsure if she was ready to have him hear this, but most likely he’d heard it all from Gram. “Yes. Initially I’d stayed with my mother’s sister, Ellen, and her husband, Max.”
“But your grandmother never liked it much. She told me that Ellen and Max were too…what was the word?” Emma looked around to make sure they weren’t within hearing distance. “They were too restless to have a child. I never really understood what she meant by that.”
Catherine, however, understood perfectly. “Max and Ellen are entrepreneurs. They love to travel. Max does business all over the world and Ellen accompanies him. It’s an opportunity for Ellen to take photos across the continents. She’s built up a fairly serious reputation as a photographer. By choice, they’ve never had children.”
“It’s probably for the best if they couldn’t stay home,” Emma said, her tone disapproving. “Children need a stable environment.”
“That’s what my grandmother thought, too.” Catherine ran her fingers through her hair. She’d given thanks to God countless times that her grandmother had held fast and insisted on legal custody. Even now, today, she and her aunt were on opposite ends of the spectrum. The conversation they’d just had was proof of that.
Catherine shrugged. “It all worked out, I guess. It’s probably the reason that I specialized in family law.”
“More than worked out. It seems to me it was a big success.” Will glanced at Emma. “This gives me hope.”
Emma nodded in understanding, leaving Catherine in the dark as to what they were talking about.
Before she could ask him what he meant, a bear of a man bore down on them and Catherine threw out her arms. “Jerry!” At that moment he picked her off her feet and gathered her into his arms.
Will and Emma backed away as Catherine greeted her old friend.
Will watched Catherine talk to the newcomer with sudden animation and felt oddly protective. She was spectacularly beautiful, in a tense, agitated kind of way. Will couldn’t fault her for being a bundle of nerves. Losing Abigail had knocked him for a loop and he couldn’t imagine how it might be for Catherine.
She was too thin, and her high cheekbones were more prominent than they might have been had she been carrying another ten or fifteen pounds. For some odd reason, he had an urgent desire to cook for her. Perhaps because he couldn’t think of another thing to do for this woman whose suffering was written across her face.
He rarely felt helpless. Having lived and seen a lot of life had taught him to survive. He was confident about most things he faced, but Catherine was something else. Like his late friend and mentor, Abigail, he was rarely wrong about someone’s character. Beneath her shell of self-sufficiency, Catherine Stanhope was fragile and vulnerable.
Emma, who was acting as hostess, flitted over to him. “She reminds you of Abigail, doesn’t she? Independent, smart, self-reliant….” Emma made a tsk-tsking noise with her tongue. “She was even more so before…” Her voice trailed away.
“Before what?”
“I’m not quite sure. But I do know something has changed her. Abigail told me that a case had affected Catherine deeply and she was having a hard time getting over it. Catherine’s always been very open and forthright, but she has walls up now. I can’t explain it, but it feels as if she holds people at bay sometimes.”
He
