Chapter 12
On Friday morning, Pippa wore the exact same outfit her mother had dropped her off in, meticulously washed and ironed so the Black Widow would find no excuse to masticate her daughter's fragile self-esteem. Pippa stood, bolt straight by the front picture window until the blackened limousine appeared in a cloud of reddish midsummer dust and glided to a stop in front of our front door.
I cursed her father for leaving this nasty task to me, but then I reminded myself this entire arrangement had never been Adam's choice. He'd rearranged his summer after Eva's public tantrum, and then when the wind shifted, he'd rearranged his schedule a second time. Now, the court investigator had told him Eva's rights meant more than his, so he was ripping up the roots he'd so carefully begun to
