are we good to go?” Riley asked, turning away toward her desk.
Amanda balled her fists, wrinkling the documents she held in her hand.
A minute passed where Amanda stood motionless, as if she were a mannequin in a storefront window. Riley sat at her desk, shuffled some papers, picked up the phone and made a call, saying, “Yes, about the Garrett case. I think we’ll be able to wrap this up rather quickly. . . . No, I’m afraid not. She just really appears to despise her father. . . . That’s fine. I’ll finish the other paperwork and send her back.”
“ Who was that?”
“ Hmm?” Riley looked up with a look of confusion, as if she had forgotten Amanda was still there.
“ Who was that on the phone?”
“ Oh, I’m sorry. You’re not privy to that information. It’s confidential.” She wrinkled her nose and went back to the paperwork on her desk.
“ What do I need to do?”
Again, feigning distraction, Riley looked up, and with aggravation said, “Do, for what?”
“ To get the money. We’re talking about four hundred and fifty thousand dollars here—money my dad wanted me to have. Who are you to say I can’t have it, anyway?”
“ I, young lady, have been named in your father’s will as the person to determine whether or not you are mature enough to receive the money that he really does want you to have. That,” she emphasized, “is who I am.”
“ We can sue, you know?”
“ Of course, and by the time you’re my age, God forbid, you may get the money.”
Amanda tapped her foot as she stood in front of Riley’s desk. With folded arms, she said again, “Okay, what do I have to do?”
“ Well, Amanda, for starters, you have to take a seat over there and talk to me.”
“ Fine.”
“ Now, as long as you’re doing this voluntarily, I’m happy to talk to you.”
Amanda sat on the sofa this time. She crossed her legs and leaned back into the large tan cushion. The two females stared at one another for several minutes without speaking a word. Riley detected chemistry, both good and bad, on many levels. Running through her mind were so many thoughts about how she was going to complete her mission with Amanda. Her instructions were very specific.
Riley slid her chair back from her desk. Before standing, she opened a drawer. She slid her fingers across the glass of a picture frame. A smiling soldier stared up at her from the desk drawer. God, give me strength , she asked silently.
She had received the letter the same day that Amanda had been notified, she presumed. Major Ross had arrived at her office, sat down with her, and they had a good cry together. He had given her the relevant portion of Zachary Garrett’s will, giving her the responsibility to conduct seven sessions with Amanda before the Army released the insurance money.
She slid the drawer closed, stood, and walked toward Amanda. “Anything to drink?” she asked.
“ No, thank you,” Amanda replied.
Riley summoned her courage and then asked a simple question.
“ Can you tell me the seven worst things your father ever did to you?”
“ Where do you want me to start? He was always missing child support; he never came to visit; he was mean to my mom and grandmother; he always created problems when we were together; he was always disrupting stuff I wanted to do . . . need me to continue?”
“ Just pick one. Child support?”
“ Sure.” Amanda shrugged.
“ When did he miss child support, Amanda?”
“ I don’t know, always, sometimes. Mom would tell me.”
“ Any chance mom wasn’t being straight with you?”
Amanda stood up. “Don’t ever say that! My mother and grandmother raised me.”
“ Sit down, Amanda, and I will throw you out of here if you do that again. Do you understand? It will cost you $450,000.”
That seemed to get her attention.
“ Sorry,” she muttered. “It just kind of happened.”
“ I understand.” And she did. Riley was beginning to get the picture. Not that
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