Eyes of a Child (8 page)

Terri felt concern overcome her. ‘Did you follow the rest of his scam?'

Flaherty's quick nod mingled impatience with understanding. ‘Richie knows that child support is his meal ticket – unlike spousal, he can live off that till Elena turns eighteen. Come the end of the year, he won't agree to any changes, even if she's obviously troubled. What he'll do instead is tell the court that it shouldn't disturb the status quo.' She paused, glancing at Terri. ‘In family law, a year is long enough that the court will probably buy that.

‘Once he has permanent custody, he can ratchet up child support every time you get a raise. As I understand his history, that means threats and tacit blackmail for the next thirteen years. And every time you try to force him to work, he'll start citing Elena's best interests.

‘And last,' Flaherty finished, in astringent tones, ‘he's got every weekend free. In short, the deadbeat's version of a perfect life. Have I missed anything?'

Terri found the mordant summary depressing in its accuracy. ‘There's no way,' she said emphatically, ‘that I can let him raise Elena.'

‘Then we've got no choice but to go in there and fight him.' Flaherty touched her shoulder. ‘But I should warn you again about how quirky Judge Scatena can be. Twenty years as a family court judge has taught him to hate pretty much everyone – lawyers included. Who he hates most depends more on how his synapses and dendrites connect that day than it does on the merits of a particular case.' Flaherty glanced down the hallway. ‘We could luck out. Richie's not exactly a real guy, at least by Scatena's standards.' She looked at her watch again. ‘Two minutes. Better go in.'

As they moved toward Richie, he was whistling to himself.

‘I can't agree,' Terri said. ‘Not about Elena.'

Irritation crossed Richie's face. Then he shook his head in solemn wonderment. ‘It's such a mistake, and really so sad. You give me no choice but to stand on my rights.'

He turned on his heel and walked into the courtroom. Watching him, Flaherty looked pensive. ‘I have to ask you, Terri, do you have my retainer?'

Terri could follow her thoughts. Dealing with Richie would not be easy; the fees could mount quickly, and Flaherty, a solo practitioner, was too pragmatic to take chances with her cash flow. But once Terri wrote the check, she was out of money: the five thousand dollars Terri had borrowed from Rosa were a last resort.

‘Do you want the check now?' Terri asked.

Flaherty shook her head. ‘I trust you.'

They went inside.

The judge's chair was empty. The wall behind the bench was covered with gold paper; the American and California state flags stood to each side. The chief oddity was a black wrought-iron eagle, staring at the courtroom from atop the judge's bench. In front of the beach were two wooden tables, each with a brass nameplate, marked ‘Petitioner' and ‘Respondent'; a low wood partition with a swinging door separated the litigants of the moment from those waiting their turn – an assortment of men and women with lawyers, looking anxious and uncomfortable. Terri had never found a courtroom so dreary.

Gazing around her, she spotted Alec Keene in the front row. Richie had taken a seat next to him and was chatting amiably.

‘What's Richie
doing
?' Terri murmured to Flaherty.

‘Don't worry – Alec's already met with the judge to make his recommendation.' She paused at the look in Terri's eyes. ‘He won't tell me how he came out on Elena, but Alec's a pro. And as far as I know, what Richie told you about his wife is bullshit.'

Terri nodded. Trying not to look at Richie, she glanced toward the other side. The judge's deputy sat at the edge of the courtroom, a moonfaced man who looked too bored to move. But when a door at the rear of the bench swung open and Judge Scatena abruptly entered, the man rose slowly and intoned,
‘All rise.
The Family Court for the County of Alameda, the Honorable Frank Scatena presiding, is now is session.'

The spectators rose a few at a time – the newcomers confused and looking about them for cues. Scatena was an erect white-haired man in his sixties with a seamed face, a hooked nose, and, it appeared, painfully arthritic hands; surveying the room with jaded bureaucratic displeasure, he kept twisting his fingers and wincing. ‘All right,' he said in a throaty, incurious voice, ‘what have we got first?'

The deputy glanced at his docket. ‘Case No. 94-716,' he announced. ‘Ricardo Arias versus Teresa Peralta. Petitioner's motion for alimony, child support, and interim custody; resondent's cross-motion for interim custody and that the court require petitioner to seek employment.'

Richie rose and walked through the swinging door. Terri glanced at him with a sense of wonderment; the last time they had stood before a judge was the day that they had been married. The memory of how she was then, scared and hopefull and pregnant with Elena, came to Terri with piercing sadness.

‘I'll hear petitioner,' Scatena said to Richie. ‘The first issue is spousal support and whether you'll get work.'

Richie went to the podium, head held high, looking Scatena in the face. ‘Good morning, Your Honor. Ricardo Arias, appearing in proper –'

‘I know that,' Scatena cut in. ‘And there's nothing much worse than a male lawyer representing himself in a custody suit. Why haven't you got your own lawyer?'

Richie paused for a moment, then smiled. ‘I agree,' he said with an air of candor. ‘No matter how I try, I'm too emotional to always be objective. Plus I have no experience at this.' He shrugged helplessly. ‘If I had any money, I wouldn't be standing here.'

Terri inclined her head to Flaherty, whispering, ‘The
last
thing he wants is a lawyer to control him.'

But Flaherty was watching Scatena. The judge leaned forward. ‘You can ask me to order your wife to pay for a lawyer.
She's
retained one, so there's some money there.'

Richie nodded in agreement. ‘She makes a very high salary, that's true. But it's my position that any resources should be preserved for Elena's benefit to the maximum extent.' His voice became humble. ‘I can only promise that in any appearance before this court, I will behave as professionally as I can.'

‘He's doing it right,' Flaherty whispered. ‘Don't make this judge mad.'

Scatena assessed Richie. ‘Why don't you just get a job, Mr Arias? You seem able-bodied enough to me.'

‘Well, to start, it's a critical time in our daughter's life –'

‘Yes, and it's too bad. But there are millions of divorces a year. And in most families these days, both parents work. I may not like it, but there it is.' Scatena resumed twisting his fingers. ‘This situation isn't unique.'

Richie looked down. ‘I guess to a parent, Your Honor, each child is unique. That's what makes families so important. But you're right, of course.' He paused, brow furrowed. ‘The thing is, Terri and I agreed that I would raise Elena. As a result, my law career has fallen way behind now – I can't earn half of what Terri makes. Half of
that
would go to child care. And there would be no one home for Elena after school or during the summer.'

Scatena sat forward. Richie met his eyes, speaking with the unassuming candor of a man sitting in a coffee shop. ‘Then there are the equities to consider. I'm here only because I agreed to sacrifice my career to Terri's, in Elena's best interest.' Richie's gaze broke again, and his voice grew soft and shamed. ‘Terri has resources: a high-paying job and a wealthy boyfriend who happens to be her boss. Because I thought we would always be married, I have none. It's not fair – to Elena or me – to push me out of the house.'

Terri felt herself gripping the table. The sudden reference to Chris was deft: a passing mention, meant to suggest that Terri had left him for her employer.

‘That depends, doesn't it,' Scatena told Richie in a neutral tone, ‘on who gets custody.'

Richie looked up again, voice gathering strength. ‘When I say fair to Elena, Your Honour, I mean to include economics. I
intend
to help support my daughter – it's part and parcel of my concept of parenting. It may well be that in the long run,
I'm
the primary support of Elena.' He spread his hands. ‘I certainly haven't been sitting around. I've taken my role in the family – the at-home parent – and used it to start my own business. The computer program I'm putting together is on the cutting edge of research technology for lawyers.' He stopped, smiling at his own enthusiasm. ‘If it works, who knows?'

It was, Terri saw, another nice touch: Richie might look optimistic, even silly, but he was no longer a deadbeat. ‘So how much do you want?' Scatena asked.

‘Spousal only?'

‘Yes.'

Richie cocked his head. ‘My petition says fifteen hundred a month. But that's based on my wife's current salary, of course.' His voice turned soft. ‘I believe that she has reason to expect a raise.'

Terri grasped Flaherty's sleeve. ‘He's making it sound like I'm fucking my boss for money. That Chris broke up our marriage.'

Flaherty shook her head. ‘We can't start denying that to Scatena.' she whispered. ‘It's a sideshow – all we would do is move Chris front and center. And it's irrelevant to the issues here, even if it
were
true.'

That was right, the lawyer in Terri knew. But Richie had planted the thought quickly enough to get away with it, certain that it would damage Terri no matter what she did.

‘All right,' Scatena said. ‘Let's hear from Mrs Arias.'

Walking to his table, back to Scatena, Richie allowed a self-satisfied smile to play across his mouth. Then, as if remembering Keene, he erased the smile in an instant.

Flaherty went to the podium. ‘Janet Flaherty, Your Honour, for respondent Teresa Peralta.'

‘Yes,' Scatena amended dryly. ‘Ms Peralta.'

Terri did not like the sound of that. But Flaherty looked unruffled.

‘Mr Arias's position – on
everything
– stems from the assertion that Teresa Peralta implored him to stay home. If that were correct, then his argument might carry some weight.

‘The truth, Your Honor, is that Ms Peralta implored him to work and he refused.' She paused. ‘The
truth
is that Mr Arias has been on a self-declared sabbatical from his responsibilities – both to Teresa and to his daughter, Elena.

‘Who supports Mr Arias? Teresa does.

‘Who supports Elena? Again, Teresa.

‘Who
watches
Elena?' Here Flaherty paused.
‘Not
Mr Arias. A day care center. Paid for by Teresa Peralta –'

‘What about summers, Counselor?'

Terri flashed on the bitter argument she had with Richie when money was tight last summer and Elena had stayed home: leaving work early, Terri had found Elena camped in front of the television, hungry because Richie had forgotten lunch.

‘Last summer, Mr Arias,' Flaherty answered. ‘But that was an economic necessity – he had again declined to work. And Elena's summer was
not
satisfactory.'

Scatena grimaced. ‘But she did leave her with Mr Arias, correct? I don't suppose she would have done that if the child's life would have been in danger.'

Flaherty stared at him. ‘We don't think that's the standard, Your Honor –'

‘According to Mr Arias,' Scatena interrupted in a hectoring tone, ‘he was also working.'

‘According to Mr Arias,' Flaherty replied. ‘But his so-called enterprise has yet to generate a dime. Where is his business plan, I wonder, or a cash flow projection? Where are the buyers for his supposed breakthrough?'

‘I have no clue, Counselor. Maybe Mr Arias doesn't, either. He says this is a start-up.' Scatena leaned forward. ‘Come the final hearing, Counselor, you can lawyer this case to death. Call in experts, give his plans the complete Harvard B-School analysis – I don't care. But our business here is determining wha? he gets in the meantime.'

For the first time Flaherty looked disconcerted. ‘What Mr Arias should “get,” in our view, is a directive to find work.'

‘She makes over twice the national family average, Counselor.'

The argument, Terri saw, was sliding downhill. ‘In
San Francisco
,' Flaherty rejoined. ‘The most expensive city in America. Look at our income and expense statement.' Flaherty jabbed the finger of one hand, ticking off the list. ‘Rent, fifteen hundred a month, for no great apartment. Child care, over five hundred. Car payments, two hundred. Food and household, four fifty. Charge cards six hundred –'

‘Which is obscene, with the picture you're painting.'

‘Those charges were Mr Arias's.' Flaherty lowered her voice. ‘The point, Your Honor, is that my client's take-home can't go any farther than it's going. The reason she's in this position is that Mr Arias won't work.'

Scatena gave a theatrical shrug. ‘Mr Arias says otherwise. So what am I supposed to believe?'

‘The numbers,' Flaherty responded. ‘They're not in dispute. Ms Peralta's paycheck can't stretch anymore.'

Scatena folded his hands, a man who had heard enough. ‘Well, it's going to have to, Ms Flaherty. The man has no job. I'm going to award him interim support, and I'll decide how much after we address custody.' He glanced at Richie, then added in a sarcastic tone, ‘If Mr Arias were an unemployed wife, there'd be no question about spousal support, and we wouldn't have spent twenty minutes debating it.'