The Pre-Nup Read online

  “What?” Alex glanced down at the outfit with evident amusement. “I’m still not covered up enough for you? Wow, you are the jealous type. What do you want, a burka?”

  “That’s Josh’s hat,” Mara said. “And his sweater. I gave him that sweater.”

  “Yeah, and?” Alex shrugged. “I don’t go prancing around in Day-Glo spandex on my days off, you know.”

  “What exactly are you doing here?”

  Alex volleyed back with “What are you doing here?”

  “I asked you first.”

  “Didn’t twist the knife enough in Vegas?” Alex shook her head in disgust. “Had to come back to make sure he’s miserable without you?”

  Mara tried to barge into the apartment, but the tiny dancer wouldn’t back down. “There’d better be a good explanation for this.”

  “Oh, there is.” Alex’s face was solemn, but her hazel eyes sparkled. “A very simple one. Come on, use your brilliant lawyer brain to connect the dots.”

  “No. Uh-uh. There is no way,” Mara said with more conviction than she felt. “Josh would never take up with—”

  All humor vanished from the other woman’s expression. “With a skank like me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

  “No.” Mara shook her head and backpedaled furiously. How had she been relegated from offense to defense in the space of two minutes? “But, I mean, we just broke up.”

  “Trust me, babycakes, I’m the perfect rebound girl.” Alex pursed her plump, pink lips into a sexy pout. “Fun, frisky, and no mind games. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m right in the middle of Law and Order, so…” She started to close the door.

  “I do mind, actually.” Mara shoved the door back open and darted into the apartment, which smelled of freshly microwaved popcorn. The kitchen and living room were tidier than she’d ever seen them. Either Josh had finally hired a cleaning service or his houseguest had marked her territory with a Swiffer and a bottle of Windex.

  The DeLorenzo documents were still safely nestled inside the bread box. Mara retrieved them without comment, then marched back toward the door. “This is not over,” she informed Alex icily.

  “What’s that?” Alex eyed the file folder.

  “None of your business.”

  “Actually, it is my business if you rob the place while I’m standing right here.” Alex made a surprise grab for the file folder and a brief, high-pitched scuffle ensued on the threshold.

  Mara gasped and flailed wildly as Alex caught a fistful of her hair. “You—ouch! Let go!” She dug her nails into the sleeve of Josh’s sweater.

  Alex yelped. “I’ll let go when you do!”

  “Ow!”

  “Ow!”

  “Shuddup or I’m calling the cops!” a deep voice boomed from down the hall.

  “Good! Tell them I’m being robbed.” Alex wrestled Mara out into the hall, then snatched the file folder, pivoted, and triple-locked the apartment door before Mara could regain her balance.

  Mara leaned against the wall for a moment, panting and swearing under her breath. Then she pounded on the door until the ornery neighbor down the hall started yelling again.

  “Open up,” she demanded, pressing her cheek up against the cold metal door panel.

  No response from Alex.

  “Just give me that file folder and I’ll leave you alone,” she tried.

  Nothing.

  “Please?”

  All she could hear from inside the apartment was the upbeat music from a television commercial.

  “Fine. Fine! I didn’t want to drag Josh into this, but you leave me no choice. Pack up your pasties, woman, ’cause you’re going to be on the first flight back to Vegas.”

  Mara charged into the Second Dawn Center and headed straight for Josh’s makeshift office next to the break room. Cosmetically, the nonprofit center was the polar opposite of her posh law firm: industrial green paint on the walls, haphazard stacks of papers atop battered filing cabinets, the scent of coffee and chemical cleansers ground into the carpets. The staff here didn’t get bloated expense accounts or private bathrooms. Instead, Mara imagined, they got a sense of fulfillment and good karma, though Josh had often remarked that the day-to-day reality of his job—writing grant proposals, monitoring investments, navigating political bureaucracies, and hitting up corporate donors for money—was more tedious than transcendent.

  His office door was ajar; he sat inside with his back to her. She could see the very beginnings of a bald spot peeking through his brown hair. The small, pale patch of skin stopped her in her tracks for a moment as she realized how vulnerable he was underneath his outward demeanor of affable capability.

  She shook off her apprehension and announced herself with crisp efficiency. “Question: What is that stripper from Vegas doing in your apartment?”

  Josh jumped about a foot and banged his knees on the underside of his metal desk. “Mara! God! What are you doing here?”

  “Considering filing assault charges,” she answered. “Your busty little friend practically bludgeoned me to death this afternoon. She’s a lunatic and probably a felon. I hope the sex is worth it.”

  He grimaced and rubbed his knee. “You went to my apartment?”

  “I needed some work documents I’d left in the kitchen. I still need them, actually, because when I tried to recover what was rightfully mine, she attacked me. She’s violent, I tell you, and I…I will sue!”

  Josh looked like he was trying to suppress a smile. “You’re going to sue?”

  “That’s right! Do you have any idea how much I spend every month on my hair? Cut, color, conditioning? And she ripped out half of it, at least.”

  Josh’s chair squeaked as he leaned back to assess the damage. “You look fine to me.”

  “Well, you can’t see the emotional pain and suffering I’ve endured,” Mara blustered. “She’s devious and unstable and what the hell is she doing in your apartment wearing the sweater I gave you for Christmas?”

  “Ah.” Josh nodded. “So that’s what this is about.” He templed his fingers under his chin and gave her a long, appraising look.

  “You said nothing happened between you two! Liar!”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions. She asked for help; I’m helping.”

  “Helping her. I see. Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

  “You should try to have a little compassion. Not everyone has had the advantages you have.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to move them into your apartment and dress them up in the double-ply cashmere sweaters that your ‘compassionless’ ex-fiancée gave you! And stop laughing, it’s not funny.”

  “I can’t tell which you’re more upset about,” Josh said. “Me or the sweater.”

  “She’s a menace to society.”

  “She’s probably going to be my new volunteer coordinator.”

  Mara’s dismay intensified. “You’re hiring her?”

  “I might. She wanted a career change, and she’s having trouble getting back on her feet after—”

  “I don’t believe this. Why can’t you just come home from Vegas with an STD or a tattoo like everyone else?”

  “She deserves a chance to start over.”

  “You know what your problem is?” Mara fumed. “You’re too good for your own good. She’s taking advantage of you!”

  “Hey.” For the first time, his tone was tinged with anger. “Back off. I’m allowed to have a houseguest, and you…Well, you don’t get a say anymore.”

  She gazed up at the water-stained ceiling tiles. “I know. And I’m sorry, Josh. I really am. I hate myself, if that makes you feel any better.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “See? Too good for your own good.” Charged, heavy silence fell over them for a moment, then Josh started rearranging the contents of his desktop.

  “Anyway, Alex’s got nowhere else to stay. She can’t afford a hotel and she doesn’t have enough saved for a deposit on her own place.”


  “How can that be? She got two hundred dollars for every sucker she could lure back to the VIP room. Plus pole dances, lap dances…. She probably makes more money than I do.”

  “I get the feeling prudent financial stewardship isn’t her strong suit. So unless you’re offering a spare bedroom…”

  Mara’s eyes lit up. “I’m offering four, as a matter of fact. Your sweater will be back in your closet by nightfall.”

  “Look who’s a humanitarian all of a sudden.”

  “I’m Mother Teresa in a miniskirt. Leave everything to me.”

  Ellie Chapter 21

  Hi, is Patrice there?” After sitting in the lobby of her lawyer’s office building for an hour, reeling in disbelief and zoning out to the steady splash from the indoor waterfall, Ellie finally shook off her stupor and took action. “It’s Ellie.”

  Tina, Patrice and Heath’s housekeeper, paused on the other end of the phone line. “Mrs. Barton’s not at home right now. But I’ll be sure to let her know you called.” Her voice sounded formal and distant, as if she had never met Ellie. As if the last seven years of chatting and snacking together after Patrice’s lavish dinner parties had never happened.

  Ellie pretended not to pick up on the cold undertone. “Well, it’s kind of urgent. Do you know where she is? Because she’s not answering her cell phone, and I need to speak with her right away.”

  “I’m not sure,” Tina hedged.

  Ellie sighed. “Look. I get that this is awkward, but you know I wouldn’t press you on this if it weren’t an emergency.”

  Tina finally cracked a little. “Is Hannah all right?”

  “Don’t worry, Hannah’s fine.” Ellie racked her brain, trying to remember what she would have been doing today if her marriage hadn’t suddenly jumped the track. “Patrice is at a committee meeting, isn’t she? For the cancer benefit?”

  A looong pause. “It’s possible.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Did she mention who’s hosting today?”

  “I can’t tell you that,” Tina said.

  “Please?” As the word left her lips, Ellie realized that she had found herself in a position of supplication with alarming frequency since Michael left. This would have to stop. Soon.

  “I don’t want to get involved in all this,” Tina said.

  “Well, neither did I, but here I am. Come on, just give me a name.”

  “Oh, all right. For you.” The housekeeper lowered her voice to a whisper. “Caroline Surbaugh.”

  “Oh crap, not Caroline.” Ellie cringed. “Thanks, Tina. And don’t worry; if anyone asks, I’ll say you hung up on me before I could even finish saying hello.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” And then Tina did hang up on her. Ellie listened to the dial tone, stunned at the speed with which she’d been demoted from the level of chummy confidante to telemarketer. Then she put on her coat and prepared to face the clique of elder stateswomen that she, Jen, and Mara privately referred to as “the gold-plated Gestapo.”

  Caroline Surbaugh epitomized the expression “A woman can never be too rich or too thin” and was both reviled and revered throughout Mayfair Estates as the sun around which the social solar system revolved. She had a tendency to overindulge at cocktail parties (not difficult, considering she probably tipped the scales at less than a hundred pounds) and expound on topics of questionable taste. Mara hated her because she had once opined that “anyone worth less than five million dollars is only ‘beer and pretzels’ rich,” and Jen hated her because she had once offered to send Jen some special herbal tea that would help Jen (who had just finished training for a triathlon) “lose those last five stubborn pounds.” Ellie had no reason to hate her, as she had Patrice as a buffer. Until now.

  Ellie arrived at the front door of the Surbaughs’ sprawling Spanish-style hacienda and tried to comfort herself with the thought that her life could not possibly suck any more than it already did. Let the ladies who lunch do their worst.

  She rang the bell and began the countdown to her official excommunication from polite society. In five…four…three…

  “Ellie Barton!” Caroline exclaimed, louder than was strictly necessary. “What a surprise!”

  All conversation in the living room immediately ceased. Ellie could hear the clink of a demitasse spoon against a china cup, and then total silence.

  “We’re so glad you could join us,” Caroline gushed, motioning Ellie in for an air kiss. “But I have to say, I didn’t think you’d make it, considering…”

  Sharp staccato footfalls echoed off the coffered wood ceiling as Patrice rushed to join Caroline in the foyer. “Ellie, darling.” Her voice was also loud and cordial, presumably to convey to all assembled that she and her daughter-in-law were still on good terms.

  The sight of her mother-in-law broke Ellie’s heart all over again. Losing Michael had been bad enough, but in some ways, losing Patrice would be worse.

  Ellie kept her posture rigid when Patrice attempted to hug her. “We need to talk.”

  Patrice dropped her arms and nodded. She appeared perfectly put together, as usual, in a crisp white blouse and brown herringbone trousers, but her face bore evidence of strain. Her gray eyes had lost their customary snap and the fine lines around her mouth had deepened. “Of course. I have an appointment this afternoon I simply can’t cancel, but let’s try to find time this weekend.”

  “Now.” Ellie tried to ignore the crescendo of scandalized whispers building in the next room. “This can’t wait.”

  “Very well.” Patrice’s smile remained firmly in place under Caroline’s watchful gaze. “Let’s step out to the patio. Caroline, may we?”

  “Of course.” Caroline led them back through the dining room and opened the French door leading out to the gardens.

  Ellie waited until the glass doors closed completely before she opened her mouth again, but Patrice surprised her by initiating the conversation. “I know you met with our lawyers, and I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart.”

  Ellie let her shoulders slump as her spirit wilted. “So you knew? You knew what he was going to say about wanting full custody of Hannah?”

  “Well, no, not precisely.”

  “Then why don’t you seem surprised?”

  “I don’t know all the details, darling.” And I don’t want to, was the unspoken implication. “Please believe me when I say I would never participate in the legal machinations. I’m trying very hard not to get involved.”

  “Great. One more person who doesn’t want to get involved. Meanwhile, Michael is screwing me over and no one is stopping him.”

  Patrice touched her lightly on the shoulder. “I am so, so sorry, Ellie.”

  “Don’t be sorry!” Ellie pulled away. “Be on my side!”

  Her mother-in-law didn’t reply.

  “I’m still the same person, you know. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re the one who told me to give him another chance.”

  “I know.”

  “And now he’s trying to weasel out of paying alimony and threatening to take my baby away and he’s saying you and Heath are in full agreement! How could you?”

  Patrice sidestepped this with “Surely you know how highly Heath and I both think of you.”

  “Then how can you sit by and let him do this to me?”

  “I really…” She waved her hands helplessly. “I’m not privy to the details. The lawyers…”

  “Don’t give me that, Patrice! You’re the linchpin of this family. If you say stop, he’ll stop.” She would not beg. She would not beg. Okay, maybe just a teeny bit. “Please help me out here.”

  Patrice raised one hand to touch the strand of pearls around her neck. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Think about how you would feel, Patrice, if Heath had left you and tried to take your sons away.”

  “Michael’s not going to take Hannah away from you. And he’s not going to let her go without. He wouldn’t do that,
and even if he wanted to, Heath and I would never allow it.”

  “Then what the hell?”

  “It’s just legal negotiations. That’s how the game is played.”

  “Oh. I see. To you guys, this is a game. But to me, this is my life.”

  “Try to understand. This isn’t personal. It’s not under my control and it has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

  “That’s even more disturbing.”

  “I adore you, Ellie, and I never imagined it would come to this.” Patrice lowered her eyes. “But, in the end, Michael is my child. We’re family.”

  “And I’m not. Got it. But let me remind you that I gave up my chance to attend law school for the sake of your family. I could have been one of those attorneys you’re so happy to let do your dirty work. Instead, I did what was best for Michael and helped him build his career, and now, I’m supposed to start all over with nothing because he kicked me out of the family? I don’t think so.”

  Patrice dabbed at her eyes with the cuff of her pristine white sleeve. “Oh, Ellie, I understand how difficult—”

  “Trust me, you have no idea.”

  “—but I hope that someday, in the future—”

  “No wonder you guys insisted on that pre-nup.” Ellie crossed her arms tightly. “It makes it so easy to take everything back: vows, jewelry, obligations. If you can find the right attorney to negotiate, it’s like my marriage never existed. Who cares about feelings as long as you get your precious piano back.” She turned and yanked open the French doors, surprising a trio of eavesdroppers, who scurried back to the living room. This time, the ladies didn’t bother whispering. They murmured and gasped and snickered, and Ellie had to go right through the gauntlet of gossip on her way out the door.

  “Leaving so soon?” Caroline called after her.

  Ellie didn’t bother with any more phony social niceties. She slammed into her car and peeled out, leaving tire tracks across the queen bee’s front lawn and plenty for everyone to buzz about.

  When Ellie pulled up to her house, she was shocked to see Mara standing on the front step, repeatedly jabbing at the doorbell.