Every Fifteen Minutes

by Lisa Scottoline

  Caitlin waved her down the hall. “Go get them and we’ll put them on in the car. Hurry up, now.”

  “Okay.” Hannah ran off down the hall to her room.

  Eric waited until Hannah was out of earshot, then turned to Caitlin. “As I suspected, she’s not excited about playing softball, but I have no problem with you giving it a try. I would’ve liked to go and see her practice, and I have every right to do so.”

  “If you had taken Daniel’s call, you would know that you don’t have every right to do so.”

  “As you say, ‘What possible objection can you have to my being there?’” Eric wasn’t above throwing her own words back at her. “If softball is so great, why can’t I watch my daughter enjoy it?”

  “She won’t enjoy it if you watch. She’ll act like she doesn’t like it so you’ll feel sorry for her.”

  “No, she won’t.” Eric felt stung for Hannah. “She’s just a little kid trying to deal with big emotions. We’re supposed to help her do that, even if we don’t want her to have those emotions. Even if those emotions are inconvenient for us.”

  “Give it a rest, Freud. Why do you have to burden everything? Why is everything so freighted?”

  “Actions have consequences, Caitlin. People are allowed to have emotional reactions to decisions, especially children.”

  “Gimme a break.” Caitlin clenched her perfect teeth. “Kids play softball. Bad things happen and good things happen. People get divorced, and everybody has to learn to move on. Me, you, and Hannah.” Caitlin lowered her voice because Hannah was walking toward them, holding her socks and her cleats, trailing overlong shoelaces.

  “Mommy, I got my shoes!”

  “Can you walk faster?” Caitlin hurried toward Hannah and hustled her down the hallway to the stairwell, just as Eric’s phone started ringing in his pocket. He slid it out quickly, a psychiatrist’s reflex. He glanced at the screen, which read Susan Grimes, his lawyer, so he slid the phone back into his pocket and hurried after Caitlin and Hannah. He followed them downstairs, where Caitlin gave him the job of carrying shopping bags of healthy snacks to the car, while she laced Hannah’s cleats. When it was time to go, Caitlin locked the front door, then she and Hannah piled into the car.

  Eric waved good-bye as they reversed out of the driveway, turned right, and disappeared around the bend, out of sight. He realized that the FOR SALE sign was gone and assumed that Caitlin had removed it while he was upstairs. He turned away and headed to the garage, where he spotted the sign behind the beach chairs. He moved the chairs, retrieved the sign, and threw it in the trash can out back. He didn’t bother thinking about it, he just did it, and it felt good and childish, both at once.

  He went back to the garage, changed into the sweatshirt and jeans that he stowed in his workshop, then got his tools, carried them out to the back fence, and fixed the rail as it grew dark. He tried to ignore the tension tightening his chest. He reminded himself that it was just an overactive amygdala, the brain’s emotional control center, which was hyperactive in those with anxiety. He pictured his neuroscience textbook, which showed thermal images of the brain, the amygdala hot with electrical activity, in vivid reds and orange flares, like sunspots.

  Eric put the tools back, started the tractor, and mowed the lawn, finally calming down as he drove back and forth in strips as straight as wound tape, getting as close as possible to the trunks of the trees so he didn’t have as much to weed-whack, tending a yard that his daughter would no longer play in, on a property he no longer owned, with a house that was no longer his home.

  By the time the sun abandoned the sky, Eric barely noticed. Because he was already in darkness.

  He didn’t see the text until he got home.

  Chapter Six

  Eric opened his door into his entrance hall, set his keys and mail on the side table, then slid his iPhone from his pocket. The screen showed a text he must have missed. He hadn’t felt the phone vibrate while he was mowing the lawn, and he’d started making calls almost as soon as he hit the car; first to his lawyer, whom he didn’t reach, second to the Remax Realtor, whom he didn’t reach either, and finally he returned calls to his private clients. Luckily, nothing had been pressing, just hands held, dosages tweaked, and pharmacies called, and then he was here, his new home.

  He felt tired, sweaty, and hungry, covered with a fine yellow-green dusting of pollen. His T-shirt hung on his body, his jeans and sneakers were covered with grass clippings. He touched the text icon, and the text popped onto the screen. He didn’t recognize the phone number but the text read:

  U wanted 2 talk about Jacobs but I didn’t C U before U left.

  I’m free 2 meet 2 nite. Kristine

  Eric blinked, surprised. It was from his medical student, Kristine Malin. He’d never gotten a text from her, or any other med student, before. He didn’t know how she got his cell number, then he realized she would have password access to the online hospital directory. True, he had told her that he wanted to talk to her about Armand Jacobs, a seventy-something patient whose borderline personality disorder wasn’t helped by a relapse into alcoholism, but that could wait until tomorrow. The matter had slipped Eric’s mind and he’d left work from the ED, after talking with Laurie.

  She has a lady boner for you.

  Eric wondered if Kristine was asking him out and using the case for an excuse. He would never date anyone under his supervision, much less a medical student, but he was tempted. After all, his new place was empty, the silence practically echoing. He still hadn’t furnished it completely because he’d been holding out hope that he and Caitlin would get back together, but that wasn’t happening. The last time he had sex was eight months and about three weeks ago. Still, he didn’t need a date, he needed a lawyer.

  Eric thumbed to the phone function, scrolled through his contacts, and pressed Call, then wandered into the kitchen while the phone rang. “Susan?” he said, when the call was picked up. “Hi, did you get my message?”

  “Yes, hello.” Susan’s voice was hard to hear over some background noise. “I’m at my son’s basketball game. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you back.”

  Eric thought of what Caitlin had said, normal kids like sports, but he pressed that thought away. “Do you have time to talk? It’s important and I’m one of those clients now, who call at all hours.”

  Susan laughed. “Go ahead. I understand from Daniel you had an issue at the house today. What happened?”

  Eric filled her in as succinctly as possible. “But can she sell the house without asking me?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. We agreed that you were giving her the house because it was the best thing for Hannah, but we didn’t provide for that in the agreement. In my defense, the only thing I can say is that sort of thing is never in an agreement.”

  “Damn it.” Eric went to the refrigerator and opened the door.

  “The most I could have done is to try and get you the right of first refusal. My sense is that she knew she wanted to sell the house when she signed the agreement. I said as much to Daniel. He didn’t deny it but he didn’t confirm it either.”

  “Can we change the agreement to put in the right of first refusal?” Eric scanned the refrigerator, which contained expired milk, a six of Bud Light, and leftovers from Chipotle, Saladworks, and Outback Steakhouse. He ate so much takeout that he saw tinfoil lids in his sleep.

  “No. We can’t amend it because they won’t agree. They never would have.”

  “I see.” Eric wasn’t giving up. “But isn’t there anything we can do to stop her?”

  “Sorry, but no.”

  “Can I buy the house back? I called the Realtor, but he hasn’t returned it yet.”

  “I have to advise against you doing that, Eric.”

  “Why? If I’m crazy enough to buy my own house, why should anybody stop me?”

  “If the house is under contract and you start making phone calls that disrupt that transaction, she could sue you.”

  Eric
scoffed, incredulous. “For what? Trying to buy a house I used to own?”

  “It’s called tortious interference with contract.”

  “But what if it’s for a higher number? She said she got the full asking price, but whatever it is, I can top it. How is that interfering with the contract?”

  “Not so fast, I doubt you can top it. After I spoke with Daniel today, I called my cousin who’s a Realtor at Berkshire Hathaway, and he did some digging for me. Caitlin got $510,000 for the house.”

  “What?” Eric grabbed a Bud Light and closed the refrigerator door. “That’s not possible. The estimator valued it at $450,000. How did she get that much?”

  “My cousin thinks it’s a foreign buyer.”

  “What foreign buyer? This is the Philadelphia suburbs, not London.”

  “He says that the houses in your neighborhood are getting snapped up for the executives, ever since Centennial Tech merged with that Japanese company. They paid way too much. Three bedrooms, two baths, for 510? On that parcel?”

  Eric felt his heart wrench. He loved that parcel. “Well. That shuts me down. We both know I don’t have $510,000 in cash lying around.”

  “Especially since you let her buy you out for a hundred grand. She makes great money, and by all rights, she should’ve paid fully half.” Susan clucked. “I tried to warn you. No good deed, Eric.”

  “It was my kid’s house.” Eric tucked the phone under his ear, went to the silverware drawer, pulled out the church key, and pried the lid off his beer.

  “Yes, it was, and Caitlin made herself a bundle.”

  Eric couldn’t say anything, trying to process the information. He didn’t know how Caitlin could bring herself to sell the house, even for that much money. He didn’t know how she could let him go. He loved her still, but she was gone and somehow she’d ended up with everything—Hannah, a windfall, and a perfectly mown lawn that didn’t even need weed-whacking. He took a slug of beer, which tasted bitter.

  “Eric, are you there?”

  “Yes, but I’m suicidal. Luckily, I know a good shrink.”

  Susan chuckled.

  “Okay, let’s switch gears. Talk to me about softball. Caitlin said I wasn’t permitted to go to Hannah’s practice. Was that right?”

  “No, she was just trying to back you down, and so was Daniel. I’m glad you didn’t take his call. He never should have talked to you. He knows you’re represented. Anyway, softball practice is a public event. You’re permitted to go.”

  “Doesn’t she have to ask me before she signs Hannah up for summer activities? Isn’t that what legal custody means, that we decide major decisions together?”

  “The term ‘shared legal decisions’ are major things, like choice of religion or enrolling the child in a different school.”

  “So what do we do about softball?”

  “Nothing. If we went to a judge and asked him to restrain Caitlin from enrolling Hannah in a softball league, we would lose. It would look like you were overreaching. Micromanaging.”

  “You make it sound like nothing, and it’s not for a kid like Hannah. I told you, she’s anxious and she doesn’t want to play softball. She’s not as good, and the other girls bully her. Couldn’t we say that to the court?”

  “No. A court doesn’t want to be in the business of telling parents whether or not their kids should play softball. I know you think she has an anxiety disorder, but she hasn’t been diagnosed with one.”

  “I diagnose her as having one.”

  “But the court would say that you weren’t independent, and you’re not. If you want me to get an evaluation of her psychological status, we can do that.”

  “I don’t want to stress her more, to prove a point to some judge.” Eric hated this whole legal process, asking a judge what was best for a child he knew better and loved more than life itself. “She’s already under the stress of the separation, and now, a move.”

  “Kids are resilient, Eric.”

  “Not that resilient.” Eric disliked the skepticism in Susan’s tone. Kids with anxiety issues were in psychic pain, and nobody knew that better than he did. Anybody could be pushed over the edge, given the right circumstances. He wondered how many school shootings it would take before people woke up.

  “Eric, here’s what I suggest. See how the practice goes. Let her try it one or two times. That will make you look reasonable to the court if we have to go.”

  Eric was getting a new idea, a bold one. “Listen, I really got blindsided by this house business, and it raises the question of whether I should have given Caitlin primary custody. If Caitlin is going to change so many things, then Hannah isn’t going to get the benefit of the continuity that I bargained for.”

  “Where are you going with this?”

  “Can we apply to the court for me to be primary custodian?”

  “Are you serious?” Susan asked, surprised.

  “Yes, why not?”

  “But you and Caitlin agreed the other way. We just filed a custody agreement that gives her primary physical custody.”

  “That was before I knew she was selling the house.” Eric took another swig of beer. Either the Bud Light was improving his reasoning powers or he was getting blitzed. “Think outside the box. Why shouldn’t I be primary custodian? I can work fewer hours than Caitlin and I have more flexibility. Hell, if I wanted to, I could quit my job at the hospital and see patients only at home.”

  “Slow down, Eric. You’re talking about changing your life.”

  “Maybe I need to change my life.” Eric felt his heart lift. Months of watching his fatherhood whittled to nothing had been getting to him more than he realized. “It’s time to get aggressive, isn’t it? Caitlin is.”

  “It’s not a contest between you and Caitlin. It’s about the best interests of Hannah.”

  “I know that, and I think it’s in Hannah’s best interest to be with me, now.”

  “Why? Just because your ex is selling the house?”

  “No, not per se, but it got me thinking. I went with the least disruptive thing for Hannah, but that purpose just got defeated. If she has to move, let her move in with me.” Eric took anther swig of beer. “I thought it would benefit Hannah if we didn’t fight over her, but I shouldn’t have tried to avoid the conflict. I should fight for what I think is right.”

  “Why is it right for you to be the primary custodian? It’s unusual for a female child.”

  “I’m very close to Hannah, closer than Caitlin. I get her in ways that Caitlin doesn’t.” Eric knew it in his heart, even if Caitlin would never admit it. “I think if you asked Hannah, she would choose to live with me over Caitlin, but I’d hate for Hannah to have to testify. Would she have to?”

  “No. The judge could ask her in chambers whom she wants to live with, but she’s too young for it to be dispositive. If you want primary custody, then I would withdraw our papers, right away.”

  “Then what?”

  “We would open the custody discussion and negotiate. If we couldn’t agree, then we battle it out in court. It’s not pretty, but if it’s what you want, we can do that.” Susan hesitated. “You know, before we go there, there is a middle ground.”

  “What?”

  “We could ask for fifty-fifty physical custody. Hannah would be one week at your house, and one week at Caitlin’s.”

  “I don’t like that idea, for Hannah. She’d have to get used to two new houses, and kids with anxiety don’t do well with change, shifting back and forth. It’s hard for them to adapt and it creates even more adjustment problems.”

  “Okay. Sleep on it over the weekend. Call me Monday morning and let me know what you decide.”

  “If we go to trial, will we win?”

  “It’s a borderline case, and I don’t know. All I can say is, if you decide this is the way to go, I will do my very best.”

  “Thanks.” Eric felt a warm rush of gratitude.

  “In the meantime, toe the line. Don’t call Caitlin and fuss abou
t softball. Don’t call Hannah and ask her how it went, either. Bow out. Let it be between the two of them.”

  “I’m allowed to talk to Hannah, aren’t I? I call her every night. We gave her a cell phone so she could talk to me.”

  “Yes, but don’t pump her for information. Courts frown on that.”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “So far. But everything is about to become adversarial, which it hasn’t been before. Caitlin isn’t going to take this lying down. You don’t need me to spell that out, do you?”

  Eric didn’t.

  “Everything you do now goes on the record. The court will see all of it.” Susan sounded like she was wrapping up. “Do you follow me?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Let’s talk Monday. I have to go. My son’s game is over.”

  “Did they win?”

  “If they won, I’d be cheering. Have a good night.”

  “Great, take care. Bye.” Eric pressed End Call and took another swig of beer, draining the bottle. He set it and his phone down on the counter, and on the screen glowed the red alert on the text icon, from young Kristine.

  He headed for the shower, to consider his decision.

  Chapter Seven

  Eric lathered up, letting the hot water relax his neck and shoulders. His thoughts ran free, fluid, and easy, if somewhat disorganized, which was unusual for him. His initial enthusiasm about trying to get primary custody of Hannah worried him, and he challenged it in his mind. He loathed to put her through a custody battle, which pitted her against her own mother. If the judge asked her whom she wanted to live with and Hannah chose him, then that would burden her in a new way.

  Eric turned around, and water sluiced down his back. His mind stayed on track. As long as both parents were fit, a custody battle seemed the classic no-win position for her; Hannah would lose either her mother or her father as a hands-on parent. Eric didn’t like being the odd man out, but he knew that he was better behaved than Caitlin. If Caitlin were the loser in the battle of Hannah, she would never forgive him. He would lose her, even as a friend, until the end of their days. So he had a no-win decision of his own.