Your Bed or Mine?

by Candy Halliday

  Damn you, Rick Clark!

  Why did you have to walk out on me like that?

  “All rise,” the bailiff announced.

  Angie grabbed Zada’s arm, pulling her to her feet.

  Zada didn’t dare look at Rick again.

  But when a sinking feeling hit the pit of her stomach like a wrecking ball, Zada decided slumping wasn’t going to be any problem for her at all.

  Rick was only half listening as his attorney, Bob Thompson, argued back and forth with Zada’s attorney over the property settlement. Bob had already assured him there was no way the judge would rule in Zada’s favor. Especially with Rick’s generous offer to purchase a condo or any other residence of Zada’s choice—gratis, of course.

  Against Bob’s advice, he’d insisted on making the offer to purchase Zada another residence himself. He still loved her. Hell, he’d always love her. They just couldn’t live together. The least he could do was make sure Zada was settled and happy on her own.

  What he wouldn’t do—and the reason he’d held firm on his desire to keep the house—was uproot Simon again. He owed the dog his life. Simon had learned to maneuver freely with the aid of the high frequency sensors he’d had installed in the house he’d bought shortly after he and Zada were married. Simon could maneuver so well in his new environment, in fact, no one would even suspect the dog was blind.

  The state-of-the-art equipment had cost a fortune and was well worth every penny as far as Rick was concerned. But going through that expense again, only because Zada was trying to punish him by keeping the house, was ridiculous.

  Almost as ridiculous as her expecting to keep Simon.

  Which wasn’t going to happen.

  Not without a fight.

  Simon was his dog.

  He’d never prevent Zada from seeing Simon.

  But dammit, Simon was his dog!

  His dog, dammit!

  Rick glanced back at the judge again.

  Judge Parkins was the epitome of what a judge should look like. Somewhere in his mid-to-late seventies. Gray hair, slightly thinning on top. Regal-looking in his black robe. A wise expression on his slightly wrinkled face.

  When Parkins ruled in his favor this afternoon, he’d be able to take immediate possession of Simon and the house in Woodberry Park—all thanks to the stipulation Bob had been smart enough to include in the property settlement. Zada had been given full notice she would be expected to vacate the premises immediately should he be awarded the house. That meant by the end of the weekend, he’d be completely settled and moved back into his own home.

  And not a moment too soon, Rick thought.

  Living in the furnished apartment he’d rented month-to-month for the last six months had been nothing short of a nightmare. He’d endured the type of agony all apartment dwellers endure, from less-than-desirable neighbors to no privacy whatsoever.

  Had Bob not been so confident the judge would rule in his favor, he might have considered going ahead and buying another house. Possibly even having the house equipped to accommodate Simon.

  But Bob had assured him the victory would be his.

  He’d held out and dealt with the inconvenience.

  Handing over the apartment keys to the complex manager earlier that morning, however, had been the equivalent of being let out of prison.

  Now, he was only minutes away from being a free man.

  Free to go back to the suburbs.

  Back to his neighborhood buddies in Woodberry Park.

  Back to Saturday night poker games with the guys.

  Back to Sundays on Woodberry Park’s private golf course, the eighteenth hole of which could be seen from his own back deck.

  Back to an empty house without Zada in it.

  Rick frowned at that thought.

  Don’t go there.

  Enough is enough.

  Not once during their separation period had Zada given him any indication she’d regretted filing for the divorce. Once the judge ruled in his favor, if Zada did have any regrets, she’d just have to…

  Voices raised suddenly.

  Rick’s head jerked to the right.

  A face-off.

  The debate was growing hotter by the minute.

  Rick glanced back at the judge.

  Judge Parkins looked anything but pleased.

  “Order in the court!” Parkins declared. He banged his gavel twice.

  Rick flinched both times.

  “We are in an esteemed court of law, counselors, not some backyard brawl!”

  Parkins boomed this from the bench as he glared from one attorney to the other. Both attorneys, Rick noticed, stood up a little straighter.

  “A busy court of law,” Parkins added. “Too busy to waste time going over a property dispute that should have been settled before you ever walked into my courtroom.”

  Rick glanced at Bob.

  His usual cool-and-confident attorney, the all-American linebacker from Notre Dame who had known no fear on the football field, seemed to wilt under the judge’s cold stare.

  “Your honor,” Bob said, “if it pleases the court …”

  Parkins cut him off. “For the record, Mr. Thompson, nothing about this case pleases the court.”

  The judge looked over at Zada for a second.

  Rick sat up straighter when Parkins looked back at him.

  Parkins said, “Both parties have agreed to a no-fault divorce. Is that correct?”

  Both attorneys nodded in agreement.

  “So you would assume if the parties could agree on a no-fault divorce like two mature adults, they could also agree on a property settlement like two mature adults. Is that also correct?”

  Neither attorney nodded in agreement with that statement.

  “Yet, what we have here,” Judge Parkins said, his frown deepening with every word, “are two self-absorbed people, childishly trying to outdo each other, while they waste the court’s precious time and the taxpayers’ money on an argument over a dog, and what appears to be the dog’s eight-hundred-thousand-dollar doghouse!”

  Several people snickered.

  A loud gasp followed.

  Rick didn’t even turn his head.

  He knew the gasp came from Zada.

  “Don’t shush me, Angie!” Zada said loud enough for him and everyone else in the courtroom to hear. “I happen to be one of those taxpayers! A taxpayer who came here to get a divorce. Not to be insulted!”

  Typical in-your-face Zada, Rick thought.

  He leaned back far enough to peer around Bob.

  As expected, Zada had one of her just-who-do-you-think-you’re-talking-to looks on her face. Her embarrassed attorney was doing her best to keep Zada in her seat.

  The wrath of Zada personified.

  Rick smiled.

  Parkins will rule in my favor now out of pity for me.

  Rick didn’t appreciate the judge’s insult, either. But being at the mercy of the court called for a certain amount of diplomacy.

  He glanced back at Zada again, trying to imagine his feisty soon-to-be ex-wife being diplomatic in any given situation. The thought was so absurd, Rick almost burst out laughing.

  “Do you find this situation funny, Mr. Clark?”

  Bob punched him.

  “No, sir!” Rick said emphatically.

  “Then wipe that silly smirk off your face,” Parkins warned, his ears now flushed a deep red.

  What?

  Zada’s the one yelling.

  Why are you reprimanding me?

  Rick looked over at Bob for an answer.

  He could have sworn Bob was trembling.

  Judge Parkins pointed to Zada’s attorney. “Allow the petitioner to stand, Miss Naylon.”

  He looked back at Bob. “Have the respondent stand as well, Mr. Thompson.”

  Me?

  You’ve got to be kidding.

  I’m just an innocent bystander here!

  “Stand up!” Bob whispered from the corner of his mouth.
/>   Reluctantly, Rick pushed his chair back and stood up.

  But he knew better than to look at Zada again.

  Guilt by association.

  Damn.

  Dead man standing.

  Suddenly, Zada didn’t feel so brave.

  Her quick temper often got the better of her. But how were you supposed to react to being called an immature twit in front of an entire courtroom of people?

  Keep your militant mouth shut.

  Good advice, Zada realized, but sadly too late.

  She gulped when Judge Parkins glared at her again.

  “I’m the one who has been insulted this morning,” he said. “I’m insulted every time a couple shows up in my courtroom to make a mockery out of the institution of marriage.”

  Save it, Grandpa.

  I didn’t make a mockery out of marriage.

  Marriage made a mockery out of me.

  Judge Parkins’s gaze turned toward Rick. “We’ve all heard how devoted you are to providing homeland security for the country you so dearly love, Mr. Clark,” he said.

  He looked back at Zada. “And we’ve heard how devoted you are to helping disabled children everywhere with your uplifting and motivational children’s books.”

  Parkins templed his fingers in front of him. “We’ve also heard in great detail how important it is to both of you, that the blind dog you both love so dearly, stays in the house that was specifically designed so the dog could function at a normal level.”

  He shook his head disgustedly.

  “What I find insulting,” he said, “is that both of you have more passion for your careers and your blind dog, than you do for the very person you promised to love, honor, and cherish until death do you part.”

  Ouch!

  Those words hit home faster than a speeding bullet.

  Zada winced as the words pierced her heart.

  “Has it crossed either of your minds,” Parkins asked, looking at her, then back at Rick, “that if you’d given your marriage the same level of commitment you’ve given to your dog and your careers, you wouldn’t be appearing before me in divorce court now?”

  Double ouch!

  Slumping any lower simply wasn’t possible.

  “Instant gratification,” Parkins said and smiled. “That’s at the top of everyone’s list today.”

  His overtly smug smile didn’t cheer Zada.

  “People expect instant gratification from their employers, or they throw in the towel and get another job. People expect instant gratification in their marriages, or they throw in the towel and get another spouse. And rather than take time out of their busy schedules to work out their problems themselves, people have even come to expect instant gratification in a court of law.”

  The smile disappeared.

  “But in my courtroom,” Parkins said, “the only person entitled to instant gratification is me.”

  He looked at Zada, then back at Rick again.

  “Let me assure you,” he said, “nothing will gratify me more than the decision I’m making in this case today.”

  Crap! Here it comes.

  Zada held her breath.

  Judge Parkins closed the file in front of him and looked around the courtroom with authority.

  “Let the record reflect that the petitioner and the respondent have ninety days to settle the property dispute between them.”

  He looked over the bench at both attorneys. “Don’t show up in my courtroom again without this matter being settled.”

  Down came the gavel.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  Only ninety days?

  To reach a compromise?

  Try ninety freaking years!

  Except, even ninety years, Zada feared, was laughable.

  Chapter 2

  “But, but,” Zada stuttered, looking over at Angie. “A judge can’t delay a divorce just to prove a point! Can he?”

  “He just did,” Angie said.

  Zada said, “But Rick and I will never be able to reach a compromise, Angie. Not in ninety days. Not ever. What happens when we don’t reach a compromise at the end of ninety days? Can Judge Parkins throw us in jail for contempt of court?”

  “Technically, no,” Angie said. “But that doesn’t mean Parkins can’t come up with some other charge that could land you in jail. Don’t chance it, Zada. Do what the man says, or you’ll be trading in your all-about-me dress for a not-so-flattering prison jumpsuit.”

  Angie grabbed her briefcase and left the courtroom.

  Zada hurried after her.

  “But we can appeal,” Zada said. “Right?”

  Angie didn’t answer.

  She grabbed Zada by the arm and led her down the corridor. When they were a safe distance away from the courtroom, Angie pulled her aside, out of the busy stream of human traffic coming and going in the hallway.

  “You can appeal all you want, Zada,” Angie said. “But get yourself a new attorney. There’s no way I’m going to piss Judge Parkins off further by filing an appeal.”

  Zada gasped. “You’re firing me as your client?”

  “No, I’m advising you as your attorney to take Judge Parkins’s ruling seriously. Stop playing first grade, Zada. Accept Rick’s offer. I told you when Rick made the offer to buy you a place of your own, he was being more than generous. Even if you forced him into selling the house, the equity you’ve built up over the last eighteen months is minimal. Take Rick’s offer. It’s your only choice.”

  “No way!” Zada shook her head stubbornly. “Rick is the one who didn’t have the guts to stick it out and make our marriage work. Not me. Why should I be punished when he was the one who walked out?”

  Angie looked at her thoughtfully for a second.

  “You still love him, don’t you?”

  “Love doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Zada vowed. “I want my divorce!”

  “Then act like it,” Angie said. “Break your silly vow of silence and have that long overdue talk with Rick. Tell him what you just told me. That you don’t think it’s fair for you to be punished by giving up your home and Simon, when he was the one who walked out of your marriage.”

  Zada rolled her eyes.

  “Telling Rick how you feel isn’t a sign of weakness, Zada,” Angie said, reading her mind. “You certainly had no trouble telling Judge Parkins how you felt a few minutes ago. If you’d kept your mouth shut like I told you to do, he might have signed your divorce decree today.”

  “Oh, please,” Zada scoffed. “The old poop already had his nuts in a knot before I said the first word.”

  “You think Judge Parkins had his nuts in a knot a few minutes ago?” Angie laughed. “Then try not reaching a compromise in the ninety days he’s given you to settle your property dispute with Rick. Trust me, Zada. You don’t want to go there.”

  Zada tossed her long, dark hair defiantly. “Nor do I intend to go anywhere else to live. Except in my house. With my dog.”

  Angie shrugged. “Fine. But I’ve done all I can do for you. It’s going to be up to you to reach a compromise with Rick.”

  Speak of the devil.

  Rick had just walked out of the courtroom.

  His back was to Zada, but it was evident he was in a heated discussion with his attorney.

  Angie followed Zada’s gaze.

  She looked back at Zada and smiled.

  “Let’s stick around for a few minutes,” Angie said. “If I know Bob Thompson, his nuts are in a knot, too. The smug bastard thought he had this case nailed down tight. Now he’ll have to come up with a plan B.”

  Something in the way Angie said “smug bastard” made Zada ask, “And just how well do you know Bob Thompson?”

  “Bob Thompson can eat poison and die for all I care,” Angie said, lifting her obviously woman-scorned chin.

  “And how shallow is that?” Zada teased.

  Angie mumbled something about where Zada could go.

  The destin
ation wasn’t back home to her eight-hundred-thousand-dollar doghouse in the suburbs.

  “Thanks a hell of a lot, Bob. For nothing,” Rick said disgustedly. “I believed you when you said the judge would rule in my favor. What am I supposed to do now? You even encouraged me to give up my apartment this morning!”

  Bob ran a hand through his short, dark hair. “I swear, Rick,” he said, “I’m as shocked as you are. I’ve never appeared before Judge Parkins when he didn’t rule in my favor.”

  Rick exploded. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better? That I’m your first lost case in Parkins’s courtroom?”

  “Not a loss,” Bob corrected. “More of a tie, if you want to be technical about it.”

  “Bullshit,” Rick said. “We lost, Bob. Reaching a compromise with Zada in ninety days, is as likely as achieving peace in the Middle East in ninety days. It isn’t going to happen.”

  Bob frowned. “What are you saying, Rick? That you’re willing to give up? That you’re going to let Zada keep the house and Simon? Jesus. That’s not the Rick Clark I know.”

  “Spare me your Fighting Irish speech,” Rick groaned. “We’re not on the football field.”

  “You’re right. We’re not on the football field,” Bob said. “We’re standing in the hallway of the courthouse while I’m trying to keep you from losing your ass.”

  Rick didn’t comment.

  “Come on, Rick,” Bob urged. “Can’t you think of anything that might make Zada change her mind and give you the house?”

  Rick laughed. “Short of me moving back in? No.” Bob looked at him for a second.

  The wide grin that followed said he had an idea.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Rick said. “I’ve seen that grin before. It always means trouble.”

  Bob said, “Do you really think Zada would move out if you moved back in?”

  “Don’t even think in that direction,” Rick warned. “There’s no way I’m putting myself or Zada through the nightmare of trying to live together again.”

  Bob said, “Not even if it means keeping Simon and the house?”

  When Rick hesitated, Bob said, “It can’t hurt to at least threaten to move back in. Who knows? Maybe that’s all it will take to make Zada reconsider and move out.”

  “Don’t kid yourself,” Rick said, shaking his head. “You saw Zada’s performance in the courtroom. Zada never backs down from anything.”