Martha Gable sat beside me, her open fountain pen hovering two inches above her yellow legal pad without touching it.

She didn’t object, and she didn’t move to stop my hand.

“Before I accept this agreement into the permanent court record, I have one question for the petitioner,” Judge Norris said, setting her gold pen down on the mahogany desk.

“Mr.

Vance, where is your six-year-old son?”

Julian cleared his throat twice before answering, shifting his weight in his polished dress shoes.

“Leo is sitting out in the waiting hallway with an acquaintance, Your Honor.”