didn’t need to like her more. I needed to make a decision. Soon.
“Well,” Steve said, glancing at the sheaf of documents in the file, “this is a perfectly valid, well-executed will. Shayla’s father certainly covered all his bases. With the amount he’s left for you in savings and investments, I’d suggest you get a financial adviser. If it’s well managed, this nest egg could make your life a lot easier.”
I didn’t care about the money. Or the condo. Or the three-generations-old cuckoo clock. “What about Shayla?”
I felt Dana glance at me, but she kept quiet, waiting for the lawyer’s response.
“His wishes are clear. He wants you to be her guardian. That doesn’t mean you have to be her guardian. It’s just his wish and request.”
“What about her mother?”
Steve shuffled through the papers. “It looks like she formally renounced any rights to the child—” he scanned a sheet of paper for the date—“six weeks after Shayla was born, give or take a couple days.”
“Why would anybody do that?”
“There aren’t many details in the paperwork, but Shayla’s dad added a few notes to his will, which I’m sure have been passed on to you. He just states that Shayla’s mother abandoned her shortly after the birth, that she had never wanted a child to begin with, and that the initiative to rid herself and her family of any future responsibility for the baby came entirely from her. He requested full custody, and as her sole parent, given the mother’s voluntary termination of rights, he became a single dad.”
“And now I’m inheriting his daughter.” The concept seemed so heartless.
“Not inheriting, per se. He named you as her guardian—”
“Without my consent.”
“Without your consent. Which means you have a right to refuse Shayla.”
“But aren’t there other people—people Shayla actually knows—who should take her instead of me?”
“Not that he listed,” Steve said, his voice soft and encouraging. “A man of his age raising a child alone . . . He left you everything—including his daughter—which tells me that there probably weren’t many other people in his life. And even if there were, you’re named as his primary choice, so we’d need an answer from you before considering other options.”
I looked at Dana.
“I think Shelby needs to know what the other options are, Steve.”
He sighed. “The usual, unfortunately. We’d need to do some research into relatives Shayla’s had contact with, but again, as no one has come forward yet, I suspect we won’t find any. If that failed, she’d become a ward of the state unless something better could be worked out.”
“A foster child?” The term brought Shayla’s face to my mind in a rush of guilt and distress.
“Shelby . . .” Dana must have sensed my affliction. She reached over to pat my knee. “The foster care system isn’t what it used to be—”
“I’ve seen the documentaries, Dana.”
“The bottom line,” Steve said, “is that Shayla’s father made his wishes clear, as these documents attest. But you are in no way obligated to take on Shayla’s guardianship. It’s up to you, Shelby.”
I felt nausea clawing at my gut. Steve straightened the documents and closed the file. I saw him hesitate before he added, “Off the record?” I nodded. “His will—the savings, the assets, the condo, Shayla—it could be a new beginning for you if you wanted to see it that way. A new life.”
I leaned forward in my chair, resting my elbows on my knees and covering my face with my hands as I expelled a deep, painful breath. Dana’s palm against my back was warm and comforting, and I wished she would make this decision for me.
“Why don’t you take a few more days to think about it,” she suggested gently. “You don’t have to start your new life just yet.”
Play tryouts—the next phase of my new life. I stood before a roomful of eager high school students and questioned my sanity, which wasn’t a very original activity. My sanity had been a frequent subject of concern in recent days. I’d questioned it while I’d unpacked a grand total of four suitcases, which contained every scrap of Shayla’s and my earthly belongings. I’d questioned it when I’d made my first trip to a grocery store and recognized only a handful of items on the shelves. I’d questioned it when I’d driven my new used car to the school for the very first time and nearly gotten broadsided while turning right on red, an illegal move in this country where driving inspired a need for drugs and