"This is Peter Jones. You called me?"
"Mr. Jones, thank you for returning my call so promptly. I'm representing Ms. Ivy Green. She has hired our firm to reclaim her rights to Isle, which I believe is currently in your possession."
The room spun. Peter dropped down onto the sofa. "Wait a minute.
I thought she was still in detox? She's not fit to be a mother.
Not yet."
"Oh, Mr. Jones, no, no. There seems to be a misunderstanding. I apologize for not making the purpose of my call clear from the start. My client has not retained me to reclaim her child. It's the hardware and software I'm referring to. However, I believe my partner does in fact need to talk to you also, about another case."
Peter listened to what Mr. Phillips had to say, then, a half hour later, he was transferred to another Mr. Phillips, who, for forty-five minutes, discussed the child-custody case he had been hired by Ivy to handle. A hell of a one-two punch.
By the time he hung up the phone he was numb all over. In just over an hour, his whole life, which he had managed to somehow get back on track, however shakily, had once again come undone. He felt like he was at the end of his rope, like he was cracking up. And the only person who could ever help him through the really tough times was Kate. That was who he needed to talk to right now.
But how? How could he call her, when the reason he needed her was the very reason she had left him?
So instead of calling her he sat there alone, wondering if this was it, if this was the last of his punishment for his mistakes, or was there still more to undo?
* * *
"What are you doing?" Matthew said, finding Greta in the den, crouched among a scattering of cardboard boxes.