The Pre-Nup (11 page)

As Ellie led Mara back toward the safe in the master bedroom’s walk-in closet, she realized that her friend was right to be cynical. Michael was nothing like the man she believed him to be, and maybe he never had been. There had been subtle signs along the way that she’d willfully ignored: the speeding tickets he’d “forgotten” to tell her about, his outspoken impatience with waiters and valets, his gloating when he got the upper hand in a business deal. She had managed to overlook all that because she desperately wanted her marriage to be as perfect on the inside as it appeared on the outside. So really, who was the bigger liar here: her husband or herself?

She discovered the answer when she opened the safe. Her copy of the pre-nup was gone, along with all the other legal documents and investment paperwork. The only things remaining were Hannah’s birth certificate and Ellie’s passport and social security card.

Ellie didn’t have to say anything. Mara glanced from her face to the nearly empty safe and deduced what had happened.

“Son of a bitch! Well, we’re not going to take this lying down. You’re going to hire the best forensic accountant in the state and we are going to squeeze him for every dollar until he bleeds green!”

Ellie took a deep breath and began to list the things that Michael had taken from her. “My jewelry.”

She grazed the cold metal walls of the safe with one finger and imagined the sparkly emeralds adorning the throat and earlobes of Dr. Victoria Locane. Then she pointed to the empty racks and rods on Michael’s side of his closet. “All his clothes and his shoes. And his golf clubs.”

“Good.” Mara nodded. “Write all that down.”

Ellie began cataloging material goods in her small, even handwriting. She worked calmly and methodically, and they were dismantling the drawers in Michael’s study when she heard a key in the front door and Hannah’s high, happy voice crying, “Mommy! What happened to the piano?”

Ellie turned to Mara. “Michael’s mom is here. She was watching Hannah today.”

“Is she aware that while she was baby-sitting, her son faked a business trip and ransacked your house?” Mara asked.

“No,” Ellie said immediately. “Patrice would never condone that. She’s like my second…” And then she had to remind herself how badly she’d misjudged Michael. “I don’t
think
so.”

“I’ll take this as my cue to leave.” Mara strode out into the hallway with a cheery “Hey, it’s my little Miss Hannah Banana. Want to go get a Happy Meal? Your mom says it’s okay.”

“Yes! Yes!” Hannah adored Mara, who routinely let the little girl try on her high heels and jewelry.

Ellie waited until she heard the door close behind them, then emerged from the study to confront Patrice. As soon as she turned the corner and saw the older woman’s expression, she knew Patrice hadn’t been privy to Michael’s duplicity.

“Oh Ellie.” Patrice’s hands hung limply at her sides and her face was ashen. “I’m so sorry. This is absolutely…” She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together.

Watching her mother-in-law’s composure crumble set off fresh shockwaves of panic. “He took everything!” Ellie’s voice was shrill with hysteria. “The piano, the paintings, all our valuables and financial records. What am I going to do?” She waited for Patrice to offer up advice, reassurance, or at the very least, a hug.

But Patrice didn’t open her arms. She just kept repeating, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Will you talk to him?” Ellie begged. “He can’t do this. It’s wrong on every level. Someone has to make him see reason.”

Patrice didn’t reply. She backed away, still murmuring barely audible apologies, until she had retreated out the door. Seconds later, headlight beams bounced across the foyer as the Jaguar pulled away and Ellie was left alone to search for all the other things she never imagined she could lose.

Jen
Chapter
13

T
hank God you’re home.” Jen ran out of her home office to greet Eric at the side door. “I was wondering when you’d get back. You didn’t give me your flight information.”

Her husband looked disheveled and in desperate need of a hot shower and a square meal. All the airport layovers and meetings in windowless conference rooms had taken their toll, and Jen couldn’t suppress her impulse to nurture and revive him.

“You must be beat. Let me whip you up a smoothie. I just bought some fresh kiwi and mangoes and I’ll—”

He sighed and rubbed the fine reddish stubble sprouting along his chin. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. I haven’t changed my mind about what I said in New York.”

That was when she noticed that he hadn’t brought in his suitcase from the car.

“I’m just here to pick up some clothes. I’ll stay at a hotel until we figure some things out.”

Lotus strolled down the hall and rubbed against Jen’s leg. She picked up the hefty black cat and cradled him against her chest. “Okay. I get it. You’re still inexplicably upset about having hot, wild sex, but—”

“No, Jen, you
don’t
get it. I’m not upset anymore. I’m not hurt or angry or crying on the inside, or whatever sensitive, New Age men are supposed to do. What I am is done.”

“Done with me.”

“You. Us. This farce of a marriage.”

She sucked in her breath. “Why do you keep calling it that? I’m really trying here; I thought you were, too.”

“And it’s still not working.” He looked her right in the eye.

She shrank away from the cold defiance in his gaze. “When did you stop loving me?” she asked softly.

“It doesn’t matter if I love you, because you don’t love me.”

“Of course I do!”

“No, you don’t. Not enough. And I know I said that wouldn’t matter, but it turns out it does.”

“This is crazy!” She exhaled sharply in frustration. “We are a team; we can’t just quit when the going gets tough.”

He took a step back toward the door. “You want to keep me around, but you don’t care about keeping me happy.”

Jen leaned against the wall, appalled by the image of her he portrayed. When they’d gotten engaged, he had described her as his ideal woman. Had she really changed that much, or had he?

“You gave me fair warning before we got married,” he continued. “You love me, but you’re not
in
love with me. And I can’t stand it anymore. You checked out.”

“Me? What about you?” Jen squeezed Lotus a bit too hard, and he wriggled free of her grasp and escaped down the hall. “You’re always on the road, you never want to talk…”

He shrugged. “I guess we’re both to blame.”

“Ellie gave me the name of an excellent marriage counselor.”

“No. I don’t want to go to a shrink and sit around re-hashing all the reasons why we never should have gotten married in the first place. I’m finished.”

“I don’t even get a vote? It’s my marriage, too.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course it is. It’s
your
marriage,
your
company,
your
life. I’m just along for the ride.”

She forced herself to ask the question she had been avoiding since he walked through the door. “Is this about what I said in the hotel room? About the company? Because I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

He hesitated a long time, then said, “Yeah, you did. You don’t need me, or anyone else because you’ve got your work. And I respect that. I really do. But I can’t live with it anymore.”

Right on cue, the phone in her office started ringing.

Eric smirked. “Duty calls.”

“But I’m not answering!” she pointed out. “You have my full attention. See? You trump my company. Aren’t you satisfied?”

“Nope. Neither are you. And since I got us into this mess, I’ll get us out.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “I’ll be meeting with an attorney this week, and I’m going to file for legal separation.” He held up one palm. “I don’t want things to get nasty and ugly, but I have to move on with my life.” He brushed past her and headed for the master bedroom. “And don’t worry about what our pre-nup says; I have no interest in enforcing all the terms we agreed to.”

She pushed off the wall and hurried after him.

“I know that I could take the company away from you,” he threw over his shoulder, “but I won’t. I don’t want it. I just want out.”

Jen tried to disguise her fear with outrage. “I cannot believe you’d bring up the pre-nup at a time like this.”

“I’m packing up my clothes and meeting with lawyers. When else would I bring it up?”

The phone in her office started ringing again.

“Eight-thirty
P.M
. and your life is calling,” Eric said. “Better answer.”

“Jen! Thank God you picked up!” Deb the publicist sounded positively electrified. “I have big news. Huge. Sit down and brace yourself, ’cause your life is about to change forever.”

Jen perched on the edge of her desk and cast a baleful look toward the vicinity of the bedroom, where Eric was busy packing his bags. “There seems to be a lot of that going around tonight.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She sighed. “So what’s up? You’re certainly working late.”

“I bust my butt for you twenty-four seven,” the publicist said. “I told you when you signed on: I’m expensive but I’m worth it. Guess who I just got off the phone with?”

Jen took more than two nanoseconds to reply, which far exceeded Deb’s patience.

“Rory Reid’s booking agent!”

“Shut up!” Jen hopped off her desk. “
The
Rory Reid?”

“The one and only. I sent her people a big case of Noda and wouldn’t let them eat, sleep, or pee in peace until they tried it. And they loved it! They want to feature it on the show. Rory might even interview you on-air.”

Jen managed only a small squeak in response.

Deb crowed in triumph. “Who’s working for you, babe?”

Another tiny squeak.

“Say something!” Deb commanded.

“I’m here,” Jen breathed. “You wouldn’t kid me about something like this?”

“I don’t kid. Especially when it comes to national television. So what do you say? Are you ready for the big time?”

Jen waited for the thrill of victory. Deb was right; everything was about to change. She’d been fantasizing about this phone call since she sold the very first case of Noda to a tiny organic café near Sedona. She had always known that no matter how hard she worked, success was ultimately yoked to luck. Some random stranger in a random office had made a snap decision to give her everything she wanted. Just like that.

“Wow.”

“That’s the understatement of the millennium,” Debra said. “Sometimes I’m so good I amaze myself.”

Jen started laughing uncontrollably. “I think I might throw up.”

“Go right ahead. And then uncork some champagne, because moments like this don’t come along very often.” Deb herself sounded ready to light up a postcoital cigarette. “Oh! My other line’s ringing and I’ve got to take it, but I’ll call you tomorrow. Congrats!”

Jen gently replaced the receiver and took a moment to let the news sink in. She heard a faint rustling behind her and turned around to find Eric standing by the door. Two overstuffed duffel bags rested on the rug be hind him.

“Good news?” he asked.

“Great news.” A dazed half-smile spread across her face. “That was the outrageously overpriced publicist I hired against my better judgment. Noda’s going to be featured on the Rory Reid show.”

Eric looked stunned. Even he, who couldn’t pick Lindsay Lohan out of a lineup, had heard of Rory Reid. “She’s that talk show host, right?”

“Mm-hmm.” Jen wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed. “The ‘Gen-X Oprah.’ She’s going to plug Noda on national TV. This is incredible.”

Her husband placed his house key on the console table under the hall mirror. “I’ll call you when I need to come back to pick up more stuff. And congratulations. I mean it.”

And with that, Eric exited her life as quietly and calmly as he’d first crept in.

Mara
Chapter
14

G
reat news, Ellie, I’ve got a kick-ass lawyer for you.” Mara waved her assistant away as the frosted glass door to her office started to open. At three-thirty on a Friday afternoon, she was juggling Ellie’s phone call, four new urgent e-mails, and an oncoming tension headache. “Karen Hamilton. She’s with Koeth and Godwin and she’s supposed to be the best—What? Oh, don’t worry about the retainer fee. I’ll write you a check and—I won’t take no for an answer, El. I’ve seen these things go bad too many times. You can’t afford
not
to hire a shark. Trust me…Don’t be ridiculous, no one thinks you’re a charity case. If it’ll make you feel better, you can pay me back after you settle and stick that jackass with your legal bills.”

She sipped her coffee while Ellie spouted a litany of panicked protest and questions. “No, I can’t represent you. Believe me, I wish I could, but I do trust and estate law and you need someone who specializes in family law…. Exactly; I can write a pre-nup, but I can’t enforce it. Speaking of which, have you dug up a fresh copy of the one you and Michael signed? Uh-huh…Oh boy. Well, come over this weekend, and we’ll go over the parts you don’t understand. Listen, I have about fifteen phone calls to return before five o’clock, so I have to run. Call Karen Hamilton right now, okay? I just e-mailed you her work number…. Right…Okay. And don’t worry, El, everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”

She hung up and dug through her desk drawer for the bottle of ibuprofen she kept stashed for afternoons like this one. Everything was definitely
not
going to be fine for Ellie, but Mara knew that the only way to help her friend right now was to stay positive and try to find loopholes in a contract Ellie had signed when she’d trusted Michael to cherish and protect her for the rest of their lives.

Trust was a trap. Mara had seen that over and over again with her clients. They said they loved each other, but then they tried to conceal assets and impose all kinds of restrictions on one another. One groom had wanted a pre-nup clause stipulating that his bride-to-be would forfeit alimony if she gained more than fifteen pounds during the course of their marriage. Another requested that his fiancée agree to continue his family’s tradition of naming the firstborn son after his great-great-grandfather—Hiram—despite the fact that she detested the name.

And now sweet, softhearted Ellie had to pay for placing her trust in the wrong man. It wasn’t fair, but that was one of the first things you learned in law school: touchy-feely concepts like karma and fairness didn’t count. The only thing that mattered was what was explicitly stated in the contract.

Mara typed up a terse response to an e-mail, then poked her head out the door. “Sorry, Julie, I was on an important call. What’s up?”

“The DeLorenzo documents just came in on the fax,” her assistant reported. “And Josh is on line one. And your wedding planner is on line two. She wants to know if you’ve made a final decision about the chair covers.”

Mara stopped skimming through her inbox. Josh hardly ever called her at work. “Josh is still holding?”

“I think so. The light’s still blinking.”

“Tell the wedding planner I’ll call her back.” Mara picked up the phone as if it were wired with unstable explosives. Then she jabbed the hold button and answered briskly, “Mara Stroebel.”

“Hey.” Josh sounded as hesitant as she felt. “Do you have dinner plans?”

“I do, as a matter of fact. Lukewarm Chinese takeout at my desk. Ever the slave to billable hours. Then, evidently, I may be forced to attend an emergency chair-cover summit with the wedding planner. Want to come?”

He paused. “So the wedding’s still on?”

Mara tried to sound blithe and matter-of-fact. “I’m agreeing to a chair-cover summit, am I not?”

“Translation: You love me and you can’t live with out me?”

“Well. Yeah, basically.” She tossed her hair to hide her discomfiture, even though there was no one to witness her. “Can we please just skip this part and get back to business as usual?”

He laughed. “Oh, you sentimental sap.”

“If you want puffy hearts and frolicking kittens, you’ve got the wrong woman.”

“Forget the kittens. How about a simple ‘I love you’?”

“I do love you.”

“Then I think we should try to reach a resolution on the pre-nup situation.”

Mara counted to five, then exhaled. “I can’t get into this right now.”

“I know,” he said patiently. “That’s why we should get together tonight. How about dessert after you finish up at the office?”

“You think if you anesthetize me with enough chocolate, I’ll agree to whatever you want,” she accused.

“That strategy has proved successful in the past.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m on to you.” She glanced up as Julie came in with a fresh pile of paperwork. “Meet you at Sophie’s at eight. I’ll bring the chair-cover brochures, you bring the sparkling conversation. Let the good times roll.”

Sophie’s of Scottsdale was bursting with romantic ambience: harpists, flowers, and immaculately groomed couples making small talk through first dates. Mara knew she stuck out in her power suit and briefcase, but she didn’t care. She and Josh were long past the point of trying to make a good first impression. By now, they both knew what they were getting into, for better or for worse. Which brought up a single, critical question:

“I have to ask you something,” she announced as the maître d’ pulled back a chair at a cozy corner table. “And I want you to be completely honest.”

Josh, who was wearing the navy sweater she’d given him last Christmas, grimaced. “Can’t we at least order drinks before the interrogation begins?”

“No.” She pushed aside her silverware and rested both hands on the table. “Okay, here goes: Why do you want to marry me?”

He returned her unflinching gaze. “Is this a trick question?”

“Everyone knows why I want to marry you; you’re basically the nicest guy who ever walked the face of the earth.”

“You forgot dead sexy,” he pointed out.

“But why do you want to marry me? I’m snippy and high-maintenance and, let’s be honest, kind of an emotional basket case.”

“You forgot dead sexy,” he repeated.

“I’m being serious.” She rubbed her forehead and shrugged out of her suit jacket. “Face it: I’m terrible wife material. I don’t clean, I don’t cook, I’m a total control freak, and, as you’re so fond of pointing out, I shun open displays of sentiment. Why would anyone want to sign on for a lifetime of all that?”

She stared at him. He stared back at her. “Are you finished?” he asked.

“I’m finished.”

“Good. I want to marry you because I love you.”

“But
why
?”

“Besides the fact that you’re mind-blowing in bed?”

She sat back in her chair. “Josh…”

“What?” He grinned. “Don’t think that’s not a factor. But come on, you know why I love you. You’re smart and fun and secretly do all kinds of nice, thoughtful things when you think no one’s looking. Like all the charity stuff with Ellie and Jen.”

“I only do that because they harass me until I’m teetering on the ragged edge of sanity.”

“Trust me, you’re very lovable.”

“Well, frankly, I think you could do better.”

“That’s part of your problem,” he said. “You’re so hard on yourself. Whenever anything’s less than perfect, you just want to write it off. Life doesn’t work that way. You screw up, you move on.”

“Well.” Mara straightened up in her seat. “You say that, but sometimes it’s not so easy to move on.”

Neither of them explicitly mentioned the incident in San Diego, but they didn’t have to.

“Oh no.” He grabbed the cocktail menu. “Are we back on that again?”

“Of course. We’re always going to go back to that, and it puts me at a permanent disadvantage.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“The pre-nup,” she said. “That’s where I’m going. If you really forgave me, you’d—”

“Let you walk all over me and call all the shots?”

“No, but—”

“I’m not going to back down on this, Mara.”

Googly-eyed couples at neighboring tables were starting to glance their way.

She forced herself to lower her voice. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since we had that argument last week. You think I don’t listen, but I do.”

He folded his arms and waited.

“Signing a pre-nup shouldn’t really be about me protecting myself or you protecting yourself. It should be about each of us protecting the other. We’re a great team; we’re going to be even more successful after we get married. A pre-nup ensures that we’ll both have an equal stake in everything we acquire together.”

“In the event of a divorce,” Josh clarified.

“For the last time: we’re not going to get divorced. But by including the cheating clause, you’re negating the shared protection guaranteed by a pre-nup, which defeats the whole purpose. Plus, legally, Arizona is a no-fault state so your attorney is going to have a hell of a time enforcing that clause.
Plus,
as I believe I’ve mentioned previously, I’m not going to cheat.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” he retorted. “And don’t get all lawyerly on me; you have your principles, and I have mine.”

She slammed her palm down on the table, rattling the silverware. “You know what? I think I have the answer to all our problems. When’s your bachelor party?”

“We fly to Vegas on Thursday night.”

“All right, you go to Vegas with your buddies and while you’re there, have a one-night stand.”

He laughed. “Give me a break.”

“I’m not kidding. I can’t change the past, and obviously, you’re never going to get over it. So go have sex with someone else and then we’ll finally be even.”

“Mara…”

“Find yourself a showgirl or a hot blackjack dealer or whatever. Hire a call girl if you want. Just get it over with already.”

“You’re insane. I’m not going to sleep with someone else.”

“Why? Because then you won’t have the moral high ground every time we fight? I want you to cheat on me, Josh. I’m begging you to!”

“Is this some sort of test?” He gave her a long, assessing stare. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“Oh, I mean it,” she assured him.

“You’re telling me to go to Vegas four weeks before our wedding and sleep with someone else?”

“Correct.” She nodded crisply.

“Fine, then.” He folded up his napkin. “I’ll do it.”

She blinked. “What?”

“If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get. I’m taking you at your word.” He got to his feet and tossed some cash on the table. “I’ll talk to you when I get back from the bachelor party. When we’re even.”