Chuck stepped between them. ‘Mr Sheehan, may I introduce my client, Dr Jake Steinmann.’
Don Sheehan offered a too brief, slightly damp handshake and turned his back on them both. ‘This meeting is already late. I suggest we get started?’
His question didn’t require an answer, sparking with repressed rage Jake would love to have unpicked. The man was a classic passive-aggressive: Jake could have used him as an excellent case study.
‘Charming man,’ Jake observed, as he and Chuck dutifully followed Don into the company’s boardroom.
‘Well-dressed sewer rat more like,’ Chuck whispered back, winking at Jake as they sat down.
Don spread out a raft of papers across the desk. Overcompensation, Jake mused. Width of desk covered versus the obvious lack of height in his chair compared to us. It helped him to view the lawyer’s personal behaviour as a way of gaining insight into his insecurities, because it reduced the power Don was trying his best to exert over him.
‘I’ll keep this brief,’ Don said, avoiding eye contact as he studied the paperwork.
Withdrawal. Classic tactic to make us feel unworthy of his attention …
‘I met with my client in San Francisco last week and she has instructed me to protect her assets in this process. The San Francisco property, beach house, car, investments in both her own name and jointly accounted for …’
‘I’m sorry. Our paperwork indicates that Mrs Steinmann agreed a fifty–fifty split with my client,’ Chuck interjected. ‘I see nothing here about sole attribution.’
Don raised his head and gave Chuck a look of pure disdain. ‘If your paperwork is not the latest draft, Mr Willets, that is not my problem.’
‘On the contrary, Mr Sheehan. If your office is incapable of furnishing me with the correct paperwork, that is very much your problem.’ Chuck’s smile was broad and unhindered, having the desired effect on his legal opponent.
‘In that case, Mister Willets, might I suggest we postpone this meeting until such a time as the correct paperwork can be forwarded to you?’
Chuck was about to speak when Jake interrupted him. ‘What does she want now?’ He was tired of the legal tennis already and after psyching himself up for this meeting – not to mention booking the morning off work, which was costing him considerably – he was not going to let Jessica’s lawyer draw out the process any more than was absolutely necessary.
Don stared at Jake, his puce little face puffing as he scrabbled for the advantage. Clearly he wasn’t used to opposing lawyer’s clients asking direct questions. ‘She wants it all. She said you had agreed …’
‘I’ve agreed to nothing,’ Jake said calmly. His conversation with Jess in the San Francisco coffee shop many months ago seemed a world away: and if she thought she could twist his words when he had been at his lowest ebb, she could think again. ‘Everything we discussed was off the record. If she wishes to proceed through attorneys she can do it officially, in writing.’
The lawyer licked his lips and held up a single sheet of paper. ‘These are her desired assets.’ He slid the page across the polished oak table and folded his arms.
Chuck took the page and scrutinised it, handing it across to Jake and shaking his head. ‘No. This is simply unreasonable.’
‘And does your client share your learned assessment of this document?’
Jake knew exactly what Chuck thought about it. As he scanned the list of his former possessions Jessica was laying claim to, he weighed up the pros and cons of the question. If he wanted the divorce signed and sealed as soon as possible, he could accept all of his wife’s demands and let her leave him in peace. On the other hand, he had taken a dislike to her lawyer and the bloody-minded streak in him didn’t want to let Sheehan win. It would mean the process could be held up by more discussion, but perhaps that was worth it given the pleasure he would get from seeing the puffed-up attorney denied his kill.
‘Yes, I do,’ he said. Take that, you self-righteous over-compensator …
Don Sheehan looked as if he was on the verge of a coronary. ‘In that case, I have no option but to go back to my client and review the situation.’
Chuck smiled again. ‘As you wish, Mr Sheehan.’
Don scrambled to his feet. ‘I’ll have my office call your office and schedule a meeting next week,’ he barked.
Chuck and Jake left the boardroom unaccompanied, Sheehan making a last-ditch effort to undermine their confidence. It didn’t work: as was evident in Jake’s lawyer broad smile as they walked through the plush offices towards the elevator.
‘Well played,’ he congratulated Jake. ‘I’d say Don Sheehan knows we mean business now.’
‘I’m not sure where that came from,’ Jake admitted when they were in the elevator and safely out of earshot of Don Sheehan’s associates. ‘I just didn’t want to let him win.’
His lawyer chuckled. ‘That’s as good a motivation as any to start divorce discussions. We’re not looking to make Jess suffer: just to ensure you both receive a fair settlement. I know it’s clinical and non-emotional, but that’s the way the law works. Keep that in mind and it won’t be as bad as you think.’
‘Thanks. Glad to have you in my corner.’
‘It’s my pleasure. Oh, and one more thing, Jake?’
‘Yes?’
‘Next time you’re hiding out in Javacious, fetch me a venti latte and one of those mighty cinnamon buns, would you? Might as well make yourself useful.’
Jake laughed to hide his embarrassment at being busted by his lawyer. Chuck Willets was too good …
A bell signalled the end of the elevator journey and the doors opened onto the grand, marble entrance lobby. Chuck shook Jake’s hand.
‘I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything. Take care of yourself.’
Jake watched his lawyer walk quickly out of the building. He didn’t relish the prospect of returning for round two, but he had survived his first experience of divorce discussions. With Chuck Willets representing him, he knew he could rest easy that Don Sheehan wouldn’t be calling the shots.
He paused by the reception desk to turn his mobile phone back on, with the sound of ringing reception telephones and the click-clack of approaching heels on the marble floor providing a familiar New York soundscape in the background.
‘Jake.’
At first, he didn’t hear it, the insistent flash of his email notifications commanding his attention. But it came again, nearer this time.
‘Jake.’
He looked up – and his heart stopped.
Jessica was standing in front of him, her Californian tan and long, sun-bleached hair setting her apart in the grey of the building’s lobby with its pale-faced native New Yorkers. In her white dress, cream coat and heels she could have walked straight off the set of a Hollywood movie, her appearance catching the attention of male passers-by heading to and from their offices. She looked incredible.
‘What are you doing here?’
Jessica smiled – and Jake noticed how much more sincere it was than the superficial gesture he had witnessed at their last meeting. ‘I came to see my lawyer. And you?’
‘We just met,’ Jake replied, struck by a sudden urge to put distance between them.
‘I had no idea.’ Her eyes glazed over a little: Jake knew she was lying.
He didn’t need her games today. He wasn’t prepared to deal with them – or the old familiar pain her presence wrought in his heart. Besides, he was already late for his afternoon clients. ‘I have to go. It’s good to see you.’ He made as if to leave, but was halted by Jessica’s long fingers catching his arm.
‘OK, I lied. I came to see you. My lawyer doesn’t even know I’m in New York. Don just mentioned he was meeting you at his office today and I knew this was the only place I would find you. I don’t know where you live, or where your new practice is, so I had to come here.’
Jake couldn’t take this in. Why, after months of silence, would Jess want to see him now? Wasn’t her ob
jectionable attorney in charge of all their communication? ‘I don’t understand.’
Jessica’s eyes were wide as she gazed up at him. ‘I needed to see you, Jakey. After you left, I had time to think.’
‘I know that. I saw your revised list of demands.’
‘That doesn’t mean anything.’
‘Funny. That’s not what your lawyer thinks.’
‘Talk to me, Jake. Like we used to.’
This was too much. He needed to leave, and soon. ‘We used to do a lot of things that don’t apply now. I have to go …’
‘Please, just have a drink with me? Hear me out? There’s so much I want to tell you.’
He should have said no. He should have used his advantage gained in the lawyer’s office and swept out of the building. How could he want to talk to her when he’d been trying so hard to shelve the emotions from his marriage as he rebuilt his life in New York?
And then, there was Bea. She was a friend, but the question still remained over his feelings towards her. The message she’d sent him when he arrived for the meeting had meant more than he expected it to: what did that mean? Until he had worked that out, how could he make a rational decision about anything else?
And yet, ten minutes later he was back in Javacious, listening to the former love of his life tearfully confess the feelings she still held for him; hating himself for even being there …
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Celia and Stewart’s apartment, 91st Street, Upper West Side
Celia Reighton’s eyes threatened to pop right out of her head.
‘And you accepted?’
‘I didn’t really have a choice. If I’d refused he would have camped out in my hallway.’
Stewart handed a basket of warm bagels to his sister, but Bea declined. Her appetite had vanished in the week since Otis’ late-night reappearance.
‘I don’t get it, Bea. Why turn up and promise to explain things at a later date? Why not just tell you there and then?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe because I wasn’t in the mood to hear it.’
Stewart snorted. ‘The guy’s a douche. You should have sent him packing.’
Irritated as much by her brother being right than she was by the crudeness of his assertion, Bea snapped back, ‘Yes, maybe I should, but you don’t understand. I’d had the worst day of the year and Otis was the crowning glory. I had nothing left to fight with.’
‘Oh honey, what happened?’ Celia’s perfectly manicured hand came to rest on Bea’s shoulder.
The memory still smarted, but Bea shared it anyway. ‘Our accountant absconded with our fee, leaving us in serious trouble with the IRS. Then, when Russ and I were going through the mess he had left, Russ made a move on me.’
Stewart gaped at her. ‘No way! I thought you’d settled all that after you graduated from Columbia?’
‘So did I. But it turns out that Russ has been waiting all this time for me to come around to the idea.’
‘How embarrassing! How did he handle your rejection?’ Celia’s question had all the subtlety of a boot to the stomach.
‘Badly. He said he understood, but we’ve not been the same since. I can’t help feeling that this might have changed how we are with each other for good. I’m worried I might have just lost my best friend and business partner.’
‘No, honey. My guess? He’s licking his wounds and laying low. You’ve been friends for too long to throw it away over this.’
‘I hope so.’ Bea appreciated Celia’s sentiment but still couldn’t quite believe she and Russ could bounce back so easily.
Stewart wrapped his arms around Bea. ‘Look at it this way, sis: it’s all part of that brave new world you keep saying you’re pursuing. The irony is, since you told the world you were done with relationships you’ve become irresistible to men.’
This did little to console Bea. ‘Cheers.’
Celia ignored her boyfriend and took Bea’s hand. ‘Oh Bea, you shouldn’t have to deal with all this. What did Otis say at dinner?’
‘We haven’t done it yet.’ Bea had so far managed to avoid actually setting a date to meet with Otis and was hoping she could continue to put it off.
‘Well, honey, don’t you think you should? Better to get it over so you can move on.’
Celia was right: but Bea was still reeling from the week before and she couldn’t face Otis while she felt this vulnerable. She knew from experience that he would spot it immediately and move in, like a lioness picking off the smallest, weakest wildebeest in the herd.
‘I will. When I’m ready.’
Celia poured herself another coffee. ‘Only you can know when that is. But if I were in your position, I’d be honest with him and cancel the date. If you don’t want to hear what he has to say, you shouldn’t have to. On the other hand, if even the smallest impulse in you wants to hear it, you owe it to yourself to meet him.’
When Grandma Dot’s next parcel arrived the following Monday, Bea and Russ had managed to establish a dialogue based upon professional politeness. It was awful but workable: and for now it was the best Bea could hope for. There were book parties to prepare for and the mid-autumn sale to run, both of which kept them busy. Bea tried hard not to notice the gaping hole in their friendship, but during quiet times in the bookstore it was impossible to ignore.
‘Parcel for ya,’ Murray the neighbourhood postman sang out as he walked in, bringing welcome relief from the stilted atmosphere of the bookshop. ‘Another one with the cute rodents.’
‘It’s a present from my grandma,’ Bea smiled, passing Russ to collect it.
‘Whoa, you’re one lucky lady,’ Murray nodded. ‘All my grandma ever gives me is a headache: “When you gonna get married, Murray?”, “When you gonna get a better job?” I swear that woman will bug me to my grave …’
‘Another book?’ Russ asked when Murray left. It was the closest thing to friendly conversation he had managed all day.
‘Yep.’
‘She certainly loves sending you them.’
‘They’re helpful.’
Russ shrugged. ‘I didn’t say they weren’t.’ He blew out a sigh and raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Look, I have a stand-up gig tonight, so I was thinking I’d finish early. You know, to prepare.’
Bea kept her eyes on Grandma Dot’s parcel. ‘That’s fine. I’ll close up here.’
‘OK, well … I’ll finish pricing these sale books and then I’ll head off.’
‘Good. Thanks.’ Every exchange was lead-heavy and cumbersome: gone was the effortless badinage they had always enjoyed. Bea wondered if it would ever return. Wiping sudden tears from her eyes, she hurried into the office to open the parcel.
An illustrated copy of William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream was wrapped within Grandma Dot’s letter. Immediately, Bea sought out the yellow Severnside Book Emporium bookmark, finding it tucked into Act 1, Scene 1. A pencil-sketch Book Mouse dressed in an Elizabethan ruff and feathered cap was leaning against three lines of Lysander’s speech:
For aught that I could ever read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth.
Why would she have chosen those verses? Bea turned to the letter.
My dearest Bea,
It occurred to me that the only downside to our exchange of real letters is the time it takes for them to reach us. I was so sorry to hear about what happened with Russ. I hope this letter finds you both in a much improved state.
You may be wondering why I selected this gem of wisdom from William Shakespeare. To begin with, there is very little we can experience in life that the Bard has not written about. But secondly, I think this particular verse applies to all relationships in life, not just true love. We seek out those we want to love, but the obstacles and bumps in the road that life brings can throw us off-course. We just have to learn how to navigate them.
You will find a way to repair things with Russ, of that I am convince
d. It might take time, and you should prepare yourself for that. But your friendship has remained strong all these years and, I’ll bet, has faced more than its fair share of bumpy roads. It will survive this too. You just need to believe it will.
I know you wish it hadn’t happened. I can only imagine how embarrassed you must feel. But here is where I’m going to say something I know won’t be popular: Russ did the right thing. If you don’t tell someone how you feel, you will never know what’s possible.
That’s what Russ did with his feelings for you. He found out how you felt – and even though it wasn’t what he hoped it would be, at least he knows now. It was important for him to ask the question and equally as important for you to answer it. Don’t be angry with him for being brave with you. There was a lot at stake.
As ever, the Bard is correct: the course of true love never did run smooth. But it is in using our courage to navigate the bumpy roads that we discover what is real and lasting. You may be disappointed, but there’s no substitute for knowing, one way or the other, where you stand.
Fondest love as always,
Grandma Dot xxxx
Bea read the end of the letter again. Her grandma was right: she didn’t like the suggestion. But it was true for Russ – and she had to believe that she could win back her friend’s trust eventually. So, what should she do about Otis? Unless she asked the question of herself – and allowed him to ask it of her – she couldn’t know what was possible. Putting off talking about her feelings with him was useless.
Until Bea talked with Otis there was no way she could even think about where her future could lie. And she had to admit that his unexpected arrival at her door had fanned old flames she’d done her best to bury. She didn’t want another relationship, but was that just because her previous relationships weren’t successful? If Otis was serious about starting again, could that be a different consideration?
Inevitably, Jake entered her thoughts. He was serious about The Pact, but if his wife changed her mind and asked for him back would he go there again? Maybe both he and Bea were in denial, hiding their true feelings behind a noble stance. Given the chance to start again, would they?
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