Redhead by the Side of the Road - Anne Tyler Page 0,33

him. “Move over and make room for him, Liz.”

“Nah, I should be going,” Micah said.

“What’s your hurry? It’s early yet. What do you have to get back to?”

“Oh!” Liz said, and just like that, all the other women sat up and grew alert. “Oh, what do you have to get back to? Nothing! An empty apartment! I hate that Cass has broken up with you!”

“Well, you know how it goes,” Micah said.

Suze said, “Can’t you reason with her? Ask her to reconsider? There must be something you could say to make her change her mind.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll think about it…” Micah said vaguely. “Well, thanks, Ada. Terrific meal. Tell Lily I enjoyed meeting her. And Liz, have Kegger give me a buzz when he’s ready to check out computers.”

Meanwhile he was making his way to the foyer, taking care not to step on racetrack pieces or toddlers. “Would it help if I phoned Cass?” Suze called after him, and Norma said, “You don’t want to end up a crusty old bachelor!”

He made it out the front door into a crisp, smoky-smelling twilight where the only sounds were distant ones. He threw his shoulders back and drew in a long, deep breath.

He liked his family a lot, but they made him crazy sometimes.

* * *

—

In the car on the way home, he heard the ding of a text coming in. He didn’t check his phone while he was driving, of course. He continued east for a few more blocks, took a left…and then gradually slowed down until he was barely traveling.

It wouldn’t be a family member, surely. And it wouldn’t be a client, not at this hour.

As soon as he saw a space, he drew over and parked at the curb. Not until then did he take his phone from his pocket. (“Good boy,” Traffic God remarked.) He slipped his glasses up onto his forehead to peer at the screen, but the text was only from his wireless carrier, confirming receipt of his monthly payment.

It really should be against the law to send business texts in the evening.

He sat a moment longer in a kind of slump, and then he put his phone away and lowered his glasses and pulled out into the street again.

Back in his apartment (his empty apartment, as Liz had so helpfully pointed out), he moved about switching on lights in the kitchen and the living area and his office. He sat down in his office to check his email, but all he found was another confirmation of his monthly payment, just in case the text hadn’t been sufficient.

He slid his chair away and prepared to stand, but then he paused.

All day he had felt a kind of nagging ache in the hollow of his chest. He felt as if he’d flubbed up in some way. In fact, in many ways. Getting dumped by Cass, sending Brink off who-knows-where…and Micah’s sisters were right; it was cruel to let Lorna go on wondering whether Brink was lying dead someplace.

He slid his chair forward again and went online.

Finding her turned out to be surprisingly easy. First, he located the DC Legal Aid Society. Then he clicked on Staff, which yielded a list of lawyers. There wasn’t a Lorna Bartell, but he did find a Lorna B. Adams. A click on the name, and there she was: a dark-haired woman, head and shoulders, in horn-rimmed glasses (glasses!) and a crisp white-collared blouse. He recognized her only because he was looking for her. He wouldn’t have made the connection if he’d merely passed her on the sidewalk. A paragraph next to her photo stated her area of expertise—family law—and previous work experience and education. And then a phone number, a fax number, and an email address.

He chose the email address. Guessing that his message might be read first by a secretary, he kept it brief and businesslike. Hi, Lorna, it’s Micah from your college days. Thought you’d like to know I met up with Brink recently. Nice kid, seemed to be doing fine. M. He sent it off with a