When Emily had first told Daniel about her desire to adopt Chantelle, they’d contacted their friend Richard Goldsmith, who was a custody attorney from town. An informal chat had taken place in the inn over coffee and cake. But this time, their meeting was taking place in his office in town. This time it felt serious and very real.
Emily nervously smoothed down her skirt as she and Daniel entered the plush office, which looked like something out of a story book, set in an old red brick building covered with climbing ivy. Emily couldn’t help her feelings of apprehension. What if Richard had bad news? What if she would never be able to become Chantelle’s real, legal mother like the little girl seemed to desire as much as Emily herself?
The receptionist, a young woman with fiery ginger hair, welcomed them with a sweet, reassuring smile.
“Mr. Goldsmith will be with you shortly,” she said, without them even needing to introduce themselves. “He’s just been held up with another client.”
Emily squirmed and chewed her lip. Client. It felt odd to think of herself in such a way. But that’s what she was, and what she must be to achieve her goal. Taking legal custody of Chantelle wasn’t just a matter of chatting with an acquaintance on her porch over coffee anymore. It would involve lawyers and courts, judges and legal documentation. This was real and she needed to get used to it.
Emily steeled herself. She could handle this. She had to; she loved Chantelle too much to fail, to wilt under the pressure. But there was another part of Emily that was still reeling from Saturday’s failed trip to the wedding venue and the way Daniel had clammed up at the mere suggestion of selecting a season during which they would be wed. If he was changing his mind about this, he needed to be brave and tell her before things got serious, before contracts were signed and hearts were too much on the line to turn back. The words of her family and friends still repeated in Emily’s mind, that Daniel was using her because he wanted someone to raise Chantelle for him, that Emily had made it too easy on him. She’d let him live rent free on the grounds of her property, she’d taken his child in without question, and had forgiven him so quickly for those long six weeks during which he’d prioritized his child over her. But what they didn’t accept or understand was how all those things made her love him more: his resourcefulness and resilience during the years he’d lived in the carriage house, the care he’d shown the property during the decades it had stood empty, keeping it on life support in case Roy Mitchell returned, and the fact he’d stepped up for Chantelle without question, proving himself to be a real man, the sort that didn’t shirk his responsibilities, that put his child’s needs over his own.
The door to Richard’s office suddenly swung open, making Emily jump out of the thoughts she’d been absorbed in. Richard stood in the doorway as he shook hands with a petite, blond woman sniffling into a tissue. She reminded Emily instantly of Sheila. A wave of guilt crashed over her.
Emily couldn’t hear Richard’s hushed words but she picked up on his reassuring tone. Then he bid goodbye to the woman and she shuffled past them, heading out the door in a flurry.
Once she was gone, Richard turned to Emily and Daniel. “Please, come in.”
“Is she okay?” Emily asked as they followed him into his office.
She was concerned for the woman he’d just shown out, but also curious about the reason for her tears. Perhaps she was about to enter a court battle like them, only she was on the flip side of the coin, the side where she was having her legal guardianship revoked. Was it fair? Had she done anything to deserve it, drugs, abandonment? Did anyone ever deserve it?
But then she remembered Chantelle. No, it wasn’t fair. But this wasn’t about what was fair, it was about what was right.
“I’m afraid I can’t discuss that,” Richard said, putting an end to Emily’s wild flight of fantasy. He settled into his large leather chair and adjusted the pant legs of his crisp gray suit. “I have to show the same level of confidentiality to all my clients. I’m sure you understand.”
Emily’s unease abruptly returned on hearing that word again. Client. It reminded her how serious this was. They were paying for this meeting, for Richard’s expertise and his time. Everything had become suddenly very formal. Emily wondered whether she should have worn a suit.
Daniel seemed just as uncomfortable beside her. She could tell by the way he kept fidgeting and fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. They were both very much out of their comfort zone in Richard’s plush office.
Richard removed his glasses and looked up from their file. “So there are two options to consider here. It partly comes down to semantics, but there are some crucial differences between the two courses of action we can take.”
“Which are…?” Emily prompted.
“Guardianship or adoption,” Richard concluded. “Guardianship, in its basic form, would simply establish a legal relationship between Chantelle and Emily but it wouldn’t end Sheila’s legal relationship with her child. On the other hand, with adoption, all of Sheila’s rights and obligations over Chantelle would cease and Emily would henceforth be considered her mother. In other words, she would be a substitute for Sheila in every legal sense. Adoption is intended to create a permanent and stable home, so we would need Sheila to relinquish her rights over Chantelle, and to understand that this would be irrevocable.”
Emily nodded, letting his words seep in. She thought of Chantelle in her room asking her to promise Sheila would never come back.
“Chantelle doesn’t want a relationship with her mom,” Emily explained.
“But a guardianship would be much easier to secure,” Richard contested, folding his hands on the desk. “If Sheila isn’t prepared to relinquish her rights over Chantelle, which from what you’ve told me of her thus far she would not want to do, we’ll have to prove that Chantelle would not just be better off with you but that Sheila is unfit to care for her, and that allowing her any kind of contact with her mother would cause her harm.”
“She’s told me time and time again she wants me to be her real mom,” Emily said. “That she never wants to see Sheila again.”
Daniel looked uncomfortable. “I don’t think it would be right to cut Sheila out entirely.”
Richard listened to them quietly. “This isn’t about visitation rights or anything like that. If you become Chantelle’s legal mother, it would be up to you whether she ever sees Sheila again. Unless you’re planning on taking out a restraining order on her. This is just about the legality, about who makes the decisions regarding her care.”
It felt too clinical. How could a child’s life and well-being be considered just a legality? This was her heart they were talking about. There was no way of separating out her emotions. It was impossible.
Emily touched Daniel’s hand lightly.
“It needs to be full adoption,” she explained. “Otherwise Sheila might take her away from us one day. Chantelle wakes up screaming in the night about that prospect. She’s asked me over and over again to protect her from Sheila. She’s asked if I can be her mom. I know she’s only seven but that girl knows her own mind.”
Daniel finally relented with a single, sad nod. Emily felt bad for him, but at the same time she was certain that this was the right thing to do for Chantelle’s sake.
“We’re going for adoption,” Daniel confirmed.
Richard nodded. “Each state has a different process,” he explained. “But here in Maine, we’d need to file a petition of relinquishment to Sheila. The courts would serve her with papers, then she’d be entitled to counseling, there’d be a mediation meeting in front of a family law magistrate with the aim of coming to a peaceful resolution. Finally, a court date would be set for a judge to make a decision. Of course, if Sheila gives consent, things will go more smoothly. If she fights the petition then things will take longer as there will need to be a summary hearing, a jeopardy hearing, a judicial review, and finally a permanency planning hearing.”
“What costs are involved?” Daniel asked.
“Some,” Richard explained. “But they’re not as hefty as you’d expect. We’re talking around two hundred dollars per meeting, so it will be less than a thousand dollars all in.”
One thousand dollars. That’s all it would take to make Chantelle their daughter. One thousand dollars, plus weeks and months of anguish.
“Daniel,” Richard then said somewhat solemnly, “I must make it clear that your prior conviction won’t do you any favors.”
“Prior conviction?” Emily stammered.
“I told you,” Daniel said in a hushed, embarrassed voice. “When I defended Sheila. From her ex-husband. You remember.”
“You went to court over that?” Emily said. She hadn’t realized it had been so serious. She’d assumed Daniel had just gotten a slap on the wrist by the local cops and sent on his way.
She shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, reeling.
Richard coughed and carried on. He didn’t seem fazed. He’d probably seen it all in his office.
“What would really help for you, Daniel, is if you showed you were in paid employment.”
“He is,” Emily said. “He works for me.”
“He’s not on your payroll, though,” Richard explained. “Cash-in-hand work doesn’t look great. It needs to be consistent. A nine-to-five preferably.”
“Okay,” Daniel said, sounding resolved. “I’ll do that if it will help.”
Emily felt suddenly apprehensive. Daniel had always been available to her. Theirs was a fifty-fifty partnership. How would she cope with him out of the house all day? She’d be left to look after Chantelle alone. But the pressure for a full adoption was coming from her. If Daniel had his way, they’d take the less dramatic guardianship route. This was all her doing.
Richard folded up their file and returned his glasses to his nose. “Well, the next steps are for me to prepare the documentation, put the legal request forward to Sheila’s attorney. Then I’ll be in touch with more news. I must warn you, this will stir up bad blood in the short term. You ought to prepare for some drama.”
Daniel squeezed Emily’s arm for reassurance.
“We can handle it,” Emily told Richard. “For Chantelle, we can handle anything.”