her husband any favors. The judge is going to throw the book at her, not Jasper. Poor guy. He’s going to be one of those people who, after a year or so in prison, gets sick and dies. He’ll gradually shut down.”
Ian looked over at the clock on Harper’s side of the bed. It read three thirty. “Try and fall back to sleep. I’m here to watch out for you. I won’t go anywhere. And”—he gently nibbled at Harper’s ear—“I love you.”
“Mmm….” Harper yawned large. “I love you too.”
H ARPER woke the morning of the sentencing to one of Minnesota’s perennial spring insults, snow showers. He showered and dressed, and when he got downstairs, Ian had an egg, toast, and coffee waiting.
“What’s it like the morning of a sentencing?” Ian handed him a steaming mug.
“It’s fine. The press will be all over the place. That puts a different spin on things. Look at this weather, dreary and cold.” He glanced out the window at the backyard. All of Ian’s hard work was blanketed with a light dusting of snow.
I’d give anything to spend today with Ian.
Harper was surprised at how relaxed he felt. The writing was on the wall. Jasper Flynn was sure to be awarded one of the harshest sentences possible despite his pleas for leniency. All anyone could do at this point was let the process run its course. And that’s what made it so hard to leave this morning. Whether he was at the sentencing or not, the outcome would be the same.
“What do you do on days like this?” Harper sipped his piping hot coffee cautiously.
“Further into the season, I can use rain days to catch up on invoicing, ordering, maybe some sketching and planning. But business isn’t there yet for me to have anything to catch up on. I think I’ll go over to my apartment and pick up a few more things. Then I’ll stop by Andy’s and see if I can help him out. If you get a chance, give me a call and let me know how things are going.” Ian walked over and wrapped his arms around Harper. “I wish you didn’t have to go in this morning. I can think of more than one thing I could do to you on a day like today.”
“You stop!” Harper begged, accepting a smooch on the lips. “I’m already dreading the rest of the day. Oh man, I lost track of the time. I have to run. I’ll call you, I promise.”
Harper spent much of the day reviewing a new pro bono case involving a woman who had voluntarily surrendered her three children because she was unable to control her methamphetamine addiction. Now that she was clean, she was having second thoughts and had hired an attorney to help get them back. The guardian ad litem, a county employee who monitored the situation, advised the mother was still a risk. Harper had been asked to defend the county’s opinion. An hour before he was scheduled to leave for the courthouse, he reviewed his sentencing notes and, for the first time all day, felt the familiar pangs of nervousness. Minutes before they were to leave, his assistant, Brent, showed up at his office door.
“Hey, Harper. Ready to head out?”
“I can’t find my phone. Have you seen my phone?” Frustrated for being such a scatterbrain, Harper searched his desk and bookshelves.
Brent joined the search, finding the phone buried underneath a pile of case notes.
“Sorry, I thought I looked there.” He tucked it in his coat pocket.
“Do you want me to call Mrs. Flynn?” Brent had a history of winning over difficult clients and most likely viewed Phyllis Flynn as a prime test of his considerable people skills.
“Thanks, but no. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I’ll call her when we get in the car. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if she was a no-show. She doesn’t care about Jasper and probably has a nail appointment she can’t miss.”
“Duncan and Arthur are already on their way over.” Brent glanced down at his notes.
“Great! You ready for this?” He stepped out of the office.
“I know it’s not going to be
Ian looked over at the clock on Harper’s side of the bed. It read three thirty. “Try and fall back to sleep. I’m here to watch out for you. I won’t go anywhere. And”—he gently nibbled at Harper’s ear—“I love you.”
“Mmm….” Harper yawned large. “I love you too.”
H ARPER woke the morning of the sentencing to one of Minnesota’s perennial spring insults, snow showers. He showered and dressed, and when he got downstairs, Ian had an egg, toast, and coffee waiting.
“What’s it like the morning of a sentencing?” Ian handed him a steaming mug.
“It’s fine. The press will be all over the place. That puts a different spin on things. Look at this weather, dreary and cold.” He glanced out the window at the backyard. All of Ian’s hard work was blanketed with a light dusting of snow.
I’d give anything to spend today with Ian.
Harper was surprised at how relaxed he felt. The writing was on the wall. Jasper Flynn was sure to be awarded one of the harshest sentences possible despite his pleas for leniency. All anyone could do at this point was let the process run its course. And that’s what made it so hard to leave this morning. Whether he was at the sentencing or not, the outcome would be the same.
“What do you do on days like this?” Harper sipped his piping hot coffee cautiously.
“Further into the season, I can use rain days to catch up on invoicing, ordering, maybe some sketching and planning. But business isn’t there yet for me to have anything to catch up on. I think I’ll go over to my apartment and pick up a few more things. Then I’ll stop by Andy’s and see if I can help him out. If you get a chance, give me a call and let me know how things are going.” Ian walked over and wrapped his arms around Harper. “I wish you didn’t have to go in this morning. I can think of more than one thing I could do to you on a day like today.”
“You stop!” Harper begged, accepting a smooch on the lips. “I’m already dreading the rest of the day. Oh man, I lost track of the time. I have to run. I’ll call you, I promise.”
Harper spent much of the day reviewing a new pro bono case involving a woman who had voluntarily surrendered her three children because she was unable to control her methamphetamine addiction. Now that she was clean, she was having second thoughts and had hired an attorney to help get them back. The guardian ad litem, a county employee who monitored the situation, advised the mother was still a risk. Harper had been asked to defend the county’s opinion. An hour before he was scheduled to leave for the courthouse, he reviewed his sentencing notes and, for the first time all day, felt the familiar pangs of nervousness. Minutes before they were to leave, his assistant, Brent, showed up at his office door.
“Hey, Harper. Ready to head out?”
“I can’t find my phone. Have you seen my phone?” Frustrated for being such a scatterbrain, Harper searched his desk and bookshelves.
Brent joined the search, finding the phone buried underneath a pile of case notes.
“Sorry, I thought I looked there.” He tucked it in his coat pocket.
“Do you want me to call Mrs. Flynn?” Brent had a history of winning over difficult clients and most likely viewed Phyllis Flynn as a prime test of his considerable people skills.
“Thanks, but no. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I’ll call her when we get in the car. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if she was a no-show. She doesn’t care about Jasper and probably has a nail appointment she can’t miss.”
“Duncan and Arthur are already on their way over.” Brent glanced down at his notes.
“Great! You ready for this?” He stepped out of the office.
“I know it’s not going to be
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