Juliet's Law Read Free Page B

pile of them out for us.”
    Josh sat down next to her, rubbing his hands. “Oatmeal. All right!”
    For all his size, Juliet thought he moved with a surprising grace, as light on his feet as a deer. She put the cookies down in front of him.
    â€œThanks,” he said, and raised his eyes to look at her straight on. For a moment, Juliet didn’t think to look away; and it was the oddest sensation: she felt as if she plunged into a vat of warm chocolate, seeing there in the long-lashed eyes a spirit of gentleness, beauty, something still and kind.
    With a man like this at your back, nothing tooterrible could happen. She wondered where his wife was. There was no ring on his finger, but that didn’t always mean anything.
    Realizing that she stared, Juliet looked away, poured tea for Desi, and passed her a crystal bowl, stacked neatly with sugar cubes and a little pair of tongs. It had belonged to their grandmother, an east-coast blue blood; Daughters of the American Revolution, roots back to the Pilgrims. As she passed it, Juliet thought of long, quiet afternoons in the Maine “cottage,” spent curled up in window seats, with the wind whipping the sea into a frenzy beyond, tea served late in the afternoon with tiny spoons and pots of cream and little cookies. It was a surprisingly rich memory. “So glad you have this bowl,” Juliet said.
    Desi nodded.
    â€œAre you the artist sister or the lawyer?” Josh asked.
    â€œLawyer. Sort of.” She flipped her shoulder against the thudding wound she sometimes felt over losing that, too, her job as a civil rights lawyer. Not fair. Not fair! “I’m taking some time off.”
    He picked up his tea. Blew on it. For one blistering moment, Juliet wondered if he knew her story, if Desi had told him. Her ears felt hot with embarrassment.
    But of course Desi wouldn’t tell Juliet’s secrets.
    Josh said, “It was nice of you to take time off to take care of your sister. She needs you.”
    â€œI do,” Desi said, touching Juliet’s hand.
    â€œI’m glad to be here.”
    In the corner, the little girl in the car seat suddenly stirred. She kicked her feet, lifted her head, and peeredat the adults in confusion. “Hi, Auntie Dez,” she said. “Am I staying here?”
    â€œNot this time, sweetheart. But I do have a cookie if you want to come get one.”
    â€œYou got cookies?” The girl pushed out of her coat, discarded it in the middle of the floor. “What kind?”
    â€œGlory,” her father said, “What do we do with our coats?”
    The child sighed, dropped her shoulders in exaggerated put-upon-ness, and clomped back to the coat. With rolling eyes, she picked it up and put it on the couch. She had a black braid that reached her hips, big dark eyes, and very rosy brown cheeks. She looked exactly like the kewpie Indian dolls they used to sell in tourist shops around here. Juliet wondered, suddenly, if such things were still sold.
    Glory clomped back toward the table. Only when she rounded the corner of the counter did she catch sight of Juliet. The girl stopped dead, staring, her little mouth open in surprise.
    â€œHi,” Juliet said.
    The little girl still said nothing. She just gaped. After a few seconds, she frowned and her hand flew to her cheeks in what would be a mocking expression in an adult but was simply the most natural expression of surprise and shock a four-year-old could muster.
    â€œOh!” she said, as if she’d just figured it out. Her voice was breathy with awe. “You’re the princess, aren’t you?”

Chapter 2
    J uliet wasn’t sure how to respond.
    â€œThe princess?” she echoed, trying to figure out what Glory meant. “Am I?” She glanced at Josh, raised her eyebrows in question.
    He gave her a bewildered shrug. He didn’t know, either.
    Glory came forward, her eyes fixed on Juliet. She leaned on her