An Ex to Grind (30 page)

"You're nuts," Said Desiree. She shook her head so vehemently that her wig—a coal black curly one this time—nearly fell off. "You've only got thirty days to go before the alimony's over. Thirt-eee days. You're practically home free, Melanie."

"I don't want to be home free. I want to be home. Safe and secure in a stable environment. With Dan," I said as I sat across from her in her office only hours after I'd seen him. "I made a mistake, and now I need you to help me fix it."

"By convincing Leah to break up with him?" She scoffed. "I'm a heart hunter, not a heart breaker. Besides, you're paying me the second installment of my fee once I've kept her there for the full three months. I'm not giving that up."

"What if I paid you to get her out of the relationship instead?" I wheedled.

She took a few seconds to think about this. "Look, I love money more than anyone," she said finally, "but even I won't involve myself in something so crazy."

"It's not crazy," I protested. "Dan doesn't love Leah. He loves me. I don't want to hurt her, believe me, but you'd be doing her a favor by convincing her he's the wrong guy for her. It would be a mission from God."

"Okay. Enough with the 'mission from God' business. It's my slogan, not yours." She was testy. She'd been expecting praise for her handiwork, not a plea to undo it. "Besides, how do you know Dan loves you? Because he's been nice to you lately? Because he stays to drink your coffee? Because he acted macho when your eager-beaver neighbor dropped by?"

"All of the above, plus one more thing: he never stopped loving me."

"Then why is he still depositing your checks every month?"

"Because the justice system says he's entitled to them."

Her jaw dropped. "Are you on drugs?"

"No!" I really wished everybody would stop asking me that. "I'm still not wild about the alimony, but as soon as Dan starts his coaching job, he won't want the payments. He certainly won't need them if we're back together." I thought of the money I'd save once we
were
back together. One apartment instead of two. One set of utility bills instead of two. One everything instead of two. Heaven. "All you have to do is introduce Leah to one of your other male clients. If she's such a prize, it shouldn't be too hard to make another match for her."

She stared at me. "I won't do it. I have my scruples."

I returned her stare. "And
I
could rat you out to the Better Business Bureau about your new division, Desiree Klein Heart Hunting for Exes. I was here the day Lynda Fox, the golfer, showed up for her consultation, remember?"

"So? I could blab about the person who gave me the idea for the division. I don't think a hoity-toity place like Pierce, Shelley and Steinberg would be thrilled to hear that one of their VPs tried to scam her ex out of what was legally his and convince other women to do the same."

"Good point." I was never big on blackmail anyway. I too had my scruples. Well, I used to.

She leaned across her desk, her six thousand necklaces clanging against one another. "Listen to me, would you? Let the clock run out. Let the alimony terminate. Pay me what you owe me. And then go after Dan if you want to."

"Oh, like he'll even be speaking to me after he realizes what I did?"

"What's to realize?"

"That I set him up with Leah. That I tricked him into living with her. That I hired people to spy on them. That I exploited his lack of attention to the details of our divorce agreement. That I set him up so he'd invalidate the alimony without knowing it. You think he'll come rushing into my arms when he finds out I did all that?"

"He'll never find out. Yeah, he'll kick himself for not reading the fine print of the agreement, but why would he blame you? Who's gonna tell him you hustled him into losing his meal ticket
and
his girlfriend? Not me, that's for sure."

"But what if Leah doesn't want to leave? The longer she's living with him, the tougher it'll be to get her out of there."

"Hey, once the ninety days are up, I'm done with this." She waved her pudgy dumpling hands in the air to make her point. "You want him back after that? You and Leah can duke it out on your own."

I considered Desiree's advice and decided she was right. I would wait another month until I reclaimed Dan from Leah. Why not let the alimony terminate before moving in for the kill? It would be so much cleaner that way. He'd lose the support payments and I'd be all sweet and sympathetic about it and we'd live happily ever after. So Leah would get to stay there for another thirty days. So what? In the meantime, I'd lay the groundwork for my campaign to win him back. I would be subtle, careful not to scare him off. I would ease him into confessing his feelings for me, so it would be an effortless transition. By the time the thirty days were up, it would be clear to both of us that we'd needed the period apart but that we were better off together.

The laying of the groundwork began with my descent into a psychological condition I called Manchausen by Proxy. It pains me even to admit it, but I faked my dog's medical problems to get my man's attention.

On Tuesday, I called Dan and told him Buster didn't seem quite right.

"Leah said she thought he might have cataracts," he reminded me.

"I remember," I said, "but it's not his eyes. It's his balance, his gait. He sort of tips over when he walks."

"Did you take him to the vet?" he asked.

"I was going to, but I hate to be an alarmist. Could you possibly come over and check him out yourself? Maybe you'll think I'm overreacting, but I just want to be sure."

"No problem. I'll be right there."

Dan came over that night, took a look at Buster, pronounced him healthy as far as he could tell, and suggested we keep an eye on him.

"Next week, when he's with me, Leah can watch him closely too," he said.

Leah. Like I felt like hearing about her. "Wow. It's almost seven-thirty," I said before Dan started for the door. "Why don't we go out and grab a bite? There's the Hungarian place next door. You've never tried it."

He seemed surprised that I suggested dinner out together—
that
hadn't happened since we'd separated—but pleasantly surprised. "I'd really like to, but Leah's waiting for me. We're going out with a couple of her friends."

Leah had friends? Good, I thought. She'll need them to comfort her after Dan leaves her for me.

"I understand," I said breezily. "Maybe another time."

"Absolutely."

"Thanks for checking on Buster, Dan. Being a single parent can be tough at times like this."

"You're doing a great job." He patted me on the arm and took off.

On Wednesday afternoon, I called him from work and said I thought Buster might be worse. He volunteered to meet me at my apartment around six.

"See how his left leg sort of droops?" I said, lifting the dog's left leg and letting it, well, droop.

"Yeah, but he's walking okay," said Dan. "You know, he's not getting any younger, Mel. Maybe it's an age-related thing and he just can't jump around the way he used to."

"Maybe," I said.

And then the most amazing thing happened. Dan looked at his watch and said, "How about that dinner offer from last night? Is it still good?"

My insides did cartwheels. "Of course."

"Leah's got a seminar tonight, so why don't we try the Hungarian place?"

I was ecstatic, naturally, and was about to say yes when I remembered I'd made plans with Evan, who was probably slaving over his hot stove that very minute. There's no way you can cancel when somebody offers to cook for you
and
your dog. What's more, I was looking forward to seeing Evan as I always did and didn't really want to cancel. Still, it was tough to put Dan off while I was in the throes of trying to win him back.

"I can't," I said, not hiding my disappointment. "Buster and I are going over to Evan's for dinner."

At first, he pretended not to know whom I meant. "The guy who was over here the other day?"

"Yes, Dan." Who was he kidding.

"He seemed okay. Not a serial killer or anything."

I smiled. "He's very nice. You'd like him."

"Do you like him, Mel?"

There was no kidding in the question. His expression was serious. I half expected him to confess his feelings for me right then, given the way he was looking at me, but maybe he was just as confused as I'd been before I faced the truth. Maybe he feared my rejection and wasn't ready to admit it to himself. Or maybe it was his sense of obligation to Leah that was keeping him from revealing what was in his heart. Either way, I knew that I was the one who mattered to him. He just needed a little more time to get comfortable with the idea.

"I do like him," I answered. "He's a good friend."

"Then enjoy your evening," he said and proceeded to do something he hadn't done in over a year: he kissed me on the cheek. My skin was still tingling when I knocked on Evan's door a few minutes later, Buster in tow.

"I was worried you might stand me up," he said when he ushered us into his apartment, which smelled fragrant with herbs and spices. "You're late."

"Sorry. I got caught up with something and lost track of the time."

"That big project you're always working on?"

"Yes."

"I forgive you." He reached for my hand and walked me over to the small canvas in the corner of the living room. "I couldn't wait to show you this."

I peered at the oil painting on the easel. The scene was his favorite, the turquoise sea of the Bahamas, but unlike the stormy weather in
Summer Squall
, the sun was sparkling over calm surf and a cove with a sandy beach. And sticking his paw into the water was a pug, his tail curled tightly and high, just like Buster's; his face the same clownish mix of wrinkles and luminous round eyes. The image was so real, so lifelike, that I could almost feel the water making contact with my dog's fur.

I glanced at Evan with amazement. "This is incredible," I said. "You captured him perfectly. Whenever we go to the beach, he sticks his toe in the water, just the way you painted it, and then he runs like hell for dry land. He never goes in beyond that paw. Never!"

He laughed. "It was fun. Something different for me. And I thought you'd like it."

"Are you kidding? I love it. Is it finished? Can I buy it?"

"No, it's not finished, and we'll negotiate whether you can buy it. Right now, I've gotta concentrate on our dinner."

He took hold of my hand again and walked me into the kitchen. There was a large pot of water on the stove and another pot filled with an aromatic tomato sauce. "We're having pasta tonight. Hope that works for you."

I told him it worked beautifully and asked if I could help and continued to rave about the painting of Buster as I guzzled the pinot noir I'd brought. I wasn't the hardy drinker Weezie was, and even one glass of booze gave me more buzz than I could handle if I drank it fast, but I was anxious and jumpy that night, struggling to focus on my host instead of drifting back to thoughts of Dan. No matter how attractive and attentive Evan was, my mind was elsewhere, and I kept socking back the wine in a futile attempt to steady myself.