Widows-in-Law

by Michele W. Miller

  “Most courts know that the attorney who brings in the business gets a piece of the firm’s fee, even if there’s no partnership.”

  “That alone would be millions.”

  “Cohen has a lot to fight about if he’s greedy,” the lawyer said.

  “Then he has a lot to fight about.”

  Lauren hung up and dialed Jessica. She recounted what her attorney had said about Steve denying he owed them money.

  “Could Steve have actually taken the partnership agreement?” Jessica asked, gathering strength as they talked. “He was down in the basement the day of the funeral, remember? He was the one who told us there was no will. I can’t believe I gave him the password to the computer. What an idiot I am. Up until this minute, even with his not answering our calls, I still thought Steve was my friend.”

  “It’s hard to believe he would take the agreement. I mean, who does stuff like that? Especially an attorney who could be disbarred if he were caught.”

  “There are some case files in the basement. A lot of the cases were cocounseled by out-of-state attorneys. Maybe I can find out who they are. We could contact them and they could confirm if it was Brian, not Steve they referred cases to. Maybe Brian told them what kind of financial arrangement he had with Steve on their cases.”

  “Right,” Lauren said, surprised at Jessica’s energy. “Their statements may not be admissible in court but it can’t hurt. Just look again to see if you find a fee-sharing agreement.”

  Lauren hung up, feeling better than when she called. She looked out through the black speckles of soot on glass that served as her office window and thought about it: Jessica was nowhere near as wilting and delicate as she’d once seemed. Maybe she had an inner strength Lauren hadn’t seen before.

  CHAPTER 13

  At dusk, a roller skater wearing a multicolored Afro wig glided on Hudson Street toward the Village. It was Halloween. Lauren had forgotten about the holiday without Emily around. She walked toward the health club’s long, green awning. Near the curb, tied to a narrow metal pole that supported the awning, was the most pitiful rottweiler she’d ever seen. As she approached, he stared at her from beneath white eyebrows. His tail bumped against the pavement as if he just knew she was a dog lover. She would have thought him a puppy if the signs of his age—all bones and speckled fur—hadn’t been so evident. She put her hand out to let him sniff and leaned down to pet him as he rose onto all fours.

  “Mookie.”

  Lauren stepped back, startled. “What?”

  A man appeared out of nowhere, the same guy who’d helped her with the weights earlier in the week. Lauren shook off her fright at his sudden approach on a dark street, even right outside the gym.

  He smiled. “His name is Mookie. Mine is Carl.”

  She dismissed a distinct impression that he’d planted the dog. There were easier ways to talk to women. “The Mets?”

  “Right, Mookie Wilson. You know baseball?”

  Lauren scratched Mookie behind the ears as she spoke, noticing how the dog lay on a small blanket. “No. Gotta go, puppy.” She headed toward the glass door to the gym.

  The man reached around, pushing the door open for her, and followed her inside. The thought crossed Lauren’s mind but left just as quickly: Where had he come from if his dog was already tied up, but he wasn’t leaving the gym?

  When Lauren finished her cardio and started loading weight plates at the bench press, Carl was there. “You need a spotter. You’re gonna kill yourself.”

  She acquiesced and next thing she knew he was working in sets with her, benching during her between-set rests. He didn’t say much while they worked out, which was good because she hated idiotic lines, and it was already obvious that he was pursuing her. They worked out hard, and she ended up initiating their sparse conversation, asking where he lived and worked.

  “I manage a sports bar in Hell’s Kitchen,” he told her, taking his plates off the weight bar after his set.

  “Interesting.”

  He seemed embarrassed. “I fell into it.”

  “Your mother wanted you to be a doctor?”

  He smiled, “Yeah, something like that.”

  They continued their workout, moving on to shoulder presses. She watched him lift. He was definitely easy on the eyes and had a great body, which was more attractive because he appeared so unaware of it.

  “Can I ask you something else?” she asked, one thing irking her.

  “Shoot.”

  “No offense, it’s none of my business, but do you always leave your dog outside by himself for so long?”

  “Mookie’s okay. Too old to steal, and it’s not so cold out tonight. Anyway, he gets to meet lots of girls out there and he’s got his blankie.”

  “His blankie?” Oh, God, that was the cutest thing she’d ever heard a guy say. “I guess he didn’t seem too unhappy.”

  “To tell you the truth, I promised Mookie I’d take him to the Halloween Parade. Want to take the walk with us?”

  Lauren smiled. “It was Mookie’s idea, I guess.”

  “We go every year.”

  She started her next set before answering, ten reps until her shoulder muscles burned. She thought over his invitation. Maybe it was faulty reasoning, but she doubted anyone who carried his dog’s blankie around with him was an ax murderer—and she trusted the dog at least. She could make sure they stayed on busy streets as they walked the dozen blocks to Houston Street. A parade would be public enough. Since Brian, she’d been gun-shy of men, had to convince herself to take any risk at all. But in this case, what did she have to lose?

  ***

  They headed north through Tribeca and past the restaurants and galleries of Soho. The sidewalks became more crowded as they neared the Village. Many of those who walked uptown wore lavish costumes, especially the drag queens who always had a strong presence at the Village Halloween Parade. By Houston Street the noise level had picked up with the sound of percussion instruments and the shouts of those who watched and participated in the parade. A forty-foot dinosaur floated by, followed by a hundred elementary school children in costumes. Lauren remembered Emily in her first princess costume and the year when she decided to be a Power Ranger amidst all her princess friends. For some reason, that had made Lauren so proud. After the kids passed, a muscular man marched by, wearing nothing but a thong and seven-foot butterfly wings.

  Carl laughed. “He’s gotta be cold.”

  Next, the political Bread and Puppet Theater sauntered past—huge papier-mâché figures that were the spitting image of the president and mayor.

  Carl and Lauren watched, talked, and laughed. She finally felt a reprieve from her worries of the last couple weeks. Eventually, the wind picked up and temperature began to drop as the parade neared its end. She shivered. Carl stood close to her, as if he were tempted to put his arm around her to keep her warm but wasn’t sure he should. She smelled the leather of his jacket and his fresh, just-showered scent. She imagined his arm strong and comfortable around her shoulder and wished he’d just risk it. She liked him, more than she wanted to.

  He put a palm on her back. “It’s cold, let’s get coffee.”

  As they walked, she cajoled herself, silently: You are a mature woman, Lauren, act like it. She took in a deep breath of the bracing air and glanced at Carl. Something about him was getting to her. Maybe it was all the stress she was under, but she was sick of being mature.

  They ended up sitting close together at the outdoor café tables of an espresso house on Bleecker Street so Mookie could hang out with them. Carl took Mookie’s baby blanket from his backpack and spread it under the table. “It’s funny how, once you get a dog, you start looking for outdoor café tables to eat in, and Fido-friendly hotels for vacations. My kid loves Mookie. I think he misses the dog more than me.”

  “How old is your son?”

&nbs
p; “Ten.”

  “Do you see him often?”

  “Every other weekend. I’d rather have joint custody, but my schedule is too unstable to keep him weekdays. It’s not all that easy weekends either.”

  They ordered sandwiches and drank coffee to stay warm.

  “I feel guilty about that … and about taking Mookie. But I didn’t have much choice. My ex didn’t want him. She had too much on her plate.” Carl fed pieces of meat to Mookie under the table and absentmindedly petted the dog with his free hand. “Which was lucky for me, or I would have died of loneliness without my son.”

  “Are you on good terms with your ex?”

  “Not bad. It was hard being married to a guy who works nights.” He grinned. “Now she only gets pissed when I do background checks on the guys she dates.”

  “Background checks?”

  Carl appeared startled for a moment, as if he’d let something slip. “You know, online,” he said quickly. “Google, LinkedIn, Ancestry.com. If a guy is going to be around my kid, I have to do my due diligence.” He laughed, taking in Lauren’s wary expression. “Come on, I’m only kidding about Ancestry.com. But I think it’s perfectly natural to google.”

  Lauren took a long look at him, wondering if he’d been stalking his ex, even though, truthfully, she’d googled Jessica. She said, “You lose a lot of control when you’re not living with your kids. That’s right up there in my top ten problems right now.”

  “You have kids?”

  Grateful for someone to talk to, Lauren told Carl about everything that had been driving her wild since Brian’s death: Emily, the betrayal by Steve, her paranoia about how Brian died. Carl nodded and asked occasional questions. He seemed to understand her so readily, almost as if he knew what she was going to say before she said it.

  “So, how are you and the new wife getting along?”

  “It’s a pretty strange relationship. I talked to her this morning. She’s dropping Emily off Saturday for the weekend, even though Emily could easily come by Metro North. Jessica said she wants to go shopping in the city and asked me to come. I don’t know whether she made the offer out of politeness or some weird bond she feels. And it seems like it’s not just Emily who she thinks binds us together. It’s Brian. As if I’m the only one who can understand what she lost. Frankly, I didn’t want him dead but losing him was one of the best things that ever happened to me.” She mused, “I needed to move on.”

  “Are you going shopping with her?”

  “Jessica? No. I told her I wanted to spend time with Emily, even though Emily won’t last five minutes before she runs out to find her friends. Truthfully, Jessica has been doing way better with Emily and the estate problem than I would have expected, but I’m still not interested in this merry co-widow shit. Putting aside the fact that Jessica lassoed my husband, we still have nothing in common.” Lauren held her palm up before Carl could interject. “I know, we’re both Jewish, in our thirties, both work out a lot, and both slept with Brian.” Lauren grinned and leaned forward. “Honestly, Carl, there’s probably a thousand woman who could say that.”

  Carl was laughing. “You’re both raising Emily.”

  Lauren paused, half wanting to tell him more about the difference between her horrible childhood and Jessica’s upper-middle-class childhood of suburban synagogues, private schools, and charity picnics, but Lauren held back. She didn’t tell people the whole soap opera of her childhood until she’d known them a while, if ever. “She’s a Republican, for God’s sake.”

  Carl’s eyes met hers, and they broke into laughter.

  Lauren said, “Okay. That’s not a good reason and I think she’s an Independent now. No offense if you’re a Republican.” Lauren took a piece of meat from her sandwich and started to reach under the table to feed Mookie.

  “He’ll be hooked on you too if you do that,” Carl said.

  Lauren caught the message and smiled slyly. “I’ll take my chances.” Mookie licked the piece of meat from Lauren’s hand and sat heavily against her leg. She petted him and looked back at Carl. “There could be worse things.”

  Carl’s phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. “Give me one minute,” he excused himself to take a call inside the espresso bar. When he returned, he insisted on paying the check, and they walked down Bleecker Street toward the subway. “I really like you,” he said.

  “I like you, too.” She smiled up at him, happier than she’d felt in a long time.

  He stopped, “Let’s exchange contacts. I don’t want to depend on running into you in the gym.”

  Carl took his phone from his pocket. “I’ll call you. You can save my number.”

  Lauren watched him punch her number into an iPhone—which she was surprised to see had a blue cover. She’d have sworn it was black when he took that call. She waited while his phone connected to hers and added him to her contacts.

  After she tucked the phone back in her purse, Carl’s hand slipped into hers, the heat between them making her want to lean in and kiss him. “Okay, now tell me,” Lauren said, swatting that thought away. “How did you get into the sports bar business?”

  “I had a college scholarship for baseball but I had an injury before I could go.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “I ended up at City College, did some bartending.” He turned and leaned down to Mookie. He felt Mookie’s nose, looking concerned. “His eyes are watery.”

  The dog began wagging his tail the moment Carl spoke to him.

  “He looks okay,” she said, frowning. Carl seemed uncomfortable talking about himself. It was sort of charming, Lauren thought. Humble, hopefully not neurotic.

  “Yeah, I don’t know whether he’s a hypochondriac or just likes attention.”

  Lauren laughed. “You’re both nuts.”

  They left Bleecker Street and walked up broad Sixth Avenue. Small storefronts and jazz clubs gave way to fast food and big-box stores. They neared the subway entrance.

  Standing next to the fenced-in Third Street basketball courts, a game going under floodlights, Carl took Lauren’s arm. “I’ll ride with you. It’s too late to ride the subways alone, especially on Halloween.”

  She looked up into his dark eyes and smiled, knowing better than to tempt her hormones. “It’s safer than riding home with you, Carl.”

  “You’re something else.” He kissed her lightly on the lips, holding her for a moment. “Would you call me when you get home to let me know you’re all right?”

  “I promise.”

  He released her and she descended the subway stairs, smiling like an adolescent girl with a crush.

  CHAPTER 14

  Friday, November 1

  Jessica sat on the edge of her bed, the room dusky as the sun set outside. She dialed Brian’s office. “I’d like to come by and clean out Brian’s things,” she told Peggy.

  Peggy responded, solicitously, “I can send them to you.”

  “No, Peggy. I need to do it.”

  Peggy paused. Jessica sensed her wariness—Peggy had always been wary of her. She’d never let an ill word slip, but Jessica had always thought Peggy was on Lauren’s side. It was as if Jessica had inherited not just a stepdaughter but a stepsecretary. Jessica pushed the ancient feelings away—they were obsolete now, ludicrous.

  She reverted to the familiar half whisper of the pitiful girl in mourning, her first time faking it. “I need to do it, Peggy, really.”

  Peggy paused again, probably wondering whether she should ask Steve or just do something nice and, frankly, normal for Brian’s widow. Peggy had worked for Brian for over a decade, and Jessica was counting on a little trust and loyalty here, in Brian’s memory at least.

  “I have to pick up my grandson. Can you come Monday, earlier?”

  “You don’t have to stay. I have Brian’s key.”

/>   An even longer pause. “Okay.”

  Forty minutes later, Jessica used Brian’s passkey to open the glass doors to the law firm on East Fortieth Street in Manhattan. She walked casually past an empty reception desk and waiting area. Even on a Friday night, there would be at least a couple of young associates around, but she was the widow of a partner and had a right to be there. It was only Steve she wanted to avoid. Jessica opened the door to Brian’s office and stepped inside.

  She stood still, her eyes adjusting. Dimly lit by city lights through two walls of windows, everything appeared untouched since Brian’s death. Jessica walked to the large desk, ran her fingers over the polished surface, and came around to the other side. A picture of Emily and Brian at a soccer match, and one of Brian and Jessica on their honeymoon in Tortola occupied the desk’s back corner.

  Their honeymoon had been a dream come true for Jessica. She’d gotten in way over her head with Brian when they’d started dating. She’d been a serial dater before Brian, always keeping the upper hand. It had taken her years to become self-assured again after her college nightmare and, deep down, she’d never wanted to give that power away to anyone. She certainly never intended to fall in love with a married man. She’d chosen Brian because he was as unavailable as a man could get. He was married and lived clear across the country. You couldn’t get more unavailable than that.

  But, stunningly, she ended up becoming so damned obsessed with him—she’d never experienced anything like it. She’d known he loved her. But the months leading up to his separation from Lauren had been a constant struggle. She maintained her female friendships, yoga practice, and work at the hospital. Yet, underneath all her effort to maintain normalcy, her mind was a NASCAR racetrack of torturous thoughts: What would happen next with Brian? What if he was the kind of guy who strung a woman along for years without leaving his wife? What if he wasn’t ready to leave Lauren and Emily? What could she do to convince him to fix the situation?

  She hid from Brian how freaked out she’d become over the entire, unexpected mess. Desperation was the surest path to losing a man. And while she was totally absorbed in how afraid she was of falling off an emotional cliff, she knew she was unworthy of his love. She was a woman who was unable to think of his wife and child as anything other than an obstacle to getting her own way. It wasn’t pretty, and if Jessica gave herself even a moment to think about it, she had a hard time painting it as anything other than an ugly scenario she’d created by her own pathetic self-centeredness.