I Am Your Judge: A Novel by Nele Neuhaus Page B

suggested. “That’s why we called you in.”
    *   *   *
    “I’ll help you, Papa,” Sophia told him, dragging the little plastic footstool from the bathroom to the kitchen. “I know what you need to put in chicken soup.”
    She placed the stool next to him.
    “Really?” Oliver von Bodenstein was somewhere else entirely in his mind and forced himself to smile. “And what would that be?”
    “Well, first water. Then salt, pepper, and soup greens,” the girl ticked off on her fingers, leaning against the counter. “And chicken meat. But from an organic chicken, not a soup chicken. Oh yeah, and mushrooms. I love mushrooms.”
    “Sounds good,” said Oliver. “That’s exactly how we’ll make it.”
    “I want to cut up the carrots,” Sophia demanded, pulling out a drawer and taking out the biggest knife.
    “Maybe you’d do better washing the mushrooms.” Oliver took the gigantic chef’s knife away from her.
    “That’s boring. Mama always lets me cut up the carrots.” The little girl frowned and began fidgeting.
    “Sorry,” said Oliver.
    “But I know how to do it!”
    “Mushrooms or nothing.”
    “Then nothing.” Sophia jumped down from the stool and gave it a kick that sent it flying across the kitchen. She crossed her arms and sat down on the floor, sulking demonstratively.
    Oliver decided to let her pout. The weekends with his younger daughter were getting more exhausting every time. From morning to night, she demanded his attention. She was intensely jealous of Rosalie and Inka, and was always acting up. Cosima apparently allowed her to do almost anything as long as she could get some sleep. Just as it was back when Lorenz and Rosalie were small. He had clearly had more to do with the children on a daily basis than she ever did, since she was always at the office or going off on business trips. Whenever she was at home for a while, it was hard for her to find her place, because the kids were used to a life without their mother. To make herself popular with them, she had spoiled both of them and allowed them to do all the things that Oliver usually prohibited. Soon the kids were taking full advantage of their mother and showing her no respect. Cosima had tried to be strict, but she was never consistent about it. During this whole period, Oliver had mediated any disputes and made sure that the rules were enforced.
    These tactics had failed with Sophia, as was clearly noticeable from her behavior. The six-year-old had never learned to go without or to follow the rules. She easily wrapped her grandparents and babysitters around her little finger, but her charm didn’t cut any ice with her father. He recognized that a big problem was developing behind that pretty little face of hers, and he asked himself what he should do about it. Was it because of Sophia that Inka had still not moved in with him as they had planned? She hadn’t come right out and said so, but for quite a while now, Inka had stayed away on daddy-weekends. Oliver felt left in the lurch. When he had asked her about it, she replied that she got no attention from him anyway when Sophia was there, so she might as well stay home or work at the horse clinic.
    It hadn’t come to any open quarrel between them—it never got that far with Inka—but the essence of the conversation was an unspoken “her or me,” which left Oliver equally disappointed and relieved because Inka had made an important decision for him. Maybe it was cowardly of him; maybe it was selfish or merely a matter of convenience. But he knew in his heart of hearts that he had neither the desire nor the energy to make compromises that would extend for years into the future by bringing up a third child.
    Cosima had taken him by surprise when she waited until late in the pregnancy and presented him with a fait accompli. That was the beginning of the end. The baby hadn’t been enough to satisfy her need to feel young again. She had thrown herself into an affair, taking