They met four other times before her stay at the shelter ended. Thirty minutes per session, with Hannah standing outside of the room and out of sight, though Lavinia could still perceive her presence and her delicate rose perfume. Mr Edgeworth barely changed his demeanor: he still acted coldly yet politely and tried to ask her some other questions about her literary tastes. Every time she mentioned an author he didn't know - which happened quite often, surely the top prosecutor didn't have time to dedicate to kids' stuff - she could almost spot a pen inside his head when he whispered that same name three times in a row. The second day he showed her some pictures of Pess that he had transferred to his phone - a new, expensive brand model - and Lavinia let herself to laugh a little at the image of small Pess swimming in a dirty pond.
He never smiled. Sometimes he would let out a scoff that Lavinia interpreted as his own kind of laugh. He never mentioned his job and Lavinia never dared to ask questions, but maybe dealing with criminals - assassins - did take its toll on him. She knew he didn't have parents either, but Hannah told her not to pry any further. Only once he mentioned a certain "Franziska".
"So you have a sister?"
"Yes," he said in a neutral tone. "Well, kind of. Stepsister."
"I see."
"She lives in Germany," he added. "Perhaps she'll come back for some holiday," and didn't talk about it anymore.
The more they conversed, the more Lavinia felt as if they weren't really making any actual progress. When the end of June came, Hannah was helping her pack her suitcase. She didn't have that many clothes or stuff in general, but she had seen children leave with way less. Luckily, Ron had let her bring with her the garments she had bought with Louise.
"Is this the last one?" Hannah asked, handing her a pink sweater. "At least you have some warm clothes for Autumn. You never know when it'll start to get chilly."
It was true. Strange as it sounded, summer was giving California some space. The humid weather Lavinia despised still hadn't brought its lungs-killing force. Dad used to light a fire in the hearth when November came, but she doubted Mr Edgeworth even had a fireplace.
"You know that you call us at any time, right, darling?" Hannah lowered her face, looking at her in the eye. "If something feels wrong or if you just want to talk, we're here."
"Thanks, Hannah."
"Please, don't hesitate, I mean it."
"Yes, Hannah. Thank you for everything."
The kids were playing outside. Lavinia hadn't shared a real bond with any of them, so she simply waved when Hannah called them to say goodbye. Ms Young hugged her tightly and Lavinia was sure her eyes were gleaming unnaturally.
"Who's gonna cut the vegetables now, uh? Good luck honey, be good for that fella."
Lavinia smiled at her, struggling to bring her tears back. She should have been happy: a respectable, wealthy man was bringing her to his home and, despite his reserved nature, he never gave her the impression of being a despicable person. He would provide for her and treat her kindly, even though not as a daughter. She had already given up on that: the only person who had ever thought of her like a child was her father and he was dead. None would ever take his place in her life, but that was fine. She didn't need another Dad. At that point, she only wanted some stability, some tranquility in her dull existence.
She finished shoveling her few books in a backpack and glanced at her room to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Her bed was already made to host another child, but the broken bulb of the night light had yet to be changed.
"Mr Edgeworth is here, darling," Hannah said from the hallway. "C'mon, we don't want him to wait too much."
Lavinia took her luggage and walked away from the room without giving it a last glance. She was leaving the place that had hosted her for three months, offering her a quiet peace that had managed to calm her racing heart, but now everything was coming to an end.
She knew there was no reason to be afraid of what was coming, yet, she stopped midway in the hallway. Hannah turned to her, eyes full of worry.
"What's the matter, darling?"
Lavinia sniffed. She didn't want to cry, she had been fighting the whole day against the tears, but now her strength abandoned her. "I'm scared."
"Of what, dear? There is nothing to fear."
"Everything can go wrong."
Her heart was pumping. Hannah stroked her hair, whispering sweet words to her, but her stomach began to crunch. A wave of nausea hit her and coughed twice. "I need to go to the bathroom."
Hannah took her hand, but Lavinia bolted away. She only managed to reach the bathroom sink when she vomited her whole dinner.
Fuck, fuck, fuck it, damn it!
Hannah came behind her, holding her hair up and massaging her back with a gentle touch.
"Hush, hush, darling," she murmured. "C'mon, take a deep breath, yes, just like that, good, keep going."
Lavinia coughed a few more times, but what had to come out was over. A pit formed in her stomach and she grabbed a tissue to clean her mouth.
"I'll go fetch you a bottle of water. Stay here."
Lavinia opened the tap, cleaning the sink and washing her mouth to make that awful taste go away. Hannah returned and Lavinia gulped half of the bottle with one sip.
"Do you feel better?"
"A bit. I'm fine. It's not like I have something else to empty."
Hannah looked at her suspiciously and sighed. She took her backpack in her hand. "Do you want to brush your teeth? We have a couple of minutes."
Lavinia nodded and cleaned herself up. She brushed her hair again, because it had tangled while being held up by Hannah. She splashed some cold water on her face and blew her nose a few times. The jackhammer inside her chest never slowed down.
I want to go to bed and sleep. I want to cry on my pillow. I want to stay in the dark with none near me. I want Dad. I don't want that man. I want Dad. I want grandpa. I want to go home.
Her eyes were still a bit puffy and red, but she didn't have enough time to wait for them to stop showing the signs of her crying. She sat on the bathroom floor, with Hannah near her stroking her hair. She kept quiet and Lavinia was grateful for that. She was fed up with her kind words, despite how sincere she knew they were. They only agitated her more, because there was no certainty that everything was going to be fine. Perhaps the chance was higher this time, but not completely. Even the Backes were "respectable good people", and it ended how it ended.
Ms Young emerged from the door. She held impatience in her face, but her features softened when she saw Lavinia on the floor. "Girls, time's up."
Lavinia lost a beat. She pinched her arm and got up with a shot.
Good girl, you have to be a good girl. Good girls don't make people wait. He'll like you if you are a good girl. Pull yourself together. It's the first day. Get your ass up.
Despite Mr Edgeworth's composure, she didn't know if his patience was already running thin. She straightened her shirt and grabbed her thing. "Yes, sorry, I'm ready."
She didn't dare to look at Hannah, because she was afraid she might burst into tears. They reached the first floor and there was Mr Edgeworth, wearing his usual burgundy suit, chatting with Ms Roberts, the director of the shelter. When she met his gaze, even for a split second - she didn't want him to see she had been crying - she didn't find a single trace of annoyance or anger. Just the serious, impassive expression that seemed to never leave his face.
"About time," the director said, making no effort to conceal the nuisance in her voice.
Hannah opened her mouth, but Mr Edgeworth was faster. "It's alright, I understand."
Lavinia widened her eyes, still glued to the floor. Some empathy was the last thing she had expected, but she was grateful nonetheless. A scolding from the director was the last thing she wished for at that moment.
Mr Edgeworth and the other members of the staff talked for one more minute about the additional paperwork and other stuff Lavinia decided not to listen to. She breathed slowly in a poor attempt to sooth her heart, with little success. Mr Edgeworth's hand on her shoulder took her out of her thoughts. "Let's go, shall we?"
She nodded, acknowledging her incapability to talk with a proper tone at that moment. She waved at Hannah and the Young sisters, whispering a small "bye" and "thank you" while battling her tears and followed Mr Edgeworth outside. The instant she thought would never come, like a mirage, was happening.
Mr Edgeworth led her to a red sports car parked outside the kitchen window. Ms Young was right: it was a remarkable vehicle, something that cost as much as a small apartment. Mr Edgeworth opened the trunk and put her luggage inside. "Is that all you have?"
Lavinia nodded, eyes pointed at her shoes.
"Words."
She startled. His voice was demanding, but not harsh. "That's all, yeah."
"Ok, get in."
They drove across the city while listening to a cheerful piece of classical music. Strings and harpsichord. Baroque, maybe? There were some CDs near her and she spotted a cover with the name Rachmaninoff written on it, but the CD was inside. She recognized the faces of Frank Sinastra and Buddy Holly, but stopped her curiosity from picking up the others. She sat with her back straight on the passenger seat and watched the buildings passing by. It was almost night: the only time Mr Edgeworth could spare some time to get to the shelter. He had told her he didn't live in the city center, because he preferred houses to apartments and the chaotic energy of the city life wasn't his cup of tea. Fifteen minutes into the journey, their destination didn't seem to be any nearer.
The pit in her stomach was hunting her. She didn't get the chance to eat after throwing up, but she thought she could handle one evening without food in her belly: she had already done it before, after all. Not a big deal. Plus, her nervousness would have shut her appetite anyway.
Or at least that's what she thought, because the grumble that erupted from her stomach told a different story. She quickly put her arms around her, hoping that Mr Edgeworth, who was focused on the road and with the melody on an allegro movement, didn't hear a single thing.
They stopped at a traffic light. Mr Edgeworth was tapping his finger on the steering wheel, his eyes never leaving the road. He opened his mouth, but the small screen between them lit up and the name "Prosecutor Gavin'' popped up above a red and a green button.
Mr Edgeworth grunted, but he accepted the call. "It's Edgeworth."
"Hey, how are you doing? Am I bothering you?" The voice belonged to a young man with a high, graceful pitch.
"Well, it's seven and a half and I am driving, but since you have called me tell me what you need."
"I'm at the Central Courthouse. Detective Skye has just given me the updated autopsy report for tomorrow's trial. I can make a copy for you and leave it at your office if you're already out."
The light turned green and Mr Edgeworth made a right turn. "If you don't mind waiting for five more minutes, we can meet at the Courthouse, I'm on my way."
"Great, I'll wait for you in Lobby N.3, ok?"
"Fine," and he pressed the end call button.
The music restarted and they both kept quiet. It was a peaceful silence with no strange awkwardness in it and Lavinia was glad of it. She wasn't in the mood to talk just yet.
They reached a giant building and Mr Edgeworth parked outside the main gate. A sigil with golden scales of justice glimmered under the setting sun and on the top of the roof stood the bronze statue of a woman whose eyes were covered with a cloth. She brandished an iron sword with one hand, holding another scales in the other.
"I will be right back," Mr Edgeworth said, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Wait here."
"Yeah."
When he got out, Lavinia put her head on the window. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the hunger that was devouring her insides. She couldn't wait for the moment she would be tucked in her bed, begging to be taken away by Morpheus.
"Let's make it quick, Mr Gavin," Edgeworth said when he saw him lying on the sofa of the lobby. "I have other business I need to take care of."
"Good evening to you as well, Edgeworth," Gavin smirked, rising on his feet. He fixed his long, blonde hair and handed him a file signed by Ema Skye. "So, the cause of death didn't change, he was stabbed three times in the back, but the head wound is post mortem and apparently he was pushed from the window after he had been stabbed. There are injuries that match with the effects of a huge fall."
"So, the crime scene might not be the courtyard."
"It could be the kitchen, where we found traces of blood with luminol, yes," Gavin said. "The corpse was found near the garage, so pretty far away from the window, but since the victim's son is a fitness instructor, it wouldn't have been impossible for him to move his father's body. Plus, we have found the victim's will, which he planned to get notarized: he wanted to give his daughter more than what he wished his son to have. Quite a motive, don't you think?"
"Yes," Edgeworth said. "Thank you for your time, Mr Gavin. If you don't have any new information, I will take my leave."
"That's all. The defense is still going to plead not guilty, since both Mr Peterson and his mother claim to have seen a robber in the courtyard. No new info on him, though" He took his jacket from the sofa. "Is everything alright, by the way? You look concerned."
Edgeworth nodded dismissively. "I'm just full of work."
Gavin shrugged. "I know, things are getting worse. Criminals don't go on holiday in summer, after all." He waved his hand at him and smiled. "See ya."
Edgeworth responded with a brief gesture. He leafed through the pages of the new autopsy report, but he closed it immediately. All he wanted at the moment was a cup of tea and Pess sprawled on his lap.
He walked through the empty hallways. Lavinia was waiting for him in the car, but he took his time getting outside the building. Surely, some time alone wouldn't hurt her. He had arrived at the shelter at seven o'clock, ready to pick her up and get her home, but apparently she had some issues. Not that he could blame her: he had already been there, after all. When he was nine, he didn't run straight to Von Karma. He cried like the child he was, refusing to leave the hollow house he had shared with his father for so many years, his safe nest. He still had no idea about what to do when he got Lavinia home. He had been thinking about it for weeks, tempted to call Phoenix for some advice, but he never managed to pick the phone and dial his number.
He saw her reddish eyes when she approached him and he hoped Mrs Young wouldn't comment. Empathy wasn't one of his best characteristics - was it even one of them? - but he knew better than to remark on her emotional state. That was the hard part: he knew, he had been in the same position and yet his mind was blank. What did he want to hear from the others, many years earlier? Not sweet words, no pity, just the voice of his father that he wouldn't be able to listen to anymore.
He paced inside the courthouse and paused in front of the vending machines. They sold expensive junk food and the sandwiches were awful, but there were no diners nearby, so sometimes they had to work with that.
His eyes lingered on the products, stopping on a package of Swiss Rolls. Kay loved them. When she came to visit him in court, she would always insist that he bought her one. At a certain point, Edgeworth simply purchased one before she even made her way to the lobby.
Kids love this stuff, don't they?
Though she tried to hide it, he had clearly heard her belly screaming for food. Didn't the shelter give her dinner? That was strange. Maybe she was too nervous to eat, or didn't eat as much as she needed and was too shy to even ask him to get her some food. Swiss rolls could hardly have any kind of nutritional value, but for once it wouldn't hurt. He searched for some coins inside his wallet and typed "33" on the small keyboard.
"Stay neutral as the Swiss do until the end of these", they haven't changed the line-up. Just as awful as I remembered, like the prices. Six dollars for this should be charged as thievery.
With the fresh package in his hand, he exited the courthouse. Some dark clouds were making their way into the sky and he spotted some brief lighting. They still had more than twenty minutes of driving before getting home; he hoped the weather would be merciful.
Lavinia lay against the window, eyelids closed. He entered the car as quietly as possible, but she faced him when he turned on the engine.
"Sorry, did I wake you?"
She shook her head. "Wasn't asleep."
"Here, have these. We still have a long way ahead."
He handed her the Swiss rolls and she hesitated before taking them. She examined the package and offered him a slight smile. "Thank you."
He heard her opening the paper wrapping - no more plastic inside the courthouse - and she began to nibble at the rolls. She slowly ate one of them, leaving the other on her lap. The music faded and the last movement began with the delicate sound of a flute.
They still didn't talk during the rest of the trip. Lavinia finished her rolls, carefully collecting the crumbs that had ended on her jeans, and drops or rain tainted the windscreen while thunders roared in the sky. Edgeworth activated the wipers and sighed. Driving in the middle of a storm wasn't really how he wished to end this already draining day.
The last part of the journey was a straight, wide road with no intersections and few pedestrian crossing. He pressed the gas pedal and gripped the wheel with so much force his fingers went dumb. Only five more minutes and they would be home. Mr Parks was waiting for them to help Lavinia get her luggage upstairs, Pess was probably ready on the front door with her favorite toy in her mouth, but the storm didn't seem to spare them in the evening, so playing with her was out of the question. On Lavinia's desk he had placed a small welcome gift, but she would let her discover it on her own. He had never been good with presents - it wasn't like he had that many people to give them to.
What did Von Karma do when he arrived at their house for the first time? Franziska made sure he knew she was the one in charge, that was it. Then she whipped him on the arm with that wretched riding crop he kind of missed - always better than her whip, after all. Then she insisted on showing him his new room and her father's office. Then, they drank tea.
"Would you like to have a cup of tea when we get home?"
He didn't look at her when she answered. "I'd love that."
"What kind do you like?"
"What kind of tea?"
"Yes."
"I-I haven't had tea in a while, actually," she said. "We only had sweet tea at the shelter."
Edgeworth almost grunted. People still dared to call those disgusting sugar bombs 'tea'. "Well, there must be some flavor you prefer. Fruit? Green tea? Vanilla?"
"Vanilla sounds good, thank you."
Finally, he pushed the brake in front of his gate. The lights on each side on the small columns of the white wall that surrounded his house flashed in the rain and Edgeworth parked under the awning. Mr Parks was waiting for him at the entrance, straight as a soldier, and put on his best smile when Lavinia stepped out of the car.
"Good evening, sir," he extended his hand to Lavinia. "Hello, dear. My name is Jim."
Lavinia trembled and showed him a nervous smile before taking his hand. Go on, he doesn't bite, girl. "Lavinia. I-it's a pleasure."
"Mr Parks assists me around the house and with my work, sometimes," Edgeworth said. "You'll see him quite often. If I'm not available, he'll be able to help with whatever you need."
Mr Parks smirked. "Yes, Mr Edgeworth makes it sound really professional, but let's say that if you ever get in trouble I'm here to watch your back, dear, uh?"
"Mr Parks, remember that I have you on payroll," he wished to sound more firm, but couldn't restrain a smile.
Mr Parks chuckled and opened the trunk to get Lavinia's luggage. He looked at her and winked. "Yeah, worry not dear, his threats are empty. This boy wouldn't hurt a fly."
Lavinia let out a small laugh and Edgeworth thought the effect was worth enough to avoid any further warning. Not that he would ever have the heart to reduce his paycheck on something so trivial. Or the heart to reduce it anyway. "Mr Parks, could you help Lavinia with her bags? I have some files to sort. Would you like to stay for a cup of tea?"
Mr Parks closed the trunk with his usual care and shook his head. "Thank you, sir, but Luke is waiting for me. I'll have to refuse tonight."
"No worries. I'll see you in two days, then."
Mr Parks smiled again and bowed his head to him. "As always, sir. Come, dear."
They both disappeared on the stairs and Edgeworth, finally alone, let out a breath he so much needed. He closed the garage door and made his way to his home office. There were too many things going on, between Lavinia and a murder case he hadn't had enough time to think about. Prosecutor Gavin was a peacock, but at least he was competent and knew when was the time to be serious and avoid jokes, unlike other prosecutors who resembled different kinds of blabbering birds and that was it. Maybe, leaving the case to him only would have been a better option.
He took off his jacket and his cravat, shoveling the updated autopsy report into the case file, too tired to give it another look. It wasn't a remarkable case, but things had been turning around: a fifty-nine year old engineer was found dead in his courtyard, stabbed to death, and both his wife and his older son declared to have seen a robber running away in a red raincoat - he almost shivered when they told him - but the forensic found traces of cleaned up blood in the kitchen. There was no murder weapon and the traces weren't big enough to be incriminating, but the whole situation still bore some mysteries he had yet to uncover. Prosecutor Gavin had been helpful, but he had other cases to take care of - and a certain attorney to face in court, he usually added with a mischievous grin - and Edgeworth needed to pull himself together as soon as possible.
He filled his kettle in the kitchen and chose a raspberry tea for himself. He snatched a vanilla one for Lavinia and picked his usual mug, plus a green one that was seldom used in his house and that was an old gift from a Christmas work package filled with cheap food and useless trinkets. It was a simple mug, the material was average, but the shade of green was pretty indeed. He realized he didn't even know Lavinia's favorite color; she wore simple, anonymous clothes that were provided by the shelter, and colorful, childish shirts that looked a bit too tight on her, probably remnants of her younger years. He should bring her shopping, maybe on a Sunday. Phoenix and Trucy could accompany them. Surely, shopping with a peer would bring more fun than doing it with him.
Speaking of Phoenix, Edgeworth hadn't heard from him for a couple of days. Not that he didn't try: Phoenix seemed to have learnt when not to disturb him and the days before Lavinia's arrival weren't exactly the most joyous for him. Edgeworth put the kettle on the stove and dialed his number.
"Hey, Uncle Miles!" Trucy's shrill voice almost made him jump on the chair. "What's up? Do you need Daddy?"
"Hi Truce," he responded. "How are you doing? Your father told me about the magic show you are preparing."
"Oh, it's going great, I'm so excited, Uncle! I'll get to travel to Europe. A whole tour! We already have some dates planned, like London and Lisboa and Turin. You'll come to see me, won't you?" she faked a whimpering tone at the end, to which Edgeworth chuckled.
"Of course I'll be there, Truce. I wouldn't miss it for the world. Turin, uh? That could make a nice vacation." He paused for a second. "Truce, I'd love to talk to you more, but could you please call your father for me? I have a really important matter to discuss with him."
"'course Uncle. Hey, Daddy! Uncle Miles is on the phone!"
Some shuffling, sound of cutlery and muttered words preceded Phoenix's rushed greeting. "Hey Miles, you needed me?"
"Yes, I… " He then realized he hadn't really prepared something in advance. He called him just to hear his soothing voice because he couldn't bear the heavy silence of his house when he knew someone else was staying inside. "I just wanted to talk to you. Lavinia is upstairs right now."
"Oh, yeah, today is the day. How are things going?"
"Well, she's ok for now. I just… I just don't know how to behave yet."
"I'd like to say something along the lines of 'just be yourself', but since this is about you, things are going to be a bit harder."
"Funny, Wright. Truly."
"Ok, ok, sorry buddy."
"Do not call me like that, I have already told you. Multiple times."
"Yeah, I should stop, or we might go back on a last name basis," he cackled, but cleared his throat and sighed. "Honestly, that's what I did with Truce when she came home for the first time. I had just hit rock bottom, you know, and I wasn't in the mood for acting. Just try to make her feel at home, not like a guest."
"She is nothing like Trucy, Phoenix." He passed a hand through his bangs. "Trucy is… Trucy. She is the personification of positivity."
"Yeah, Trucy is Trucy. No, honey, this is not about you, we'll talk later." Something shattered on the ground and Phoenix scoffed. "Another glass is gone."
"I know what to buy for your birthday, then. You have broken at least four or five of them."
"Hey, I only broke one!"
"Anyway," Edgeworth abandoned his head on the back of the chair. "What do you suggest, Phoenix? Should I, I don't know, buy her some toys?"
Phoenix laughed. "She's fourteen, Miles."
"Books? She likes books."
"You're full of books at home."
"Yes, I'm sure a fourteen-year-old is going to embrace the utmost knowledge of the last edition of History of American Law."
"You have novels."
"Not the kind she likes."
"Miles," Phoenix sighed heavily. "Ask. Just ask. I know people are difficult, but not as much as you think. Just try not to glare at her, ok?"
"Your sarcasm is going to be my last straw, one day."
"No, it won't. You love me too much."
Edgeworth froze. The kettle whistled, but he didn't make any move to get up and turn it off.
"Metaphorically, of course. Platonically."
"Yes," Edgeworth said in a neutral tone. "I know." This is the last thing he needed, right now. "Thank you for… listening to me, Phoenix."
"No worries. Hope I helped."
"You being here is enough to support me, believe me." He turned off the stove and poured the water into the mugs. "You have my utter gratitude."
"Always here for you, Miles."
"I'm going to get Lavinia here now. I'll call you tomorrow, is that fine?"
"Yes, Miles. Goodbye, then. Don't be too harsh on yourself. I know you tend to be."
Edgeworth placed his phone on the counter and watched the water as it turned red inside his mug, yellowish in Lavinia's. When the shade became intense, he made his way upstairs. Her room's door was half closed, with Pess sitting outside, swinging her tail. When she saw him, she sprinted towards him and barked lightly, calming down when she received the desidered cuddles between her ears.
"Good girl. Now sit," Edgeworth commanded, and Pess obeyed, watching him with her big, sweet dark eyes and her nose pointed to the sky.
Edgeworth crouched, petting her chest. When he raised his gaze, half of Lavinia's face was peering from the other side of the door.
Lavinia didn't really have a precise idea about what Mr Edgeworth's house would look like. She imagined him owing something fancy, yet not luxurious or pompous. Some small lights illuminated the extended, well-kept garden. She caught glimpses of a driveway made of white rocks while Mr Edgeworth drove towards the awning. His house was placed on the left of the square garden and, while it was remarkably high and the red shutters stood out against the immaculate white of the walls, it was simpler than she thought. Though, for a single, childless - well, not anymore - man, a three-floor house seemed a bit too big and void.
Mr Parks led her to her room. He offered to carry all of her luggage and responded with a solid yet sympathetic "no" when she insisted at least to pick up her backpack.
He was a middle-age man with a head full of white, brushed hair that he kept on one side. Despite his presumed age, his face didn't show many wrinkles or signs of aging: it was clean and smooth with no stubble or mustache and his brown eyes held an aura of gentleness. He also moved quickly, as if eager to show her around. They passed by the huge living room, in which there was a cleaned hearth and a TV hanging on the wall just next to a library that almost reached the ceiling.
Her room was located on the second floor, in a hallway with four other doors. Mr Parks opened the door and motioned her to get in. "C'mon dear, hope you'll find yourself comfortable."
Surely, she wasn't comfortable with his way of speaking like a butler.
Her room was still quite empty. It was way bigger than her room back at home and the one she had at her grandpa's house. What am I going to do with so much space?
A single bed was placed near the window. It was already made with light green sheets and a thin comforter for the summer. Next to it there was a shining wooden desk with a package on it. It was wrapped like a gift and it had a piece of yellow paper on the top of it. On the other side of the room stood an empty bookshelf and a wardrobe. Everything was made out of the same kind of polished wood and she felt like breathing in a mountain cabin.
"There are way too many rooms in this house," Mr Park said, putting her luggage near the desk. "I'm glad someone is finally putting one at use."
"Yes, the house is… big," Lavinia said. "Mr Parks, does Mr Edgeworth live here alone?"
"Yes, he's not married. Well, there's little Pess, but I don't know where she went. Maybe she's sleeping in Mr Edgeworth's room right now, that's her favorite place." He smiled sweetly. "By the way, Jim is fine, honey. Or you'll make me feel older than I already am."
He giggled and Lavinia found her lips curving. "Jim it is, then. But, one thing," she started to play with her hair. "I didn't really understand what you do for Mr Edgeworth. Are you his assistant or something?"
"Kind of," he said. "I take care of the house - along with two housekeepers that come here twice a week - but I mainly help in his office. I sort his files, write drafts for his emails, help him with boring paperwork, but only when he's at home."
Lavinia nodded and sat on the bed. It was like sitting on a cloud. "And… May I ask you something about him? Not that I want to pry, it's just…" she stopped, thinking that maybe she was overestimating his willingness to talk to her.
He smiled again and sat on the other edge of the bed. "Go on, I still have some time."
Lavinia took a deep breath. "What is he like? Mr Edgeworth, I mean. We have already talked a bit, but he's always pretty… out of range." She lowered her tone of voice, fearing he might be coming upstairs.
Jim looked at her with fondness in his eyes. "I know what you mean. He's not the best with people, isn't he? I hope he didn't scare you."
Lavinia shook her head frantically. "He didn't scare me, he's just… very cold. Towards everyone."
"He's a man who doesn't show much affection through words, that's settled," Jim said. "He's someone you need to get to know really, really slowly. He's also quite demanding, though - working with him is hard, that, I can assure you." He passed a hand through his hair. "He has few friends and very little private life. The kind of man you could say is 'married to his job'. You'll see in the courtroom one day, I think. In my opinion, you should go at least once."
"I heard trials are compared to live shows here."
"Yes. I don't really understand that, to be honest." He brought his hands to his lap and sighed. "That was how I met him, in a courtroom full of an audience waiting to see if a man, whose life was handled on a thread, would end up in jail."
His mouth was still open, but he stopped talking. He glanced at her and patted her shoulder. "I worked in foster care, you know? And I know that I'm not the first person to tell you this, but he's a good man. With a lot of imperfections, but a good man nonetheless."
Lavinia said nothing. She played with her hair and looked at her shoes.
"He's difficult to be around. He always glares at people, as if he's ready to unravel their deepest secret and convict them. That man works waaay too much." He got up and put his hands on his lower back. "Ouch, Jesus, my back."
Lavinia jolted up. "Are you ok?"
"This old man's fine, honey. You were right: your backpack was heavier than I thought."
Guilt gripped her throat. "I'm sorry, Jim."
"Worry not. I wouldn't let a lady carry her bags even if I was ninety and on the verge of death!" he exclaimed, showing some imaginary muscles on his arms. Lavinia giggled. "There, look how cute you are when you laugh. That's better." He checked his watch and took his car keys out of his chest pocket. "I really need to go now, my son is waiting for me at home." He made his way to the door and waved at her. "See you on Monday, dear. Be good!"
Lavinia let a small laugh escape her lips. "Bye, Jim."
He left, leaving the door half open. Lavinia breathed in, finally alone. When was the last time she was truly alone? The shelter was always so full, so noisy, and even in Mr Edgeworth's car she felt observed from a distance. Ron wouldn't let her leave his sight when he was at home.
She sprawled herself on the bed, hugging the fluffy pillow and smelling the sweet lavander of the sheets. It was the nicest bed she had in years.
Bed check: passed.
She faced the door and her eyes caught the blue package on the desk. She got up and took it in her hands. It was pretty heavy and the wrapping had white hearts printed on it, all put together by a green ribbon. She took the yellow card, high quality paper scribbled with a fine, elegant handwriting.
"A small welcome gift - M. Edgeworth"
They had a quite different definition of small.
She examined the package: it was so carefully made that it was a pity to open it. She managed to slide off the ribbon without undoing it and tore off the paper, revealing a blue cover with golden, shiny letters underneath. It was a collection of Neil Gaiman's short stories, along with illustrations and one of his kids' novels.
Lavinia held the book agape. It was a limited edition, with colored edges and an exclusive interview, something she had been keeping her eyes on for a while, perfectly aware that such an expensive item would never fall into her hands. And she was holding it.
She opened the first page and inhaled the sweet smelling of new paper. When she flipped until she reached the title, Lavinia gasped.
It was signed with her name.
She caressed the messy cursive, expecting to find it printed. Instead, she passed her fingertips on the pen-written signature, on real, fresh ink. On her freaking name on a Gaiman's limited edition. How did Mr Edgeworth even manage to get it signed? Buying stuff wasn't a problem to him, a thirty dollar book was expensive for her, not for a High Prosecutor who owed a damned sports car. And that same prosecutor who barely smiled at her had dropped a signed book of her favorite author. The only thing Ron had ever bought her, apart from clothes, was a Starbuck Frappuccino on the first day she got home. And it was disgusting.
A dog barked outside her bedroom. Lavinia put the book on the desk and approached the door, when the dog stopped barking and made a whining sound. She peered into the corridor, where Mr Edgeworth kneeled on the ground, scratching a big Akita dog on the head. Their gazes met and Lavinia shifted away.
"Come here," he said, gesturing to her, "she doesn't bite".
Pess turned around to face her. She sat, wiggling her tail while Mr Edgeworth kept petting her ears. Lavinia moved closer and crouched, extending a hand. "H-hi."
Pess sniffed her hand and licked it. Lavinia giggled and let Pess snuggle her head on her torso. She ruffled her soft, warm fur and let Pess sniff her more.
"Good, she likes you," Mr Edgeworth said. His voice was toneless, but his lips curved up, even just a bit. He stood up and cleared his throat. "The tea is done. Are you ready to come down?"
Lavinia petted Pess one last time and got on her feet. "Yes, I'll just wash my hands."
"You can do it in the kitchen. Follow me."
He led her into the kitchen. Pess followed them obediently, making no sound on the floor, and stopped to drink from her bowl in the living room. She then curled up on a red cushion near the sofas, closing her pretty eyes.
Lavinia sat at the table, where laid a burgundy tablecloth. Mr Edgeworth put a cup of tea in front of her. "Careful, it's still quite hot."
"Thank you, sir."
He nodded and grabbed on the chair on the other side of the table. While sipping his fuming tea, he flipped some papers with his other hand. They had the sigil of the local police and black and white pictures were printed on them, though Mr Edgeworth always put his hands on the sheets to cover them.
Silence fell again between them. Lavinia blew on her tea - careful not to make any sound - and sipped it slowly, embracing the warmth of the cup. The last tea she had drunk was at Ron's, who used to buy general lemon tea from the grocery store because he didn't know what to make for his breakfast. This one, however, was on another level and Lavinia couldn't wait for it to cool down. It had a sweet, delicate flavor and Mr Edgeworth kept the leaves inside a wooden carved box in the open cupboard above the induction hob. The grayish marble of the counter was spotless, like the white drawers, the electric oven and even the fruit inside a crystal bowl looked fake.
Does anyone even cook here?
Mr Edgeworth placed the documents on the chair near him. There were a total of six chairs at the table, which was indeed too big for a single person. Maybe he received many guests. He looked at the window on the other side of the kitchen and Lavinia followed his gaze. It was dark outside and a thunderstorm raged in the sky. A lightning lit the black clouds and a thunder struck with force. Lavinia longed for her bed: surely, the rain would cradle her enough to get some decent sleep.
"Lavinia."
"Yes?"
Mr Edgeworth took another sip, his eyes never leaving the window. "What do you usually have for breakfast?"
"Breakfast? Milk and toast. Fruit juice, sometimes."
"Milk? At your age?"
Lavinia turned to him. He raised an eyebrow. "Uhm, yes. I mean, cow milk, not oat or soy or whatever. Always had that."
"I only have rice milk."
"I'm not picky, anything is fine." Then she added: "I can't eat almonds, though, but that's it."
"Ms Jefferson told me about that. Do you need any medication?"
"Just my epipens. But my allergy isn't severe, I've never had to use one. Still, I prefer to avoid almonds."
"Do you have any other dietary restrictions?"
"Nope."
"I don't work tomorrow," he said, "we might as well go to the grocery store. The fridge has been quite empty for a while. We also need to go shopping for you."
"Shopping?"
"You need clothes," he stated with a firm voice. "You still use your kids' clothes, don't you? We have to solve that."
"That's… all I had."
"Didn't your previous foster parents buy you clothes?"
"My foster mother did, but I grew taller all of a sudden one year ago, so most of them didn't fit me anymore." To be honest, she wasn't too eager at the idea of going shopping with Mr Edgeworth. She drowned in embarrassment just thinking about him waiting for her outside of the changing room.
"We will get that sorted," he said. "How is your tea?"
"It's really good, thank you," she answered. "Oh, and thank you for the book, I-"
"You're welcome."
Lavinia blinked, her lips still opened mid-word, but nodded and took another sip without adding anything. When her cup emptied, Mr Edgeworth put them both inside the dishwasher and programmed it to turn on during the night.
"Why don't you go get washed up while I clean this up? It has probably been a long day for you."
"Yeah, that sounds good," she simply said. She was still a bit hungry - the rolls she had were far from being a filling meal - but couldn't dare to ask for more.
She collected her pajamas and shower gel. It was the first time in months she could take a shower in quietness, away from the kids at the shelter and Ron's indecent movies which he never minded watching out loud. She turned on the warm water - real warm water, no cool-lukewarm one like the showers she had to take at the shelter - and embraced the hot streams on her skin. Everything was so calm and peaceful she almost wanted to cry. She didn't care that the silence was due to the deep emptiness of the house, nor she minded that Mr Edgeworth barely smiled at her that evening. She didn't mind that that same house was probably never going to be her home and Mr Edgeworth would unlikely ever be her family. Now, she didn't have to worry about what to cook for Ron when he worked from home and there were no kids to watch so that they wouldn't get hurt on the playground, no blabbering sessions with Hannah about her life before the shelter, nothing. What she would do with her new situation was a matter that could be delayed for one day.
She got ready for bed, listening to the gentle sound of the rain tapping on her window. Her luggage was still filled with her clothes, so she put it in the corner, reminding herself not to delay the boring task of putting away her stuff. She opened her backpack and took all of her books , ordered them neatly on the bookshelf in front of her bed. She never owned a bookshelf, usually she kept her books on top of boxes, or the floor. The few she had only occupied the first row, but she smiled seeing their colored spines on display over the wood. Then she took the book Mr Edgeworth had gifted her and sprawled on the bed, opening it on the index.
While flipping the pages, a knock echoed in the room. "Lavinia?"
She sat on the pillow, holding the book near her. "Yes?"
Mr Edgeworth peered inside. "Is everything alright? Do you need something?"
She shook her head. "I'm fine, all's good."
"I'm glad," he said, his face showing no emotions. "If you need something, feel free to knock at my door. My bedroom is just next to this one. Goodnight."
"G'night."
He closed the door without sparing another glance. Lavinia read a few pages, but struggled to keep her eyes on the words. When she tried to read the same sentence three times in a row, she placed the book on the desk and turned off the light. Lavinia wrapped herself around the sheets, welcoming another thunder outside.