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"You drew this up without speaking with the mother?"
"I . . . yes. I had been assured by my client that the mother agreed to all of it. Dawn was some distance away, living under the circumstances described. Mrs. Cutler assured me that the decision to give up the infant was one she, Dawn's mother and father, and Dawn herself thought best for all concerned."
"And the signature on this document?" the judge asked. Mr. Updike seemed uncomfortable in his seat now. He shifted, cleared his throat and spoke.
"Apparently it is forged."
"Forged?" The judge finally reacted to something. His eyebrows lifted slightly. "You didn't bother to compare it with samples, I assume?"
"I had no reason to be suspicious, Your Honor. I have been the Cutler family's attorney for quite a number of years row, and my experience has always been that Mrs. Cutler, especially, conducted her affairs with the utmost honesty and business acumen."
"Your Honor?" Felix Humbrick interrupted.
"Yes?"
"We have other samples of Dawn Cutler's signature here, and they match perfectly. It is our contention that it is not forged." He submitted the documents. The judge looked at them.
"Mr. Updike, I'm not a handwriting expert, but these do look quite similar." He handed the documents to our lawyer. Mr. Updike gazed at them and then took off his glasses, folded them and placed them in his upper pocket.
"Your Honor, I don't know how the forgery was committed, but I have no doubt that it was," he said.
"I see," Judge Powell replied. "Can you share your reasoning with us?"
Mr. Updike turned to look my way. He saw in my face that I wanted him to go on and do and say whatever was necessary for me to get Christie back.
"Your Honor, Mrs. Cutler recently passed away, at which time wills and other documents were unsealed. It was learned—painfully learned—that Dawn Cutler is not Mrs. Cutler's granddaughter."
Patricia Compton, who had been staring down throughout all this, lifted her head sharply and looked across the office at me with new interest.
"I see. Go on;" Judge Powell said.
"Apparently Dawn Cutler was Lillian Cutler's husband's child."
"You mean she is her daughter?"
"No, Your Honor."
"I see," Judge Powell said quickly. "You don't have to go into those details any further."
"I don't understand," Sanford Compton said angrily. "What does this base behavior have to do with anything?"
"Mr. Updike is suggesting another possible motive for the actions Mrs. Cutler took. There is a clear history of subterfuge and deception here. Miss Cutler," the judge said, turning to me. The moment he did, I felt my heart jump and the heat rise in my neck and face. "Do you deny signing this contract?"
"Yes, sir."
"What did you intend to do when your baby was born?" he asked softly.
"I don't know, Your Honor. I wanted my baby very much and was shocked to discover she had been given away."
"Mrs. Cutler didn't threaten you or advise you of the difficulties that lay ahead and as a result convince you to sign this document?"
"No, sir. I never saw Grandmother Cutler after I left New York to go to The Meadows."
"The Meadows?" He looked at Mr. Updike.
"Mrs. Cutler's sister's home."
"I see. So until you returned you had no knowledge of Mr. and Mrs. Compton?"
