ABSTRACT
My lawyer, Deb Lucas, had called me and said, “Don’t worry, my love. £e girls will be there.”
Deb always calls me “my love.” She is a good lawyer and a friend. She has a smoky contralto and moonlights as a jazz singer. Deb said she had alerted the “other side” about the birthday party and was working on our court application. I wanted more time with my children and fewer hassles.
