“That isn’t how lawyers work. Lincoln Sutter will expect to be paid for his time.
“It’s how this lawyer works.”
“Reno—”
He set both hands flat on the counter. “If you want a retainer agreement, I’ll draw one up tonight. For one dollar. If you’ll feel better once you’ve argued about it, I’ll let you argue. But my answer at the end of the argument is going to be the same, which is this costs you nothing.”
She looked at him quizzically. “Why?”
He took a deep breath. “Because three years ago I made a wrong call on a case that cost a family everything. I didn’t know it until this lawsuit came along, but I’ve been waiting for a case to take that means something. Where I can save a family everything.”
“And more importantly,” he said slowly, “because it’s you. Even if the Perry case had never happened, I would do this for you.”
But the Perry case had happened, and she knew what it had cost him to come back to the law after it. And he’d paid that price for her.
“All right,” she said quietly. “A dollar retainer.”
“Done.”
“In writing. Tonight.”
“You’ve got it,” he replied.
Grace and Mary closed the shop at three. Mary wiped down the counters, turned the chairs up, and mopped the floor while Grace counted the till. Then Grace made them each cups of chamomile tea because it was soothing, and she suspected one or both of them would need soothing before this conversation was over.
Across the street, she could see Reno’s silhouette bending over the Mustang. His presence nearby was comforting. If this went badly, he’d be here to pick up the pieces of her and put her back together.
She and Mary sat down on the stools behind the front counter.
Mary told Grace about Sunday dinners at her mother’s house. How her sister asked questions about her work that Mary thought were just interest in her. How she hadn’t realized the information she’d given her sister had to have been used to harass Grace until after the intruder tried to get in the back door.
Mary told her about a notebook she’d found under the passenger seat of her sister’s car with a list of times in it that corresponded to Grace’s daily schedule—when the store opened and closed, when she dropped off and picked up Lily, when she got up in the morning and went to bed at night.
She told Grace about finding Tara Marchand’s name in her sister’s phone log, the dates always one day before something bad happened to Grace. And she talked about feeling trapped. She loved Grace and loved her job, but her mother and sister would never forgive her if her sister got into trouble with the law because Mary turned her in.
When Mary finished, Grace said gently, “Thank you for telling me.”
“Are you going to fire me?”
“I already told you I wouldn’t. I meant it.”
Mary started to cry, and Grace put an arm around her. Mary leaned into it, and they sat there together until Mary finished crying.
“Mary, I need you to tell Cooper what you just told me. He’s a good man. He’ll keep your sister’s name as quiet as he can for as long as he can.”
“He’ll arrest her.”
“He may have to. But he won’t take pleasure in it, and he won’t make a parade of it through Apple Pie Creek. I’ll go with you to talk with him if you want me to.”
Mary thought about it for a moment. “Okay.”
“Thank you, Mary.”
They sat for another minute. Across the street, the auto shop went dark.
“Go home,” Grace said. “Sleep. Or try to sleep. Come in when you wake up tomorrow without an alarm clock.”
Mary nodded, wiped her face with her hands, and left.
