“Don’t worry. I’ve got my pepper spray. Oh, Claire Montreaux will be here in ten minutes or so. Want me to get some sandwiches for your birthday lunch with Lauren while I’m out?”
“Thanks, Mary. Use the company card. Get something for yourself, too.”
“Will do. Back soon.” Mary waved and headed down the street, walking as purposefully as a bloodhound who had picked up a scent.
Olivia surveyed the small office, the home base of her work life for the past twenty-seven years. Her eyes roamed over the various diplomas and certificates that hung on the wall, the bank of filing cabinets, the stacks of files and papers. She had worked hard for all of this, but the time had come to pass the baton. There was a gentle knock on the door.
Claire Montreaux waited while Olivia unlocked the door.
“Good morning,” Claire said.
“I always keep the door locked,” Olivia said. “I had an angry husband come after me with a baseball bat once.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I was lucky there happened to be a policeman down the block. But I wound up with a smashed-in window, so lesson learned.”
Claire was young and fresh and very much like Olivia had been when she started practicing law so very long ago. A tiny thing with black hair that hung down to her waist, Claire looked like a fifteen-year-old cheerleader. Although Olivia had never been opposite Claire in court, word on the street was that the young lawyer was whip-smart, had a photographic memory, and could out-argue the best and most seasoned litigator. Today Claire wore a very short skirt along with stiletto heels so high Olivia’s lower back threatened to spasm at the very sight of them. She felt old all of a sudden. Out of touch with this new generation of lawyers.
Claire stood in the reception area, surveying her surroundings. She turned a slow circle. “This office has a really nice feel to it. Uncluttered with lots of light.”
“Thanks. Of course, you can change things as you see fit,” Olivia said.
The women didn’t waste time with small talk. Once they were situated in Olivia’s office, Claire reached into her spanking new Mark Cross briefcase and pulled out the partnership proposal that the two women had hammered out a month ago, when Claire first approached Olivia with the idea of coming on board as a partner. Several pages had been tagged with Post-its. Claire opened to the first one and said, “I need your assurance that Stephen Vine will still be sending referrals from his criminal practice this way.” She leaned back, confident and in charge, and continued. “My position is that Mr. Vine’s influence will be needed, especially since I’m new to the area—”
You’re new to the profession, darling. Olivia didn’t say the words out loud. Everyone had to start somewhere, and she couldn’t find fault with Claire’s attention to detail. Granted, Claire was taking a risk, sinking her time and capital into her own firm so early in her career. Stephen Vine, Olivia’s long-time friend and well-respected criminal defense attorney, didn’t take family law cases and had been referring clients to Olivia for years. Claire would need those referrals, especially in the beginning.
“—so will that be a problem?” Claire said.
“Not at all,” Olivia said. “I’ve already spoken to Mr. Vine. He’s agreed to meet with you alone or with me, whichever you prefer.”
Claire exhaled. “That’s great. Is he easy to get along with? I’ve heard rumors that he can be prickly.”
Olivia settled back into her chair. “Stephen doesn’t like liars. Be honest and genuine and you’ll get along fine. Pardon my French, but he can spot bullshit a mile away.” She thumbed through her copy of their agreement. “And I have an issue I would like to change. I’m looking to be out of the practice in six months instead of a year. I’m willing to adjust the financial aspects accordingly …”
And so the meeting went on. For an hour Claire and Olivia negotiated, easily agreeing on changes and amendments. By 11:35 Claire was gone, off to type up the agreed changes. Next week Olivia would sign it. After Claire left, Olivia turned her attention to her computer, methodically sorting through the thirty-plus emails she had received overnight, making note of things that needed her attention and forwarding the rest on to Mary.
“I’m back,” Mary said. Olivia heard her putting food in the fridge. She came into Olivia’s office and sat on the couch. “Dear Roland wasn’t very happy. Silly ass. I got you sandwiches and a bottle of champagne. Will you be back after lunch?”
“Nope. I’m going to check my email and head out.”
“Good. How did it go with Claire?”
“Well. She’s agreed to everything.”
Mary kicked off her shoes. “Today I feel like a tired old woman. I have really enjoyed working with you, Liv, but won’t deny that I’m looking forward to retiring.”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it? We’ve had quite a run, haven’t we?”
“That we have,” Mary said. “And I don’t mind admitting that I’m a wee bit exhausted.”
Olivia had just deleted the last email, when a new message from an unknown sender popped into her inbox, with a subject line that read: Check out your husband!
“I’ve got an anonymous email. It mentions Richard and looks like it’s coming from someone’s phone,” Olivia said.
Mary put her glasses on and leaned close to the computer as Olivia opened the email. The body said, “You think you know everything, don’t you? You stupid bitch.”
Olivia didn’t think twice before double clicking the attachment. Grainy footage slowly came into focus. Thinking there was an error with the download, she started to close the file just as it popped into focus, revealing a nubile blond, younger than Denny, astride her lover.
The couple went at it like rabbits, and Olivia was just about to exit the video, when the man – hidden by the camera – flipped the girl, so she was underneath him. From this new angle, Olivia recognized the man’s face. Richard. Her husband. Screwing someone young enough to be his daughter.
“Oh, God,” Mary gasped, stepping away from Olivia, her hand over her mouth.
Olivia closed the laptop and pushed it away from her. The sound of crashing waves filled Olivia’s ears. She pushed her chair away from the desk, as if distance would make the wretched thing go away. It didn’t. Her stomach clenched into a painful cramp. She picked up the glass of water that rested on her desk, but it slipped from her shaking hands, drenching her lap in water.
Ignoring the mess she’d made, Olivia said, “Mary, would you excuse me. In fact, why don’t you take the rest of the day off.”
Mary waited, her embarrassment balanced by a look of worry and concern. “Are you sure?”
Olivia nodded. She waited until Mary had left and locked the door. Taking deep, steadying breaths, she pulled the laptop towards her, and ignoring the cold water that puddled in her lap, she forced herself to watch the video, this time with the sound on. When it finished, with Richard and his lover satisfied, Olivia sat at her desk, numb and unable to move, her stomach feeling as though she had eaten a bag of rocks. Olivia couldn’t quite catch her breath.
When the office walls started to close in, she snapped the laptop shut and tried to stand, and despite her weak knees, somehow managed to find her way to her car.
Chapter 2
Friday, October 10
After pulling to a stop at the bottom of Lauren’s driveway, Olivia took a moment to collect herself. What a hideous rollercoaster her day had become. First the productive meeting with Claire and the promise of freedom from her law practice, only to be turned completely upside down by the horrendous video of Richard screwing some young anonymous girl. Hours ago Olivia had felt secure in her marriage, confident in the love she and Richard had shared for more than three decades. All that was gone, obliterated.
Olivia took a deep breath in an attempt to quell the nausea that once again threatened. Clutching the bag that held the sandwiches in one hand and a bottle of cold champagne in the other, she headed up the steep cobbled walkway to Lauren’s h
ouse, unable to shut off the images of Richard naked and entwined with another woman. No, not a woman. A girl. A very young girl.
Lauren opened the door before Olivia had a chance to knock. At first glance, Lauren Ridley looked like any other aging hippie, a common sight in Marin County. Today she wore a tie-dyed maxi dress in bright turquoise and yellow, which fell to the floor and brushed against her bare feet. Her thick long hair, white as Sunday linen, fell into corkscrew curls to her shoulders. A chunky Indian turquoise necklace hung around her neck, the blue stones bringing out the brightness in her eyes.
Humble to the core, Lauren never spoke of the six gold records that hung on the wall in her tiny office at the back of the house. Lauren Ridley was a bona fide rock and roll legend. Despite the passing years – Lauren’s star went supernova in the late 1960s – people still smiled when they recognized her. She always had a moment to chat, sign autographs, and reflect on the good old days of rock and roll. Tough, cynical, kind, generous, Lauren Ridley was Olivia’s closest confidante. Now she eyed the bag of food.
“You didn’t have to bring food. I told you I was cooking … What’s the matter?” She took the food from Olivia and held the door for her.
“The last time you cooked, the kitchen caught fire,” Olivia said, trying for humor but failing miserably.
Lauren took the bag of sandwiches and set off down the corridor, Olivia at her heels. “Be nice to me, Liv. I’ve got champagne chilled.”
“I’ve got some, too.”
Lauren whirled around and stared at Olivia, her head cocked to one side. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Olivia shook her head. “No. I don’t know.”
“Come on, let’s get you some nice cold champagne. Then you can tell me all about it.”
Olivia followed Lauren into the comfortable but cluttered kitchen. She took a seat on one of the bar stools while Lauren put Olivia’s bottle of champagne in the fridge before opening a bottle that sat in a bucket of ice. She filled two flutes and handed one to Olivia. “Let’s sit in the living room.”
Lauren’s house was designed and decorated for ease and comfort. Her living room, with its large windows and view of Mt Tamalpais, was furnished with two large couches and a quantity of comfortable pillows for those who preferred to sit on the floor. Lauren set the ice bucket that held the champagne on the coffee table, topped off Olivia’s glass, and sat down next to her. “Tell me. What’s happened.”
Olivia opened the video and handed her phone to Lauren. When Lauren hit the sound button, Olivia wanted to plug her ears. While Lauren’s expression went from curiosity to realization, and finally to disgust, Olivia guzzled her champagne and refilled her glass.
“That son of a bitch. How did you find this?”
“It showed up in an email.”
“Someone sent this to you?” Lauren furrowed her brow, leaned back on the couch, and watched the video again, this time with the sound off. “That woman is so young. And how could Richard be so stupid to allow himself to be filmed? What the hell. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was a set-up, a fake video.”
“Could it be faked?” Olivia seized this lifeline, desperate for any explanation that exonerated her husband.
Lauren scooted close to Olivia and put an arm around her shoulder. “I think it’s probably real, Liv. And I am so very sorry.” Lauren set her glass down and stared at her hands for a moment. When she looked up, Olivia was struck by the flinty hardness she saw in her friend’s eyes.
“Over the years I’ve been amazed – and impressed – by your devotion to Richard. You are a good wife; have been a good wife. But you see your husband through rose-colored glasses.”
Olivia opened her mouth to argue with Lauren, but she didn’t have words. There was no witty comeback, no scathing truth to be had here. Richard had cheated on her. She had the video to prove it. Had there been others?
“I’m betting this woman isn’t the first.” Lauren said, reading Olivia’s mind in that uncanny way of good friends.
Olivia downed the rest of her champagne. “You’ve seen him with another woman, haven’t you?”
Lauren wouldn’t meet Olivia’s eyes as she fiddled with her cuticles. “Once. At the Fairmont. But that was a long time ago and I wasn’t one hundred percent certain there was anything inappropriate going on. They weren’t kissing or anything though they seemed cozy. I wrote it off to a business function. If it had been anything blatant, I would have told you. You know that. But in retrospect …”
Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose. How much more could she take?
Lauren refilled their glasses. “How about food, followed by more champagne? I think we should get very drunk.”
“I’m supposed to be making dinner for my family tonight. How am I going to face Richard?”
“I could come with you. Stand behind you with a baseball bat, just to let him know you mean business.” Lauren gave Olivia a wistful smile and pushed a box of Kleenex towards her.
“I’ll never forgive him for this, Lauren. God, the idea of being in the same room with him makes me want to puke. I want him gone, out of my house.” Olivia stood, wobbling on her feet for a moment as the champagne went straight to her head. “I’ve been so stupid. He’s betrayed me in the most horrific way.”
The tears came once again, spilling into hot salty rivers down Olivia’s cheeks.
Olivia met her friend’s gaze. “When I’m with Richard, he has this way of making me feel like I’m the only person in the world. It’s like he shines on me. I’ve never thought about what he’s like when he’s not with me. I’ve trusted him.” Olivia replayed the last few years of her marriage back in her mind, surprised at how long it had been since she and Richard had spent time together or taken a vacation together. Like most long-married couples, they had fallen into a comfortable routine. Olivia had been happy in it. After all, wasn’t finding joy in that which becomes familiar the key to a long and lasting love?
“What are you going to do?” Lauren asked.
Olivia thought about this while Lauren got plates and divvied up their sandwiches, adding tabbouleh and grape leaves.
“Do you know how many times a client has sat across from me and said, ‘I think my husband – or wife – is having an affair’? How many times I’ve said, ‘Trust your instincts. Spouses always know these things.’”
Lauren handed her a glass of water. She waved it away and reached for the champagne.
“What a fool I’ve been. What an utter idiot.”
“You have a romantic nature, Liv.”
Olivia dabbed her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m a divorce lawyer! I stopped believing in romance years ago. True love isn’t about romance. True love, the kind of love that withstands the test of time, is what you have when the romance wears away. True love is knowing your spouse has your back no matter what. It’s about devotion and family. I thought I had that with Richard.”
“You see your husband and your relationship the way you want it to be, not the way it is. The woman in that video could be his mistress. For all you know, they’re shacking up together. All those nights Richard is away on business, that woman could be with him. Sorry, sweetie, but he is really good-looking. And if you don’t mind me saying so, he has a bit of an ego.”
“My husband is a son of a bitch,” Olivia said.
“Agreed,” Lauren said.
“Don’t people fall in love anymore?”
Lauren, who had a rotating string of lovers, smiled. “I fall in love all the time. For a night, anyway.”
Olivia laughed in spite of herself. She held up her champagne glass in a mock toast. “Screw Richard.”
“Screw Richard,” Lauren said. They clinked glasses and drank their champagne.
After they had eaten their lunch and drunk two bottles of champagne, Lauren had cleared the dishes. While she was in the kitchen tidying up and putting things away, Olivia had lain down on Lauren’s comfortable couch and promptly fallen asleep
. She would have slept all night if Lauren hadn’t woken her.
“Time to get up, Liv.”
Olivia opened her eyes as the sun started to slip out of the sky, surprised she had slept so long. For a moment she wondered if the video had been part of a horrid anxiety-ridden nightmare. The events of the morning replayed in her mind’s eye. Not a dream. Richard was a bastard. Now she had to face him.
“How about a cup of tea and a brownie to sober you up?”
“Perfect, and a pair of walking shoes, please. I’d best not drive. And aspirin.”
“Are you sure you want to walk? It’s cold outside. We can call a cab.”
“I’ll walk. The cold air will do me good. I need a bit of sobering, especially if I’m going to face down my husband,” Olivia said.
“Coffee and brownie coming right up. Will you go through with the family dinner?”
“No,” Olivia said. “I’ll ask Denny and David for a rain check.”
Twenty minutes later, fortified with strong coffee and the promised brownie, Olivia trudged up the hill. The days were getting shorter, and the crisp October wind pushed the alcohol-induced cobwebs away. By the time she arrived home she was sober, angry, and not at all happy to see Richard’s Mercedes in the driveway. Why was he here so early? She was hoping she’d have time to pack his bags and arrange a locksmith. Sweaty and thirsty, Olivia let herself in the front door, hoping she could slip into her room and change out of her clothes before she confronted Richard. The house was dark, with the exception of the living room lamp. If Olivia weren’t so preoccupied, she would have noticed the subdued lighting and wondered why Richard didn’t turn on every light in the house, like he usually did.
“Richard?” Olivia called out. No answer. She tossed her briefcase down and headed into the living room. When she flipped on the light, it took a moment for her to realize she wasn’t alone. People were clustered in the corners of the room. Slowly their expectant faces registered in Olivia’s brain. Denny’s was the first to come into focus. Then, as if in slow motion, Olivia recognized old friends and business acquaintances. Faces beaming, everyone stepped toward her. In unison, they shouted, “Surprise!”
The Betrayal Page 2