“You didn’t think I’d come in today, after I smelled defeat at the hands of that mean old jury?”
“No, it’s not that. But didn’t I just see you upstairs?”
“No. I haven’t been upstairs at all.”
Her back to Miss Pershing, Judy makes a face that says: Miss Pershing’s rope has come unclipped.
“That’s strange,” she mutters, shaking her head. “I could swear I just saw you sitting in the reception area.” She hobbles away, befuddled. I have a sharp sense of déjà vu. I see my mother, who would walk away exactly like Miss Pershing just did, when I used to pretend to be Angie. All of a sudden, it clicks. I jump out of my chair and fly out the door.
“Mary?” says Judy, after me.
“Be right back, pardner!”
And I’m gone, leaping up the stairs, two by two, until I reach the reception area. I see her, sitting by herself on a white sofa that has no support. She looks just like me, except that she has a pixie haircut. And a suitcase.
She rises to her feet when she sees me. “Hello, beautiful,” she says.
Acknowledgments
I think it was Chekhov or Tolstoy, one or the other, who said something about someone being the most extraordinary ordinary person he’d ever met. Such people exist, I know, because I’m friends with them, and I met many others in researching and writing this novel. In fact, I know so many of them by now that I’m quite sure they constitute the world’s sum total, and I worry that you are fresh out of luck.
The first such person is my agent, Linda Hayes of Columbia Literary Associates. It was Kermit the Frog-I’m on firmer ground here-who said something about the wonderful things that can happen when one whole person believes in you. Linda was the first one whole person (not related to me by blood or affection) to believe in me. She nurtured me, and this book, as if she had given birth to both of us. Linda is truly extraordinary. I am forever in her debt.
And she’s a great judge of character. She introduced me to Carolyn Marino, another extraordinary ordinary person, who became my editor at HarperCollins. Carolyn believed too, and I thank her for that. Also, while she appreciated what worked in the novel, she knew how to improve it. That she managed to tell me so, and for me still to find the editorial process so much fun, is a tribute to her grace, intelligence and sensitivity.
Thanks, too, to Chassie West, for her enormously valuable (and fun-to-read) suggestions.
I also met a number of extraordinary ordinary people in researching the book. There were good Catholics, mountain climbers, a priest, women’s health care providers, officers of my local police department and the Philadelphia Police Department, an ex-nun, an order of cloistered nuns, and Eileen at the Dusty Rhoads Gun Shop, who knows more about revolvers than anyone should. These people answered every question I had, carefully and without once checking their watches, and all I was to them was some lady with a legal pad. Thank you.
Finally, all my love and thanks to my family, the first whole people who believed, and to my daughter. To my very supportive friends-extraordinary ordinary people all-Rachel Kull, Judith Hill, Susan White, Laura Henrich, Franca Palumbo, and Jerry Hoffman. Special thanks to
About the Author
Lisa Scottoline is aNew York Times best-selling author and former trial lawyer. She has won the Edgar Award, the highest prize in suspense fiction, and the Distinguished Author Award, from the Weinberg Library of the University of Scranton. She has served as the Leo Goodwin Senior Professor of Law and Popular Culture at Nova Southeastern Law School, and her novels are used by bar associations for the ethical issues they present. Her books are published in over twenty languages. She lives with her family in the Philadelphia area and welcomes reader email at www.scottoline.com
