Inadvertent Disclosure Read Free

in town.”
    “How about a diner that serves
breakfast all day?”
    He managed a small grin, like
it was a struggle to remember how to smile. “Yeah, we got a diner.”
    He followed her out of the
courtroom.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 3
     
    The diner sat across the square
from the courthouse. Craybill led her to a worn faux leather booth in the front
window of the building.
    Through the streaked glass, she
could see the late morning sun glinting off the statue of Lady Justice that
stood atop the courthouse’s clock tower. She squinted at the clock’s hands.
    “We need to be back in court in
forty-five minutes. Does this place have fast service?”
    He shrugged and looked around.
“You see a crowd?”
    They were the only customers.
    A waitress appeared, pen
already poised over her order pad. The name tag on her white shirt read “Marie.”
She mumbled a hello and said, “What’ll it be?”
    Sasha looked at the tabletop.
Napkin dispenser, salt and pepper shakers, and a plastic tower holding sugar
packets were lined up under the windowsill. No menus.
    “Do you have menus?”
    Marie sighed and launched into
a spiel she didn’t seem to relish. “No, honey, I’m afraid we don’t. Bob’s Diner
is about to have new ownership. The Café on the Square is having menus printed
to highlight our new, locally-sourced, farm-fresh cuisine.”
    Craybill barked out a laugh. A
look from Marie cut it short.
    “Uh, okay,” Sasha said and took
a shot at a dish she assumed every diner in America served. “I’ll have a feta
and spinach omelet and whole wheat toast. A side of bacon.”
    Marie scribbled it all down.
Sasha felt like she’d just aced an exam.
    “Drink?”
    “Coffee. And a glass of water.”
    Marie stopped writing. “You don’t
want the water, honey.”
    “I don’t?”
    “No, you don’t. Our
locally-sourced water is brown and tastes like crap.”
    Craybill swallowed another
laugh.
    “Oh. Then, I guess I don’t,”
Sasha agreed. “But, isn’t the coffee made with that water, too?”
    “Sure is. That tastes like
crap, too, but at least it’s supposed to be brown. You want it?”
    She didn’t have much of a
choice. If she didn’t get some more caffeine flowing through her bloodstream,
she’d have a pounding headache within the hour.
    “I guess so.”
    Craybill clucked at her
decision then told the waitress, “I’ll have oatmeal. Tell that inebriate in
your kitchen to make it with milk, now. You hear?  And an orange juice. A tall
one. My lawyer’s paying.”
    Marie nodded her approval.
“This little thing’s your lawyer, Jed?  Who you suing?”
    “Nothing like that, Marie. Just
a misunderstanding, but we’ve gotta be in front of Judge Paulson at eleven
o’clock, so make sure our food comes out quick, you hear?”
    Marie tucked her order pad into
her apron pocket, slid her pen behind her ear, and headed off to the kitchen
without making any promises.
    “What’s wrong with the water?”
Sasha said to her client.
    “What?”
    “The water. Why does a place
called Clear Brook County have brown, foul-tasting water?”
    Craybill frowned. “Are we gonna
talk about the water or this bullshit petition?”
    “Sure, okay.”
    She really did want to know
about the water. Growing up, her father and brothers used to drive up from
Pittsburgh every spring to fish in a lake outside of the town, while Sasha and
her mother went to the ballet back in Pittsburgh. Her brothers would come home
with coolers full of trout and pictures of water so blue it actually glittered.
But, her client was right, they didn’t have time. She needed to walk through
the petition with him—mainly so she could judge for herself if she thought he
was mentally incapacitated, as the county’s department of aging services
claimed in its papers. Sasha took out her legal pad and looked through her
notes on the requirements to have a person declared incapacitated.
    “First off, do you understand
what this petition is