Silver Linings. Mary Brady

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      “Brianna has a great mother.”

      “Thanks.”

      Delainey stepped out into the brisk air of another sunny late-February day and Christina closed the door behind her.

      Ten minutes later and safely tucked in her office, she straightened the stack of files on her desk. There seemed to be more than when she left earlier.

      She pulled the one off the top with a hot pink sticky note on it in Carol’s hand that said Important.

      In the file was the picture of a boy, perhaps Brianna’s age but probably younger, maybe four and a half or five. Stevie Anning, the label read.

      The boy had a bruise down the side of his face that looked to be a few days old and a fat lip that seemed to be very fresh.

      The information had been provided by a neighbor of the child, who was living in the custody of his uncle. Apparently, Child Protective Services had been to the home and deemed the injuries accidental. They’d subsequently determined the child was safe and happy. The neighbor said the state was there for what seemed like ten minutes, emphasizing, “And that’s all the time they gave to this little boy.”

      The neighbor had also called the police twice and when they arrived, they could find no wrongdoing at the uncle’s house. They had taken the uncle into the station and removed the boy from the home both times. Each time, the uncle had been able, according to the neighbor, to talk himself out of being charged with any crime.

      Delainey wasn’t sure she believed that. The Bailey’s Cove Police Department was very responsive to domestic abuse. Every officer had been to sensitivity training and had attended the intervention initiative education program to help them to recognize the signs of abuse and the responses of an offender who is good at getting off the hook.

      In the file was a request to assist an aunt from the child’s mother’s side of the family to get custody away from the uncle on the father’s side.

      Very apparently, none of the parties involved had much in the way of resources to pay for legal representation.

      The uncle had the law behind him. If the investigating parties had it wrong, then the aunt had the welfare of the boy on her side.

      Another pro bono case. A worthy case. What she wanted to do was to go speak with the uncle herself, but she knew that could lay her and the firm open for a harassment claim.

      She’d have to chat with the officers and see what she could find out on behalf of the boy.

      She called Carol and asked her to come up and then quickly unlocked the door to her office. Locking it was silly anyway.

      A short minute later, Carol appeared.

      “Hey, Carol, nice glasses,” Delainey said as they each took a seat. Carol bought glasses the way some people bought shoes. She had some snazzy purple-and-green ones on today.

      “So we’ve all been wondering what the scoop is about Shamus and Hunter.”

      “Did you ask either of them?”

      “Both of them. But neither of them gave even a hint.” Carol looked at her hopefully. “I thought you would know something.”

      Delainey laughed. “You give me far too much credit. I don’t have very much information these days.”

      “Didn’t you know Hunter when he lived here?”

      “I did. We went to school together.” Delainey had no intention of giving even the slightest hint that she and Hunter had had a brief time when they were more than friends. She barely liked to admit the oh-so-short and ill-fated affair to herself. But she threw Carol a meatless bone. “He was every bit as good-looking when he was in high school. Not as well built but cute. All the girls liked him.”

      Carol beamed. “Do we know anyone who went out with him?”

      “You’ll have to ask him.”

      Now Carol blushed and Delainey felt a little silly for being up-front.

      “The case involving the Anning boy.”

      “Yes, Shirley and I set up Stevie’s file, but that was before...”

      “Before what?”

      “Before we got told we do too many pro bono cases.”

      “Told by Mr. Morrison?”

      Carol nodded.

      “He says we all need our jobs and if we don’t choose these cases based on true need—including the need of the Morrison and Morrison employees, we are going to give away too much business and end up having to cut back on staff.”

      This wasn’t anything Delainey was not aware of, but Shamus always made things work somehow. “This one seems to have merit even considering all those things.”

      Carol sighed in relief. “That’s what I thought. You see, it’s my sister’s best friend who filed the complaints in the first place.”

      “Okay. I’ll see what I can do about it.”

      “Thank you so much. Thank you.” Carol had already leaped from her chair and was hurrying out the door.

      Delainey spent the rest of the morning and all of the afternoon reviewing cases, updating files that needed info added and placing phone calls to clients and prospective clients. She finished up her notes and closed the book on another day at the office.

      When she did, she found herself hoping Stevie Anning was safe for the night.

      An hour later, nervous but determined to be open and honest with Hunter, Delainey pulled into the Murphys’ long gravel driveway. She stopped outside the house to consider if she should go up the sweeping front steps to fetch Hunter. Her hands trembled, and she was glad she’d changed her mind about going to the diner.

      When she got home from work, she had found a bag on her kitchen table from Christina. “A thank-you dinner for two. Christina,” the note had said. Delainey had snatched out the bottle of wine and put in a thermos of hot tea. She’d collected a couple blankets so they could eat and talk in the car. Whatever Hunter had to say to her, she was sure she would be able to take it better without an audience of any kind.

      The front door to the house opened and Hunter emerged, so she could breathe a sigh of relief that she didn’t have to get out and test whether her legs could hold her up.

      Instead of getting in the passenger door, Hunter came around to the driver’s side. He was going to chicken out. Good—she didn’t want to do this, either. She opened the window.

      “Hunter?”

      Hunter leaned down until Delainey could see his face. He was close enough that she could have reached out and cupped the strong angle of his jaw with the palm of her hand. He was close enough that she could smell his shaving cream and soap, smooth with an edge of spice.

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