I stuck with the Devores, mentioning nothing about voices, crying children, or thumps in the dark.
“Is it paternity?” he asked, sounding both respectful and afraid.
“No, custody.” I thought about telling him to get the whole story from the Lawyer to Be Named Later, but Harold deserved better . . . and would demand to hear my version sooner or later anyway, no matter what the lawyer told him. I gave him an account of my Fourth of July morning and its aftermath. I stuck with the Devores, mentioning nothing about voices, crying children, or thumps in the dark. Harold only interrupted once, and that was when he realized who the villain of the piece was.
