After a brief exchange at reception, she was told to wait.
Hannah sat in a blue- and cream-upholstered seat and looked out the window at the city buildings. She hated that she wondered if Stephen’s office was nearby. Hated that she still thought of him at all. But she did. And as she’d replayed that day, repeatedly recalled the look in his eyes, she knew it wasn’t all his fault. She’d seen herself, after all, and it wasn’t pretty.
“Ms. Walker, Mr. Goodwin will see you now.”
Armed with letters from doctors praising her work and pictures of the children she helped, she followed the woman down a long, windowless hallway.
Mr. Goodwin didn’t rise from his desk when she entered. In fact, he barely looked up from his computer, only grunting an acknowledgment when his secretary announced her presence.
She forced herself to smile at the top of his balding head. “I’m here to talk to you about my farm on Highway Thirty-two.”
Heart pounding, Hannah made her case. Her nerves ran wild and so did all her carefully planned words. She went out of order, spoke too fast. But she laid out the pictures she’d brought. Children standing for the first time, walking when they’d been told they never would. The councilman gave them no more than a careless glance.
“While I sympathize, Ms. Walker, I’m afraid the land just isn’t yours.”
“But I have this letter from the original owner.” She pulled it out.
“That’s right. You have a letter. A letter is not a will. There was no passage of ownership. No living relatives of the deceased. No legally certified document.”
“Then why was I told to come down here? Why send me the letter saying I could state my case?”
He gave her a long look. “That was before we had all salient information. I apologize for your inconvenience.” Without so much as a shrug, he reached across his desk and pushed a button. “Eileen, see Ms. Walker out, please.”
Five minutes later, she left the building the same way she’d come in, but where she’d been full of hope a short time ago, she was now completely deflated. Since the first day she’d gotten the letter, she hadn’t believed it. Standing in the safety of the barn, surrounded by horses and familiar scents, the possibility hadn’t seemed real to her.
Surrounded by brick and glass and the power of politicians, it was much easier. They could take it. They were taking it.
Tears gathered and fell as she drove ten minutes to an outdoor shopping mall. She didn’t much feel like meeting Mia for lunch, but it was too late to cancel now. Plus, if she did, Mia would be doubly concerned. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes.
Think it through, be positive. She reached back to years of counseling.
She could get a job as a regular physical therapist, get an apartment, or, God forbid, live with her brothers—they’d never let her be homeless. If she could afford to board her horses somewhere else, if she worked awhile and saved up…then maybe. But just boarding and caring for Winnie would be costly.
She blinked back a new round of tears thinking of the young faces she would have to tell, the disappointment she’d dole out.
Arriving, she parked, made sure she didn’t look weepy, and got out. It was a nice area complete with coffee shops and a café, small tables and cherry trees dotting the brick walkway. She spotted Mia midway down, under the shade of tiny pink blossoms. Before she reached the small iron table, two women stopped beside it.
As she got closer, she smiled, trying to hide her surprise. “Hi, Abby. Hi, Lizzy.”
“You know each other?” Mia asked.
“The party I went to,” she answered, feeling the burn in her cheeks. She had nothing to be embarrassed about. Except she’d been rejected by the same man twice in less than two weeks. But maybe they didn’t know.
“Stephen’s my brother,” Lizzy said, to Mia’s further confusion.
“And my brother-in-law.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize.” Mia looked at Hannah. “Lizzy and I belong to several of the same psychiatric organizations.”
“Oh, well, why don’t you join us?” Hannah invited.
“Yes. Sit.” Mia moved her bag from the fourth seat. They dropped purses and scooted chairs around, then gave the young server their orders.
“So, how do you two know each other?” Abby asked, also making connections.
Hannah froze and before she had to say she was a patient, Mia answered. “I’ve known Hannah for years. I…dated her brother. Nick.”
Hannah caught the flash of sadness even though Mia covered it well.
“Huh,” Lizzy said. “Small world.”
Both women clearly got the past tense on dated and dropped it there.
“Hannah was so sweet to have Gracie out to ride horses.” Abby smiled across the table. “You know, she hasn’t stopped talking about it since.”
“Of course. I can always find some time. She’s such a sweetie, but I have to tell you, I might not be there much longer.” The reality of the words stung.
There was obvious surprise and she explained about the land and the letter, giving a recap of her recent meeting.
“That’s a shame. What do they want to do with it?” Abby thanked the server and lifted her glass.
“I don’t know. Sell it, I assume.”
Mia glanced up, stirring in her sweetener. “Can you work with the kids somewhere else?”
“I’m looking into it.”