He sounded sincere, actually. If Meghann hadn’t seen the ugly truth in black and white, she might have believed he was upset about the children.
She spoke quickly, so May wouldn’t have to. “The separation of your assets was entirely fair and equitable, Dr. Monroe. The custody issues were also fairly resolved, and when you calm down, I’m sure you’ll agree. We all read the depositions that reflected your lifestyle. You were gone in the morning by six A.M.—before the children woke up—and you rarely returned home before ten P.M.—after they were in bed. Weekends you spent with the guys, playing golf and poker. Hell, you’ll probably see your children more now than you did while you resided at the family home.” Meghann smiled, pleased with herself. That had been a smart, well-thought-out argument. He couldn’t disagree. She glanced at George, who stood silently beside his client. The attorney looked like he was going to be sick.
“Who do you think you are?” Dale whispered harshly, taking a step toward her. At his sides, his fingers curled into fists.
“You going to hit me, Dale? Go ahead. Lose what little custody you have.”
He hesitated.
She took a step toward him. “And if you ever hit May again, or even touch her too hard, you’ll find yourself back in this courtroom, only it won’t be money at risk. It’ll be your freedom.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Am I?” Her gaze found his. “Yes. I am. Are we clear on that? You stay the hell away from my client or I’ll make sure your life turns into a shower scene from Oz. And I don’t mean Munchkinland. Every other Friday you can park in front of the house and wait for the kids to come out. You return them on time, as stipulated, and that’s the sum of your contact with May. We’re all clear on that, right?”
May touched her arm, leaned close, and whispered, “Let’s go.”
Meghann heard the tired strain in May’s voice. It reminded Meghann of her own divorce. She’d tried so hard to be strong, but the moment she’d stepped out of the courtroom, she’d broken like an old drawbridge, just crumbled. There was a big part of her that had never stood upright again.
She grabbed her briefcase off the oak library table and slipped her other arm around May’s waist. Linked together, they walked out of the courtroom.
“You’ll pay for this, you bitch,” Dale screamed to their backs. Then something crashed against the floor.
Meghann guessed it was the other oak table.
She didn’t look back. Instead, she kept a steadying hand on May’s waist and led her to the elevator. In the small cubicle, they stood side by side.
The moment the door closed, May burst into tears.
Meghann held May’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I know it seems impossible now, but life will get better. I promise. Not instantly, not even quickly, but it will get better.”
She led May down the courthouse steps and outside. The sky was heavy and gray with clouds. A dismal rain spit itself along the car-clogged streets. The sun was nowhere to be seen. No doubt it had followed the geese south, to places like Florida and California. It wouldn’t return to western Washington full-time until after the Fourth of July.
They walked down Third Street to the Judicial Annex, the favorite lunch spot for the Family Court gang.
By the time they reached the front door, Meghann’s suit was more than a little damp. Gray streaks marred the collar of her white silk blouse. If there was one accessory no local owned, it was an umbrella.
“Hey, Meg,” said a few colleagues as she walked through the restaurant to an empty table at the back. She pulled out a chair for May, then sat down opposite her.
Within moments, a harried-looking waitress was beside them. She pulled a pencil out from her ponytail. “Is this a champagne or a martini day?” she asked Meghann.
“Definitely champagne. Thanks.”
May looked across the table at her. “We aren’t really going to drink champagne, are we?”
“May. You are now a millionaire. Your children can get Ph.D.s from Harvard if they want. You have a beautiful waterfront home in Medina and no mortgage payment. Dale, on the other hand, is living in a thirteen-hundred-square-foot condo in Kirkland. And you got full custody of the kids. Hell yes, we’re celebrating.”
“What happened to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“My life has been hit by a Scud missile. The man I love is gone. Now I find out he might have existed only in my mind, anyway. I have to live with the fact that not only am I alone, but, apparently, I’ve been stupid, too. My children will have to live all their lives knowing that families break, that love is impermanent, and, most of all, that promises get broken. They’ll go on, of course. That’s what children and women do—we go on. But we won’t ever be quite whole again. I’ll have money. Big fat deal. You have money, I assume. Do you sleep with it at night? Does it hold you when you’ve awakened from a nightmare?”