Chapter 12: Florence Home
Florence left the hospital with a walker and a stare that dared the mansion to exclude her again.
Spencer put her in the east suite, the one with morning light and no portraits of the old Mr. Warren. Charlee braided Florence’s hair with solemn concentration. Dexter dozed through the reunion like a diplomat. Florence touched the baby’s fist and said, “Your eyes don’t get to be a secret either.”
She told Charlee, in pieces suitable for a child, that blood had been hidden to protect reputations, not people. Charlee asked if she had to forgive Julian. Florence said forgiveness was not a chore on the chore chart. Safety was. Spencer, listening from the doorway, put safety on the chart in pen.
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Pamela’s medical license faced suspension; her civil settlement talks began with numbers and ended with restrictions on ever speaking about Spencer’s samples as if they were hers to assign. Spencer did not attend those meetings. Victor sent summaries. Spencer read them after bottle duty.
Harlan found, in a separate unit rented under another shell, clothing confirmed as Jocelyn’s and a ledger page with payments matching Julian’s LLC. Still no Jocelyn. The cousin cried on a recorded call and kept hope in a way Spencer refused to call foolish. Hope was a kind of evidence of love. The law needed other kinds too.
