Look Again - Lisa Scottoline [21]
I have the only happy courtroom in the entire court house.
It gladdened her to remember that day, holding baby Will in her arms, her first day as a mother. She read the decree again. “The needs and welfare of ADOPTEE will be promoted by approval of this adoption and all requirements of the Adoption Act have been met.” So her adoption was a done deal, and it was closed, meaning that she didn’t know the identity of the birth mother and father. They had consented to relinquish their parental rights, and their written consent forms had been submitted to the court by Ellen’s lawyer, as part of the adoption papers. The lawyer’s name and address were at the bottom of the page:
Karen Batz, Esq.
Ellen remembered Karen well. Her office was in Ardmore, fifteen minutes away, and she had been a smart, competent family lawyer who had guided her through the adoption process without overcharging her, the thirty-thousand-dollar fee in line with a standard private adoption. Karen had told her that the birth mother was thrilled to find someone with the desire and the means to care for such a sick child, and that taking a sick baby would be her best chance to adopt as a single mother. Even the judge had commented on the unusual facts of the case:
It was a stroke of luck, for all concerned.
The paperwork had been completed without a hitch, and Ellen became responsible for Will’s medical expenses to the tune of $28,000 and change, but the hospital permitted her to pay in installments. She had just paid off the last penny, and in the end, she got Will, safe and sound, and they became a family.
She sighed happily, closed the file, and put it away behind the others. She shut the file drawer, but stood there, lost in thought for a minute. On the wall over the cabinets hung a Gauguin poster she’d had framed, and she found herself staring at it, the tropical blues and greens blurring her thoughts. The house was quiet. The wind whistled outside. The radiator knocked faintly. The cat was probably purring. Everything was fine.
Still, she was thinking about her lawyer.
Chapter Sixteen
The next morning, Ellen’s wardrobe was back on autopilot, and she slipped a down coat over her jeans-sweater-clogs trifecta. Her hair was still wet from the shower, her eye makeup only perfunctory. She felt raw and tired, gone sleepless after a night of quality dwelling.
“You’re leaving early?” Connie asked, shedding her coat by the closet. Bright sunlight shone through the window in the door, warming the living room.
“Yes, I have tons of work,” Ellen lied, then wondered why. “He didn’t have a fever this morning but he slept badly. I still wouldn’t send him to school.”
“We’ll take it easy.”
“Good, thanks.” Ellen kept her back turned, grabbed her bag and the manila envelope, then opened the door. “I told him good-bye. He’s playing in bed with his Legos.”
“Ouch.”
“I know, right?”
“Looks like the snow’s holding off,” Connie said, cheery.
“See you, thanks.” Ellen went to the door and left, catching a glimpse of the babysitter’s puzzled expression through the window, then she pulled her coat tighter and hit the cold air, hustling across the porch and toward the car.
Ten minutes later, she reached the two-story brick building behind Suburban Square and pulled up at the curb in front of the sign that read PROFESSIONAL BUILDING. She’d called Karen Batz’s office from her cell phone this morning, but no voice mail had picked up, so she’d decided to drop in. It was on the way to the city, and she was hoping Karen would see her. Even a feature reporter knows when to be pushy.
Ellen grabbed her bag and the envelope and got out of the car. She walked down the walkway and went inside the blue door, which they kept unlocked. There was a colonial-style entrance hall with a hunting-scene umbrella