The Artist's Paradise (5 page)

In the
ir early years together, she’d gone to court to watch him in action. Jonathan made those TV courtroom scenes look like a segment from
Law & Order.
He was animated. She could feel his fire and passion for the truth. His record stood on its merits—a defense attorney consistently in the top five in Illinois for winning cases. His reputation put him on the fast track.

D
id a woman have to put her life on hold to keep her marriage together?  Her mother had done that. Clearly, her father had never appreciated her mother’s sacrifice. In the end, the divorce still came. Why did relationships have to be so difficult? She wanted it all—an art career, children, and Jonathan. It would take a lot of work, but she refused to abandon her dreams.

Angie
raced across the room and down the stairs to Jonathon’s study. Mister Tubbs bounded after her, hopping like a bunny rabbit.

She swung open the study door. “
Do you remember when I used to come watch you during your closing arguments?”

“Sure, you haven’t been to court in a long time, but I loved looking up to see you.
Why?”

“I know you’re closing on the Hamilton trial tomorrow. Do you mind if I come to watch?”

He pushed back his desk chair and stepped around his desk. “Babe, it would be like old times. Yes, come. It’s a tough case. I could use your moral support.”

“Look for the girl in the
candy-red dress sitting in the first row.”

He pulled her close with his muscular arms. His hot breath penetrated her senses.
As he kissed her hard on the mouth, she felt her blouse being unbuttoned.
Oh, yes.

Chapter
8

Monday arrived all too soon. Angie dizzily hopped into their normal morning routine. Jonathan reminded her he would present closing arguments after lunch and raced off to work by seven o’clock. That schedule opened up time for her to check up on her mother and still get to court. She hadn’t heard from her mom all weekend. She hesitated. The phone calls now more challenging, as her mother, filled with bitter retorts, created familiar conflict. How reminiscent of her childhood. Still, she knew the call had to be made.

Her mother picked up after three rings. “Hello, honey. You’re up early today. Is everything all right?”

“Sorry, I’ve been up since six o’clock and thought it was later. Did I wake you?”

“No, actually I’ve been up most of the night. Lately my ability to stay asleep has been non-existent. I go to bed exhausted, then toss and turn for hours.”

“Gotcha. I can relate. Are you and Dad getting things sorted out?”

“Yes, of course
, your dad is being the ever-perfect gentleman. Whatever I ask for, he gives me. How can a man be so self-centered all our marriage and now…? I knew this would be hard, but I had no idea how much I would miss the routine of him coming home.”

“Any chance of working it out?”

“I don’t think so, Honey. He can’t change, and I can’t live like this any longer. I need someone in my life that I can trust. My time on this earth is too short to remain in hell. But let’s not talk about me. How are you and Jonathan doing?”

Angie stiffened as the question hit her. Had she been wrong to enjoy her happy weekend? She paused
a moment, lowering her voice. “Things are getting a little better for us. We spent time together and even went to Lincoln Park for a picnic.”

“Good. If you can have those honest talks, you have a chance for happiness. Count your time together as precious and protect it at all costs. Your dad and I drifted apart and didn’t even notice until it was too late.”

“Agreed, but I’ve also discovered that I spend too much time alone when Jonathan’s working. Vicki and I talked about my need to be more independent. More involved in things I like and less focused on him. I realize she’s right. I was a free spirit when I met Jonathan and now, I feel like a
Stepford wife.
”

“Stepford wife? What in heaven’s name is that?”

“Don’t you remember the movie where a group of men killed off their real wives and substituted lifelike robots that acted like
a hot
June Cleaver? Cooked, cleaned, dressed in pearls, and always smiled.”

Angie’s mother laughed. “Oh dear, if that’s how you’re feeling, it’s time to make some changes.”

“Yep, it’s time for sure.”

“What’s your day like today?”

“I’m going to court after lunch to watch Jonathan deliver closing arguments. The Hamilton trial’s a career builder for him.”

“I see. Didn’t you
just tell me you were going to start finding yourself?”

“Of course, my plan is to start tomorrow.”

“I’ll say no more, Honey, but sometimes tomorrow never comes. To make a life changing event, the experts usually tell us to begin immediately.”

Mom’s life is a mess. How dare she give advice?

“I hear you. I promise I’ll start tomorrow. Now I have to get ready to go downtown to the courthouse. I’ll call later. Bye, Mom.”

#

Dressed in an apple-red suit with matching heels, Angie glanced into the entry-hall mirror, and searched for confirmation—not too bad. Her simple pearl necklace and matching earrings framed her alabaster complexion.  She planned a powerful entrance into the courtroom.

Mister
Tubbs raised his bat ears in alert position. “I almost forgot. You need lunch, right?” He wiggled his body into the shape of an S, as his tail wagged like a metronome. After a quick meal and a fast walk around the building, Angie smiled, gave him a pat, and reached for the front door latch.

#

As she opened the door to leave, she heard the land phone ring. Why couldn’t she let a phone ring? She turned around and hustled back to the pesky sound.

“Hello.”

“Hi, this is Catharine Walker, customer service for
Tiffany’s
. Is Ms. Williams available?”

“Williams? You must have the wrong number.
There is no Williams here.”

“Do you know a Gina Williams?”

Gina Williams
? Why would she leave our phone number? “Well, yes. But she doesn’t live here.”

“We had a purchase and personal delivery from a Gina Williams on Friday to 84 South Elm Street. I wanted to ensure the delivery was satisfactory. Is this the phone number for that address?”

Last Friday
? Angie’s heart sank. She slowly folded under the weight of her body and collapsed onto the sofa.
Gina
sent the anniversary gift? Jonathan did forget. What a liar.

“Yes I know Gina Williams. What delivery are you inquiring about?”

“Actually, the order was confidential. I need to speak to her. Is she available?”

Angie let out a long breath. “No, not at this number. She works downtown. Did she leave you an alternate number?”

“Yes, we have a second number. I’ll try to contact her there. Sorry to have disturbed you.” The caller hung up.

Disturbed her? How about
destroyed her. Why did she think for one minute that Jonathan had changed? She was used like an old familiar book and then put back on the library shelf. He thought he could play her, but he wouldn’t get away with that any longer.

She
needed help, and she needed help right now. She picked up her cell phone and called Vicki. Her best friend always knew what to do.

“Hi, Girlfriend. How are you this lovely Monday?”
Vicki asked.

Angie’s shoulders knotted. “Mad as hell. Jonathan’s a jerk. No, he’s a cheat.”

“What happened, Honey?”

“That bastard I used to call my husband really did forget our anniversary. I just got a phone call from some woman in Tiffany’s customer service. She asked to verify that my package arrived. Gina ordered my anniversary gift, not Jonathan. And it was ordered the day
after
our anniversary.”

“Well, he’s busted, isn’t he? Now what do you want to do?”

“I don’t want to see him for a while. Can I stay with you? I need to think, and I can’t do it here.”

“Of course you can. But remember, this is the weekend for my trip to see Susie in Knoxville. I still want you to come with me.”

“It’s the first time you’ve seen Susie in weeks. Why don’t I just stay in your condo while you’re gone?”

“Nonsense.  It’ll be fun. An all-girls’ weekend on campus. I can hardly wait.”

Angie rested her head on the back of the sofa. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Pack up a few things. I’ll be there in an hour.”

She leaned forward and stood. “
I’m sold. See you in an hour or so. Honk your horn, and Mister Tubbs and I will come right out.”

Chapter 9

Jonathan jackhammered his fingers on the
oak courtroom table. Where could she be? Angie never arrived late. He’d been very specific about the time. The judge would enter the courtroom in less than five minutes. He couldn’t even call to check on her—no cell phones were allowed when court was in session. Jonathan turned toward the wall-clock at the back of the courtroom and glared at the time. How
could
she be late? What was her problem?

He jogged outside into the hall,
whipped out his cell phone and punched in his office phone number. Gina would have to do the follow up.

“Hi, Boss
. What can I do for you today?”

“You can track down my tardy wife and help her to get here ASAP.”

“Sure thing. Is she planning on coming to court today? Or is she tardy for an appointment somewhere else?”

“She promised she’d be in court to watch my closing arguments
. You know how important this case is for my career. Just get her here.” He slammed his cell phone closed.

#

Angie grabbed the phone and answered on the second ring

“Angie,
it’s Gina.”

Angie bit her lower lip.
“Yes, I know,” fired the brisk response.

“Sorry to bother you. Jonathan called me from court to see if you were on your way downtown. He
’s excited to have you there for his closing arguments today. Will you be there soon?”

“No, something came up. I’m not coming. Give him my regards.”
She slammed down the phone.

#

Jonathon spotted Gina entering the courtroom. She handed him a manila envelope, then turned and left without a word.

He
stared down at the envelope and requested a short recess. As the judge agreed, he read the note twice, crumbled it up in his fist, and stormed out. He entered a private office and slammed the door behind him. As he paced the 8 by 10 foot enclosed office, he grabbed the phone and dialed home. No answer. He tried Angie’s cell phone number—still no answer. “What the hell’s wrong with you? I won’t be disrespected this way.”

Jonathan checked his watch
. He needed to get back into that courtroom. Fine, let her send her regards. She would miss seeing him close the most important case of his career. It was her loss, not his. He didn’t need her. He had the case sowed-up. She’d become high maintenance. He had higher priorities. He would handle this later. He slammed down the phone and stomped out of the small office.

#

Angie glanced at the land phone sitting on the side table in her living room as it rang for the sixth time. She had no stomach for Jonathon’s nastiness and drama. The pesky ringing relocated to her cell phone. She raced up the stairs to her bedroom. The time had come to vacate the premises before he came home and made a scene. He was an expert at creating a diversion when he didn’t get his way. But not today, he wouldn’t get his way today.

She grabbed a small overnight bag from her closet and packed enough clothes for
a week. She turned to Mister Tubbs as he watched the packing ritual. “He’ll miss me. When he begs, I’ll come home. Surely that won’t take more than a couple of days.”

Mister
Tubbs wagged his short tail. She plopped down on the edge of the bed and gathered him up in her arms. “Yes, of course. You’ll be coming with me.”

Back downstairs with all bags neatly packed, Angie paced in front of the fireplace. Why was there always so much silence in this big house?
A home this grand should have tiny footsteps racing and playing with children’s laughter bouncing off the stone and wood floors. Her baby-clock was ticking. Her marriage wasn’t.

When she and Jonathan were dating, he had been so
attentive. He would take hours to explain case law to her. He discussed historical cases that helped defined the legal standards of today. She believed Jonathon would become a great attorney. His passion for defending those accused of wrongs urged him on, making sure everyone had a chance for justice. He often worked
pro bono
cases, concerned the defendant might not get a fair trial without his help. He sometimes got into trouble with his boss. Nevertheless, he continued to convince his law firm to get behind his cases. And with his track record, they used his skills on very sensitive, high-dollar clients. His firm made millions. He had a reputation as a rainmaker.

Angie flopped down in the armchair next to the fireplace.
“It’s not his fault he’s famous and busy, is it, Mister Tubbs?  So why do I get so bent out of shape?”

No answer came.

The grandfather clock chimed twice. Vicki should be here by now. Angie glanced out the living room window. Vicki was her only real friend. The person she could call day or night and share her most intimate thoughts. Shouldn’t Jonathan be that person, her confidant? Except, he played her like he played juries. How can you have a confidant without trust?

“Why don’t I have other close friends,
Mister Tubbs? I think Vicki’s right. I am definitely in need of some self-correction. I’m boring and friendless. Well, not altogether friendless, I’ve got one thousand four hundred and seventy-nine Facebook friends. Doesn’t that count? No, probably not.”

Mister
Tubbs snored on the sofa.

Really? She even bored her dog.

She heard two short beeps
—Vicki’s signal. “Let’s go. We’re going to get a personal makeover. Me that is, not you.”

#

Jonathan rocked back on two legs of the leather chair and looked around the empty courtroom. The big day was over. He’d delivered an amazing closing, even if he had to say so himself. He could see it in the jurors’ eyes. His client was innocent, and the jury understood why. Now all he had to do was wait for the verdict and the large bonus that would follow. Imagine, being given a one hundred thousand dollar bonus. What a rewarding day. But he’d wanted to share it with Angie. Damn her. Why did she act like this?

Had she learned he’d forgotten their anniversary? What if she had? No big deal, really. He loved her and that was all that should matter. Women, why were they made so different? You forget something important to a man and nothing. You forget your wife’s wedding date, and it’s unforgivable.