“A may-an!” Laney hollered, louder than she should have, even at Antonio’s. Part wine, part enthusiasm, equaled a whole lot of Laney-itis. “A Jewish may-an.”
“He was very nice to me,” Evie said. “I’m sure the last thing he wants to be is my tour guide and babysitter.”
“I’ve met him. He’s handsome,” Beth said, attempting normalcy. Evie looked at her, wanting to be annoyed, but she wasn’t.
“Of course he’s handsome,” Laney said, even though she’d never met him. “If he wasn’t handsome, Evie would’ve already mentioned him.”
The dim lighting camouflaged Evie’s flush.
“So it’s pretty exciting that you got the job and you’ll be working with Sandy. It’s just what you wanted,” Alan said.
Evie wanted Alan to shut up. A bathroom treaty with Beth was one thing, but chitchat with the cheater was another. Alan glanced at Evie over his glasses while moving plates around on the table to make room for the waitress to deliver the deluxe veggie deep-dish pizza. Evie knew he felt her disapproving vibe, and she was fine with that.
Garlic and spices overwhelmed Evie’s senses, her appetite replaced with a swirl of queasiness. “It’s fine. I’m just not sure how I’m going to swing it.” Evie shifted in her space, eight eyes upon her.
“Swing what?” Herb said. “It’s a job. You don’t swing it, you just do it.”
Laney opened her mouth to speak, but Evie put up her hand like a crossing guard. “Herb’s right, which is one of the reasons I accepted. Another is because Alan really went to bat for me.” She looked right at him and he nodded once. “And of course there’s the ‘I really need a paycheck’ reason. But without Nicole around, I don’t know how…”
“What? You don’t know how you’re going to be normal?” Laney said.
Herb glared at his wife.
Evie didn’t want them fighting because of her. “Lane, she was my free babysitting. Tonight my kids are at your house, but I can’t do that for eight weeks. I know Sam and Sophie aren’t babies, but if I’m going to be teaching a class from six to eight, twice a week, it means I’ll be gone for longer than that. I can handle the at-home stuff—the planning, the reading, and the grading—but the logistics of being gone that long aren’t easy to figure out.”
“We’ll all help you,” Laney said. A chorus of “Of course, don’t be silly, we’d be happy to” and “Whatever you need” relieved Evie’s anxiety, or should have. She felt a cold spot in her stomach that hadn’t been warmed by pizza, wine, or kind words.
Beth lifted her glass. Evie allowed Alan to pour her a drop from their second bottle.
“Here’s to Evie,” Beth said.
“Here-here.” Voices rose to meet their glasses.
“Ooh, and let’s not forget about the cute professor,” Laney said.
Evie’s cheeks warmed but she furrowed her brows as if she’d forgotten about him.
Laney put her head on Herb’s shoulder and looked up, batting her eyes. He kissed the top of her head. Between their bickering and flirting, Evie got marital whiplash. But whatever they were doing, it was working. The solid marriages that surrounded her served as good examples to Evie and her kids. No matter what else had happened.
Laney popped up her head and reached over to Alan. “Why don’t you see if the professor is single.”
“Stop,” Evie said. “He’s a colleague. It wouldn’t be professional. Plus, I’m not dating anymore, remember? Men are out of sight and out of mind.”
“How about when one’s in sight?” Laney asked, then took a slug of her wine.
Evie didn’t know. She just prayed she would not see Sandy Perlman anytime soon so she wouldn’t find out.
Chapter 20
“I’D HAVE MOVED UP THE court date if I knew you’d visit,” Evie said. The click of her seat belt served as punctuation.
Lisa shut the car door and Evie pulled away from O’Hare’s congested Terminal 1, zigzagging around the waiting cars, hoping for no traffic as they headed north on the tollway.
“You don’t need a lawyer, but I didn’t want you walking into that courtroom alone. And my fee is much less than that of anyone you would hire anyway.” Lisa looked at the floor by her feet.
“Your fee is in the backseat.”
Lisa turned and reached back for her Tupperware container of chocolate-chip cookies. “Want one?” Lisa garbled the words with half a cookie in her mouth.
“Nope. I’ve sworn off the stuff.”
Lisa chewed and stared at Evie.
“What?”
“What what?” Lisa said.
“What are you thinking?”
“Right now? I’m thinking you still make the best chocolate-chip cookies. In general though, you know what I’m thinking. I’m not sorry that this thing with Nicole is coming to an end. She has shattered your life twice.”
“Oh, is that all?”
Lisa held out half a cookie. Evie shook her head, gripped the steering wheel so tightly she felt the pebble grain of the faux leather. She just drove.
After twenty minutes of silence, Evie coasted down Bayberry Drive. The lawns were still brown from their winter’s nap, yet daffodils, hyacinths, and tulips heralded the arrival of spring. Evie obeyed the twenty-five-mile-an-hour speed limit even though no neighbors were outside and all the kids were in school. Hers included.
“Home sweet home,” Evie said. And she meant it.
Evie took Lisa’s hand and jerked her, almost in an awkward dance move. “Bring your stuff to my room,” Evie said with a bubble in her throat. “I love it when we have sleepovers!”
“And I love your haircut!” Lisa said, gently withdrawing from her sister’s grasp. She patted the bottom of Evie’s bob with one hand and tapped her suitcase handle with the other. Lisa had her priorities, and one of them was haircuts.
Evie knew another of her sister’s priorities was her.
* * *
The courthouse steps did not resemble a grand marble staircase like the ones on prime-time detective shows. Instead, they mimicked baby steps, with wide treads and short risers, and just enough space for one lane of pedestrians going up and one lane coming down. There wasn’t room for the gobs of reporters and hordes of bystanders reflected in those ripped-from-the-headlines episodes. Thank goodness. Evie did not like the idea of an audience, although she knew the courtroom would not be private. Family members commonly fought over even meager inheritances and battled wills with the departed in an effort to keep a grip on the past, and it all happened in plain view. But no matter the venue, she needed to go forward, to get through the piles of paperwork, the legalese and verbal roughhousing, so that she and Sam and Sophie could move on.
Evie ascended the steps without holding the banister. Lisa had okayed the outfit Laney had chosen, so Evie donned beige pumps last seen at Yom Kippur services three years before. She landed on each tread on the ball of her foot to avoid having to balance on the three-inch heels.
Evie had been in court only once before, and the corridors were no more welcoming this time than when she had arrived to finalize the divorce. Directories and framed portraits lined the white walls. Her heels clicked with each step on the marble floor. Tall wooden doors separated the regular world from the world of judges and lawyers and gavels and permanent decisions.
On Divorce Day, Evie realized the power of the court system was not unlike that of the religious system into which she and Richard had married. She walked into court as a married woman and sat across the aisle from the one person in the world from whom she wished to be legally severed. There were words and signatures. The judge asked if they were sure this was what they wanted. It hearkened back to saying vows and exchanging rings. The gavel banged. Evie left the building as a person with a new marital status: divorced.
Today Nicole was at the far end of the hallway, wearing a gray skirt, white blouse, and pumps. She stood with a white-haired man in a dark suit clutching an accordion file as if it held top-secret information. A
stroller was noticeably absent. It would have been inappropriate to bring Luca to the courthouse. Still, Evie hadn’t seen him in weeks and hoped to catch a glimpse. Babies always made her smile. Who was minding Luca? Maybe Nicole’s mother had gotten off the pathetic train long enough to watch her grandson before she packed them up to go back to the trailer park.
And then, Beth rounded the corner pushing Luca in his buggy.
Evie’s heart pounded. Beth walked toward her and, without stopping, reached out and tapped Evie’s arm. “It’s almost over.”
Evie grabbed Lisa’s arm as if it could stop her from fainting from uncertainty and panic.
“What the hell was that?” Lisa asked.
“I guess they’re best friends now.” Evie’s heart ached. She knew her friendship with Beth had changed, that it might be unsalvageable, but she never thought … well, she never thought a lot of things.
“I’m going to ask her what’s up,” Lisa said.
“No, stay here with me.”
“She is right though. It’s almost over.”
Evie looked at Nicole and her sister yanked her back. “Stop looking at her.”
“I can’t. You’re not going to go all Miss Manners on me and tell me staring is impolite, now are you?”
“Hardly. But you’re not taking your eyes off them. It looks like you care.”
All Evie cared about was what Beth was doing at the courthouse. Evie swallowed hard and focused her attention on Lisa’s open-toe pumps and pointed with her chin. “Should you be wearing those in April?”
Lisa lifted a foot and turned it side to side. “Open-toe is the new black.” She glanced at Evie’s feet. “Oh, um, sorry.”
Evie laughed. “At least I didn’t wear my Crocs.”
“Thank God for small favors and clearance racks.”
Evie laughed and clamped her hand over her mouth rather than risk impropriety in public.
The door to the courtroom opened. It was ten o’clock. Evie knew this didn’t mean the judge would be on time, but she could sit, breathe deep, relax. Nicole walked toward the door. The white-haired man was nowhere to be seen. Reaching the doorway, Nicole touched Evie’s arm. She jerked it away. Nicole looked at the floor and kept walking. Nicole had been solicitous at a few soccer games over the past few weeks, but here in the shadow of justice she withdrew her hand and tucked it into her pocket.
The courtroom was brown with varying shades of 1970s amber. The wood on the bench, tables, and the chairs’ armrests was clean but dull. Evie and Lisa sat in the second row, Nicole several rows back.
“When your case is called,” Lisa said, “we’ll stand up and go right in front of the bench.”
“I did that last time,” Evie said.
“That’s common for divorces. The judge doesn’t want any distractions, and most people have a hard time lying when they’re face-to-face with a judge. At least in civil cases. I guess we’ll see if the norm holds true for Nicole.”
“Will we be up there together?”
“You and Nicole? No. She’s the plaintiff and the burden of proof is on her. She has to prove that the life insurance was meant for Luca too. I’m guessing that’s what’s in that snazzy folder.”
“Okay.” Evie wrung her hands. They’d gone over all of this since Lisa’s arrival three days before, but now it was real. It was also public. Family court mimicked the family dysfunction with everyone in one room—mothers and fathers, some children, extended family, and a multitude of strangers. No matter why they were here, they were all reduced to a docket number. Most likely the defendants and the plaintiffs in the room were lost in their own dramas, not interested in Evie’s. She exhaled, feeling a little nauseous.
Everyone stood as Judge William Henry walked into the courtroom. He sat. Everyone else sat. The whispering resumed. The clerk shuffled papers and handed a stack to the judge, who leafed through the pile looking through trendy horn-rimmed glasses. Evie didn’t think judges should be trendy. She tapped her foot and her leg bounced. Lisa put her hand on Evie’s knee to both comfort and still her. “It’ll be over before you know it,” Lisa whispered into her sister’s ear.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Evie said without looking at her. Evie wondered if the people around her could hear her heartbeat.
A woman in the row ahead of them turned around issuing a silent reprimand. The room was abuzz with the squeaking of chairs, the rustle of papers, and an undercurrent of dismay. Evie just stared at the woman. Who appointed her hall monitor? Evie and Lisa were not the only ones whispering. Evie, tempted to stick out her tongue, just stared until the woman surrendered and turned around.
“Now why can’t you do that with Nicole?” Lisa asked.
“Do what?”
The woman shifted in her seat.
“Look like you mean business.”
“I did mean business when I kicked her out.”
“Right.”
The woman turned around again and pulled out the big guns. “Shh. Please. I don’t want to miss it when they call my name.”
“Sorry,” Evie said.
“You’re such a pushover,” Lisa said.
“No, I’m just trying to be considerate. Now shh.”
The clerk called the first case. Evie listened as an aunt fought for custody of her niece and nephew against their father. Could someone who wasn’t a parent win custody? Nicole wanted the twins’ money—did she want Sam and Sophie too because they were Richard’s kids? Could she sue for visitation rights? Or the house? What if she told the judge it was her house and she didn’t want to leave?
Evie whispered her fears to Lisa, who smacked her hand. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Evie wasn’t being ridiculous, she was being smart. During the second case she witnessed a minor become emancipated. The third, fourth, and fifth cases were updates for the judge—siblings who’d been in a car accident and were awarded settlements, a father defending himself against paying child support, a grandmother granted custody of her grandchildren because her daughter was a drug addict. Evie, who realized she’d dug her nails into her palm, unclenched her sweaty fists and looked around the courtroom. No sign of Beth.
The lawyers were neither savvy nor slick. They were either overweight or overtired. Some wore wrinkled jackets. Most were men, with worn, hard-sided briefcases. Fluorescent lighting made everyone look a little jaundiced; even Lisa’s skin had a yellow tinge, which of course coordinated with her broken-plaid St. John suit and Louboutin pumps.
The woman in front of them appeared before the judge alone. She handed a stack of papers to the clerk and stood with her feet more than shoulder-width apart. Her body language tried to say impenetrable force—instead Evie thought it said, “I have feminine itch.”
Evie etched the stance in her mind. She did not want to stand in front of a courtroom and look as if she were riding a horse. She had nothing to be ashamed of but was embarrassed nonetheless. This all seemed like a chair fight on The Jerry Springer Show. Nicole had the requisite tattoo and the crowd was a little dicey, so the image worked. Distracted, Evie watched the woman at the front of the room and wondered if today was the day Evie’s latest course would be set. She gulped. She’d focused so much on Nicole’s actions, she sometimes lost track of the bigger picture: selling the house, finding a full-time job, changing their lifestyle, and explaining to the kids why things were different—again. Evie’s pulse quickened as she noticed no one was standing at the front of the courtroom.
“Case FC-1016-P. Glass vs. Glass,” the clerk said.
“That’s us,” Lisa said.
Evie wanted to turn to the crowd and say, “Chat amongst yourselves.” She had listened to an hour of personal tribulations, financial woes, and family drama, but wanted no one hearing hers.
Lisa and Evie walked to the bench, jacket sleeves brushing together. Evie squelched her instinct to touch Lisa by taking a step to the left, leaving a foot between them.
The judge peered at the paperwork on h
is desk and motioned at the clerk. He tapped the papers in front of him.
“Will the plaintiff please approach the bench?”
Evie stared at Lisa. Lisa shrugged. This was not criminal court where both sides had to alert the other to evidence or witnesses. Evie could rally a town of character witnesses, she was sure of it. But Lisa said it wasn’t necessary. Evie should have followed her instinct and brought reinforcements.
The judge did not lift his eyes until Nicole was standing to the left of Evie.
“This case is dismissed,” Judge Henry said, looking at Nicole.
Evie turned to Lisa as the judge addressed them all, shifting his gaze between Lisa, Evie, and Nicole.
“The plaintiff has withdrawn the petition.”
Evie was not sure what had happened. She wanted someone to speak English.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Lisa said. She grabbed Evie’s sleeve and led her down the aisle in an almost-run. Lisa pushed open the door with her body, and when the door closed, she slumped onto a chair against the wall. “You won. Your kids get their money.”
By that time Nicole was in the hall. Evie fancied herself rather bright, but she was still confused. She walked over to Nicole.
“What just happened?” It was a demand, not a question.
“I’m going home, Evie. You win.”
Was this a joke? A trick? Nicole wasn’t going after the kids’ money but she was taking Luca away from them? Evie’s neck muscles tightened in a precursor to a tension headache. She rolled her head around for relief.
“Why?”
“It doesn’t matter why. I told my mother we’re coming, and she’s fixing up my old room for Luca. She got what she wanted. You got what you wanted.” Nicole swallowed hard.
Evie did the same, imagining the secondhand smoke that would ravage Luca’s lungs while they shacked up in Super Granny’s double-wide, even though she didn’t know if Nicole’s mother smoked or lived in a double-wide.
Lisa led Evie away.
“I have no idea what just happened,” Evie said.
“Maybe I can explain.”
It was Alan.
* * *
The Glass Wives Page 21