Page 81 of The Surrogate Nanny
“I’ll pick up Daisy in the morning,” Anthony volunteered.
“I’m fine with that. Have a good night. Drive safe, y’all.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket as soon as they drove out of the gate.
Eliza:Something came up. I can’t get the kids this weekend.
Jonathan:K.
Chapter Two
Kierra
Sixteen lawyers.
I’d been turned down by sixteen lawyers, and with my track record, I’d probably be turned down by Lawyer #17 in a few minutes. They all told me it was impossible, and it wasn’t worth it. They all told me that Vance Oil was too big of a giant to take on without a guarantee of pay. If you asked me, they were sixteen pussies who didn’t give a damn about a widowed woman getting justice.
I’m tired. So…fucking tired. I don’t think I can make it to Lawyer #18. I’m sorry, Rory.
I wiped away a tear, waiting for my name to be called to meet with Jonathan Baker, Esquire. The online reviews were glowing, and he came highly recommended, but anyone with the title ‘esquire’ could not be trusted.Was I being judgmental? Yes, but I’ve been burned so many times by these so-called lawyers that I should be laid up in a burn unit. They’re shady con artists, weirdos, and bastards. I doubt my opinion will change.
I looked down when I felt something on my leg. Kiyah was driving her toy car down my thigh making vroom noises.
“Ms. Houston?” the receptionist called.
“Mrs. Houston,” I corrected, using my thumb to spin my wedding ring around my finger.
“I apologize, Mrs. Houston. Thank you for correcting me. Mr. Baker can see you now. You’ll go straight back and to the left. His door is open. Just go right in.”
“Thank you.” I paused to look at the gold nameplate on her desk. “Thank you, Ms. Cara.”
I kneeled to gather Kiyah’s toys that I failed to realize she scattered in the lobby and shoved them into her pink backpack. Being scatterbrained had become the norm lately. I had so much on my mind—grief, lawyers, money, doubt; you name it.
Get it together, Kierra.
I approached Jonathan Baker’s office with trepidation in my heart. I tried to hide my fear behind a practiced mask—the same mask I’d put on when people found out about my situation and told me, “Sorry for your loss” or “I’ll keep you in my prayers.”
My daughter can’t eat your prayers.
I paused and looked towards the ceiling. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I knew that God answered prayers, but it felt like mine had gotten lost in translation or were put on layaway until I built up enough Karma points. I needed a miracle.
I eventually made it to Jonathan’s office. I raised my fist to knock but caught myself watching him for a few seconds. He glared at the computer screen with his fist supporting his chin and his elbow on his desk. With a look like that, he had to be reviewing my case. He was probably wondering how he’d let me down easy.
I knocked, and the man behind the desk stood, giving me a bright smile.
He has an honest face and a nice smile. Let’s hope I’m right.
He tossed his glasses onto his desk and offered me his hand. “Good morning, Mrs. Houston. Thanks for coming in. I’m Jonathan Baker, and hopefully, I’ll be representing you.”
“Hi…um…thanks for meeting with me.”
I was a little thrown off by his welcoming greeting. The lawyers I’d met in the past hadn’t been so hospitable.
I was even more surprised when he crouched to the balls of his feet and greeted Kiyah.
“Hi, I’m Jonathan Baker. Who are you?”
Kiyah looked up at me, silently asking how she should proceed. She was always cautious around strangers.