Chapter 20
Grandpa Wes was quiet for the rest of the picnic. Amanda and Audrey made eye contact several times, stewing with questions about what to do and how to cheer him up. In the distance, the camera crew encircled the inn to get shots from every angle, then set up the camera to take shots of the family spread out across the grass, picnicking. Amanda could already imagine Quentin’s voice-over: “In 2024, nearly two hundred years after their ancestors hid ex-slaves on their quest for freedom, the Sheridan family is bigger and closer than ever.”
Eventually, Amanda’s mother packed up her bag and admitted she had to head back to the office because playtime was over. One after another, the other Sheridans did the same: curling up the tops of chip bags and piling the pulled pork into Tupperware containers. Genevieve got fussy, so Amanda wrapped her against her chest and strolled along the water”s edge barefoot so that the grass curled between her toes. When she turned, she watched as Audrey picked up Max and put him against her hip while Noah loaded the Tupperware containers in his arms. Sam was far in the distance, talking to Quentin Copperfield and one of the producers about filming schedules. The amount the producers had agreed to pay to film at the Sunrise Cove Inn would at least get them through the summer. That was one obstacle cleared.
Sam said that the publicity from The HISTORY Channel would probably bring in heaps of tourists after it aired. Amanda wasn’t sure when that would be. Editing took a little while, didn’t it? Television schedules were almost as tricky as baby schedules.
Before Amanda turned away, she was surprised to see Cynthia walk around the side of the van. She wore a smart pair of tailored pants, a tank top, and a blazer with shoulder pads straight out of the eighties. She made it work without question—a fashionable skill she’d had since Amanda met her years ago.
It startled Amanda yet again that it wasn’t so long ago when they’d met. Becoming a mother had put everything back then into the “before” category.
“Amanda!” Cynthia called, waving her hand.
“What are you doing here?” Amanda called back, hurrying toward her gently so as not to wake Genevieve.
“Look at you!” Cynthia cried as she got closer. “You’re a portrait of health and womanhood. That baby is gorgeous. And so are you!”
Amanda laughed. “I’ve hardly slept more than two hours at a time since she was born. I feel ragged.”
“You look like a dream. But you always did,” Cynthia said, giving Amanda a side hug so as not to disturb the baby. “This place is stunning, Amanda. I can’t believe you held out on me during law school. Not that I took much time away from studying to visit beautiful places.” Cynthia sighed.
“It all worked out for you, though,” Amanda pointed out. “You’re in the big leagues.”
“And you!” Cynthia said. “You’re working alongside your mother, right? The great Susan Sheridan, one of the best who ever did it. I think I read about one of the cases you took on last year. A very rich family…” She touched her ear in thought.
Amanda groaned.
“What’s up?” Cynthia’s eyes widened.
“You’re thinking of the Arnouts,” Amanda said.
“That’s right! That rich playboy kid who destroyed the dean of Harvard’s house. And hurt his girlfriend? That was such a wild story. Like, who did he think he was?”
Amanda’s head pounded at the memory. She tried to laugh it off, but it sounded strained.
“I didn’t win that case,” Amanda said finally.
“Who could have won that case? He was caught red-handed. Literally.” Cynthia was still smiling. She understood the legal world far more than nearly anyone in Amanda’s life, save for her mother. Maybe she could handle the truth of Amanda’s current predicament.
“As I remember it, you got his sentence down to basically nothing,” Cynthia said.
“Just a year,” Amanda said, allowing herself a moment of pride. It truly had been sensational proof that she knew what she was doing in the legal world. But it had all crumbled at her feet.
Cynthia studied her face for a moment as Amanda stewed in shame. Her mind’s eye filled with the last moments of the trial of when the judge had announced the jury’s decision; when Hilton Arnout had turned his greedy blue eyes to Amanda and sized her up in a way that made her feel as though he planned to eat her alive. She wondered who he was making miserable in that low-security prison he was in. Who he controlled with his parents’ money and his narcissism.
Cynthia touched Amanda’s arm tenderly. “What’s up? Are you good? Do you want to get a cup of coffee or something?”
Amanda glanced back at her family. Most everyone was packed up and continuing along with their days. Even Audrey had moved on, waving back to Amanda as she hurried Max elsewhere. He was in the midst of one of his classic toddler tantrums, and Audrey was frantic, cheeks red.
Amanda was faced with the weight of her afternoon. Hours alone at home with her baby, feeling somewhere between dreams and nightmares, nursing her, rocking her, attempting to feed herself until it all happened again. Cynthia looked at her the way she’d once been looked at—as though she were just another lawyer with a big head of knowledge resting atop her shoulders.
She’d always known it objectively but couldn’t have understood it until she experienced it. Mothers often lost their sense of self. They became bodies first. They were needed physically. It was exhausting.
“Sure. A coffee sounds great,” Amanda said. She couldn’t resist a bit of intellectual stimulation, even if she regretted it later.
One of the producers marched past and asked to talk to Cynthia for a moment about a contractual problem with another client. Amanda watched as Cynthia transformed immediately into her lawyer self, using language that hadn’t come out of Amanda’s mouth since the birth of Genevieve. When Cynthia returned to Amanda’s side, she grunted, “Maybe I’ll need something a little stronger than that coffee.”
Amanda laughed. “I know a good place.”
Instead of the coffee shop down the road, Amanda led Cynthia to her favorite natural wine bar near the harbor. Her nursing schedule rarely allowed her a glass of wine, but she’d pumped enough milk to give herself a window. Cynthia was terrifically excited. Her eyes reminded Amanda of a golden retriever’s as she scanned the gorgeous water and the bobbing sailboats. She nodded tentatively and said, “I think I just saw Ryan Reynolds?”
Amanda raised her shoulders. Celebrities could always be spotted in Martha’s Vineyard. Wasn’t Cynthia used to that out in Los Angeles?
Amanda ordered a glass of orange wine; Cynthia went for rose and a plate of cheeses with crackers, fresh bread, and olives. Amanda could have eaten all of it herself and ordered a second, but she held herself back and raised her glass of wine.
“To being back together again,” Cynthia said.
“Cheers to that.”
Amanda filled her mouth with orange wine and suppressed a groan. Was this the best thing she’d tasted in ages? It was certainly better than the microwavable dinner she’d made herself last night. (If Audrey had seen her, she never would have let her forget about it.)
Cynthia tapped the tips of her fingers against the tabletop. “Brett, the producer, is over the moon about this stop. He loves the Sunrise Cove. Says it’s exactly what his viewership is into. Quaint small-town America merges with the historical Underground Railroad. It really hits a sweet spot.”
Amanda had known it would that day she’d reached out to Cynthia.
“You have a great eye for this sort of thing,” Cynthia said.
“I got lucky. This is my family’s inn.” Amanda shrugged. “It just fell into my lap.”
Cynthia laughed. “Not everyone would have understood how to capitalize on something like that. I understand that the inn had to close down?”
Amanda cringed and filled her mouth with wine.
“Amanda, what’s up? You look pale as a ghost. Should I order you more food?” Cynthia’s eyes echoed compassion.
Amanda was wordless. How could she explain everything? How could she be so laissez-faire?
“I know we haven’t seen each other in a few years, but we’re friends, Amanda. At least, I like to think we are,” Cynthia said. Her palms were flat on the table, and she looked at Amanda with eyes prepared to bore holes into her to make sense of this.
Genevieve remained asleep on her chest. Amanda took a deep breath, unsure of what would come out of her mouth when she spoke.
“I’m sorry I’m acting so strange. The baby has been a lot, obviously. But more than that…” Amanda trailed off. “That trial you mentioned. Hilton Arnout?”
“Hilton! That was his name. He was crazy handsome, right? He looked like an advertisement for Wilson tennis balls.”
Amanda grimaced. “His parents are very unhappy with his guilty verdict.”
“That’s rich parents,” Cynthia said with a shrug. “You explained how lucky he was to get just a year, right?”
“I did, yeah. But they don’t believe me. They think I failed their son.”
“That’s stupid.” Cynthia put a square of cheese in her mouth and chewed, as though this were the easiest thing in the world. “It’s wild how stupid rich people can be sometimes. But in Hollywood, I work with some pretty empty-headed actors. And producers. And set designers.” She scratched her ear. “And directors, now that I think about it. Most everyone is pretty helpless.”
Amanda stifled a laugh. Cynthia’s performance—if it was a performance—was comical and gorgeous. It took her back to college.
“Big deal,” Cynthia said. “They can have their pity party and move on.”
“It isn’t that simple,” Amanda said. Her eyes pricked with tears. “The Arnouts know people in Massachusetts. The governor and all of the governor’s friends are in their pockets. And they made a few phone calls to get my license suspended.”
Cynthia’s jaw dropped. “What?”
Amanda raised her shoulders. Just saying this aloud, just being heard, loosened the knots in her chest.
Cynthia put down her glass of wine. “I mean, how is that even possible?”
“Money is old out here,” Amanda said. “Family names go a long way.”
“This is ridiculous.” Cynthia’s cheeks were tomato red. “I work in one of the most narcissistic and nepotism-based businesses in the world, if not the most. I’ve heard of people attempting to do something this heinous, but I’ve never heard of anyone succeeding.”
“The Arnouts are capable of anything.”
Cynthia’s hand shot into her purse. She hunted around until she found her cell and dialed someone without saying another word. Amanda’s heart seized. Cynthia’s eyes had hardened to tiny blue ice cubes.
“Georgia? It’s Cynthia. Yeah, I’m out East.” Cynthia’s tone was authoritative. “Can you set up a call with Baxter for tomorrow morning? Tell him it’s urgent.” Cynthia clucked her tongue and fidgeted with her fork. “Nine a.m. your time, noon my time. Perfect. Looking forward.” She then stamped the phone on the table, picked up an olive, and plopped it into her mouth as though that was that.
Amanda stuttered. “Who is Baxter?”
“Baxter is one of the most powerful lawyers I know in the entire state of California,” Cynthia explained. “He started out in criminal law before transferring to entertainment law. He wanted to live in Los Angeles, and he wanted to make buckets of cash. That’s the way.”
Amanda peered at Cynthia. Her head pounded with confusion.
“Baxter knows people, too,” Cynthia explained. “I see no reason he can’t make a few phone calls and get this monkey off your back. He owes me a favor.”
Amanda couldn’t believe it. Was Cynthia her fairy godmother, come to transform her pumpkin into a carriage and her rags into a ballroom gown?
“Seriously, these rich people love to swing their weight around,” Cynthia said sternly, “but they can’t get away with this. This is America. We have laws for a reason. And we’re lawyers, Amanda. We have to use those same laws to protect ourselves and each other.” Cynthia picked up another slice of cheese and put it on her tongue. “Now, let’s talk about something more interesting, shall we? Tell me how you met your husband. Last I knew, you were dating that horrible guy. What was his name? Chris? Just awful.” Her eyes shone. She wanted to gossip like old friends.
Amanda’s heart had begun to beat again. She matched Cynthia’s grin. “It turns out Chris was just as awful as you say. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Cynthia cackled. “He’s nowhere near as cute as your husband either.”
“My mother hired him to be the manager at the Sunrise Cove,” Amanda said. “As you know, I moved back here after…” She remembered herself at her first wedding and Chris’s abandonment. “After my life flipped upside down. But Sam was right there in front of me. Laughing with me. Always remembering little details about me. My heart was so bruised, and I told myself I didn’t have space in it to fall in love again.”
“We don’t always have a choice about when we fall in love, do we?” Cynthia said with a sigh.
“Are you in love?” Amanda asked.
“Me? No way,” Cynthia said. “I’m in love with my career and myself right now. I’m dating all over Los Angeles, of course. Mostly very attractive actors.” Her eyes sparkled. “But they’re all pretty egotistical and eager to use my connections to better their careers. I almost always kick them to the curb.”
“Almost?” Amanda laughed.
“If they have stellar talent or a killer jawline, I send them along to my friend who works as an agent,” Cynthia explained. “No use letting them go to waste!”
Amanda was fascinated with Cynthia. For a little while, they’d had similar lives, gone to the same school, and even lived just a few blocks away from one another. But now, Cynthia’s life had transformed to Technicolor Los Angeles highways and long Californian beaches and high-end designer wear. Amanda’s life was diapers and sleepless nights and flicking through television channels as her brain turned to goop.
But Cynthia had promised that she could get Amanda’s career back up and running with her connections. The Arnouts couldn’t touch her.