These were her thoughts when, several days later as she was deep into the legalities of incorporating a new start-up business, Claire’s voice came through the intercom. “Layne,” she said, “Jeannie from the Clerk of Court’s office is on the line.”
A wash of dread swept through her, knowing the call could mean only one thing. She picked up the phone.
“Mr. Rivers filed the petition this morning,” Jeannie said, “and he’ll be represented by Jeffrey Baylor. There’s a three to four-week waiting period before the case is set down for its first appearance.”
Layne nodded. “Yes, I understand that.” She was aware that during the first appearance in Family Court, the attorneys merely show up in court to discuss matters with the judge. No testimony is taken, and usually the opposing parties are not present at this time, although the judge may request their presence to ask a question or two to clarify a relevant point.
“So,” Layne continued, “you’ll let me know when the appearance date is set?”
Jeannie assured her that she’d let her know as soon as it was scheduled.
Layne cradled the office phone before picking up her cell and finding a number. She tapped in Molly’s number and waited.
Soon a soft, gentle voice answered, and after a moment or two of inquiring as to their wellbeing, Layne explained that Rivers had filed a petition with the court, and the wheels were starting to turn. “It’s going to be three or four weeks before the first meeting,” Layne explained, “and when that time comes, you do not have to be there. I’ll represent you and be your spokesperson.”
Molly’s trembling voice gave her away. There was no way she could mask her concern. Layne could almost physically feel the grandmother’s fear of losing Lucy, even though she told her not to worry. The court examined all angles of everything concerning the child’s well being.
Well, now you’ve done it, Layne thought as she completed the call and clicked off her phone. You’ve scared the poor woman to death! She pushed away from her desk and leaned back in her chair, massaging her temples in hopes of calming the throbbing that was growing in intensity.
The massaging seemed to be of little help, so Layne picked up a legal pad and started to list points to present to the judge, when the time came. The more she wrote, the more apparent it became that Rivers could possibly have the more valid claim. He was well off financially. There was nothing he could not provide the child, whereas Molly was struggling, and the rent was due to increase – certainly not helping her already depressed financial situation. Rivers’ home was big and beautiful, whereas Molly’s rental home, although clean and cozy, was old and small, and in need of many repairs, and was in a less-than-appealing neighborhood.
These realizations did little to lessen the throbbing in her temples, although Layne was finally able to convince herself that, unless Rivers could present some compelling argument against the status quo, there would be no reason to change anything other than visitation rights, which Rivers was certainly entitled to.
~ ~ ~
In the days that followed, Layne studied every aspect of family law, inside and out, in preparation for the first meeting with the judge. She wanted to establish ground rules, since she was well aware that attorneys would attempt to discredit a witness in any way possible, to influence the judge. And if that was the case, Jeffrey Baylor could tear Molly apart. Her age, living situation, and lack of substantial income to support the child: none of these things were in Molly’s favor.
And then there was the question of Erik. How would she approach that? At the very least, he was arguably one of the most well-known men in Texas, and certainly one of the wealthiest. There was no way she could, or would, attack his character. There was absolutely nothing to attack. The single chink in his armor could be that, as a single man busy running his ranching empire, he could not devote the time needed to properly raise the child. If she had to, she could chip away at that.
Jeannie’s call finally came. The preliminary meeting with the judge and Erik’s attorney had been scheduled for the first part of the following week. Although this would be Layne’s first experience in family court, she was secure in the knowledge that she was totally prepared for whatever may come. Except, of course, the face-to-face meeting with Erik Rivers, and she was already dreading that . . .
~ ~ ~
Layne and Mr. Baylor were seated around a table with Judge Henry Jordan in his chambers. After explaining the court’s protocol, he asked Layne to express Mrs. Gerhardt’s concerns first.
“Mrs. Gerhardt has had the child since the accident took the lives of her parents,” Layne said. “She has loved this little girl beyond belief, and to have her taken away would be devastating. She has fed her, clothed her, and is educating her. There is absolutely no reason to take the child away.”
“Mr. Baylor, what would you like to say for your client?” the judge asked.
Baylor looked up from scribbling notes on his notepad. “Your Honor,” he said, “this is preposterous. The lady is old and feeble. She’s eighty something, for Pete’s sake! Her residence is dilapidated and the neighborhood is questionable. Her income consists of a monthly Social Security check. And, I understand the rent on her residence will be increased shortly. How on Earth can she give this poor little girl a rich, full life? On the other hand, my client, Erik Rivers, can give her everything.”
“Everything except a grandmother’s love,” Layne interjected softly.
“This court will fully consider everything,” Judge Jordan replied, scowling at Layne for her comment. “The welfare of the child is first and foremost. It will not be a contest of who has the most money or who loves the child the most. Any decision this court will make will come after all testimony is heard.” He looked from Layne to Mr. Baylor. “Any questions?”
Layne and Baylor shook their heads.
“Okay then,” Judge Jordan said, rising from his chair to signal an end to their meeting. “I’ll see everyone in Family Court in ten days.”
~ ~ ~
Erik Rivers swung back and forth on the wooden swing in his yard, the cell phone close to his ear. “So things went well, then?” he said. “No problems?”
“None at all.” Jeffrey Baylor chuckled on the other end of the line. “Gonna be a piece of cake! The old lady’s lawyer is gonna try to play on Judge Jordan’s heartstrings, but it ain’t gonna work.”
“What’s his name? Anybody we know?”
Baylor snorted into the phone. “It ain’t a he,” he laughed. “It’s a she. Used to work for Mr. Wellington before she quit to go on her own.”
“Oh. So she’s from San Antonio?” Erik asked, suddenly on alert.
“Yeah, she was at your barbecue. Layne somebody.”
“Martin? Layne Martin?” Erik blurted, caught completely by surprise.
“That’s her, yes,” Baylor replied. “Layne Martin.”
Erik dragged his feet to a stop, stunned. What the hell was going on? Why had she turned so completely against him? What had he done?
“Okay,” he said curtly, “keep in touch.” He switched the phone off and dropped it into a shirt pocket before walking purposefully to the house. Moments later, he left the house and sped down the entry road in the Bentley before disappearing in the swirling dust.
~ ~ ~
Layne was at her desk flipping through the pages of the Law Review when she was startled by a commotion in the reception room. She pushed away from the desk and was about to open the door when a very angry Erik Rivers brushed past the young receptionist and pulled it wide.
“What’s going on?” he demanded, storming into Layne’s office. “Why are you doing this?”
“First of all,” Layne said quietly, backing away to recover from the surprise of his intrusion, “calm down.” She nodded to a chair. “Now sit down and act like
a gentleman, for Pete’s sake!”
“I don’t want to sit down and I sure as hell don’t want to calm down,” Erik shot back.
Layne crossed her arms in defiance. “I’m not going to talk to you until you do.”
Erik’s scowl instantly met hers, and they stared at one another for a moment. Finally, with a resigned shrug, she walked across the room and seated herself in a chair beside the one she’d offered Erik and waited quietly.
“I want to know why you’re doing this,” Erik demanded in a not-too-quiet voice, walking to the front of her chair and glaring down at her. She waited, arms still crossed, ignoring him. He waited for another moment, then with a shrug of his own, sat in the chair beside Layne. “I want to know . . .”
“Use your inside voice,” she quietly admonished him as if he was a child, “I’m right beside you.”
Erik’s glare softened somewhat. “Okay. I’d like to know why you’re doing this.”
“And I’d like to know what you’re talking about. Can you give me a clue?” She knew damn well what he was talking about. “Exactly what is it I’m doing that upsets you?”
Erik turned in his chair to face her. “Don’t play games with me, Layne. Why are you doing this to me? Do you hate me that much?”
Now it was her turn to study him. There never was hatred. To be sure, there was overwhelming sadness that went with her broken heart, and the anger that accompanied his deceit, but hatred . . .? No. “I’ve never hated you, Mr. Rivers. I’ve . . .” She stopped. “Well, okay,” she corrected herself, “I hated you at the beginning of all this, but that’s all.”
“I still want to know why.”
Again Layne studied him. Finally she said, “I have a client coming in about five minutes, and we need much more time than that.” She continued to study him. “There’s a little restaurant close by, The Stirring Spoon. As you leave the building, turn right. You’ll see it. Can we meet there at noon? Is that all right with you?”
Now it was Erik’s turn to study her. “Okay,” he agreed, “but if you stand me up, I’m coming back to drag you out, client or not! Understand?”
Layne had the realization that, angry as he’d been, he probably meant what he said. “I’ll be there,” she said. “I promise.”
Chapter 10
The rest of Layne’s morning proved to be a total waste. She’d made at least a dozen trips to the window, apparently to see whether or not any of the scenery had changed. It had not. She ran out of pencils to sharpen and legal pads to arrange. She ran out of coffee, which was just as well. She was jittery enough as it was. And why in hell was the wall clock running so damn slow?
Finally, at 11:50, she checked her hair, for the fifth or sixth time, smoothed her blouse over her breasts, poked her head into Barb’s room to wave goodbye, and left the office.
Outside in the sunshine, she stood at the curb, waiting for a break in the traffic so she could safely cross to the restaurant. Finally, she saw her chance and hurried across. Erik was waiting in a booth as she entered, and immediately stood at her approach.
“Hi,” he said, in a quiet, cool tone. “Thanks for showing up.”
“I was afraid if I didn’t, you’d mess my hair by dragging me over here.” Even though her reply was flippant, she felt the possibility existed. But aside from that, Layne felt strangely relaxed. The almost overwhelming feeling of dread had somehow vanished.
“May as well eat something, as long as I’m here,” Erik said, casting a faint smile at her remark as he flipped through the menu. Apparently his anger had dissipated. At least he wasn’t raising his voice anymore.
“Do you want to talk first?” Layne ventured, scanning her menu.
“No reason why we can’t do both,” Erik said, looking up at the waitress who appeared at his side.
They both settled on a sandwich and a small garden salad, something fast and easy. Although Layne was now fully relaxed, everything she’d planned to say was gone, forgotten. She had no questions of her own, so she’d allow him to ask and she’d answer as best she could.
“When did you start hating me? Exactly what did I do?” Erik asked, looking across the table at Layne.
Layne stopped mid-bite. “I’m not sure there was a starting point. Besides, is that what we’re here to talk about?”
“I think it all ties in together, doesn’t it?”
After a moment, Layne nodded. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
“Well?”
“I think, oh hell, I know! At the barbecue, when I saw you with Joyce, her arms around you, I realized you’d been toying with me. I knew then that you stopped from having sex with me because you cared for her and your conscience wouldn’t allow you to continue. But I gotta admit,” Layne admitted dryly, “you were man enough to do that.”
Erik cast her an astonished look. “Stopped from having sex with you? I stopped making love to you, making love with you, because that wasn’t why I invited you to take part in the roundup. Things just got way out of control. It had absolutely nothing to do with Joyce.”
“You two were certainly entwined at the barbecue. It was rather obvious you cared for one another, and were in love.”
Erik’s astonishment grew. “Joyce was . . . is a nice lady. That’s why I was seeing her. I was not in love with her. I was hardly in friend with her.”
“You were merely in friend with me too,” Layne replied quietly, raising her eyes to meet his.
“No, that’s not true. You were in friend with me. I was starting to develop feelings for you.”
“And yet, you kept seeing Joyce.”
“Yes, I did. I loved you, but had no idea what your thoughts were about me. I sure as hell know what they are now, though,” he added quietly, almost to himself. “It didn’t take long,” he continued, “to realize that Joyce could never be a ranch wife, and then, when a realtor called, asking if I wanted to see the house Joyce had picked out for us after we sold the ranch, that settled it. She was gone.”
Layne could feel the burn coming behind her eyes, but she fought it off. Tears were definitely not needed now. Her mind was a jumble of confusion. Had she been wrong all this time? She looked long and hard at Erik, fighting off the tears that threatened to flow at the slightest provocation. She finally had to tear her eyes away, for fear of losing the battle.
“Let’s put that aside for a moment,” Erik said, rearranging the salad with his fork. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you representing Joyce?”
Layne put the remnants of her sandwich back on its plate and studied him for a short moment. “Normally I’d keep this information to myself,” she finally answered, thankful she’d stemmed the threatened flow of tears, “but since I have her permission to do so, I’ll tell you. I’ve been retained by Joyce Callaway.”
“What?”
“Before I knew anything about her or her relationship with you, she came to my office, wanting to keep you from gaining custody of your niece. I took notes on our discussion and collected my retainer fee, and that made me legally bound to carry through and represent Mrs. Gerhardt. After this was all settled, she told me about her relationship and plans for you.”
Erik remained in his chair, slowly shaking his head, speechless.
“I have to say, I was as surprised as you are,” Layne said. “There was no way I could back out, and I’m so sorry, but I still can’t.”
“She didn’t want me to get the child? Really?” Erik kept slowly shaking his head. “Why would she care? I had no plans, no plans at all, of marrying her.”
“I can’t believe you could be that stupid, Mr. Rivers. You had no idea she planned to marry you? To keep the child out of your home? To sell the ranch? To change your entire way of living?”
Erik finally stopped shaking his head. “No,” he said. “No idea.” H
e paused for a moment. “Are there any more surprises you want to give me?”
“Only that I plan to carry through and represent her. She needs a voice. You’ve never met Mrs. Gerhardt, have you?”
“No.”
“So you don’t have any idea how kind, loving, and caring she is?”
“No. I do not.”
“Then why on Earth don’t you get to know her? I think you’re making a huge mistake by not meeting and getting to know her. Quite possibly, all this court crap would not be needed. Maybe you could work things out between yourselves.”
“You mean a mediator?” Erik replied.
“Something like that, or maybe just the two of you.”
“No, I think a court decision is the way to go. Then there’s no question. And,” Erik continued, “I have the financial ability that she lacks. I think that’s an important point.”
“Certainly, if anyone compares her wealth to yours, it’s no contest. Many other factors come into play though, not just money. And,” Layne continued, “just so you know, I’m not doing this to hurt you in any way. Please believe me on that point. I’m merely giving the child’s grandmother a voice. She deserves to be represented and heard.”
“She’s an old lady. How can she take care of the child?”
“You’re a single man, busy running a huge cattle ranch. How can you take care of the child?”
Erik had no answer. He wiped his mouth, then slowly folded the napkin and put it down upon the table.
“Well then,” he said quietly. “I guess we’ll meet again in court.” He tossed a few bills on the table, and then with a last long look at Layne, turned and walked out the door.
~ ~ ~
The Rancher's Conditions Page 15