Family at Stake. Molly O'Keefe

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СКАЧАТЬ rolled her shoulders and let the perfumed California sunshine melt away her tension. She hovered at about a code yellow these days. Frank’s sudden and disorganized departure had been tough on everyone in the office.

      Olivia turned sideways on their bench and licked the residual yogurt from the aluminum cover she’d peeled off. “How are you handling the new cases?”

      Rachel kicked off her black slides and crossed her legs at the ankle. “I am surviving,” she said honestly. “I mean, it’s a slog. Frank really got sloppy toward the end. He screwed up some names between files and he’s gotten a lot of dates wrong, but it’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

      Olivia laughed, but it, too, sounded stressed. “I wish I could say the same. I feel like I am being chased by a million loose ends. I can’t even remember why I wanted Frank’s job.”

      “Ten years in the field, you were ready to burn out, Liv.”

      “Still, at least it was simpler. This management thing is making me crazy.”

      Rachel forced her eyes not to roll. They’d discussed the pros and cons of this move to death, but she could hit the highlight reel.

      “You were breaking the Golden Rule.”

      “What Golden Rule?”

      “Mine.”

      “Rachel Filmore has a Golden Rule? This should be good,” Olivia hooted. “Is it never, ever pay full price for anything? Oh wait, never, ever talk about family or, God forbid, marriage—”

      “The Golden Rule states,” Rachel interrupted, “thou shalt not become too involved.” She waved her fork with a little flair. “And you, my dear friend, were getting too involved all over the place.”

      “Ha! Like I’ve never caught you crying under your desk. You’ve had your fair share of code red moments.”

      She’d had two. In six years. Not a bad average. “You’re totally exaggerating.” Rachel would never in this lifetime cry at work, or in front of anyone, for that matter. Any crying she did was by herself. Alone. In a dark room. She was that kind of crier. “And you are missing the important part. Too. Don’t get too wrapped up in the cases.”

      It’s not that she didn’t care, or cared less than Olivia, it’s that she had learned to care the smart way. The way that did good rather than made you crazy. Rachel cared with her head and tried very hard to keep her heart out of it.

      It was the only way to stay sane.

      “In the six years I’ve been here—”

      “You’re still a child, a baby.” Olivia had celebrated her ten-year anniversary with the Department of Child and Family Services last month, which seemed to give her license to expunge Rachel’s years of service.

      “The best thing Frank Monroe ever taught me is that a little detachment goes a long way in this business.”

      “Well, maybe that explains the mistakes in the cases.”

      “It explains how he was able to stay in the job for twenty-five years.”

      Olivia scrutinized Rachel as if she was something between glass plates and under a microscope, and she grew uncomfortable. “You know, you might be one of the best counselors we’ve got,” Olivia said. “You’re smart, you’re quick. You work hard.”

      Rachel was taken aback for a moment by the praise. “Thanks, Olivia.”

      “But you’ve still got a lot to learn.” Olivia scooped another heap of pink yogurt into her mouth and winked.

      I should have known there would be a catch.

      “You got big plans for the weekend?” Rachel asked, quickly changing the subject, before Olivia launched into a monologue about all the things Rachel still had to learn.

      “Everyone is coming to my house on Sunday.”

      “What’s Sunday?” Rachel asked, a forkful of lettuce halfway to her mouth.

      “Mother’s Day.”

      Rachel stiffened as a cold chill slid along her spine.

      “Rach?”

      Rachel watched the sparrows at their feet, rooting for food in the green grass, instead of looking at the concern and pity that were no doubt on her friend’s face.

      “Are you going to see your mom?”

      “Nope.”

      “But it’s Mother’s Day.”

      “So you said.” Rachel fought to swallow another bite of salad and whatever emotion was stuck in her throat. Anger? Guilt? Indifference? Probably indifference, she decided. It was all the feeling she had left for her mother. “It’s just another day, Olivia. Just another day.”

      “Not to your mom, who would probably give her right arm to hear from you. Come on, Rachel, she’s forty minutes away.”

      Might as well be on the far side of the moon, Rachel thought, and chucked a piece of lettuce at the birds.

      “Let’s not spoil your first hour back among the living with talk of my mother, okay?” she asked nicely. She was a pro at dodging the mom questions. And since her dad had died five years after she left New Springs, and no one even knew she had a brother, she didn’t have to answer those questions at all. She liked it that way.

      “Fine,” Olivia huffed, and then muttered “obstinado idiota” under her breath.

      Rachel smiled and watched the birds squabbling over the limp lettuce. She threw them a piece of cucumber, her appetite suddenly vanished. She wasn’t an idiot. Idiots were people who kept throwing themselves against the rocky shores of their dysfunctional family. Trying to make things right. Trying to fix the past. Well, if there was one thing Rachel knew, it was that there was no fixing the past. The future, sure. The past was better forgotten.

      “We’re having Nick’s family and mine for a barbecue all day,” Olivia said.

      “Wow, that should be quite a party.”

      “Why don’t you and Will come over to my house?” Olivia asked, and Rachel winced. There was no more Will in her life and Olivia’s fuse was going to blow when Rachel told her.

      “Your godchildren are dying to see you—”

      “No fair using your girls as bait,” Rachel laughed, though she would like to see Ruby and Louisa. It had been a few weeks since their last trip to the beach.

      “And you can protect me from my mother-in-law,” Olivia suggested. “You guys can talk about whatever it is you Anglo folks—”

      “Tupperware and English muffins.”

      “That’s what you talk about?”

      Rachel nodded. “Most of the time.”

      Olivia СКАЧАТЬ