To stave off the idea, she called Hector, the lawyer who had handled James’s will. She described the situation at the school to him in dainty, unworried tones. Just if you have a couple minutes to chat. In case you have an opinion. Hector passed her to another lawyer, one who “handled cases like this.” Sylvie wanted to ask what he meant by that, but he quickly added, “I just handle tax law and estate planning, Mrs. Bates-McAllister.”
The second lawyer’s name was Ace. He sounded about nineteen years old. Uncomfortably, Sylvie explained what she knew all over again—that Scott had coached this boy, that there was a rumor floating around that the coaches might’ve been negligent or even encouraged the hazing. “Though I can’t imagine how,” she added. “Certainly the coaches wouldn’t be stupid enough to whisper terrible things into boys’ ears just to see if they’d do them. Boys look up to their coaches, sometimes even more than their parents.”
But then she looked down at her hands. She’d picked the skin on the side of her thumb clean off. Scott hadn’t used his power as a coach to turn these boys into monsters. Scott hadn’t put the hazing ideas into their malleable heads. She refused to believe it.
Ace the lawyer let out a long sigh and waited almost ten whole seconds before speaking again. “Well, if his parents choose to fault the school for negligence, your son might be called to answer questions since he works for the school. It seems like a hard thing to prove, unless, of course, one of the other boys confirms the rumor. If they discover evidence, they may be able to build a case against your son?that his influence led to this happening, that sort of thing.”
“There’s no evidence,” Sylvie said quickly. “Someone’s making this all up.”
Ace cleared his throat. “The boy that died … he was on scholarship, right?”
“Yes.”
“And Hector mentioned you’re the chairman of the school’s board of directors.”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “I’ve been on the board for years.”
“And Scott still lives at home. I understand both your grandfathers left quite the estates when they died. I’m so sorry about your husband, too, by the way.”
She sniffed out a thank you. Then, “Where are you going with this?”
“Well, when some people lose a loved one, they look for someone—or something—to blame,” Ace said. “Worse than that, they lose sight of what’s important. I’ve seen it more times than I want to admit. They just see dollar signs, especially if they think you’ll do anything to preserve your reputation.”
“I’m not asking these questions out of concern for money or for my reputation,” Sylvie spat. “I’ve called you because I don’t want my son to be implicated in something he had nothing to do with.”
“Come now, Mrs. Bates-McAllister,” Ace said softly. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to protect what’s yours.”
She bristled. What could some fresh-out-of-law-school upstart know about protecting what was hers? What could he possibly understand about reputation? He certainly spoke as if he was some kind of authority, and what kind of name was Ace, anyway? It was a cruel affront that Hector had passed her to someone like this.
“Have you spoken to Scott directly about this?” Ace asked.
“No,” she said automatically.
“Maybe you should.”
Sylvie wanted to laugh. Talk to Scott? When was the last time she’d done that? She felt their relationship was cursed before they even met. Even before the paperwork was finalized for Scott’s adoption, Sylvie’s mother, Clara, had shaken her bony finger from her cancer deathbed and asked Sylvie why on earth she wanted another boy. You’ll never be a good mother to two boys, she scolded. You’re too delicate. You take everything too personally. And she’d propped herself up on the mattress and added, And he’s mixed race? She made a pinched, worried face. Are you trying to be political or something?