An Ex to Grind (24 page)

I was supposed to drive up to Connecticut to visit Weezie on Sunday afternoon, but I told her there was a development in the
Dan-Leah situation that required my immediate attention. She wasn't happy that I was canceling—"If I didn't know better, I'd think you cared more about your ex-husband than you do about your best friend" was how she guilted me—but eventually she said she understood, and we rescheduled.

What I did instead was to show up at Desiree's without an appointment. Yes, it was a Sunday, but Desiree Klein Heart Hunting was a seven-day-a-week operation, so I went straight to her apartment from Mrs. Thornberg's.

"She's in with a client," said Taylor, her assistant. "She's not expecting you, is she?"

"No," I said, "but it's an emergency."

Taylor smiled sympathetically. "Bad date last night?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, realizing that Desiree hadn't shared the details of our arrangement. "Really bad."

She handed me the box of tissues on her desk. "In case you need them."

"Thanks, but I never cry," I said and took a seat in the living room.

Since I didn't bring anything to read while I waited, I closed my eyes and prayed for Dan and Leah to kiss and make up. I even pictured them kissing and making up. Well, as much as you can picture your ex-husband kissing a woman you've never met.

I was in midvisualization when an attractive woman in her fifties emerged from Desiree's office. She had short dark hair, a lightly tanned complexion, and the buffed, sturdy body of an athlete. There was something vaguely familiar about her—I wondered if she was a celebrity of some sort—but what was most noticeable about her were the tears. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her face blotchy with anguish. I assumed she'd been dumped by her husband of many years for a newly minted trophy wife and had now hired Desiree to ease her back into the dating world.

On her way out, she stopped at Taylor's desk, plucked one of the tissues from the box, and wiped her eyes with it.

"Feeling okay now, Lynda?" Taylor asked.

"Much better," said the woman. "Desiree gave me hope for the future. I have a reason to get up in the morning now."

Taylor nodded at her. "She's the best. I don't know your personal story, of course, since she keeps each case confidential, but I promise you she'll make your dreams come true, whatever they are."

"I'm counting on that," she said. "My friend Julie Marcus was a client of hers and not only ended up getting married again but had a late-in-life child. She used a surrogate—a nice young girl from Arkansas named Earlene, who needed the money and turned herself into a baby-making machine. Of course, this baby was born with a hole in its intestines and had to stay in the hospital for months after the delivery. Julie was such a wreck that she started shoplifting as a way of releasing the tension. Luckily, she got help before she got caught. Anyhow, thanks for the tissue." And she went on her way.

The instant she stopped nattering and left, I popped up and hurried over to Taylor's desk and bugged her about letting me see Desiree before the next client arrived. Two minutes later, I got my wish.

"Thanks for making the time," I said to Desiree, whose fuzzy slippers
du jour
had jingle bells on them. When she flexed her toes, it sounded like Christmas. She was also wearing the platinum blond wig, the one with the bangs. They were getting in her eyes and needed a trim. Either wigs grew or she had two blond ones.

"I'm booked solid today," she said, "so this better be good."

"It isn't good," I said. "Leah and Dan had a fight last night. You've gotta talk to her. They
cannot
break up."

"Hey. Chill, would you?" she said. "I don't know what you're getting so excited about."

"They were screaming at each other, that's what."

"So? Didn't you and Dan fight when you were together?"

"Yeah, and now we're divorced. Not only that, he never screamed at me."

"Probably because he was afraid of you."

"He was not!" What was it with everybody? "I think she's pushing him too hard to make a commitment. Maybe you went overboard during that last counseling session with her."

"You wanted her to move in there right away, didn't you?"

"Yes, but—"

" 'But' nothing. I convinced her that if she really liked the guy, she should throw caution to the wind and be the aggressor in the relationship."

"Well, now you've gotta tell her to back off a little. Just so she doesn't scare him off."

"Scare him off? He's crazy about her." She smiled proudly. "He bought her a necklace the other day. Amethyst, her birthstone. How many women get necklaces after just a few weeks, huh?"

I felt sick. "He's buying her expensive jewelry? With
my
money?"

"Melanie, Melanie." She shook her head. "You want them to stay together? It's gonna cost you."

"I know." I breathed deeply. "But you will call her, right?"

"Right."

"And you'll tell her to hang in there with Dan?"

"You got it."

"You'll say that men like him don't come along every day or something absurd like that?"

"Look, I know my business, okay?"

I rose from my chair. "You must know your business," I conceded. "You certainly made an impression on the woman who was just in here. She said you gave her hope for the future." I rolled my eyes. "She said a lot of other things too. God, the woman can talk. Her friend Julie had a baby by a surrogate and became a shoplifter. Did I need to know that? I mean, she's not very discreet."

She sighed. "Lynda Fox. A real yenta. Can't shut up about anybody. But she's been through hell and back."

"Lynda Fox? The professional golfer?" No wonder I'd recognized her.

"She had it all—LPGA championships, money, fame, houses all over the place—until her scumbag of a husband stuck it to her."

"He left her because she's such a big mouth?"

"No. She left him because she was hot for her caddie."

"Oh. Then what was she crying about?"

"What do you think? She's gotta pay the ex big bucks in spousal support now that they're history."

"Figures," I said. "I suppose he claimed he helped her become one of the best athletes in the country. I mean, really. She's the one with the talent."

"Ain't it the truth."

"Just one question though. If Lynda's in love with her caddie, why does she need a matchmaker?"

Desiree laughed, her dumpling body shaking and jiggling. "Same reason you do. She's a client of Desiree Klein Heart Hunting for Exes, my new division. I'm finding her a woman for the hubby so she doesn't have to pay him anymore." She laughed again. "You were right, Melanie. There are a gazillion women out there who are dying to unload their exes, and I'm just the one to help them do it. It's a mission from God."

I watched her lean her head back and laugh some more, and there was something about the laughter that nagged at me. Yes, I'd been the architect of her new revenue source. Yes, I was depending on her to help me the way she had just promised to help Lynda Fox. And yes, I believed fervently that men like Dan should be stopped from grabbing women's assets. But there was a tiny voice inside me whispering, wondering, warning, and what it was telling me was this: you've created a monster.

Unfortunately, what it wasn't yet revealing was whether Desiree was the monster or I was.

"Good morning, Melanie," said Ricardo. It was Monday at eight-thirty. I had come to deliver Buster to Dan—and to make sure Leah had lasted the weekend. "Mr. Swain's caretaker left about five minutes ago." I sighed with relief. "So she's still staying with him."

"Every night. Got it written down right here for the insurance company." He pulled the notebook from the pocket of his uniform and held it up proudly. "If you'd been here sooner, you could have met her."

Did I want to meet her? Sure. Just not in front of Ricardo, who would inevitably launch into a discussion of Dan and his suicidal depression. "I'm just glad she's been looking after Mr. Swain so conscientiously."

"He does seem better. When he walks into the building with her, his whole face is lit up. If you didn't know about his mental problems, you'd think he was the happiest guy on earth. Happier than I've ever seen him anyway."

I thanked Ricardo for his commentary, but inside I was sort of taken aback. Dan was happier with Leah than he'd been with me? Not a chance. During our early years together, my ex was on top of the world—and not just because of his pro football career but because of how much in love we were. Well, no point in feeling competitive with a woman who was about to save me from years of financial hardship, I decided. I should be thrilled that everybody was loving everybody.

"Gosh, it's getting late," I said, checking my watch. "How about buzzing me up there so I can be on my way?"

After the usual song and dance, Buster and I rode up in the elevator, got off at Dan's floor, and rang his doorbell. When he didn't answer right away, I turned to Buster and muttered, "So much for what Daddy said last week about meeting my needs. He probably went back to sleep and forgot all about us."

I waited, tapped my foot on the floor, and waited some more. I was losing patience and was about to bang my fist on the door when it swung open. There was Dan, not in his bathrobe or even in his jeans but in an actual business suit. And he looked almost, well, fabulous. Over the past few weeks I'd noticed that he'd trimmed down a bit, but now that I really studied him, I could tell he'd dropped at least ten pounds. Was he taking better care of himself since he'd fallen for Leah? Paying more attention to his appearance? Watching those calories? Or was he so in love with her that he'd lost his considerable appetite? When he and I had first started dating, I couldn't eat a thing. "That's why they call it lovesick," my college roommate had kidded me. Was it the same for him now? With her?

"Sorry. Sorry. Come in," he said, with a big smile for both me and Buster, which surprised me. Usually, I got his scowl. "I was on the phone confirming an appointment."

"Nice suit," I said, appraising him as I entered the apartment. "When did I buy us that one?"

"No pissing contests today, okay? I need to stay focused."

"On what?"

"A job interview." He crossed his fingers on both hands. "Think good thoughts around eleven o'clock."

I was so stupefied by this development I didn't answer immediately. A job
interview
?

"I know, I know. You don't believe it," he said with the sort of self-deprecating laugh he used to charm me with. "I heard that L.I.U. was in the market for a coach, so what the hell, huh?"

"Long Island University?" I said, still dumbfounded.

"The C. W. Post campus in Brookville. They're coming off their first undefeated regular season and their second-straight Northeast-Ten title, but the coach that got 'em there is retiring. They need somebody else to take over in the fall, so I tossed my name in the hat."

I shook my head, marveling at what he was saying. This was the same man who'd continually and contemptuously rejected the idea of coaching a local college football team? Now he was not only entertaining the idea but initiating it? Well, I couldn't help but be shocked by the one-eighty.