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“What is it that you want?” he asks.
“That’s obvious. For your clients to drop the case and confess their behavior to Dwayde. Did you listen to the recording?”
“Some of it. But you and I both know that convicted felons and drug addicts aren’t very credible witnesses.”
“Generally, that’s true. And if that’s all I had I might be worried. But your plan to intimidate me by having your clients here, backfired. Not only do I have a recorded version of Joyce’s account, I have a confirmed confession from Mrs. Franklin. What they did to their daughter is unthinkable. They are not fit to have custody. You heard that for yourself. The question is what are you going to do? Continue this charade and let Franklin lie in court under sworn testimony? Put your career on the line for him?”
Beads of sweat break out across his unnaturally smooth forehead. “I don’t believe what I heard today was credible. Mrs. Franklin is under enormous stress.”
“Hm. Seems to me a woman whom you and Franklin say isconfused,not well,highly susceptible, andunder enormous stress, wouldn’t be an ideal candidate for gaining custody of a twelve-year-old boy in need of support and stability.”
“You’re twisting our words.”
“I repeated them verbatim.”
Backed into a corner, he can keep fighting or negotiate. He chooses the latter. “Hypothetically speaking, if my clients were to drop the case, what are you offering?”
“Not to expose their sham of a reputation.”
“That isn’t what I meant.” He sighs. “Hypothetically, I might be able to convince them, if the Torreses decline pursuing adoption so that their grandson retains his identity as a Franklin. And if you were to offer visitation with the boy…we could start with monthly weekend visits in Kentucky.”
“Hypothetically or otherwise, Dwayde and his guardians won’t agree to any of that. However, if your clients come clean and admit the truth, perhaps in time, there might be an opportunity to have some form of contact.”
“Ms. Chase…” he drawls, “you’re asking for the universe without giving anything in return. Let’s be reasonable, Charles Franklin hasn’t even admitted to these allegations.”
“That’s the problem. He continues to put his self-interests first. Dwayde is not some trophy of male pride for Franklin to own and flaunt. If he truly cares about his grandson’s well-being, he will own his mistakes with remorse and compassion. If he can’t do that, there’s no basis from which to start.”
“That sounds all very well and good from your side. However, on the presumption that it’s true, which again is hypothetical, that kind of admission would be costly to Mr. Franklin. He runs a well-known and highly respectable business. He has put his life’s work into building a legacy, one that will benefit his grandson as heir to Franklin Farms. His reputation and status in the community are paramount to him.”
“Then he should appreciate that a scandal could destroy it. That’s why your clients sent Alden away, to avoid a massive stain on their reputation. What do you think will happen if they pursue custody and their filthy secrets become a matter of public record? Even with Franklin’s denial, there will be speculation, doubt, people will put it together and see your clients aren’t so squeaky clean after all. I’m giving him the chance to do right by Dwayde and still keep his reputation.”
“You’re offering a one-sided deal.”
“I’m offering way more than the Franklins deserve.”
Tension strains the vein between his impeccably trimmed eyebrows.
“Seems you and your clients have some talking to do, Mr. Jackson.”
ChapterThirty
Dee
The house is decorated withballoons. Pulled pork tacos and pepperoni pizza are being served. Dwayde’s picks. Mason is strapped into a booster seat, squishing up baby crackers in his chubby fists and sticking them in his mouth. Laughter and animated chatter fill Mama T’s kitchen.
This isn’t just any Sunday brunch.
It’s a celebration.
The Franklins had withdrawn their custody petition soon after that fateful meeting, two months ago. The right decision for the wrong reason. When it came down to it, Franklin chose to maintain his innocence and honor the fraud of his reputation. As for Joan Franklin, she’d stood by her man. Neither of them had taken responsibility. They hadn’t owned up to their mistakes or tried to unburden Dwayde. But they had forever lost the child on whom their moral crimes are based. I suppose, in that, there’s poetic justice.
Dwayde has been through so much, but with counseling and the love of family, he’s doing okay. Better than okay now that the adoption has been finalized.
Before we eat, Victor calls for everyone’s attention. “I’ve never been a particularly religious man,” he says, choking up. “But I believe fate or some higher power put Dwayde in our path. He was meant for us,meant to come into our lives and be part of this family. And for that, we are truly blessed. To Dwayde Torres!” Victor raises his bottle of Coke, his smile spreading white and wide across his handsome face. “Our son. And to my incredible sister, Dee, who was also fated to us. Thank you for fighting like hell to make it all official. We are beyond grateful. We love you both.”
Enthusiastic shouts and applause ring out around the table. Mick squeezes my knee. Dwayde grins from ear-to-ear. Isabelle’s eyes are joyfully misty and Mama T’s wholesome face flushes with happiness. I knuckle away my own tears and turn to hug Dwayde. This is my world, my family. A lost treasure, found.
“You did it, Counselor!” Mick says, pulling me into his arms when we find a moment alone after brunch.
