I was broken out of my self-pitying reverie when Mitzi pulled to a stop in front of her immaculate three bedroom Cape Cod style house. Mitzi received the house free and clear, in lieu of alimony, as part of her divorce settlement. She got the house, children and child support when her husband of nineteen years took up with a twenty-two-year-old bookkeeper at the accounting firm at which he worked.
To her credit, Mitzi did not mention my problems as I followed her, zombie-like into the kitchen, even when her twin eighteen-year-old daughters looked at us in wide-eyed surprise. Mitzi's daughters had recently graduated from high school and were slated to start at state in the fall. Thankfully, all three of the Morrison kids had prepaid tuition accounts set up when they were infants.
Dallas and Dakota Morrison looked more like Mitzi's younger sisters rather than her daughters. The girls weren't identical twins, but they both shared Mitzi's petite build. Dallas also shared her mother's strawberry blond hair and blue eyes, while Dakota had wavy brown tresses and her eyes were green.
When Mitzi finally broke her silence, she was all business.
"Take your bag down to Todd's old room in the basement, then come back up. I'm going to change and I'll be right back. Girls, you come with me," she orchestrated.
I nodded and opened the door leading down to her partially finished basement. Todd's room was a small bedroom with a single bed right past the laundry room and mechanicals. Todd was Mitzi's oldest child. He was a sophomore at state, and was currently involved in some sort of soccer training camp run by the college. He wasn't slated to return home for another two weeks. I threw my bag onto the bed and headed back upstairs with the paperwork from the process server. The Xanax had kicked in by then, and I was unnaturally calm and detached.
I was sitting at the small four seat table in the kitchen's breakfast nook with the contents of the envelopes spread out in front of me, when Mitzi dropped into the chair to my left. She had changed out of the slacks and blouse she wore at work, into a pair of denim shorts and a Jimmy Buffet t-shirt. The shorts were fairly short and tight, and even in my sad state, I could tell her small perky breasts were unencumbered by a bra. Mitzi was a very attractive and well preserved woman to be over forty and the mother of three.
"Any hints in there?" she asked, pointing to the spread out papers.
I shook my head.
"She says irreconcilable differences."
Mitzi nodded her understanding and then asked another question.
"How about the restraining order, why does she think she needs that?"
"She says my military experience and time in Afghanistan might make me prone to violence. She could have a point there," I replied.
Mitzi snorted derisively.
"Bullshit! You are the most easy going guy I know."
I shrugged noncommittally and passed her the section that enumerated the financial settlement Lindsey was proposing.
She studied the documents for a few minutes then cocked her eyes up at me.
"WOW! You can tell the woman's a lawyer. These financials are incredibly complete and the account balances on what you owe are current to the close of business yesterday."
"Read on," I said.
She flipped to the next page and started reading. Then gasped and looked back up at me.
"She wants the house and half your business, Josh. How can she get away with that?"
I sighed and thought back to how I'd titled the house and incorporated my business.
"I gave her the house as a graduation present. Both our names are on the loan but hers is the only name on the deed. When I incorporated J&L, I listed her as co-owner. I never imagined something like this, and I wanted to show her how important she was to me."
Further conversation was tabled when Dallas and Dakota bounced into the room to announce they were going to order pizza and go pick it up. I wasn't hungry, but I pulled out a couple of twenties and waved them towards the twins.
"Buy two, make one of them a meat lover's with jalapeño and it's my treat," I said.
Dakota plucked the money out of my hand while Dallas was speed dialing Pizza Hut on her cell phone. Once the pizza was ordered, both girls kissed me and their mother on the cheek and scampered out the door.
Forty-five minutes later, I was listlessly picking at my pizza as the three Morrison women did their best to divert me from my troubles. Dallas and Dakota were especially talkative as they quizzed me on the engineering curriculum at state. Both girls were math whizzes and were leaning towards a degree in electrical engineering or computer science. I thought they'd be better off with the engineering degree, but then again, I guessed that I might be slightly prejudiced. I finally promised them that I'd hook them up with my sister Shelby to get the other side of the story as well.
Mentioning my sister made me think that I'd have to tell my family about Lindsey and me. I cringed at the thought, because I knew along with telling them, I'd probably also have to ask to move back home temporarily until I found another place.
At the age of thirty, I was moving back in with mommy and daddy, my tail tucked between my legs like a whipped dog. How fucking sad was that?
After a fitful night of more tossing and turning than sleep, Dakota Morrison drove me back to the office Saturday morning so I could collect my truck. Before I hopped into the cab, Dakota surprised me with a tight lingering hug and a kiss on the lips.
"Mom was right, that bitch is crazy for letting you go," I heard her mutter as she walked back to her car.
I sucked it up, drove straight to my parent's house and told them the whole sad story. They were appropriately sympathetic and once again volunteered their basement. Dad even went with me to pick up some of my stuff from the U-Store-It over on Tenth Street.
I gave a surprised grunt when I opened the storage unit and saw the neatly labeled and professionally packed boxes stacked inside the ten by ten foot room. There was even a manifest, listing every item in every box that someone had taped to the inside of the door. As with everything, Lindsey had been thoroughly efficient in exorcising me from her life. In the end, I took the manifest, a large garment box of work clothes, and a much smaller box that was labeled as containing my laptop and back up hard drive. The rest I left to go through at a later date.
When we made it back to the house, Shelby Jane was there with mom. To her eternal credit, my sister wasn't there to gloat. Instead, she hugged me tight and told me how sorry she was for what I was going through.
Shelby helped me unload my stuff from my truck and quickly and efficiently set up my computer. Mom and dad still had a cable modem with a wireless router, so I was in business in only minutes. I put away my clothes and mounted my thirty-two inch flat panel television to the wall. Shelby helped me put fresh linen on the bed and presto ... it was as if I had never left. That thought depressed the hell out of me.
Shelby, however, wasn't going to let me wallow in self pity.
"Let me see the papers, Josh. Mitzi told me how bad she's fucking you over, but I want to see for my self," she demanded.
I flipped her the manila envelope.
"Lindsey wouldn't fuck me over, Shel; she's entitled to everything she asked for."
Shelby clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, but didn't say anything. She rapidly read through the divorce petition and then zeroed in on the proposed settlement. When she finished reading, she held up the document and stabbed it with her index finger.
"She is proposing that she assume the mortgage on your house and buy out your equity for fifty-thousand. It has to be worth three times that. And where did she get that kind of money anyway?" Shelby asked.
I shrugged wearily; none of this mattered in the least to me.
"Let it go, sis. I don't want the house anyway, if she isn't there to share it."
Shelby did let the house go, but she immediately focused in on my business. And in the end, she convinced me that I at least needed to maintain a majority ownership so decisions could be made without Lindsey's involvement. Right then I could not have cared less for the company, but I had people who depended on J&L for their livelihood, so I scratched out the fifty — fifty split and changed the numbers to fifty-one and forty-nine.
Sunday, I pretty much stayed in my apartment, coming out only to pick at the meals my mother prepared. But I wasn't down there sulking or feeling sorry for myself. Instead, I was planning on how I could get my wife back. Listen, I was a Ranger, and a Ranger never quits, and I'm an engineer, a man who solves problems, so determination replaced my despair. All I needed was a plan.
The first order of business was to get Lindsey to at least talk to me, so I decided that I'd mosey over to her law offices Monday morning, and drop off the changes I'd made to the settlement documents. I wasn't planning on the divorce moving forward; to me, the documents were merely a conversation starter.
The next morning, I was already in my office when Mitzi arrived at eight. She peeked her head into my office and gave me an inquiring look.
"I didn't expect to see you looking so chipper or dressed so smartly this morning," she said.
I flicked an imaginary piece of lint off the sleeve of my corduroy sports coat and shrugged.
"I'm going to try to see Lindsey today and convince her to drop this divorce foolishness. I love her, Mitzi, and I am going to do everything I can to win her back."
Mitzi clearly looked as if she disagreed with me, but she nodded her head in understanding and ducked back out of my office. I sighed and leaned back in my chair. I knew Mitzi was worried about me dragging out my pain and suffering by not making a clean break from Lindsey. I appreciated her for caring about my heart, but I wasn't interested in the least in Mitzi's doubts.
It was shortly after nine that same morning, when I eased my truck in one of the too small spaces of the parking garage connected to the modern high-rise building that housed the offices of Crossman, Fielding and Blakemore. CF&B occupied the top three floors of the twenty story office tower. The elevators in the building's lobby only ascended up to the eighteenth floor, which was the law firm's reception area.
I stepped off the elevator and into the plush reception area. A very pretty and immaculately-dressed young woman behind a horseshoe shaped desk gave me a dazzling smile.
"Good morning," she said in a friendly and well modulated voice, "welcome to Crossman, Fielding and Blakemore. How can we help you today?"
"Good morning," I replied just as courteously. "I have some paper work I need to personally deliver to Missus Fuller."
"Certainly, sir, may I have your name please?"
Her eyebrows twitched when I gave her my name, I could tell immediately she knew of me. She recovered quickly, though, and gave me another of her professional smiles as she picked up the phone.
"Please have a seat, Mister Fuller; someone will be out for you shortly."
I cooled my heels in the outer lobby for thirty minutes until someone finally came for me. I was expecting Lindsey's PA, a young woman named Cindy; instead, it was someone I'd never met before. Two things about Crossman, Fielding and Blakemore were readily apparent I thought as the woman approached me. One was that the women working here were all good looking, and the other was that even the mailroom guys here were better dressed than I. The woman glided to a stop in front of me and gave me the famous CF&B smile, I mentally added great dental plan to my list.
"Mister Fuller," she said as she extended her hand towards me, "I'm Amber."
Of course she was, and I'll bet the receptionist was named Tiffany. I took her hand gently and bowed slightly over it, all the while looking her in the eye, just the way parents taught me. They might have been hippies, but they were sticklers for manners.
"I'm pleased to meet you," I said, still avoiding even a glance at the impressive cleavage she had on tasteful display.
She squeezed my hand slightly and her smile finally reached her eyes. Then she dropped my hand and gracefully pirouetted, no mean feat, considering she was wearing three inch heels.
"Follow me please," she said over her shoulder.
Amber, I decided, looked as good from the back as she did from the front. We made one right turn and stopped in front of a half obscure glass door marked 'Sonia People' in gold leaf. Amber swung open the door and motioned me inside.
Sonia Peoples had a nice office; it was about twenty feet deep and twelve feet wide. Her desk was at the far end, in front of a bank of floor to ceiling darkly tinted windows. The windows famed an exceptional view of the bay. Between the door and the desk was a square coffee table flanked by a pair of comfortable looking wing chairs, and a matching love seat. There was a decanter of water, a couple of stemmed water glasses and a blue file folder on the glass topped table.
Sonia rose from behind her desk as I entered the room and stepped around to greet me. Sonia was exotically Mediterranean in appearance, with thick black hair in a French braid and almond shaped brown eyes. She was a short woman, even in heels she was barely five-five. I guessed that she was a few years older than I, mid-thirties maybe. We exchanged names without a handshake and she motioned me to sit in one of the wing chairs while she gracefully folded herself into the other. Amber perched herself on the couch to my right.
"Sorry I kept you waiting Mister Fuller, but it took a few minutes to get Lindsey's approval on the changes you made and to print the new petition. Amber is a notary and is here as a witness," she said as she opened the folder on the table.
I didn't even spare the folder a glance.
"Where's Lindsey and why am I meeting with you instead of her?" I asked.
"Lindsey is unavailable, but we don't need her here anyway. After all, she agreed to your changes," Sonia answered.
"Too busy to tell me why she wants to destroy our marriage?" I asked incredulously.
Sonia cocked her head to the side and regarded me intently.
"It was my understanding that your marriage is irreconcilably broken and you wouldn't oppose the divorce. So why is it necessary for you two to meet? Besides, such a meeting would violate the order of protection." she said reasonably.
I was starting to get a little hot under the collar. This whole thing was happening around me and all I had been doing was acting defensively. That was about to change.
"I didn't have a clue my marriage was in trouble until your process server ambushed me Friday afternoon. Still, if Lindsey wants a divorce, I might not oppose it, but she's going to have to tell me why, face to face. And this restraining order is a bunch of crap. I've never even raise my voice at Lindsey, let alone my hand," I said firmly.
My statement didn't faze Sonia in the least. In fact, her voice took on a slightly steely edge.
"The firm thought the order quite appropriate, given your rather violent past as some sort of commando in Afghanistan. Besides, Missus Fuller did not accuse you of any mistreatment in her petition."
Sonia sighed and her voice lost its hard edge. When she spoke again, it was almost tenderly, she was a hell of a convincing lawyer.
"Listen Josh, this is a no fault state, the settlement is fair, and the divorce is going forward, whether you like it or not. Lindsey bears you no animosity; she just wants her freedom. If you truly loved her, you'll do this for her."
Sonia opened the folder and flipped the document to the last page and handed me a pen.
"Be the bigger person, Josh, sign this so you can both get on with your lives," she said softly.
I almost did just that. It broke my heart, but I did love Lindsey enough to let her go. I was leaning towards the document while Sonia smiled encouragingly, when my brain kicked into gear. What the hell was the rush? If I signed this now, I would never get the chance to change Lindsey's mind. I dropped the pen and leaned back in the chair.
"Nice try counselor, but I'm not signing anything until Lindsey and I talk. Besides, something doesn't feel right about all this. You seem in too big a hurry for some reason, so I think I need a lawyer of my own to protect my interest," I said as I stood up.
Sonia frowned and started to say something, but I spun on my heels and headed for the door.
"I'll let myself out," I said curtly.
Amber jumped up from the couch and scurried after me. She escorted me to the elevators. This time she walked by my side, matching me stride for stride. When we rounded the corner away from Sonia's office, she put her hand on my arm and stopped walking. I stopped too, and looked at her.
"I'm sorry you are going through this, Mister Fuller, Cindy told me you are a really nice guy. Please don't blame Sonia and me for this, our instructions come directly from Mister Blakemore," she said, her voice so soft I could barely hear her.
Before I could ask her what she meant, she strode off towards the lobby. When we reached the elevators, Amber looked around to make sure no one was paying us any extra attention and then pressed a business card into my hand.
"My home and cell number are on the back. If this doesn't turn out well for you, give me a call. I'm a good listener, and there is a dearth of good men in this burg," she said.
I palmed the card and took her hand in mine.
"Thanks, Amber, I appreciate that. But I can't imagine a man not wanting to be good for someone like you," I said sincerely.
Amber blushed as she pulled her hand from mine, but she favored me with another genuine smile.
"Lindsey must be nuts," she said as she walked away.
I was deep in thought as I rode down the elevator then walked out of the building. Amber's mentioning Blakemore's involvement was unsettling. In a firm of high priced skilled attorneys, why did he think it necessary to ride herd on Lindsey's divorce? The only reason I could think of turned my stomach.