“If that’s what it takes to take care of Ronni, then I guess I do,” she snapped.
Paul said, “There are several alternative dispute resolutions available to us: mediation, arbitration, neutral evaluation, a settlement conference. . . . No one wants this to go to trial.”
“I’m happy to go to trial,” Lisa retorted. “Jeff and Kim are the ones afraid of a trial. They don’t want to expose all their dirty little secrets.”
Paul pressed his lips together for a moment. “Everyone has aspects of their life they’d rather weren’t dragged into the open.”
“I don’t. I mean, nothing that’s relevant to what happened to Ronni that night.”
“Lawyers have a way of twisting things to make them relevant,” Paul admitted.
Allan made some worried noise that Lisa ignored. “Jeff and Kim have never accepted responsibility for what happened. They’ve never apologized to Ronni. . . . They think they can buy their way out of this, but I won’t let them.”
Paul picked up the papers “All right. I’ll call Candace Sugarman. I’ll tell her where you stand.”
“Three million.” Lisa stood, preparing to leave. “Or we go to trial.”
ALLAN WAS QUIET as they walked back to his truck. They’d parked on a side street, a few blocks away, giving them ample time to stroll in tense silence. Finally, Lisa addressed the palpable hostility. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She considered letting it go. Being a hard-ass was not her true nature and she found it taxing. But Allan was clearly upset, and she didn’t want to fall out with him right now. He was her only support system in this mess—unless you counted Yeva and the yoga crew who thought Lisa could breathe her way out the other side. She didn’t have the energy to fight Kim and Jeff, and her boyfriend, too. She touched his arm. “You’re upset. Talk to me.”
Allan stopped walking and turned to her. “Eight hundred and fifty grand is not enough money for you?”
“It’s not for me. It’s for Ronni.”
“You act like Ronni will never have a job, never go to school, never be anything but the victim of this fucking accident.”
Lisa was getting riled, but she maintained her composure. “I hope Ronni will go on to have a happy and productive life. I hope this will be nothing but a bad memory one day—but what if it’s not? What if she’ll never be the same Ronni she was? That’s the eventuality I have to deal with.”
“But you got a bunch of money when your parents died. You said it was the worst thing that could have happened to you.”
“That was different. I was alone! I had no one to guide me! Ronni will have me. We’ll invest the money so that she can start a business one day, or travel, or whatever she wants to do when she’s older. I’m not going to let her blow it on drugs and partying.”
Allan was quiet, and Lisa could see him absorbing her viewpoint. “So this isn’t about trying to ruin Kim and Jeff?”
“I want them to hurt,” Lisa said, her voice cold, dispassionate. “I want them to feel at least a little of the pain Ronni is feeling. But no . . . it’s not about ruining them. It’s about my daughter.”
Allan was softening, she could see it in his shoulders, in his downcast eyes. “When we met, you said your life goal was compassion. For everything and everyone . . .”
“When we met, I was high on pot brownies.”
Allan couldn’t help but chuckle. “That was a great vegan potluck.”
“Remember the red lentil dal? So good.”
Still laughing, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. “Sorry if I’m not being supportive. It’s just that . . . eight fifty seems like a lot of money to me.”
“It is a lot of money. . . . But it’s not enough to guarantee Ronni’s future.”
“You’re right. Not in this economy.”
“And it’s a drop in the bucket to Jeff Sanders. I mean, Kim doesn’t even work. She could skip a spin class and get a job.” Anger had crept into her voice, and she felt Allan’s arms loosen around her. She took a step back and looked at him.
“I’m not a horrible person, Allan. I’m a mother. If you had a child—a child who had been hurt badly—you’d know how I feel. But you don’t.”
His expression was unreadable. Lisa didn’t know if she had hurt, offended, or finally gotten through to him. But he moved forward, reached out for her . . . “You’re right. I don’t know what you’re going through.”
Lisa melted into him. She was strong and independent, she’d had to be, but she couldn’t deny how nice it was to have someone in her corner. Allan was a good guy. And his strong, lean body was so comforting, his large hands stroking her back so tender and loving. . . . She felt like she might cry.
“Want to go back to my place for a bit?” he said.
That’s when she noticed it: the pressure on her thigh. Allan was aroused. She’d thought he was holding her to be caring and supportive, but he was turned on. She felt oddly repulsed. She pulled away from him. “I should get home.”
“It’s been so long, babe.”
“I know, but I won’t be able to relax with Ronni home alone.”
“She’ll be fine for half an hour.”
Lisa looked at Allan and saw the desire in his eyes. The first months of their relationship had been so sexual, so exciting and intense, but since the accident, things had shifted. Lisa hadn’t felt amorous, in fact, sex had become distasteful. She only wanted to be comforted, to be held . . . and Allan had obliged. He had stood by her—he had more than stood by her, he had been her rock—through the whole mess. She owed him the romp of his life.
Lisa smiled and bit her lip. “I’ll give you twenty minutes.”
hannah
SIXTY DAYS AFTER
Hannah stood on the sidewalk across from Ronni’s apartment building, summoning the courage to cross the street. She was skipping her morning classes—foods and English—but she knew she’d have Mrs. Pittwell’s blessing. The counselor could explain to Hannah’s teachers that she had gone on a mission of mercy, a task far more important than discussing Atticus Finch, morality personified, or baking banana muffins. Even Hannah’s mom seemed to have had a change of heart regarding Hannah and Ronni’s friendship. Or at least that’s what Hannah presumed from her mom’s cryptic text: Do what you think is right. . . . Was Kim finally willing to loosen the reins and let her eldest explore independent thought? Hannah was going with that.