17
Christine chattered away while I was only half listening.
She kept saying, “You’re doing the right thing, seriously. And Declan is brilliant. He’ll be perfect for this, believe me.”
In the wake of my nightmarish weekend, Christine had jumped all over my split-second concession to her idea of seeking redress from the Coopers. But my initial urge for revenge on Friday morning in the wake of Rosie’s trauma was by now already fading, and doubt was creeping in.
Which was why Christine was determined to have me pay a visit to her cousin at his office first thing this morning, before dropping me off at Nolan’s garage to pick up my car. She wasn’t going to give me any time to talk myself out of this.
And I started to wonder, as I sat quietly in the car, if this was Christine’s cross to bear or mine.
Thankfully (I think), I didn’t have too much time to ponder that line of inquiry because before I knew it we were pulling into a small row of offices in Glencree.
Christine’s cousin worked in the same town as I did? The way she’d talked about him, I’d assumed he was with some big-shot Dublin solicitor’s practice.
And I wasn’t sure if this made me feel more worried or at ease.
“OK, Kate. Here we are,” she cooed, as if she was trying to wake a baby out of a peaceful slumber. I looked at her with cautious eyes and realized my stomach felt tied in knots. Was I really going to do this?
“I thought you said you didn’t make an appointment. What if your cousin isn’t here this morning? Or busy or something?” I secretly hoped that maybe the guy had decided to go off on holiday. To the moon, even.
Christine waved this objection away as she climbed out of the car. “He’ll have time for us. Don’t worry about that.”
I grimaced. I wasn’t worried—it was actually just a secret hope. I had a feeling that I already had taken this too far.
Getting out of the car, I glanced around, feeling as if I was doing something wrong or dirty, even. What if someone from Knockroe, or work, saw me going into a solicitor’s office? It wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together and come up with a conclusion.
Somebody’s getting sued.
And word traveled fast in these parts, where everyone seemed to know everyone, even in neighboring towns.
I pulled my jacket up around my neck as if trying to fold into myself. My hand fished around in my bag for a pair of sunglasses and, when I found them, I pushed them onto my face without hesitation.
“Are you coming?” Christine called to me. It was then that I realized that I had been glued to one spot—my feet felt like they were encased in lead. I wondered if my expression was giving away my hesitation. Did I look like a deer caught in the headlights?
“Right. Yes. Coming,” I mumbled in response as I willed myself forward, one foot at a time. My heart was racing.
Calm down. You haven’t committed to anything. You are just here to talk. Explore options. That’s all. Just an introduction and a quick chat with Christine’s cousin and then she’ll take you back to the hospital to Rosie.
Thinking of my daughter and picturing her little face swallowed up by the ventilator mask finally gave me the same sense of resolution I’d felt after that horrific night in ICU, and I felt my breathing begin to even itself out as I followed Christine along the row of businesses dotting the small cul-de-sac in which we were parked.
Rosie. You’re here because of Rosie. This is all for Rosie.
Ahead of me, I saw Christine throw open the door of one of the offices and disappear inside. She didn’t even wait for me to follow her.
A beat later, I pulled the same door open and made my way through the entrance. But I heard Christine already engaged in conversation with a man, who was answering her with contemplative muttering. I noticed right away he had a nice voice. It was the same steady type of timbre that George Clooney had, comforting—a voice you could trust.
I wondered how successful this guy was in a courtroom with a voice like that. Pretty good, I’d be willing to bet. But then I remembered that it was barristers, not solicitors, who argued in the court system in Ireland, so the point was moot.
“Kate. I’d like you to meet my cousin Declan.” Christine smiled.
Declan turned and offered his hand and I immediately felt blindsided. For some reason, I’d assumed her solicitor cousin would be older—a gray or balding fiftysomething in dusty old tweeds.
“Hello, Kate, lovely to meet you. I’m Declan Roe.”
But this guy looked to be a couple of years younger than both of us. He had nice teeth, a dimpled chin, chiseled cheekbones, luscious dark hair and uncomfortably arresting blue eyes.
In fact, he was a dead ringer for the guy who played Superman in the movie Rosie and I had watched over Easter and, as I went to shake his hand, I wondered if a small part of my mind was stupidly projecting.
Declan’s polite smile faded just a little bit then. Probably because I was staring at him the same way people stared at monkeys in a zoo. Or maybe I was the monkey in this situation. All I know is that I needed to start talking, or else the guy was going to think that his sister had suggested a complete basket case for a client.
Which of course I was, but in a different way.
“Hello.” Clearing my throat, I straightened my shoulders and made a conscious effort to compose myself and act like a normal human being.
“So,” he said, without further preamble. “I believe there’s a legal matter you wanted to have a chat about?” He glanced between the two of us as if to confirm, and I was surprised to notice some hesitation in his tone and body language.
I thought Christine said her cousin was chomping at the bit to talk to me about a potential action against the Coopers? So why did he look uncomfortable?
All at once, I realized that she’d used her powers of persuasion on us both and Declan was as unsure about this as I was.
It was a relief, to be honest. If Christine’s cousin had agreed to talk to me out of mere courtesy, hopefully, he would be quick to explain the folly of even attempting to mount any action on Rosie’s behalf and outline the various reasons from a legal point of view as to why such a case would not hold.
At least that might get Christine off my back.