The Girls of Mischief Bay

by Susan Mallery

  Pam squeezed her hand. “We’re all here for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Nancy returned to her notes. “Don’t make any major purchases. It’s fine to buy food and replace clothing, but don’t get a new car. Also, I’ll need copies of all recent bank statements. Neither of you is allowed to transfer out money from the joint account beyond necessities for living expenses. You’re not still having sex with Eric, are you?”

  Nicole blinked. “Ah, no.”

  “Good. Keep it that way. It’s possible he may try to get back into the marriage bed as a way to manipulate you into agreeing to a lesser settlement.”

  The idea was practically comical, Nicole thought. Eric hadn’t slept with her for months. No way would he try to do it now, she thought.

  “I think I’m pretty safe,” she said. “But I’ll remember your advice.”

  They discussed more logistics, then wrapped up the meeting. Nancy handed over paperwork and Nicole gave her a check to retain her services.

  When they were in the office building parking lot, Pam gave her a hug.

  “I won’t ask how you’re doing.”

  “Good, because I don’t have an answer,” Nicole admitted. “None of this is real. Everything happened so fast. We were struggling, then Eric sold his screenplay and now we’re getting a divorce. How is that possible?”

  “I only have clichés to offer. People change and grow apart. It’s not your fault.”

  While Nicole appreciated the vote of confidence, she was less sure. For things to fall apart so quickly, there had to have been underlying problems. Things she hadn’t noticed or maybe hadn’t wanted to see. While it took two to make a relationship successful, she had a feeling that it also took two for it to fail. So where had she gone wrong?

  * * *

  “You are the weirdest man,” Shannon said.

  “You love that I’m weird,” Adam told her, his voice cheerful.

  He was right, she thought, looking into his dark eyes and knowing that whatever course they chose, she wanted them on it together.

  She still didn’t have answers to the kid question. Nor was she a hundred-percent sure she was decent stepmother material. But she was willing to try. With patience and maybe some outside help, they could make it.

  It was Sunday morning. The warm temperatures had meant breakfast out on her deck overlooking the POP and the ocean beyond. Already joggers and cyclists were out, earnestly exercising. In the distance, she could see a couple of dogs in the dog park.

  Adam had spent the night. They had a lazy afternoon planned, then dinner with friends. The kids were with their mother this weekend. If she and Adam stayed together, this would be what it was like, she thought. Every other weekend would be just the two of them. Unless they had a baby. Or adopted.

  “Why are you frowning?” he asked. “I walked three miles in the snow to get you croissants.”

  She laughed. “There is no snow and Latte-Da is two blocks away.”

  “Still. I hunted and brought you back my prize kill.”

  She raised her latte and toasted him. “I appreciate it.”

  “So why the frown?”

  “I don’t know what to think about having a baby,” she admitted. “I’m very capable. If I wanted children, wouldn’t I have taken care of that by now? Yet, if I don’t do something soon, I won’t have the chance later. It’s complicated. I want to make the right decision and I don’t know what that is.”

  He surprised her by standing. “Hold that thought.”

  He disappeared into her condo, only to return a couple of seconds later with a briefcase. He sat across from her and started pulling out folders.

  He handed her one. “Information from my urologist.”

  She stared at him. “You have a urologist?”

  “I do now. I’ve been to see him about reversing the vasectomy. Because my vasectomy is less than ten years old, the expected success rate is ninety percent. It’s an outpatient procedure with an easy recovery.” He shrugged. “No sex for three weeks, but then we can go for it.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “Of course. I love you, Shannon.” He nodded at the folder. “All the information is in there.”

  He pulled out a second folder. “International adoption. I talked to my sister Gabby.”

  “She’s an immigration lawyer.”

  “Right, but she has friends who handle adoption. There are a lot of opportunities, and not just in Ethiopia. Although if that’s your favorite country, we should go for it.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. Speech was impossible. This man, this amazing man, only wanted to make her happy. She pressed her lips together.

  “It doesn’t have to be Ethiopia.”

  “Good to know.”

  He set a third folder on the pile. “This is kind of from left field, but hear me out. You love your work. You want kids, but I don’t see you taking off six months to do the stay-at-home mom thing.” He held up both hands. “An observation, not a judgment.”

  “Keep talking.”

  He tapped the folder. “Foster kids. There are hundreds who need a home. We could provide that. A place for them to feel safe. Maybe even adopt a couple. We’d have our own family, you’d get to be a mom and it would be good for Char and Oliver. Plus, if we went with older kids, you wouldn’t have to give up any part of your career. Everybody wins.”

  Foster children? The idea had never crossed her mind. “We’d have to get approved or certified or whatever first.”

  “Sure, but I think we’d make it through the process.” He reached in his briefcase again and pulled out a turquoise blue jewelry box.

  Her gaze locked on it, then slowly rose to his face. He smiled at her. “I love you, Shannon. I swear, the first time I saw you, I couldn’t believe I was that lucky. As I got to know you, I realized that the beautiful package on the outside was nothing when compared to who you are on the inside. You’re smart, funny, caring and for reasons that delight me constantly, you love me. And every time I’m with you, I’m more sure of my love for you. I want to spend the rest of my life being with you. I want us to create a family that makes you happy and I don’t care what form it takes. As long as you’re with me.”

  He drew in a breath. “I come with some baggage and I’m not saying it will be easy. But I promise to be there, no matter what. Will you marry me?”

  She didn’t remember standing, but suddenly she was on her feet and circling the table. He pulled her into his arms and held her close.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I love you and I want to marry you, Adam. I’m all in.”

  Twenty-Seven

  “It’s all very fair,” Nancy said. “I’ll admit it. Eric surprised me.”

  “Me, too,” Nicole murmured.

  Her lawyer glanced at her. “I won’t ask if you’re okay. But do you need a minute?”

  Nicole shook her head. There was nothing left to think about. It was done.

  She thought about reading the documents one more time, but didn’t have it in her. She trusted her lawyer and even if she didn’t, she was too exhausted and numb to fight.

  Eric had agreed to divide everything down the middle. The house was hers, because it always had been. The modest value of her business had been added to the money he’d made on his screenplay, less taxes and agent fees. Their debts had been subtracted from that amount and that final amount had been divided in two.

 
From her half, Nicole had bought him out of her business. The final lump sum would be deposited in her new only-hers checking account. She now owned her business herself and soon would have a nest egg sitting in a money market.

  Of that two hundred thousand dollars, she would put half away for Tyler’s college and keep the other half for herself. It wasn’t enough to live on forever. Not even close. But it was there. A nice, comfortable safety net.

  In addition, they’d agreed on child support payments. The amount allowed Nicole to keep Greta. Eric would see Tyler every other weekend, while she retained full custody.

  Nancy had brought up asking for alimony, but Nicole had refused. She was young and healthy. She could support herself. Asking for anything else seemed greedy.

  She signed the documents where Nancy indicated. In a matter of minutes it was done. Her divorce would be final, according to the state of California, in six months. But she knew the marriage had been over for years.

  She thanked her attorney and headed for home. Eric had said he would come by at two to get his things and she wanted to be there.

  When she rounded the corner, his car was already in the driveway. She parked across the street and walked toward the house.

  “It’s me,” she called as she walked in the front door.

  “I’m back here.”

  From the sound of his voice, she would guess he was in his office.

  There were just the two of them in the house. She’d asked Greta to take Tyler out for the afternoon so they wouldn’t be here. Not that Nicole was expecting anything to happen. Even so there was no need for their son to witness the last gasps of their failed marriage.

  She went down the hall. The door to Eric’s office stood open. He was putting books into boxes. He glanced up and smiled at her.

  “Hi. I shouldn’t be too long.”

  “When’s the truck coming?”

  “What truck?”

  “The moving truck. For your things. Aren’t you taking some of the furniture?”

  He looked around at the small office. “No. I don’t need it. The only thing I bought was that.” He nodded at the futon. “While it has sentimental value, I’m not interested in finding a place for it. Let me know if you need help getting rid of it.”

  She’d thought he would want at least some of the furniture. Now that she thought about it, she realized they’d never discussed what he would and wouldn’t need for his new place.

  “You have things for the kitchen and a sofa and stuff?” she asked.

  “I’m living in a furnished place. I’m not sure where I want to settle. I’m close to the studio, so convenient for now, but after I sell my next screenplay, I might move to the Hills.”

  Hollywood Hills, she thought. Where houses perched like eagles’ nests had views from downtown to the ocean.

  “You’ll want lots of entertaining space,” she said quietly. “For your movie-star parties.”

  He grinned. “You know it.”

  Nothing about this felt like it was really happening, she thought as he picked up the full box and carried it out to his car. Not him leaving, not the empty space that separated them. She honestly couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him. How could they have been married for less than six years and have already run out of words?

  Not sure what else to do, she filled a second box with the rest of his books.

  “Thanks,” he said, when he returned. “I still have a few things in the bedroom.”

  She took one of the boxes, walked out of the office and into the living room. She’d already sorted the DVDs and Blu-ray disks. She put them in the box, then collected a couple of magazines, and a plate Tyler had decorated for him last Father’s Day.

  In the kitchen, she added a couple of pens from the junk drawer and a few pictures of him and Tyler.

  There were some T-shirts and board shorts stacked on the washer. She got those and added them to the box, along with an iPod and headphones.

  He walked into the kitchen. “I think I have everything.”

  She pointed to the box. “You’ll want that.”

  He glanced inside. “Thank you.”

  They stared at each other. Although he looked exactly the same as he had the last time she’d seen him, and the time before, in so many ways, he was a stranger. She no longer knew him and wondered if she ever had. Their relationship had been nothing but an illusion. They’d both played at being in love, and neither of them had done a very good job.

  “If you want to see Tyler more, just call me and we’ll set something up.”

  “I’m going to be busy,” he said, picking up the last box. “The every other weekend thing is about all I can handle and I might need you to understand if I have to miss a few times.”

  She wanted to protest—to point out that a boy needed his father. That Tyler missed him. Only Eric had started leaving long before he’d moved out. So much so that their son barely mentioned him. Tyler had friends and preschool. Come September he would be in kindergarten. Eric would matter less and less.

  One day Eric might regret that. One day he might try to reconcile with his son. Until then, her job was to give Tyler the most stable home she could. To love him so much he wouldn’t notice the absent father.

  “I have a meeting,” Eric told her. “I have to go. Once my lawyer gets the signed papers, he’ll arrange to have the money sent over to your account.”

  She nodded.

  He gave her a quick, impersonal smile. “Okay, then. I’ll see you.”

  He walked out of the kitchen. Seconds later, the front door closed.

  She stood in the quiet house and steadied her breathing. It was done. The paperwork was signed. In six months the lawyers would go to court and a judge would sign some papers and she would be divorced.

  She looked around the kitchen, at the painted cabinets and the tile she’d chosen shortly after she’d bought the house. Through the window she could see the backyard. All the plants she’d nursed back to health and the ones she’s bought. She’d always loved this house. The bright colors, the light, how she’d decorated…

  Nicole slowly turned in a circle, taking in every corner of the kitchen. There was the stove she’d replaced and the door handles she’d bought. In the laundry room were the washer and dryer that had been replaced just before Eric had quit. A washer and dryer she’d bought on her own because he didn’t care about that kind of thing.

  She ran into the living room and stared at the sofa, the chairs, even the TV. She’d picked them all. In the bedroom was the set she’d bought at an estate sale the same month she’d closed on the house. It had taken her two months to refinish the wood and stain it. She’d been so proud of the outcome and when Eric had first seen them, he’d been impressed by her hard work.

  Slowly, she walked to Eric’s office. Even there she’d been the one to find the old desk at the Habitat for Humanity store. Eric had liked it fine, but he hadn’t picked it. No wonder he’d only needed a few boxes to move out. There was nothing of him in this house.

  She leaned against the hall wall and slowly sank to the floor. After pulling her legs up to her chest, she rested her head on her knees and told herself to keep breathing.

  But the truth was insistent. Like a lonely dog determined to be petted, it nudged at her, slipping in when she let down her guard.

  She and Eric had never known each other. Not really. And because she hadn’t known him, she couldn’t love him. Not
really. Not in a way that was meaningful to him.

  He’d been the one to leave. He’d been the one to step away from their marriage, but she hadn’t given him any reason to stay. The past six years of his life fit in a handful of boxes. No part of their life had been his.

  She was to blame, she thought, her stomach twisting until she was afraid she was going to throw up. Not completely, but she had a pretty equal share.

  She’d never seen it. Making everything his fault had been so very easy. She’d never noticed how she was also responsible. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be married to Eric anymore, but by her actions, she hadn’t given either of them a choice.

  Now it was done. There was no going back. There was only moving forward. Right now that unknown path was more than a little terrifying. And the kicker was, she’d done it to herself.

  * * *

  The sun flooded the backyard with warmth and light. Pam had made sure there were plenty of chairs in the shade, not that anyone was using them, she thought happily. Her guests were too busy laughing and talking to do something as mundane as sit.

  She’d already made a pest of herself with the sunscreen, especially for the children. It was the first unofficial day of summer. She didn’t want anyone getting a sunburn. Brandon had taken her aside and told her to lighten up. He’d then kissed her cheek and handed her a margarita. She’d decided to take his advice.

  The Eiland family Memorial Day barbecue was a tradition. It had started two weeks after she and John had moved into this house. She’d been pregnant with Brandon, exhausted from unpacking and too big to sleep more than thirty minutes at a stretch and tired of not being able to see her feet. She’d been swollen, achy and the last thing she’d wanted was a party.