estate and my trust. We talked every year around Christmas time, he because he was my father’s friend as well as legal advice and he liked to make sure I was Ok, and me because I liked to make sure my money was Ok.
“Not exactly,” she smiled brighter and I could see that it was her method of placating me. “I’m here on behalf of Smith Porter. Actually I work for the sister firm of Arnold, Terkoff and Blane. My firm is Hastle and Crimmens, but Catarina Arnold is my mentor.”
“Ok, so I’m really confused,” I grimaced. What did she just say?
“Catarina Arnold is employed by Mr. Porter, she is also my boss…. indirectly. As I understand this, your situation is very…. precarious. Smith brought me in to ensure nothing could be directly linked back to him, Catarina or Jared.”
“Ah.” Well, Ok, that made sense. And if my mom ever started asking questions I would just have Mallory recite that entire jumble of words. She would be confused immediately.
“I’ve met you here, because I understand your home life is…. intense?” Mallory had this way of punching her point. She would pause dramatically and then say her point with enthusiastic curiosity. I bet her tactic worked well with indecisive juries. “Smith has expressed concern that you might be facing abuse. As you know if you are in verifiable danger, it is possible for you to acquire the full amount of your trust early. Verifiable danger can be defined as any kind of abuse, emotional, physical or verbal with recorded evidence or life-threatening circumstances that you are capable of involving the police or FBI in. Can you claim either of these conditions?”
My mother slapping me flew to the forefront of my mind, but then again it wasn’t that awful. It was just a slap. It wasn’t like I had to be rushed to the emergency room or anything. The mark was completely gone by morning, no evidence or scars left behind. What did verbal abuse even mean? My mother was harsh at times, callous and unfeeling always, but was that actual abuse? Had I suffered anything that could be proven in the court of law other than a messed up sense of reality and unrealistic expectations?
“I don’t have anything I can prove,” I finally admitted. “I’m not even sure Smith is entirely justified in involving you. There’s no abuse happening in my life.”
Not yet anyway. And by that time I’ll be eighteen, I’ll be an adult. So it won’t matter.
“I was afraid of this,” Mallory’s face filled with more pity. “Smith and Catarina are very good friends of mine. I’ve taken this case as a favor to them. And I’m working with Jared, who seems to share some of the same concerns as Smith. Unlike Smith, Jared respects your mother, thinks the world of her actually, but he has shared some of your father’s dying words and I understand why Jared feels the way he does.”
My father’s dying words? What did that mean?
I opened my mouth to ask, but she continued. “There might not be anything to share with me now. There might never be. But I don’t think Smith would have gone to all these lengths if there wasn’t something going on.”
After several moments of charged silence I finally settled on, “You’re right. I can’t prove anything, but I need my trust early. I need it now.”
“Alright, then that’s what we will work on. I won’t call you, or contact you in any way other than here at school. And I’ll visit again in a month. If you can record anything you think is useful on your phone. Or if anything happens take a picture of it immediately. If…. conditions worsen for you, get ahold of Smith immediately. Does that work for you?” She raked her eyes over me in a way that screamed I was her client and nothing else. Pity maybe? But there was no sympathy behind Mallory Hunter’s expression.
Still it was obvious she kicked ass in court.
“Yes, that works for me,” I agreed feeling like I was signing away something very precious. Like my soul.
Which was ridiculous. If anything, staying was so much worse than leaving for that same thing.
“Alright, then. Ivy, thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch,” she stood then and stretched out her hand. I echoed every movement and then bit back a smile at her firm handshake.
She was just so…. professional.
“Thank you, Mallory,” I gushed not meaning to. I actually meant to