A Woman's Place: A Novel (7 page)

He stared blankly at the court order. "What judge in his right mind would issue this?" "One who has been read a list of my sins."

"WhatsmsT

I told him the ones to do with the children. "Dennis says I'm in a state of personal crisis that is interfering with my parenting, but you haven't heard the best. He says you and I are having an affair." Brody jerked his head back. I couldn't tell if his cheeks grew redder, what with the color already there, but I could have sworn there was something, maybe in his eyes, an intimate twinge. I felt it, myself. Embarrassed, almost.

He didn't say anything at first. Then he swallowed. "Dennis said that?" I nodded.

Again he pushed his sleeve across his forehead.

"I need help, Brody. He's making arguments based on circumstance and supposition, and the bottom line is that I've been barred from my home and ordered away from my own kids, from my own kids. When I tried to reason with him, he called the cops, and one actually came. Right to the house. Because of me," I thumped my chest, "like I have a history of violence. He said I had to leave. He actually walked me out." Brody reread the court order. "What is Dennis thinking? I thought court orders were a last resort. He hasn't ever talked divorce."

"Separation, he has. He does it when he's feeling low. I always argued against it. Our marriage may not be made in heaven, but it's better than most." Or was I kidding myself. "Isn't it?" Brody didn't answer. Bending over the sink, he drank straight from the faucet, then straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were dark. "So he says we're having an affair. That's priceless," he muttered. "What kind of fuckin' evidence does he have?"

"Stupid stuff. Working together, traveling together."

"He's crazy. Damn it." He looked stricken. "I know about the pain of divorce. I never wanted it for you. Never wanted it for Johnny and Kikit." He swore softly.

"I want my kids back, Brody."

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"You need a lawyer."

"Well, that's the next problem. I just came from seeing Lloyd Usher. Talk about mistakes. He made me feel like I'm getting what I deserve. Am I? How did I do wrong by trying to do everything right?" Brody started to put an arm around me but stopped and looked down at himself in disgust.

So I did it myself, slipped my arm around his waist. I didn't care if he was sweaty. I wanted the comfort. And it was innocent. Despite what Dennis would have made of it.

Pulling me closer, Brody said a vehement, "You didn't do anything wrong. You've worn three hats at the same time and worn them well. You deserve a medal. Dennis knows that. What in the hell's got into him?"

"I don't know."

"Did you give Usher a retainer?"

"No."

"Good. He isn't a nice guy, Claire. The greatest thing he has going for him is name recognition. His clientele is mostly women. Helpless women. They go to him because they think he's tough and they need someone tough. They don't object when he demands a huge retainer because they think that'll guarantee his attentiveness. Then they go home and assume he's working on their cases, only he isn't. He's taking them for a ride. They find that out when things don't happen. When they complain, he acts insulted and pawns them off on associates. By then, they've invested too much time and money and are feeling too vulnerable to start over again with someone new."

I could identify with those women, with the helplessness, the vulnerability. I wanted someone tough, too, and had gone for reputation, with little knowledge of substance--not that I would have conducted my business like that in a million years. But the circumstances were extenuating.

"His was the only name I had. I need someone fast. I have to be in court on Monday to answer this charge."

"You don't want to work with Lloyd Usher." I looked up at him, feeling a twinge of hysteria. "Who do I want to work with?"

"Carmen Niko."

The hysteria stalled. Here was a name. I had heard it before, but not in the context of law. "Is that a man or a woman?"

"A woman. She's about your age--thirty-nine, forty--very smart, passionate about her work."

I was trying to place the name. "Have I ever met her? Is she a customer?"

"I dated her."

"Oh God, I do remember. That was a long time ago." But hot and heavy for Page 34

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a time, if memory served, though I wasn't sure how I knew that. It wouldn't have been from Brody. His love life was one of the few things that was off limits between us. While he might mention in passing that he was taking someone to a particular restaurant or show, I learned more from Hillary Howard's column in the local weekly. Hillary kept track of North Shore movers and shakers. She had a vivid imagination and a weakness for gossip. Brody, who was often out and about, was fair game. Hillary had always had her eye on him. She still did, and she wasn't alone. He could deny it all he wanted, but women looked when he passed. I knew. I traveled with him.

He was currently seeing a woman named Ellen McKenzie. She was an artist with a loft in Boston's South End and was a knock-out in an unconventional way, if the picture of them Hillary had run several months back was anything to go by. He didn't see her every week. I doubted he had long term designs on her. The sex was probably great. Brody was virile.

But we weren't talking about Ellen McKenzie. We were talking about Carmen Niko. "How did it end?" I asked, because if there had been angst, and if Carmen associated me with Brody, there might be trouble. But he said, "Amicably. I was working with Dennis at the time, and things were hairy there. Carmen's career was taking off, one case coming in after another. We were both preoccupied. It got so the relationship was more trouble than it was worth. We're better friends than lovers. She may not have the name recognition of Lloyd Usher, but she's a better lawyer any day."

That was enough of a recommendation for me. "How do I reach her?" Brody pulled free, crossed to the phone, and dialed the number. After a minute, he said, "Carmen? It's Brody. I need to talk with you. If you're there, pick up the phone."

I held my breath. It was nearly nine. I didn't expect a lawyer to meet with me at this hour, but I had to see someone tomorrow. If Carmen Niko was on trial, out of town, or otherwise indisposed, I was back to square one.

"Carmen," Brody chanted, "come on, Carmen. This is a professional call. A great case." I must have looked like I was dying inside, because he came back to me, phone and all. He took my hand, brought it to his mouth, and kissed it--all of which made me feel cared for and loved, which was what I desperately needed after Dennis and Lloyd Usher--but what really helped was when he said, in response to what I assumed was a dry greeting from Carmen, "It is a great case. Right down your alley. Successful woman being sued for divorce by a less-successful man, who wants to boost his ego by milking her dry. We're talking money, possessions, and two young kids who love her to bits and, p.s." have spent far more time with her than with him. She got back a few hours ago from Cleveland, where she was visiting her mother, who's dying, and he had her served with an Order to Vacate. She has until Monday to answer it. So she needs to see someone fast. I told her you were the best." He paused, listening, still holding my hand, for which I was grateful. This was foreign ground for me. If someone had told me, twenty-four hours ago, that I would be embroiled in a custody suit, much less a cold-turkey divorce, I would have laughed and said, "Me? No way. My husband would never do anything like that."

How little I knew him after fifteen years. That was as jarring a thought Page 35

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as the others.

"Eight-thirty tomorrow morning?" Brody asked me. I nodded vigorously.

"She'll be there," he said into the phone. "Her name is Claire Raphael."

"Can I call the kids?" I whispered.

He related the question, listened to Carmen's answer, nodded to me.

"Anything else tonight?" he asked me. Oh, yes. There certainly was. I reached for the phone.

"Hold on, Carmen. Here's Claire."

"Hi," I said. "I am really, really grateful for this. Brody says you're the best."

The voice that came back to me was throaty and amused. "Brody is biased. But your case sounds interesting."

"I want it to go away. I wasn't expecting any of this."

"The good guys never are. It's the bad guys who scheme."

"Can he win?"

"I won't know that until I know more about the case."

"Can we get a reversal of the Order to Vacate on Monday?"

"Same answer."

"You said I can call the kids, but can I see them, too? My son has a football game on Saturday. I want to watch. My daughter will be there. She had an allergy attack while I was gone that I knew nothing about until today. I want to talk to her and make sure she's all right."

"What do your kids know about the situation?"

"I don't know."

"Find out, if you can. You don't want to upset them. Phone calls are easy. The kids don't have to know where you're calling from. But if you show up at a football game and then don't go home with them afterward, there's more to answer for."

"Is there any way to reverse this order before Monday? Can we go to court tomorrow to get an emergency order of our own?"

"Only if your husband suddenly does something to put the children in danger. Will he?"

I wanted to say yes. He claimed I was a distracted parent, but if so, I learned it from him. Dennis was a master of evasion. Without blinking an eye, he could manufacture scheduling conflicts, I swear had a list of excuses ready for why he couldn't do this or that. He had missed Johnny's games and Kikit's recitals. He had missed back-to school nights. He had missed a few birthday parties, and more dinners than I had by a long shot.

But would he put the children in danger? I sighed. "I don't think so." Page 36

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"Then be patient. Come see me tomorrow. We'll strategize then." Howard and Elizabeth Raphael were in their late sixties. They had their wits, their health, and the luxury of a retirement fund amassed during Howard's forty years as a regional manager for Granite Savings and Trust. While Elizabeth could be flighty, Howard was solid. He would have been the one to insist that the bank manage his retirement account, rather than handing it over to Dennis, and a good thing that was. As a venture capitalist, Dennis was like his mother, zealous in his causes but too easily taken in.

The Raphaels liked me. I had often suspected they trusted my career more than Dennis's. Even if they felt guilty for that, even if they felt it was time to be more loyal to their son, they knew what I felt for and meant to my kids. I didn't know what Dennis had told them about our separation, but I refused to believe they would hang up on me. As it happened, they didn't have a chance. The voice answering the phone belonged to my baby. "Hello?"

My heart beat up a storm, eyes filled with tears. The sound of her was heaven. "Hi, sweetie." "Mommy," she squealed, then her voice left the mouthpiece to yell, "It's Mommy, Grammy Bess. I told you she'd call. Where are you, Mommy? Daddy said you had to go places after you saw Grandma, but you didn't tell me about it. Mommy, I had the worst allergy attack the other night, but I don't know what I ate. Daddy said it was something in the casserole, but I always eat that casserole. He had to take me to the hospital. Johnny kept saying we should call you, but Daddy said he wasn't leaving me alone to go do it, and by the time we got home and he tried, he couldn't get through, and then I fell asleep. Where was my medicine, Mommy?" I brushed at tears with the heel of my hand, then took the tissue Brody handed me. I tried not to sniffle. "I don't know, baby. I'm sure I put the kit in your bag when I packed you up to leave Cleveland, and there was extra stuff in the basement fridge. I don't know what made you sick, either. There was nothing new in the casserole. Did Mrs. Beckwith give you anything to eat in the car when she picked up you and Jenny at school that afternoon?" Something as simple as walnuts, chopped and buried in a brownie where Kikit couldn't see them, would have done it.

"She didn't give us anything. She doesn't bring snacks like you do. We were starved! Daddy was mad when I got sick."

"Not mad. Upset. He knows it wasn't your fault. Are you feeling okay now?"

"Well, I'm not really hungry. Where are you?"

"You have to eat, sweetie. If you're scared, eat pure things, like bananas and eggs. And turkey. I froze packets of it. Tell Daddy to take them out of the freezer."

"Where are you?"

Once, I could ignore. A second time, I couldn't. But I had been Kikit's parent long enough to know that given the slightest push she would fill in the blanks. "Where do you think I am?"

"Daddy said you're in Santa Fe, but we told him you didn't have a store there, so he said you were opening one. You didn't tell me about it." I Page 37

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heard Elizabeth's voice in the background, then Kikit's averted, "But I want to talk to Mommy, can't I talk to her a little more, just a little more?"

"Kikit?" I rushed out before Elizabeth could take her away from me, "Was there itching this time?"

"Yup. I need a gift for Stacey's party, Mommy. When are you coming home?"

"I'm trying to figure that out. Does your chest feel okay?"

"Yeah. Daddy stayed with me the whole day I had to miss school." That was something, at least. Dennis usually headed in the opposite direction when the children were sick. He claimed he didn't want to get in the way.

"How is school, sweetie?"

"Okay. I didn't get to give my butterfly report yet, because Sammy Hayes took too long giving his one on stars, so I'm giving mine tomorrow. Johnny wants to talk. He got an A on his math test." The voice turned away and yelled, "I do not have a big mouth, she knew it anyway, you always get As in math--no, I want to talk more, I'm not done--"

"Hi, Mom," Johnny said and my throat knotted up again. I swallowed hard, pressed the tissue to my eyes. "Hey, congratulations. Another A? That's terrific! When did Ms. Anders hand back the test?"