The Living Room (39 page)

Amy swallowed. This time no glint in Mr. Phillips’s eye indicated any playfulness.

“Thank you very much,” she began. “Nothing business-related came up. If it had, I was ready—”

“Forget it,” Mr. Phillips said with a wave of his hand. “I’ve had second thoughts about trying to fence you in. All I ask is that you be extra careful. I trust you’ll know where to draw the line.”

“Yes, sir.” Amy hesitated. “There’s one other thing.”

“What? You already got what you wanted.”

“I wouldn’t feel right trying to get information informally from Ms. Burris about the Dominick litigation, either.”

“Who suggested that?” Mr. Phillips sat up straighter in his chair.

“Chris mentioned it. He didn’t think there would be a conflict of interest, because Ms. Burris is no longer a client of the firm; or improper contact with an opposing party, because she’s not named in the litigation.”

“Hmm, he has a point,” Mr. Phillips said.

Amy held her breath and waited.

“But I don’t like it. If we want to ask Mildred anything about Sonny Dominick, it needs to be in a deposition where she can have counsel present to represent her if she chooses to do so.”

“Thanks. I know Chris may bring it up this afternoon, and I didn’t want it to look like I went behind his back.”

“Even though you did?”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“I don’t expect you to be a lawyer,” Mr. Phillips interrupted, “but
you’ll be a better assistant if you speak your mind and let me decide what I think about it.”

Amy’s door was closed when Chris arrived for his meeting with Mr. Phillips. A few minutes before 5:00 p.m., Mr. Phillips returned some of Chris’s files to her office and placed them on her desk.

“The thirty-four-minute dictation piece I just sent you covers the cases I went over with Chris. I’d like that on my desk first thing in the morning.”

Amy glanced at the clock on her computer. It would take at least an hour and a half to transcribe that much dictation.

“Is it okay if I come in early in the morning?” she asked. “I won’t be able to finish today.”

“Whatever it takes. Oh, and I talked to Chris briefly about Mildred Burris. As I told you earlier, you can see her if you like, but steer clear of all topics directly or tangentially related to the Dominick matter.”

Amy wasn’t exactly sure what topics would be tangentially related to the Dominick estate but didn’t want to say something that might prompt Mr. Phillips to revoke his permission.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Amy stayed a half hour past her normal quitting time to make up for her extra-long lunch break and to get as much of the dictation complete as possible. Mr. Phillips’s ability to quickly grasp the status of a case and order next steps was impressive. It looked like Chris would be working more, not less.

On her way home, Amy called Jeff and asked him to bring Chinese takeout for supper.

“What does Megan want?” Jeff asked.

“The sesame chicken.”

“I thought she liked Mongolian beef.”

“That was three months ago. Everyone else gets the usual.”

“How do you know I haven’t expanded my culinary horizons?” Jeff asked.

“Go ahead, but before supper is over, I bet you’ll wish you’d stuck with the sweet-and-sour pork.”

Amy beat Jeff to the house. Neither Megan nor Ian was in sight when she came in through the kitchen.

“Megan! Ian!” she called up the stairwell.

“I’m in my room!” Ian responded through the open door.

Amy waited, but there was no answer from Megan. She climbed the stairs. The door to Megan’s room was closed. Amy tapped the door with her knuckles.

“Megan? Are you in there?”

Amy tried the doorknob. It was locked. She knocked more loudly.

“Megan! Are you asleep?”

Still no answer. Amy stepped down the hall to Ian’s room. He was sitting in the middle of the floor building a spaceship. He balanced the spaceship against his cast while he placed another piece in position.

“Where’s Megan?” Amy asked. “She didn’t tell me she wasn’t going to be home or leave a note.”

“I don’t know,” Ian said. “As soon as she got here, she went to her room. I think she was feeling kind of sick.”

Amy returned to Megan’s room and banged on the door with her fist. No answer. Beginning to panic, Amy shook the doorknob. The door could be opened by inserting a nail into a small hole. Amy ran downstairs to the garage. Jeff kept different sizes of nails and screws in tiny bins above his workbench. She grabbed a couple of nails and raced back up the stairs. She tried to keep her mind from imagining something horrible. Her fingers trembled slightly as she inserted a nail into the hole and pushed until it clicked. She threw open the door.

Megan was lying on her back on top of the covers. Her head was tilted slightly to the side, and her mouth was open. Amy rushed up to her and shook her shoulders. Megan moaned.

“What’s wrong?” Amy asked.

Megan’s eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened. She moved her arms and yawned.

“Huh?” she said.

“Are you sick? Didn’t you hear me knock on the door?”

Megan blinked her eyes a few more times.

“No. I passed out as soon as I got home. I was exhausted.”

“But you never sleep that soundly, not even in the middle of the night.”

Megan rubbed her eyes and tried to sit up but collapsed on the pillow. Amy felt Megan’s forehead, but there was no sign of fever. Megan made another effort to sit up. Amy helped her, and she swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Why are you so tired?” Amy asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m awake now. And I’m thirsty.”

“Do you want me to bring you some water?”

“Yeah.”

Amy left the room and raced to the kitchen. She was filling a glass with ice water when Jeff came in.

“Something’s wrong with Megan!” Amy said. “She went to sleep when she got home from school, and I had trouble waking her up.”

“Does she hurt anywhere or have a fever?”

“I’m not sure about pain, but she didn’t feel hot.”

Jeff placed the bag from the Chinese restaurant on the counter and accompanied Amy upstairs.

“Hey, Dad,” Ian said when they passed his room.

“Hi, son.”

Megan was lying down with her head on her pillow. She looked much the same as she did when Amy first opened the door.

“I had to unlock the door from the outside,” Amy said. “She didn’t hear when I knocked.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jeff said, walking over to the bed and sitting down. “Wake up.”

Megan opened her eyes, saw Jeff, and smiled. He put his arm behind her back and helped her sit up.

“I brought you a glass of water,” Amy said.

Megan reached for the glass. Amy steadied it so Megan could
take a sip. Megan opened her eyes wider and took another sip. She took the glass from Amy and had a third drink.

“I don’t know why I woke up so thirsty,” she said. “What would cause that?”

“Diabetes,” Amy blurted out.

“Diabetes?” Jeff asked in surprise.

“I don’t know,” Amy said. “But I remember my aunt Lacy was thirsty all the time before they diagnosed type 2 diabetes. They found her one afternoon passed out at the house. She was almost in a diabetic coma.”

“I wasn’t in a coma,” Megan replied in a stronger voice. “I was asleep.”

“Maybe, but it wasn’t a normal afternoon nap,” Amy said. “I’m going to schedule an appointment for you with Dr. Simmons.”

“I’m not sick.”

“You’re going to the doctor,” Jeff said. “No debate.”

Megan stumbled downstairs. She began to revive as she ate supper. Amy watched her closely. By the time they finished eating, she seemed normal.

“I’m going to do my homework and go to bed early,” she said with a yawn. “But I really don’t think I need to go to the doctor.”

“Are you sick?” Ian asked.

“No.”

“Then why do you have to go to the doctor?”

“Dad and Mom are making me.”

“That’s right,” Jeff said. “Which means you don’t have to worry about the decision.”

“I’ll try to make the appointment as soon as school gets out,” Amy said. “That way you won’t have to miss any classes.”

“I wouldn’t mind missing sixth-period Earth Science. It’s like something Ian would take. I always have trouble staying awake in that class.”

Amy checked on Megan twice after supper. Both times she was sitting at the desk in her room doing schoolwork. On school nights,
Megan usually went to bed around 10:00 p.m. When the clock passed 9:30 p.m. and she was still awake, Amy knocked on the door frame.

“I thought you were going to sleep early.”

“No, I’m not that tired. I guess the nap I took this afternoon kicked in.”

Amy went downstairs to the family room where Jeff was in front of the computer and told him what Megan said.

“Maybe she doesn’t need to go to the doctor,” Amy said. “She seems okay now.”

“She wasn’t when we got home. And if you’re right about the possibility of diabetes, then something she ate may have equalized her system and caused her to perk up. I’ve been reading about the common symptoms of diabetes online. One is excessive thirst. She definitely had that. Did she have to go to the bathroom a lot today?”

“I didn’t ask her, but I did hear her door open and close a few times after supper.”

“And you saw how much she ate tonight. An increased appetite is another indication of a problem.”

“Yeah, we know she loves Chinese food, but it won’t hurt to get her checked out. I have to go into the office early in the morning to finish a memo Mr. Phillips dictated so I won’t have to use more than an hour or two of sick time to take her to the doctor.”

Jeff turned back to the computer. Amy wanted to tell him about the luncheon with Natalie and Ms. Burris, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere. Amy left him and climbed the stairs to the writing room. However, instead of working on
Deeds
of
Darkness
, she opened her journal and wrote an entry about the simple yet profound affirmation given to her by Ms. Burris. A wounded place in her heart had received a measure of healing.

The following morning Megan didn’t exhibit anything except typical teenage grogginess and irritability.

The parking lot for the law firm was deserted when Amy arrived
shortly after 7:00 a.m. She punched in the code to disarm the security system. The firm had long ago replaced the old key lock with an electronic system.

The mansion seemed especially large, old, and creaky when no one else was there. Glad it was daylight, Amy pushed away her fears and went into her office. Without distractions she hoped she could finish the dictation and leave plenty of time to organize Mr. Phillips’s mail before he arrived. She was typing at a rapid pace when an unexpected sound at her doorway startled her. It was Chris.

“You almost gave me a heart attack!” Amy said. “Why did you sneak up on me like that?”

“I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I saw your car in the lot and wanted to see what brought you in so early.”

“Mr. Phillips wants me to finish a memo he dictated yesterday after he met with you. Basically, he’s outlining what he wants you to do in several cases and who you’re to report to about them.”

“That’s a relief. During our meeting it seemed like he was asking me questions so he could pass the cases off to someone else when I was fired.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Okay. I’ll look forward to getting it.”

Amy waited for Chris to move on, but the young lawyer stayed put.

“Is there anything else?” Amy asked.

“Not for me. But when I told Laura you had a dream about Michael Baldwin, she made me promise that I would ask you to tell me anything you see or hear about me or my cases.”

“How much did you tell her about the Westside Lighting case?” Amy asked. “That information is confidential.”