Page 20 of This Could Be Us
The aroma of food and our insistent nudging coaxes Inez to finally leave her room and join us. I’m so glad to see signs of life, I don’t even complain when they bring their phones to the table. Inez playsAnimal Crossing. Lottie sticks her headphones in and bobs to whatever song is playing. Lupe scrolls across social media. Foot pulled up to rest on the stool, she absently bites her sandwich every few swipes of her screen.
“Oh, my God.” Her eyes go rounder, fixed on her phone. “Did Daddy steal six million dollars?”
“What?” I ask, snapping my head up.
“Somebody posted it on Facebook.” She bounces a glance between me and the screen. “There’s all these comments about how he deserves what’s coming to him and—”
“Gimme.” I hold out my hand, nodding to the phone. “We’re not reading that.”
“But, Mom,” Inez says. “Why are they saying—”
“Give me your phones.” I slide the fruit bowl to the middle of the counter. “All of you put ’em in here till we finish lunch.”
“Seriously?” Inez groans, but drops her phone between a banana and an apple.
Lottie and Lupe follow suit.
“Has Dad called?” Lupe demands. “Do we know—”
“No and no to whatever you were gonna ask,” I say, walking the fruit bowl into the dining room and placing it on the table. “I haven’t talked to your father yet. He’ll call as soon as he can. The lawyer says the arraignment should be tomorrow. That’s all I know as of now.”
I’m on my way back to the kitchen when an unknown number flashes on my phone with a text.
Soledad, we need to talk.
It could be a reporter. A few have called the house line today.
Me:Who is this?
Unknown Caller:Judah Cross.
I pause by the counter, pressing the phone to my chest in case my daughters see me chatting with public enemy number one.
“Don’t touch that fruit bowl,” I admonish, speed walking down the hall to the powder room and dialing the number. “Be right back.”
I close the door and take a seat on the closed toilet.
“How did you get this number?” I hiss into the phone.
“Employee records,” Judah replies, his deep voice clear and calm. “You’re in Edward’s.”
“What do you want?”
“Like I said, we need to talk.”
“Then talk.”
“I’d prefer in person.”
“Well, I can’t leave my house, thanks to you.”
The silence following my biting words lengthens.
“If you think this is my fault,” he replies after a few moments, “we have more to discuss than I thought we did. I’m around the corner. I saw the news trucks out front. How should we do this?”
“You could come through the back, but I…” The girls’ muted conversation reaches me from the kitchen. “I don’t want my daughters to see you. There’s a shed behind the house. I’ll leave the back gate unlocked. Meet me in there.”
“See you in five.”