Household Gods (87 page)
Authors: Judith Tarr
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O, SHE THOUGHT. NO surprises. Or should she assume that? If she did, she could make a call or two of her own now without feeling guilty for wasting the time.
O, SHE THOUGHT. NO surprises. Or should she assume that? If she did, she could make a call or two of her own now without feeling guilty for wasting the time.
Before she reached for the phone book, she called up a file from the computer and printed it out. She wanted to be sure she had all the facts handy. As she read over the two pages from the laser printer's tray, she smiled grimly.
County Government Offices,
the heading in the white pages said. The office she wanted was on Ventura Boulevard, only two or three miles away. She dialed the number. “Good afternoon, District Attorney's office,” said the voice on the other end. “Family Support Unitâspousal- and child-support cases. How may I help you?”
the heading in the white pages said. The office she wanted was on Ventura Boulevard, only two or three miles away. She dialed the number. “Good afternoon, District Attorney's office,” said the voice on the other end. “Family Support Unitâspousal- and child-support cases. How may I help you?”
Nicole steadied herself. Here it was. Moment of truth. She said it baldly, in her best and crispest professional voice. “My ex-husband has been late on a good many child-support payments, and he's missed a good many others altogether,” she said. “I badly need the money, and I want help collecting it.”
“Please hold,” the voice said without expression. “I'll put you through to the Child Support Enforcement Section.”
For her listening pleasure, or lack thereof, the FSU offered 101 Stringsâsoothing enough if you weren't the sort who
preferred acid rock. Nicole, whose taste ran to Top Forty when it ran to anything at all, lived through it until a new voice came on the line: “Child Support Enforcement. This is Herschel Falk. I understand you have a collection problem. May I have the details, please, Ms.â?”
preferred acid rock. Nicole, whose taste ran to Top Forty when it ran to anything at all, lived through it until a new voice came on the line: “Child Support Enforcement. This is Herschel Falk. I understand you have a collection problem. May I have the details, please, Ms.â?”
“Nicole Gunther-Perrin,” Nicole said. His silence had an interesting quality: like an open door, or an open mind. She gave him the details he'd requested. All of them, with scrupulous exactness, from the date and number of the child-support order to the dates of Frank's checks that had come late to those of the checks that should have come but never had.
“Well, well,” Herschel Falk said when she finished, and then again, a moment later: “Well, well. You certainly have all that at your fingertips, don't you, Ms. Gunther-Perrin? I wish everyone who called here were so well prepared.”
“I'm an attorney,” Nicole said with a hint of tightness. Her teeth had clenched while she ran through the list of Frank's delinquencies. She couldn't seem to pry them loose.
“I see.” Falk sounded like a man who'd heard everything at least once, and most things a lot more often than that. “Now you've had it up to here with your ex, and you're going to hit him up for everything you have coming to you.”
“Mr. Falk,” Nicole said, “that's exactly what I'm going to do. Let me give you FrankâsâFrank Perrin'sâwork and home telephone numbers, too, while I'm at it.”
She heard the scratch of pen on paper as she read them off. Then he said, “If I don't get him, I will leave a message at both those numbers this afternoon. Let me put the figures into the computer, so I can tell him how much he owes to the penny. There's ten percent interest on delinquent payments, you know.”
“Now that I had forgotten,” Nicole said with a grin Frank would not have been happy to see. “I'm in corporate law, and I really thought he would keep up after we divorced. I didn't pay as much attention to the regulations as I should have.”
“That happens,” Herschel Falk said with every evidence
of sympathy, and a degree of relish that she took note of. This was a man who enjoyed his job. Not a nice man, oh no, but a very good man to have on her side. “We'll take care of it from here,” he said. “Some people find a call from the District Attorney's office amazinglyâmm, maybe
therapeutic
is the word I'm looking for. It doesn't work on everyone, but it does for a good many.”
of sympathy, and a degree of relish that she took note of. This was a man who enjoyed his job. Not a nice man, oh no, but a very good man to have on her side. “We'll take care of it from here,” he said. “Some people find a call from the District Attorney's office amazinglyâmm, maybe
therapeutic
is the word I'm looking for. It doesn't work on everyone, but it does for a good many.”
“I thought that might be the case,” Nicole said. “Frank wouldn't even think of holding up a bank, and God forbid he should walk off with a wallet someone dropped on the sidewalk in front of him, but when it comes to stiffing meâwell, that's not
really
a bad thing, is it? I've got my job, after all. It's not like I'm starving. And it's so difficult to come up with the money some weeks, what with the trips to Cancún and the payments on the Acura. And it really gets inconvenient, you know?”
really
a bad thing, is it? I've got my job, after all. It's not like I'm starving. And it's so difficult to come up with the money some weeks, what with the trips to Cancún and the payments on the Acura. And it really gets inconvenient, you know?”
Herschel Falk laughed shortly. “Believe me, Ms. Gunther-Perrin, I do know. And we'll do our best to teach him that one doesn't just obey some of the laws some of the time.” He added dryly, “And, of course, we'll do it for nothing: your tax dollars at work. Quite a bit less of a bite than your own attorney's two hundred dollars an hour.”
“Two-fifty,” Nicole said. “Yes, that does enter into it. Ironic, isn't it? If he'd been paying up, I'd be able to afford the fees.”
“Life's little ironies, yes,” Falk said. “All right, then. I'll call and see what Mr. Perrin has to say for himself. If he doesn't dispute the facts, we'll go from there. If he does ⦠well, we'll see. May I have your number, please, so that I can reach you when I have something to report?”
Nicole gave him her office and home numbers. “I don't think Frank will dispute the facts,” she said. “He's in computer scienceâhe knows what's real and what isn't. Sometimes he just does his best to ignore it.”
“Maybe this call will do some good, then,” Falk said in a neutral tone. “We can but hope. Good day, Ms. Gunther-Perrin.”
“Good day,” Nicole said, and fought an urge to giggle.
His slightly old-fashioned style had infected her. It was appealing, really. Even though, as a confirmed governmental cynic, she wasn't sure he really would do as he promised, or do it in any kind of timely fashion, she still felt good about the call. Finally she was doing something about a long and frustrating problem.
His slightly old-fashioned style had infected her. It was appealing, really. Even though, as a confirmed governmental cynic, she wasn't sure he really would do as he promised, or do it in any kind of timely fashion, she still felt good about the call. Finally she was doing something about a long and frustrating problem.
She went back to her analysis with a lighter heart, and a sense that she should have done this a long time ago. There were legal mechanisms in place here, and they
would
work in her favor, even if they took a while. She wouldn't have to beard an Emperor in his den, and then rely on his goodwill, to get what was rightfully hers.
would
work in her favor, even if they took a while. She wouldn't have to beard an Emperor in his den, and then rely on his goodwill, to get what was rightfully hers.
The calls from well-wishers had tapered off, but they still kept coming. Her patience was wearing thin by the time Frank added himself to the list. Obviously he hadn't heard from Herschel Falk, or he'd have been screaming in her ear. The good Mr. Falk must have been operating in lawyer time when he promised to call this afternoon. No doubt he meant
some afternoon this week,
or possibly
some afternoon this month.
some afternoon this week,
or possibly
some afternoon this month.
Then, at about a quarter to four, Cyndi rang in to report, “I have your ex-husband on the line, Ms. Gunther-Perrin.” Her tone had a slight hint of question, and an edge of warning.
Nicole smiled and shoved the environmental impact report to one side. “Really? Good, then, I'll talk with him.” She waited for the small click that meant the secretary had transferred the incoming call, then spoke in her sweetest, most reasonable tones: “Hello, Frank.”
“Nicole!” Frank sounded neither sweet nor reasonable. “What the hell are you doing? I just got off the phone with this crazy bastard from the DA's office, and he saysâ”
“What am I doing?” Nicole broke in. “I'm doing what I'm legally entitled to do, and what I should have done the first time you missed a payment. You're violating a court order, Frank. It's just as much against the law as knocking over a liquor store.”
“Oh, give me a break,” her ex snarled.
“I've given you too many breaks already,” Nicole snapped. “So many breaks that I'm broke. I need the money you owe me. If you pay up, Mr. Falk goes away. If you don't, he goes after your assets. I can tell himâI
will
tell himâwhere a lot of those are, and I'm sure he can find any I'm not aware of. People in the District Attorney's office have all sorts of interesting connections, and their software is getting better all the time.”
will
tell himâwhere a lot of those are, and I'm sure he can find any I'm not aware of. People in the District Attorney's office have all sorts of interesting connections, and their software is getting better all the time.”
She didn't know how true that last was, but it certainly rattled Frank's cage. He howled a suggestion that sounded a lot like Falk's last name. Then he calmed down a bit, or at least got his voice under control. “That bastard says I owe you some ridiculous amount. I may have missed once or twice, butâ”
“Shall I e-mail you the dates of all the checks you missed?” Nicole asked sweetly. “You can add them all up and figure the interest due on each one. If your number doesn't match the one Mr. Falk gave you, I'm sure he'll be happy to discuss the discrepancy.”
Glum silence on the other end of the line. At length, Frank said, “I find Woodcrest for you, I pay for the first month, and you go and do this to me. Thanks a hell of a lot, Nicole.”
“You're welcome,” she said. “You can take that off the total; fair's fair. Now, suppose you tell me when I can expect the rest. If it's later than Thursday, I expect you'll be hearing from Mr. Falk again.”
“Thursday!”
he howled. “Do you have any idea how much money that bastard says I owe?”
he howled. “Do you have any idea how much money that bastard says I owe?”
Just about enough for a nice vacation in Cancún, and a couple of payments on the Acura,
Nicole thought. She elected not to say it. “I'm sure Mr. Falk will be pleased to discuss the matter with you,” she said.
Nicole thought. She elected not to say it. “I'm sure Mr. Falk will be pleased to discuss the matter with you,” she said.
“He can talk to my lawyer,” Frank snarled.
“That's perfectly all right with me,” Nicole said equably. “You can pay me, or you can pay me and your lawyer both. I'm sure you can figure out which one is cheaper.”
“Bitch.”
“Thank you. RememberâThursday. Send it here to the
office, so I can get to the bank on the way home. Now that the kids are at Woodcrest, that will be a lot easier,” Nicole said.
office, so I can get to the bank on the way home. Now that the kids are at Woodcrest, that will be a lot easier,” Nicole said.
Frank had to be on his cell phone. There was no satisfying slam of receiver into cradle. Just a prissy little click. Nicole threw back her head and laughed. Oh, that had felt wonderful! And the beauty of it was, he would pay. She was as sure of that as of sunrise tomorrow. Sunrise in West Hills, what was moreânot in Carnuntum.
Cyndi popped her head into the office, wide-eyed and reminding Nicole vividly, just in that moment, of Julia. “What's so funny, Ms. Gunther-Perrin?”
“Not
funny,
really,” Nicole said. “But you know what?” She waited for Cyndi to shake her head. “This is a pretty good place.”
funny,
really,” Nicole said. “But you know what?” She waited for Cyndi to shake her head. “This is a pretty good place.”
“What, the office?” Cyndi sounded amazed. But then, Cyndi had no idea how much she automatically accepted as the physical and mental furnishings of her place and time. Nobody did. Nicole certainly hadn't, not till she got her nose rubbed in it.
She leaned back in the comfortable padded chair, glanced at the computer screen and the color photos of her children next to it, and took a long breath of clean, odor-free, air-conditioned air. “It's not so bad,” she said. “It really isn't.”
Â
Nicole started to wonder about that as she pulled into Woodcrest's godawful excuse for a parking lot. If Kimberley and Justin had turned out to have a difficult day, she'd be back to square one again. But
this
time, for absolute certain, she wouldn't be whining to any gods or goddesses. She had every intention of staying right where she was.
this
time, for absolute certain, she wouldn't be whining to any gods or goddesses. She had every intention of staying right where she was.
The preschool building was much better than its parking lot, though it had a tired, end-of-the-day feel to it. Kimberley let out a squeal and did her best to tackle her mother. Justin was right behind her. Nicole braced automatically and took the brunt of the double blow, and smiled down at them. They smiled back. From the look of those smiles, they'd had a good day.
Kimberley got hold of her hand and dragged her toward the four-year-olds' cubbyholes. “Mommy, come here! Look at the picture I made!”
A heavy weight of worry dropped from Nicole's shoulders. It was all right; the kids were happy. As she initialed the sign-out sheet, Miss Irma appeared from the depths of the room to say, “Kimberley was a very bright, well-behaved girl today. I think we'll enjoy having her here.”
Justin hadn't tried too hard to tear the place apart or burn it down, either, from Miss Dolores' account of his day. For a two-year-old, that was moderately high praise. Nicole left Woodcrest in a warm glow. She'd forgotten how good that feltâand how good it felt to feel good.
Getting home was dead easy, once Nicole escaped that miserable parking lot.
Small price to pay,
she thought as she did her best to keep her car from getting clipped coming out. If this was the worst she had to do to keep the kids happy, she'd take it.
Small price to pay,
she thought as she did her best to keep her car from getting clipped coming out. If this was the worst she had to do to keep the kids happy, she'd take it.
“We had tacos for lunch today,” Kimberley informed her. “Chicken tomorrow, and hotdogs the day after. That's what Miss Irma said.” If Miss Irma said it, Nicole gathered, it must have come down from Mt. Sinai with Moses.
“Hogs!” Justin agreed gleefully. He couldn't say
hotdogs
very well yet, but he loved to eat them.
hotdogs
very well yet, but he loved to eat them.
Too much fat,
Nicole thought automatically. She couldn't get as exercised about it as she used to. It was
food
âsomething she'd learned to appreciate, deeply, when she hadn't had enough of it.
Nicole thought automatically. She couldn't get as exercised about it as she used to. It was
food
âsomething she'd learned to appreciate, deeply, when she hadn't had enough of it.
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