“Nicole,” he said quietly. “Let Claire handle today.”
The judge came in. We all stood. We all sat.
Ezoic
Judge Alvarez was in her sixties, with short gray hair and glasses she wore low on her nose. She’d been our judge for the whole case. She had a way of looking at people over the top of those glasses that made them stop talking in the middle of their sentences.
The hearing began.
Claire stood first. She presented the photographs one by one on a screen at the front of the courtroom. The hole by the fireplace. The hole by the hallway. The hole in the pale green guest room. The faucets. The soaked bathmat. The water meter readings.
And then the repair estimates. Drywall. Plumbing. Water heater inspection. Subfloor repair in the upstairs bathroom. She read the total out loud.
The judge wrote something down.
Then Mr. Pruitt stood up.
