The young woman gave an almost imperceptible nod. “My stepmother was an alcoholic. She had been waiting for a bed in rehab. They told Dad to make sure she didn’t have access to lighters or matches. She’d started a fire once before when she was drinking. Our garage almost burned down. But that day Dad had found out that there was going to be a bed available for her in a place called Haven House.”
Now I could put the name into context. I remembered coverage of the story in the news: Gina Pearson had died in the fire that had gutted her home the previous December, just two weeks before Christmas. A barbecue lighter and a bottle of vodka had been found by her body.
“But wasn’t your stepmother’s death ruled an accident?” Rose asked, a frown creasing her forehead. “Why was your father charged with anything?”
Mallory played with the end of her long braid. “There was a witness. Our next-door neighbor who’s a retired judge, saw my dad at our house after the fire had started. He saw Dad walk away and . . . and he didn’t call 911. The police said he knew there was a chance that Gina was still inside . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence but she didn’t need to. The implication was that Mike Pearson had left his wife to die in that fire.
Mallory cleared her throat. “My father pled guilty. There was no trial. I know he only did that to spare my brothers and me. It was bad enough as it was.”
“What did your father say?” Charlotte asked. She kept her arm around the young woman’s shoulders. “How did he explain what happened?”
Mallory was already shaking her head. “That’s the thing. He didn’t. He’s never said anything about what happened.” Her chin came up and her gaze swept over us. “I know my dad. I know the kind of person he is. He wouldn’t have left Gina in that house if he’d known she was there. He wouldn’t have done that to anyone but especially not to her. She didn’t deserve him but that didn’t matter. He still loved her.”
Her mouth moved as though she were testing out what she wanted to say next. “Gina was fun before she started drinking. She was happy. She’d put on music and dance with us with that sparkly sort of look in her eyes and her hair swirling all around. Dad promised that he wouldn’t give up until she was that person again. He’s never made a promise he didn’t keep. You can ask anyone who knows him.”
“Mallory, where are you living right now?” Liz asked.
“Here, with our grandmother,” she said. “She used to live outside Washington—the city, not the state. She just came here to be with us. But she wants to move back there to give Greg and Austin, my brothers, a chance at a new start.”
She shifted to look at Charlotte. “Please, Mrs. Elliot. I won’t even be able to see Dad if we’re in Washington. He’ll die in that place and he shouldn’t even be there. Please.”
It was impossible not to feel for Mallory. Her family had been pulled apart. Why wouldn’t she want to save whatever she had left? I thought about my own dad. Technically, Peter Kennelly was my stepfather, but to me he was just Dad. And I was his child just as much as Liam was. If Dad were in prison, I would move heaven and earth to get him out.
Charlotte turned to face Mallory. “I can see how much you love your father,” she said. “I remember him when you were my student. He came to every parent-teacher night.”
“So you’ll help me?” Mallory asked. The hope etched on her face made my chest hurt.
“I have to talk to everyone else,” Charlotte said, her voice gentle. “I’m going to need a little time before I can give you an answer.”
Mallory’s face fell, but all she did was nod. She shifted her gaze to Rose and me. “Thank you for listening,” she said in a soft voice.
Charlotte walked her over to the front door. She gave Mallory a hug and the young woman left. Charlotte came back over to the three of us. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking. Her brown eyes were serious, but I couldn’t tell which way she was leaning. “So? What do you think?” she asked. “Should we take the case?”
“Yes,” Rose said, nodding her head.
Liz spoke at the same time. “No,” she said, shaking her head for emphasis.
I waited to see what Charlotte was going to say. Then I realized they were all looking at me.
Chapter 2
I held up both hands and shook my head. “Oh no,” I said. “I’m not getting in the middle of any debate between you and Liz because no matter what I say someone is going to be mad at me.”
Rose reached up and patted my cheek. “I could never be mad at you, sweet girl,” she said.
“Sucking up is not going to work,” I told her firmly.
She smoothed the front of her flowered apron, seemingly unperturbed that her attempt to win me over hadn’t worked. “Cookies would have worked,” she said.
“Well, you don’t have any cookies unless you’ve hidden a couple in your pocket,” Liz retorted. “And Sarah is far too smart to fall for any of your flattery.”
I looked at Charlotte, who was fighting a losing battle not to grin at the two of them. “Roll up your pant legs,” I said to her. “It’s too late to save your shoes.”
“Save her shoes from what?” Rose asked, looking at the floor.
“From all the bull you two are spreading around,” I said.
I saw the corners of Charlotte’s mouth twitch but she managed to keep her grin in check.
Rose caught one of my hands with her own two. “Sarah, we have to help that child after all she and her brothers have been through. The fact that Mike Pearson isn’t talking about what happened means he’s protecting his children. He shouldn’t be punished for that.”
“Or it means he’s guilty as charged,” Liz interjected.
“Why are you such a Negative Nelly,” Rose said, hands on her hips.
“And why do you have to be Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm?” Liz flicked a bit of lint off the sleeve of her yellow sweater.
It wasn’t the first time Rose and Liz disagreed about something and I was certain it was far from the last time. Somehow the fact that they didn’t always see eye to eye hadn’t hurt their friendship at all.
“Seeing the glass as half-full isn’t a bad thing, you know.” Rose was getting wound up now, color rising in her cheeks.
“There is no glass in this case,” Liz said firmly. “Just a man who got tired of being married to a drunk.”
Charlotte leaned her head against mine. “I didn’t really think it through when I asked you all to stay, did I?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
“Nope,” I said.
“And you’re going to remind me of this later, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
Liz and Rose were still arguing, although the conversation seemed to have taken a detour onto the subject of breakfast smoothies, of all things. Liz loathed smoothies unless they were made with ice cream and chocolate sauce, which as Rose liked to point out, were actually the ingredients for a chocolate milk shake. Whenever Rose and Liz got into a debate over something, the discussion tended to swerve off into the conversational ditch.
Rose was just about to say something else when Liz’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her purse, frowned at the screen and then held up one perfectly manicured hand. “I have to take this,” she said. She looked at all of us. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“You agree with me, don’t you, Sarah?” Rose asked after Liz had stepped away.
I shook my head. “I love you, but I’m not getting sucked into the middle of this.”
Rose turned to Charlotte. “I know you agree with me.”
“I’m not sure how I feel,” Charlotte said. “And more important, I’m not sure what we can do. How can we get Mallory’s father out of prison?”