Christmas Cove, Washington

Xavier Moore stood beside his client, Jeremy Townsend, awaiting the judge’s verdict. He had been wrongfully accused of theft, just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Townsend had been walking down the street in a bad neighborhood on his way home from work when the local bank was robbed. When the police arrived, they saw Townsend walking away and stopped him. He matched the description, so the police put two and two together and came up with six. They arrested him, thinking that the case was over. Done. Cut and dry. End of story. But it wasn’t really the end. It never was. Not for Townsend. And not with Xavier by his side. He had never lost a case, and he wasn’t about to lose this one.

“Jury Foreman, what say you?” the judge asked, leaning back in his comfy chair overlooking the courtroom.

“We, the jury, find the defendant… not guilty on all charges.” The foreman then handed the bailiff the verdict, which he passed along to the judge. The judge leaned forward, peering over his half reading spectacles and read it, his expression unreadable. Then he picked up his gavel and raised it into the air.

“Case dismissed!” the judge announced, bringing the gavel down hard onto the block. 

Townsend let out a deep breath, a broad smile spreading across his face as he nearly collapsed from relief. Then he offered Xavier his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Moore. I don’t know what I would have ever done if you hadn’t taken my case.”

Xavier shook his hand. “It was my pleasure. Now, go home. Enjoy the holidays.” 

“Thank you. I will.” He released his hand. “You, too.” 

“Jeremy!” 

The man turned around and his wife threw her arms around him. It was hard enough being young and married, let alone being wrongfully accused of a crime. Maybe now they could put this whole mess behind them and enjoy their life together. 

Xavier snapped his briefcase shut, letting his client have his private moment. The district attorney gave him a nod of respect as he passed. Xavier returned the nod and walked out, heading home.

At his age, he knew he should have his own apartment or house, but he opted to live at home with his parents. Having wished for parents for so long, he wasn’t in a hurry to leave. And they weren’t in a hurry for him to move out.

Xavier enjoyed watching football or baseball with his father, along with the occasional basketball game. Although his father had never been one for long talks or opening his soul, he had his mother for that. 

But it really wouldn't have made a difference whether he moved out or not. They were his parents and always would be. Despite that, he enjoyed their company and Xavier had never been one to care what other people thought. Also, he hadn’t dated in a while, so he didn't have that to worry about.

Xavier unlocked his Mercedes and climbed in. He had come a long way from his roots. His birth mother had abandoned him at the Christmas Cove Children’s Home when he was four years old. His adopted mother had told him that his birth mother had abandoned him in order to give him a better life. But if that were the case, she would have dropped him off at the Ritz. But then again, the Ritz didn’t take abandoned children.

He pushed the thought aside as he made his way home, planning to take some time off, now that this case was over. He had earned it. Xavier had spent long hours on this case, and others, too, with little time off.

He was nearly home when his cell phone rang.

“Xavier Moore here.”

“Hello, Mr. Moore. I was wondering if I may have a word with you today about my case.”

He rolled his eyes, recognizing the voice at the other end. Her voice was all too familiar to him, and he knew exactly which case she was referring to.

“I’m sorry, but I’m on my way to—”

“Mr. Moore, I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

“How did you get my private number?” Xavier looked around for a place to park. If there was one thing he hated, it was people talking on their phones while driving.

The woman let out an exasperated breath on the other end. “Your mother, Dorothy, gave it to me.”

“How do you know her?” His mother should have known better than to give his private number to his clients. Of course, she probably didn’t know she was his client.

“We play bridge together at the club every Tuesday.”

Xavier let out a deep breath as he pulled his car over to the side of the road and threw it into park. Her story checked out. It was quite possible that she knew his mother. She, indeed, went to the club to play bridge every Tuesday. Also, his mother was so proud of his accomplishments that she told anyone who would listen.

But they were all set to go to court. Why this woman felt compelled to go so far as to get his cell phone number, he wasn’t sure. Usually, his clients called the office and his secretary forwarded the messages to him.

“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you meet me at the office tomorrow morning early and we can discuss the case? There’s been no developments and we’re scheduled to go to court next week right after Thanksgiving.” His mother always cooked enough for an army any day of the week. But for Thanksgiving, she pulled out all the stops. 

“Sorry for the short notice, but I’d like to discuss a few particulars before we go to court Monday. And with the holiday upon us….” There was a pause at the other end.

This case was about the Children’s Home. Cynthia Chaisen, niece of Mr. and Mrs. Chaisen, was contesting her aunt’s will after a year’s time. She had given him a song and dance about how the residence had been in the family for years and how nostalgic it made her feel each time she visited the property. Cynthia had even dabbed at a tear or two that she had forced. Cynthia hadn’t known it, but he didn’t need convincing. And he would have taken the case for a lot less.

Since his adoption, he and his parents had shared the opinion that no child should have to grow up in a group home environment. Although it wasn’t perfect, he believed that the foster care system was a better alternative. When they win the case—because he had never lost a case yet—then the children would be taken into foster care in a family environment, eliminating the Children’s Home altogether. The property would be better served in Cynthia Chaisen's family.

Xavier’s demeanor suddenly changed as he went into his attorney mode. “Meet me at my office in ten. I’m on my way now.” 

There was a sigh of relief at the other end. “Thank you, Mr. Moore. I’m truly grateful.”