Chapter 9 - The Lawyer's Letter
The email was not a lawsuit.
It was a letter.
A very expensive-looking letter full of phrases like ongoing grandparent relationship, best interests of the child, and mutually agreeable visitation schedule.
It requested that we allow my parents "regular and meaningful access" to Lily.
Regular.
Meaningful.
Access.
My eight-month-old daughter sounded like a timeshare.
I called a family attorney the next morning.
Her name was Allison Grant. She read the letter, asked questions, and then said, "First, don't panic. A lawyer can write a letter asking for almost anything. That does not make the request a court order."
"So she can't just take me to court because I left Christmas?"
"People can file things. Whether they have a viable case is another question, and that depends on facts and local law. I'm not going to make predictions until I review everything. But based on what you're telling me, document your communications and don't engage in threats."
"I haven't threatened her."
"Good. Keep it that way."
I sent her the voicemail.
The texts.
The blue folder.
Evan's screenshots.
"Where did your father get this folder?"
"My mother's office."
"And these handwritten notes are hers?"
"Yes."
"Keep the original safe."
That afternoon, Dad called.
"Your mother says you hired a lawyer."
"Your wife hired one first."
He sighed. "This has gotten out of control."
"No, Dad. It finally got documented."
"She is scared."
"So am I. The difference is I'm not collecting evidence against a baby."
He went quiet.
Then he said something I did not expect.
"You're right."
I sat down.
"What?"
"You're right. I should have stopped this."
I waited for the but.
It came.
"But if you could just come on New Year's Eve for thirty minutes, maybe everyone could calm down."
I closed my eyes.
"You still don't understand."
"Rachel—"
"There is no version of this where I bring Lily into a room to make Mom feel better about threatening me with a lawyer."
I hung up.
At six that evening, Mark sent me a photo from Mom's kitchen.
Mine was still there.
So was Evan's.
And beside my plate was a tiny silver place card holder.
LILY.
May you like
Under the photo, Mark wrote:
She keeps saying you're coming. And I think she has a plan.
