Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary of Second Avenue
My apartment was four rooms on the third floor of a brick walk-up above a dry cleaner. It had radiator pipes that clanked in the morning, floors that sloped toward the radiator, and windows that rattled when the commuter trains rumbled through the junction three blocks over.
Yet the moment I closed the deadbolt behind us, it smelled of lavender soap, clean blankets, and peace.
I unbundled Maya from her snowsuit. She stretched her small arms, laughing aloud as I kissed her tummy. I placed her on the quilt in the living room and unpacked the four small gifts we had rescued from the house on the hill.
The board book. The stuffed bunny. The two mismatched wooden puzzles I had bought with money saved from skipping takeout lunches.
My phone rang. The screen flashed: *Sarah*.
I hesitated, then answered on speaker. "Sarah."
"Did you read it?" Sarah’s breath came in ragged gasps; she was sitting in her car, the engine idling.
"Every word," I said. "She was trying to declare Maya unfit. She was trying to steal grandfather's home."
"It's worse than that, Clara," Sarah said, her voice trembling. "After you left, she threw a glass against the hearth. She told Uncle David that you were mentally unstable, that you had post-partum psychosis, and that you snatched Maya away into a snowstorm without warm clothes. She's calling her lawyer right now. She’s going to file an emergency custody injunction tomorrow morning under the pretext of child endangerment."
A cold spike of adrenaline pierced through my exhaustion. "On Christmas Day?"
"Tomorrow is the day after. Courts have emergency duty judges," Sarah said. "Clara, she has money. She has the family lawyer, Richard Sterling. You have four days before the trust deadline on the thirty-first. If she ties you up in family court with an emergency order, the deadline will pass, and the property automatically defaults to the managing trustee: her."
"Why did Grandfather do this, Sarah? Why Hillcrest?"
Sarah paused, and when she spoke, her voice was thick with tears. "Because Grandfather knew what Mom was. When you got divorced, he asked Mom for your new address to send you an allowance. Mom told him you refused his charity out of spite. Grandfather didn't believe her. Before he died, he hired his own lawyer, not Sterling. He wanted to give you a fortress so Eleanor could never put her foot on your neck again."
I looked around my small, drafty apartment. Maya had rolled onto her stomach, batting at the red ribbon on the floor, perfectly content, completely oblivious to the war being waged over her cradle.
"Thank you, Sarah," I said steadily. "For telling me the truth."
"Clara... what are you going to do? Sterling is ruthless."
May you like
"Let him come," I said. "I am done playing defense."
***
