Aftertaste - Meredith Mileti [54]
And so, Jerry has arrived at Grappa one step ahead of the sheriff, in an attempt to spare me the ignominy of another public arrest. “In situations like this, where potential for imminent harm is alleged, they arrest first and hold the hearing after. When I received service of the petition this morning, I called a friend at the sheriff’s office and asked them to let you turn yourself in voluntarily. We have until two this afternoon to get you down there. If you do this voluntarily, it will also help us get lower bail.”
“Jerry, how could this be happening? What am I supposed to do about Chloe?”
“My partner Martin is meeting us at the courthouse. He’s already working on an answer to the petition. If you come voluntarily, and things go as I expect, we can post bail and get you back home by dinnertime.”
Once we are both safely seated in the back of the Lincoln Town Car Jerry’s firm sent, Jerry pours two scotches.
“Drink this. It’ll take the edge off,” he tells me, handing me one of the cut crystal tumblers, then taking a hefty swig himself.
Nothing short of a lobotomy, however, could have taken the edge off arriving at the courthouse, where, for the second time in three months, I’m fingerprinted, photographed, and asked to post bail, which I’m granted, but only on the condition that I not come within two hundred yards of Jake, Nicola, their residence, or their place of work. I’m banished from my own restaurant, at least until the parole revocation hearing, scheduled for December the twenty-third.
In the two weeks since the bail hearing, Jerry’s partner, Martin, the criminal attorney who will take the lead in defending me, has been calling me regularly with lists of things I should do to help prepare my case. One of my primary assignments has been to round up character witnesses, people who are willing to testify that I am, in fact, a reasonable woman, kind, friendly, a good mother. I’ve asked Renata and Hope and, to my surprise and gratitude, Tony has also volunteered to testify on my behalf, a risky move given the fact that allegiance to Jake, or at least not offending him, would be a much safer bet for his future livelihood. Although touched, I tell Tony that I can’t accept his offer and that he best keep his head down in this conflict.
Yesterday’s “to do” list, which I’m just getting around to fulfilling, was to find a witness from Chloe’s day care to testify about my good parenting skills. I spent the better part of yesterday blanching at the idea, but because my legal team has managed to convince me of the seriousness of the charges I’m facing, I’ve agreed to do it. It is the thought of this loathsome task that has me awake and crying in the predawn gloom, waiting until a little bit before seven when I know that Chloe’s teacher, Lucy, will arrive at the day care. I’m steeling myself to disclose the entire sordid story and convince her that she should help me. I should be embarrassed, but at this point embarrassment seems a strange and distant emotion, a luxury I can no longer afford.
Martin has told me that we have no defense to the charges that I’m technically in contempt—I cannot deny making the statement I made, and my fingerprints are all over the letter opener. We will plead nolo contendere to the charges and focus on the fact that, while perhaps a technical violation, there was never any serious threat to Jake or Nicola. In addition, we must develop a proposal to convince the court that I’m in no position to cause them any further harm. Martin and Jerry want me to agree to exile myself—to voluntarily leave the city for at least the next six months. They assure me that given a choice between jail and Pittsburgh, I should choose the latter.
I don’t like Martin, and I’m not sure how much I should trust him. The best assurance he can give me is that even if the judge fails to suspend