“I’m intrigued.”
Rennie laughed. “I knew you would be. Start after the first of the year. My client hasn’t been served yet, but I’m expecting it any day.”
“I’m on it. Have yourself a merry Christmas.”
“You too, Walter. Give Lois all my love.”
Rennie felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders once they hung up. Walter would uncover the truth, which would undoubtedly point the finger at Grady. However, if Rennie remembered correctly, the burden of proof would fall on the plaintiff, and the way Rennie looked at this case, it was a lot of he said, she said. However, she would confer with Jefferson after the first of the year to make sure.
Feeling a bit better, she went back to her laptop and turned on a movie. She lay down, and it wasn’t long before she dozed off. When she woke, the credits scrolled on the screen, and there was a suggestion for a similar movie waiting for her. She reached for her phone and found a message from Graham.
Graham Cracker: I owe you dinner. Tonight? My place?
Without hesitation, she told him she’d be there.
SIXTEEN
“Is that a snowflake?” Graham’s mom pointed to the windshield. “Oh, there’s another one,” she said, only for the wipers to clear the window. “Turn those off, Graham. I want to see if it’s snowing.”
“If he turns the wipers off, Johanna, he won’t be able to see. And if he can’t see, he’s liable to drive up right into the damn ocean. Let him drive,” George shouted from the back.
For whatever reason, whenever George sat in the back of Graham’s SUV, he felt the need to yell to the passengers up front. He didn’t speak loudly. He screamed because he said no one could ever hear him. Graham heard him plenty but chose most of the time to ignore his father.
In the days since Grady’s hospitalization, George Chamberlain found himself at odds with his wife and other son. Johanna and Graham refused to play by George’s rules when it came to Grady, and each had put their foot down. Graham wasn’t sure what changed his father’s mind, but he suspected it was when the doctor told them, without a doubt, if Grady didn’t get sober, he was going to die. It wasn’t an if but a when.
When Graham picked his parents up for family therapy, he expected George to grumble, to claim illness, or to declare there was a can’t-miss game on television. Still, he surprised his son and wife by walking to the car and climbing into the back seat without any prodding. Of course, the situation was this: if Johanna and Graham wanted George to go with them, they were going to have to deal with his constant yelling.
You’re driving the wrong way.
You didn’t stop at the stop sign long enough.
Are you sure you’re going the right way?
Did you buy a ticket for the ferry?
We won’t make it in time.
Put the game on, will ya?
The demanding tone, gruffness, and volume of chatter gave Graham a headache. If it wasn’t his father saying something, it was his mother and her eagerness to have a white Christmas.
“I don’t think it’s snow, Mom.” Graham leaned forward and looked out the window toward the sky. It was gray, overcast, and trying to rain.
“Someday, I would love a white Christmas,” she said quietly as she gazed out the passenger window.
“We can take a ride east if you’d like,” he said, offering to take his parents to the mountains. “We could rent a lodge and have a nice quiet Christmas. No outside distractions.” Even though he offered, he knew his mother and father would never take him up on it, nor would it be feasible this close to Christmas to find an available lodge to rent.
“It sounds nice, but your father would never go for it. He can’t stay away from that damn television or the Loyal Order of the Sasquatch. Did you know they don’t like women in there? We’re allowed, of course, but every time I walk in there, the place goes silent. It makes me wonder what they’re talking about.”
“If I had to guess, I’d say women,” Graham said through laughter. He loved how worked up his mother became over his father’s Sasquatch group. A couple of times a year, the group came into the bar for lunch. They always chose to sit in the back, and anytime Graham or any of the staff members got too close, they’d zip their lips.
His mom swatted him and laughed. “Knowing your father, he’s in there complaining about having to make his lunch when I go out with the gals.”
“You’re talking about me like I can’t even hear you, Johanna.”
“I know you can, George,” Johanna huffed.
“Well, what do you and the gals talk about?” Graham prodded as he drove toward Port Angeles.