Chapter 5

            Catherine arrived at Harry and Martha Townsend’s home in the upper east side. Catherine told Cameron and his family about the ADA’s deal. The family was having before dinner cocktails in the den.

            “Did you tell him to take his deal and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine?” Harry Townsend asked and sipped is bourbon.

            “No. I am obligated to bring Cameron the deal and let him make his own decision. However . . . I do advise he not take it,” Catherine stated. “But in the end, it’s Cameron’s decision.”

            “Tell Quinn to take his deal and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine,” Cameron said with his eyebrow cocked up.

            Everyone chuckled.

            “Very well,” Catherine said nonchalantly. “I’ll leave you to finish your drinks and enjoy your dinner.”

            “Catherine, please stay,” Mrs. Townsend implored. “We have an excellent chef. Just hired her a few months ago.”

            “The best chef we’ve had in ten years,” Mr. Townsend added.

            “I appreciate the offer, but –” Catherine began.

            “Do you have other dinner plans?” Cameron interrupted.

            “No, but I have paperwork –”

            “Since it’s only paperwork, it can wait for two hours,” Cameron said as he stood.

“No, it can’t,” Catherine asserted. In truth, she was in no mood to be around anyone this evening. She had the first day of Cameron’s trial this morning. She had lunch with her parents. Then she had been in court again for an assault case. Then another case after that for trespassing and damage of property. It had been a long day. What she wanted was to put a frozen dinner in the microwave, settle in with a glass or two – or five of wine as she watched Law & Order SVU.

“We insist,” Mrs. Townsend said. “The way you have stood by Cameron and working on his case day and night the least we can do is feed you dinner.”

Catherine smiled. “The last time I checked I was billing him for my time.”

Ezekiel chuckled.

“Nevertheless, we’re feeding you,” Mr. Townsend said.

“And no offense, dear, but it appears you could use a few good meals,” Lea Ann Townsend-Rushings said. “You’re so thin.”

“I’ve always been thin,” Catherine said. Granted she had lost eight pounds since the breakup but still.

“Catherine, you may as well accept. No one here is going to let you go until you do,” Don said. “We can be a stubborn bunch at times.”

“And trust me, you do not want to miss a chance to eat Lucy’s cooking,” Cameron said.

Ugh, god. What does a girl have to do to be at home to drink and wallow in self-pity in peace? To the outside world, Catherine did the best she could to put up a brave front – a strong and confident Catherine Alexis Van Dyke. But in reality, she cried herself to sleep at least four times a week and she was starting to drink too much at home.

The Townsends stared at her like they were expecting a yes.

That’s when Catherine realized there was no way out. “All right, I accept.”

“Good,” Mr. Townsend in a victorious tone. “Now let’s go to the dining room.”

                                                                          ****

            Dinner wasn’t as painful as Catherine had thought. The Townsends had a happy rapport with each other. And Cameron wasn’t exaggerating about his parents’ cook. That was the best stuffed lobster Catherine has ever had in her life. And the cherry cheese cake was absolutely superb.

            Catherine was able to get out of having after dinner conversation and drinks with the family. Yet, Cameron insisted on walking her to her car.

            “I’m glad you enjoyed dinner,” he said.

            “Yes. Thanks again for strong arming me into staying.”

            They lightly laughed.

            “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

            “Work. Why do you ask?”

            “Just curious.”

            “Hmm.”

            They fell silent as they approached Catherine’s white BMW.

            “Can I ask you a just curious question, too?”

            “Sure,” Cameron answered.

            “Your cousin, Ezekiel . . . he doesn’t . . . look like the rest of you,” Catherine stated carefully.

            Cameron leaned back with shock. “Is it that obvious?” He grinned.

            Catherine scoffed with amusement laced with embarrassment. “I was wondering how he is . . . a Townsend.”

            “My father’s brother and Don’s father, Uncle Hugh, found him and adopted him.”

            “Found him where? If I may ask,” she added quickly.

            “Sure. It’s not a secret really,” Cameron said nonchalantly. “Uncle Hugh ran a restaurant years ago in Washington DC. He was taking the garbage out one night. Caught a little black kid going through the trash. When my uncle yelled out at him, he ran or tried too rather. Uncle Hugh was faster and caught him within seconds. He asked the boy his name.  He answered Ezekiel. Then he asked why he was going through his trash. Ezekiel had told him that his mother didn’t have a lot of money and therefore couldn’t buy a lot for them to eat. My uncle asked why his mother couldn’t file for food assistance or go to a food pantry. During those days, food pantries in D.C. were being overrun with needy people and for some reason Ezekiel’s mother only got a hundred dollars a month in SNAP benefits – or so he had claimed.”

            “He claimed?” she repeated with confusion.

            “I’m getting to that part. My uncle took pity on him. Said that he would set food aside for him and his mother a few nights a week so he wouldn’t have to go through the garbage. So, four times a week Uncle Hugh went out in the back alley and gave Ezekiel dinners for two. This went on for three months. Then Uncle Hugh decided to follow Ezekiel home one night. He thought at the most he would find Ezekiel’s mother waiting in a car a block away. After all, Ezekiel was only eleven at the time therefore too young to walk the streets of D.C. alone at night. Anything could have happened to him.”

            “So, what happened when your uncle met Ezekiel’s mother?”

            Cameron snorted lightly. “He never did meet his mother.  He followed Ezekiel to a vacant building. Suffice it to say, Ezekiel was shocked as hell when Uncle Hugh made his presence known. He had no choice but to admit that his mother had died three years ago.  He ended up in the foster care system, but he ran away from the homes – four homes to be exact.  The first home, the woman was exceptionally mean to him and two other foster kids. The next two homes the foster parents were drunks who fought all the time. The last foster home . . . the woman kept flirting with him. He figured he was better off on the streets and he was as long as he found shelter in the winter and kept fast on his feet.”

            “Oh, dear. Then what happened?”

            “Since it was October, it wasn’t going to get any warmer.  Uncle Hugh invited Ezekiel to stay with him and Don for a while. Aunt May had died of cancer by then. A while turned into a year. Then a year turned into two years. Then Uncle Hugh decided to legally adopt Ezekiel. Social services didn’t give them any problems. It was all made legal rather quickly.”

            “What about Ezekiel’s father?”

            Cameron shrugged.  “Ezekiel had no idea who he was and still doesn’t. On his birth certificate, it actually says unknown.”

            “He never asked his mother who his father was?”

            “He did,” Cameron answered. “But she never gave him a straight answer. Always told him he didn’t need his daddy and wouldn’t want him if he knew what she knew about him.”

            “I see. Considering what Ezekiel has been through, he turned out well.”

            “Yes. Thanks to my uncle, may god rest his soul. Ezekiel runs the restaurant now along with Don.”

            “That’s great,” Catherine said sincerely. “Well, I best get going. My paperwork doesn’t do itself. Thanks again for dinner.”

            “No problem. We were glad to have you,” Cameron said with a little smile. “Have a good night.” He quickly leaned in and kissed her cheek. Then he walked away like it was an innocent peck.

            Catherine guessed he didn’t mean anything inappropriate by it but it still made her feel – something. However, she couldn’t place what it was.  She was not used to her clients showing her that sort of affection as gratitude. Shake her hand? Yes. But not kiss on the cheek.

                                                                        ****

            Harry and Martha Townsend were in their master suite. Martha was sitting up against severely fluffy pillows with her hands folded in her lap. Harry emerged from the bathroom.

            Martha sighed heavily.

            “What is it, Martha?” he asked as he pulled the covers back.

            “I’m worried about Cameron,” she answered. “Do you really think Catherine can get him acquitted?”

            “If she can’t, no one can. She’s the best money can buy from what I understand.” He got into bed next to her.

            “That’s not an answer.”

            He looked over at her. He was quiet for a long moment. So long she was actually starting to feel uncomfortable. “I hope so.”

            “Harry . . . you don’t think he . . . did it, do you?” she asked, slightly above a whisper.

            “No, but it doesn’t look good for the boy at the moment.”

            “No, it doesn’t. I told Cameron that girl was going to bring him nothing but trouble. And I was right. She’s so much trouble that she’s causing Cameron problems from beyond the grave.”

            “Goodnight, Martha.” Harry turned and cut the lamp off, putting half the room in darkness.