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About two weeks after the Weddinghouse trial Lola came to see me. I had been wondering how she was dealing with Oliver’s loss and met her in the waiting room. She wore a simple black dress and had a remote, distracted look on her face as if she were miles away. She forced a smile when she saw me, and remained silent as I escorted her back to my office. I was surprised when she called for the appointment because I didn’t really expect to see her. She wasn’t the kind of person who sought help from others, so I assumed she was grieving over her husband’s sentence and incarceration. I took my place on a soft chair, kitty-corner from where she sat on the sofa.
She took several deep breaths, her face pensive, while her eyes roamed around the office. Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke
