The Divorce Papers: A Novel (37 page)

The UnTrust

Dear Sophie—

I’ve been trying to figure out why my mother would not have the trust vest until I was 50 and only allow invasion in the case of an emergency. I’ve come up with two possible explanations, both revelatory of an untrusting nature: (1) She knew how controlling my father was and how tightfisted he could be (a Scottish stereotype, which is proved in his case). She didn’t want him to abdicate responsibility for his older daughter because she had a large trust. She wanted him to step up and pay for college, the debutante ball (alas, yes), a dowry (ha!), a wedding or two, etc. The trust money was to be there in case I really, really, really needed it. (2) She didn’t want me to be loved for my money. She had been an heiress of sorts, or at least the beneficiary of a rich man’s will and famous name, and always thought the swarms of swains lounging on the doorstep were after, if not the money, then the prestige. She married my father, she used to say, because he thought it a hoot that there actually was someone alive in 1955 who was a descendant of Cotton Mather. He didn’t expect her to be rich. One of his gnomic (and no doubt keen) observations was to the effect that “old families who stay in one place run out of money by the third generation. They’ve no enterprise, no ambition, and within a century, the money is drunk or gambled away.”

I suppose we have to moderate our demands now. That makes me a little sad, not that I want the money, only that Danny will be so pleased. He really doesn’t want to give me anything. I suppose we can’t now up the alimony and child support requests, can we…

I do not have a good character.

Yours,
Mia

P.S. Regarding the Aquinnah house, you wouldn’t know from my mother’s will, being a Cape Codder, but its site is spectacular, with near views of Squibnocket Pond and more distant views of the Atlantic. Every room, except the water closets, has a water view. Further, the Land Bank land basically surrounds our land, keeping our views in every direction forever pristine. We haven’t had it appraised since my mother’s estate was settled, but I would guess it’s worth a lot. The land, not the house. (The house is a mess, hardly more comfortable than the one in that law case you sent me about that old couple.) One of the conditions of my mother’s will was that my father and I had to agree on any changes, and we can’t. (I want inside toilets and a stove with at least three burners; he wants the Breakers.) And did I mention that the Onassis estate is close by and we run into Caroline Kennedy and her kids all the time? And the house has a key to Black Point Beach, which I think we can sell separately but I’m not sure. (Someday I’ll explain the MV private beach system, which I disapprove of and benefit from. The rich liberal’s perpetual dilemma.)

M.

Huge Fight

Dear Sophie—

I can’t believe how tough I’ve become. I’m channeling Richard Holbrooke. Bring on Slobodan Milosevic. I keep saying to myself when I get scared, which I do every night at bedtime: What is the worst he can do to me? And the answer is (in my saner moments): nothing. He can yell at me, of course, and he can make me cry (I cry at Kodak commercials, so that’s not a test), but he can’t really do anything else. I’m lucky. I don’t have money, but I have access to money. I won’t end up sleeping under Narragansett Bridge. Women should never give up their jobs when
they get married (or their names); they’ve got to have money. If you have money, you can get through it. That’s the bottom line. Tell all your friends, all your clients. Put it in the newspapers, print it in circulars and stick them under doors. DON’T GIVE UP YOUR JOB.

I left your letter for Daniel on Monday, with, I’ll admit, a poisonous Post-it. (I told him to stop scratching his hairy ass and get down to business.) He didn’t say anything to me. I didn’t even see him for two days. Finally today, or rather yesterday, Wednesday, I bearded him as he was coming home in the evening. “When are we going to get this settled?” I asked him. “Let’s get it done.” He said he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me and would only deal through his lawyer. Have your lawyer send Kahn a letter. I said okay, but if that was the case, we’d probably still be married when my trust vested. “What do you mean?” he said. I told him, “You know he’s a shit; you wanted a shit. Well, guess what, he’s not a particularly effective shit. And I’m perfectly willing to go to court.” He walked out of the room, closed the door, and got on the phone with his dermatologist. Did I mention she’s had work? I don’t think she can blink her eyes. Her skin is blemish-free, and her mind is idea-free.

I’m reaching the end of my rope. I’ve really come to detest Daniel for what he’s done to Jane, to me, to all of us. Lately I’ve taken to planning his funeral. A moving and beautiful event at Mather Chapel, with live music, and not only the great organ, but singers, an alto and cantor. I’m thinking the “Erbarme dich” aria (which he loves) from the St. Matthew Passion and the Kaddish.

I’m going to bed now. It’s very late. I’m weepingly tired. I’d like a boys’ chorus to sing “Jerusalem” at my funeral.

What changes do you recommend making to our settlement offer?

Best,
Mia

TRAYNOR, HAND, WYZANSKI

222 CHURCH STREET
NEW SALEM, NARRAGANSETT 06555
(393) 876-5678
ATTORNEYS AT LAW

July 16, 1999

Maria Mather Meiklejohn
404 St. Cloud Street
New Salem, NA 06556

Dear Mia:

I’ve reworked the savings and retirement terms of our offer under the separation agreement in recognition of your mother’s trust, giving you all the stock money and giving Daniel the rest. They will have trouble refuting it, as you are only receiving the funds (with interest) which your father gave you and Daniel as gifts over the last 18 years. I’m of two minds whether (a) I should simply give Kahn notice of the trust and its terms and see how he responds, or (b) I should put forward the offer. I’m not, as you know, a huge fan of conventional negotiations (taking two extreme positions and lurching toward rationality), and the approach I’ve used so far has been to say: “This is what we’re offering, and we mean it. If you don’t like it, we’ll let the judge settle it.” There will likely be resistance to the new offer, but I recommend brazening it out. I know you want the matter settled, but time is a tool and the longer we put off the settlement, the more likely we are to get the terms we want. Also, we need the psychiatrist’s report on Jane. Hang in there.

Yours,

Anne Sophie Diehl

You GO Girl

Dear Sophie—

You’re right, they’re not going to like it, but I like it and I’m the client.

Jane has been to see Dr. Fischer five times now. She’s doing better. She’s crying less and talking back some. Last night at dinner, she said, “Daddy thinks he’s the center of the universe, and you think I am. You’re both wrong.” Ah, the dueling Durkheim solar systems. She’s right. I’ve got two appointments with Dr. Fischer set up, and next week Jane and I go to see her together. I’m assuming Daniel will see her also, and if he doesn’t, res ipsa loquitur, as you lawyers say. (I’ve not only been studying for the LSATs, I’ve been browsing in various law books. Why is a tort called a tort?)

Did I ever tell you that one of the reasons I was attracted initially to Daniel was his last name? I somehow thought he was related to the
Suicide
sociologist Durkheim, but as you know, the family name had originally been Durkheimer. I’m glad I didn’t know that when we met. It would have spoiled the romance in my head. I was working at Monk’s House, which somehow made me related to Virginia Woolf. It turns out suicide has absolutely no charm for me; murder’s more up my alley. I knew you were the right lawyer for me.

Best,
Mia

Maman Explains

Dear Maggie,

I just got off the phone with Maman. I called her to talk about our run-in with Papa at the diner. I couldn’t get it out of my mind; I don’t understand why he does those things. Maman was most uncharacteristically forthcoming. She never talks about Papa to me or the sibs, though in his presence she can be mean as a ferret, which says a lot in its own way. She said she guessed she knew how I felt because, especially in the late years of their marriage, he didn’t pay her any mind either. He liked the way she looked; he liked the money she made (though
he
was mean as a ferret about the books she wrote); he liked the family life, the four attractive French-speaking children, the dinner parties, the summers in Wellfleet. But he didn’t listen to her. What most infuriated her, she said, were the times he’d tell her something X had said when it was something she had said to him only a few days earlier. The final blow was the time he said, “I was talking to Michael Wood about
The Big Chill
and he said that the most interesting thing about the Kevin Kline character was not all the money he made in his post-hippie years or impregnating the friend but the insider trading.” She was making dinner and almost hit him with a skillet. Two days earlier, as they were walking out of the movie, she had said, almost verbatim, what Wood had said. “That’s the last time I cooked him dinner when I didn’t have to feed you children as well.” She went on, “Our marriage ended because I couldn’t make him see me or hear me or do anything I wanted or needed. I could only be as selfish and mean as he was to get his attention. And that was ruinous.” Maman said she thought it was a generational thing, the inability of men born before 1955 to listen to their wives. “They could listen to other women if they had to (a boss, a professor, a judge, even a professional colleague) but not to their wives. I used to think it was
the timbre of the voice, the higher pitch of women’s voices, but I had a low voice, and it didn’t dent your father’s consciousness. I keep hoping men of your generation are better. I think your brothers are better, but I’m not their girlfriends. But look,” she said, “he’s your father, not your husband. You can’t divorce him, and you can’t abandon him, not on grounds of inattention. You’ve got to find a way to make him see you and hear you. I couldn’t do it, but I wasn’t his daughter. He loves you, in his own troubled and tortured way.”

I wondered, as Maman was speaking, if she was crying. Probably not, she never does, but, boy, she sounded so sad. It’s true: you never get over that first big love when it goes wrong. It breaks your heart or hardens it. I think it did both to Maman.

Love,
Sophie

TRAYNOR, HAND, WYZANSKI

222 CHURCH STREET
NEW SALEM, NARRAGANSETT 06555
(393) 876-5678
ATTORNEYS AT LAW

July 21, 1999

Ray Kahn

Kahn & Boyle
46 Broadway
New Salem, Narragansett 06555

Dear Mr. Kahn:

It has come to our attention recently that our client, Maria Meiklejohn, is the beneficiary of a testamentary trust, created under her late mother’s will. The trust vests in 2007, on Ms. Meiklejohn’s 50th birthday. The trust held $400,000 at the time of probate in 1982. It will no doubt yield a considerable sum at the time of vesting, but it provides no mechanism for invasion prior to vesting in the absence of an emergency. Proctor Hand is the trustee.

We expect that the existence of the trust will affect the allocation of investments and retirement funds under the Durkheim/Meiklejohn separation agreement, but we do not expect it to affect child support, maintenance, or other property divisions. I have attached a revised settlement offer affecting savings and retirement investments.

Clapper’s Narragansett Legal Dictionary
defines an
emergency
as “an unforeseen occurrence or event, an accident; an unexpected, undesirable event, often resulting in harm or damage or the threat of harm or damage.”
Webster’s Third New International Dictionary
defines
emergency
as “an unforeseen combination of circumstances or the resulting state that calls for immediate action; a pressing need [or] exigency …”

The Narragansett courts have uniformly applied a restrictive reading of an “emergency.” In
Baxter v. Baxter
, 283 Nar. 443 (1995), the Narragansett Supreme Court, quoting both
Clapper’s
and
Webster’s
, characterized an emergency as a “limiting term” that “allows the invasion of a trust only under extraordinary circumstances.” It specifically rejected the argument that an emergency could encompass “a beneficiary’s expenses for health, education, support, or maintenance,” contrasting it with the “far looser standard of necessity,” which would cover “the essentials reasonably needed to maintain a beneficiary’s station in life.” It is clear that the trust cannot be invaded on behalf of Ms. Meiklejohn for her maintenance or support.

Yours,

Anne Sophie Diehl