“I
s it true?” my mother asks.
I sigh softly. “Yes, it’s true.”
Her glossy red lips part in surprise. But there’s also anger and disappointment in her expression. And how can she not be upset with Adam after the lowdown dirty thing he’s done?
“How could you not tell me about this?” she demands.
Wait a minute—is she upset with
me?
“Every day, I’m on the phone finalizing plans. I’ve been dealing with Diana while you’ve been sick. This event is less than two weeks away!”
This
event
is my life! I want to scream. Instead, I look at the pot of tea on the kitchen table in front of us that neither of us has touched. I don’t even want to meet her eyes, I’m so ashamed.
“Do you know what it was like to hear this while I was at the spa getting a pedicure?” She paces the floor in front of me, staring down at me—something that’s always made me feel one inch tall. “Monica Williams was there with her daughter and they asked me how you were holding up, so full of fake concern. I thought they were referring to the fact that you’d had the flu. I looked like a fool, Claudia.”
“I’m sorry.”
And this is exactly why I didn’t tell you. Because I knew I’d get some kind of lecture, not support.
Her face suddenly softens. “You haven’t heard from him at all?”
“He won’t return my calls. It’s like he doesn’t even exist anymore.”
My mother tightens her lips together as she shakes her head in disbelief. “How could he do this to you just days before the wedding?”
Finally, some concern for me! “I don’t know.”
“You must know something,” my mother insists, her expression going hard again. “A man doesn’t simply up and cancel a wedding without a reason.”
I swallow. Bite my lip to keep from blurting out something nasty. Then say, “Everything was fine between us. I have no clue why he did this. That’s also part of the reason I didn’t say anything. Because his decision was so…irrational. I kept expecting to hear from him, thinking he’d tell me he had cold feet. But I was planning to talk to you about it today because I think…I think it’s time to cancel the wedding,” I finish with difficulty. I can’t believe I’m actually saying this. “Or postpone it. We’ve got to tell people something, because right now I’m not sure it’s gonna happen.”
“I’m going to have a talk with Avery Hart,” my mother says sternly. “There’s a lot of money invested in this wedding. If Adam thinks he can cancel like this, he’s going to have a very big bill to pay. Whatever your problems, there’s no reason you can’t work them out.”
I want to tell my mother that she shouldn’t bother calling Adam’s mother, to let me deal with this—but maybe that’s what Adam needs. A firm talk from his mother or father could have him seeing the error of his ways.
I know—that’s a pathetic thought. But I love that man. And I’m hurting here.
“And in the meantime, I’ll start making calls.” My mother wanders to the sliding doors off the dinette and looks out at the sprawling backyard. “The day was supposed to be perfect. Look at what Dick did with the garden. The flowers are spectacular.” She sighs with chagrin. “I hope you two work this out, or this will be such an embarrassment.”
Thanks, Mother, for always making me feel so much better….
“No one wants this wedding to take place more than I do,” I point out.
My mother whirls around to face me, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “And you’re sure you didn’t have an argument? No sort of fight that led up to this?”
“I’m sure, Mother.”
“Have you tried going to see him?”
“Um, no. I figured he wanted space, and I didn’t want to pressure—”
“Pressure is exactly what he needs to see reason. You go to him. You talk to him. Tell him how much you love him. Don’t let Adam slip through your fingers.”
“I will, Mother.” I have to get away from her, or I’ll be popping cyanide pills before I know it. “And I guess there’s no time like the present.”
Her mouth curls in an ear-to-ear grin. “Maybe I should hold off making those calls.”
“I’ll talk to him and let you know how it goes, okay? I’ll see you later.”
“Oh,” my mother begins, forcing me to halt. “Dinner will be at five sharp, in the formal dining room. I hope you have good news by then. I certainly don’t want to have to tell your sister about this.” She sighs wearily. “First her marriage fell apart, now you might not even make it down the aisle…”
I start walking backward. “Later, Mother.”
I’m rolling my eyes the moment I start to turn around. Sometimes, I just need my mother to be a mother. Hold me against her chest and let me cry. This is one of those times.
Apparently, that’s too much to ask for.
When I reach the door to my adjoining apartment suite a few moments later, I hear the phone ringing. I throw open the door and charge inside. I snatch up the receiver without looking at the call display. “Hello?”
“Claudia, it’s Lishelle. I’m glad I caught you.”
“Hi, you.” It’s so nice to hear her voice after dealing with my mother. I lean my butt against the kitchen counter. “What’s up?”
“Did you get my message yesterday?”
“No. I…I was depressed. I haven’t checked my messages since we got back Sunday night.” Only my caller ID, and with no calls from Adam, I figured what was the point?
“I’m not sure if you know this already, but the latest story in the newsroom has to do with Adam.”
“My Adam?”
“Uh-huh. Apparently a check to some charity in Macon bounced. Some kids were supposed to go to Disney with their families and got quite the surprise at the airport.”
“What?”
“That was my first reaction, and I thought for sure there was some mistake, but the story’s true.”
“How could it have bounced?” I ask. “The charity is very healthy. The last fund-raiser brought in close to two hundred thousand dollars.”
“I don’t know how it happened but it did. I tried to reach you, and I even called Adam, but he hasn’t gotten back to me. We’re running the story at six o’clock.”
“Oh my God.” How can this be happening? And despite the fact that Adam hasn’t been in touch with me since his bombshell, the first thing I think is that he must need me now. “There’s no mistake?”
“Afraid not,” Lishelle tells me. “I was kinda hoping you’d know what was going on.”
“I have no clue. Like I said, I can’t imagine how this story could be true.”
“I did reach the charity’s spokesperson, and she says there was some kind of clerical error. But it doesn’t look good that Adam isn’t speaking, and the children’s families in Macon are very upset. I think the media is going to have a field day with this one.”
Why didn’t he call me?
I wonder.
“Hon, I’ve got to run right now, but if you find out anything, please call me at the station.”
“Thanks, Lishelle, for letting me know.” God knows I didn’t want to hear about this by watching the evening news.
As soon as I hang up with Lishelle, I call Adam’s home number. He doesn’t answer. I block my number and then call his cell.
“Hello?” He answers almost right away, and sounds impatient.
Oh my God—he picked up! “Hey,” I say softly. “It’s me.”
“Oh. Hi.”
“Baby, I just heard about the kids in Macon. What is going on?”
“I don’t know, Claudia. It’s messed up. There’s obviously been some mistake, but the media is acting like we deliberately set out to screw these kids over.”
“Where’s Charles?” I ask. Annelise’s husband is the charity’s secretary, and in charge of the books.
“Out of town on business, I guess. He hasn’t gotten back to me.” Adam groans. “Look, Claudia. I have to go.”
“Oh. Uh—”
“We’ll talk later, okay.”
“You’ll call me?”
“Yeah.”
And then he hangs up, and I know he has no intention of calling me back.
The next morning, I know I have to see Adam. I watched the various news shows last night, and every one of them featured the story. Some made it sound suspicious that Adam had been unreachable, but apparently around ten last night, he finally made a public statement.
“Our charity made a promise to those children, and we will honor that promise,” Adam said in a clip that’s been replayed over and over. “Unfortunately, we depend on donations from the good people of Atlanta, and even when money is pledged to us, it’s not always delivered when we expect it. I’m sure that’s what happened here.”
“What do you mean you’re sure?” one reporter asked, and then there were a barrage of other questions.
Looking distressed, Adam held up both hands to quiet the questions. “I’ll have more answers for you in a couple of days, but I assure you that we’re working as hard as possible to get the money for these children. We will not let them down.” He cracked a smile at the end of his statement, the kind of warm smile he uses to charm people.
It worked on at least some of the newscasters, because they made comments like, “There’s no doubt that Adam Hart is an upstanding citizen. He gave up his career in law to run this charity,” and, “I’ve met him, and he’s definitely a nice guy.” One newscaster went on to comment, “Maybe it’s time for the people of Atlanta to open their hearts and their wallets and give more money.”
The media certainly could have been harder on Adam, given the circumstances. Regardless, he’s got to be stressed. Maybe there have been problems with the charity he didn’t want to share with me, and he’s been preoccupied.
Is this why he dropped that bombshell about canceling the wedding?
I drive from my parents’ home in Duluth to Adam’s place in Buckhead in record time. Before I turn off my ignition, I’m halfway out of the car.
My mother’s words about talking to Adam and making him see reason sound in my head. But this visit isn’t just about trying to win him back. It’s about letting him know I’m there for him through thick and thin.
In sickness and in health.
In good times and in bad.
Till death do us part.
Adam’s Mercedes is parked in the driveway, so I know he’s there. I half expected to see a throng of media people here, too, but there was breaking news about a fire at some huge factory not too long ago. Maybe that’s why Adam’s been spared.
I inhale a deep breath, surprised at how nervous I am about seeing my man. And then I dig the key to the front door out of my purse.
But before I can find it, the door opens. All the air in my lungs rushes out of me when I see Adam with his arms wrapped around Arlene Nash’s waist.
Arlene Nash!
Seeing me, his eyes bulge. Arlene quickly throws a surprised gaze over her shoulder and looks me dead in the eye.
And then her lips curl in a slow, victorious smile.
“Adam?” I manage to say.
He slams the door shut. I hear the bolt lock.
OhmyGodohmyGod!
I stand there like a fool for a long moment. And then I turn and run back to my car.
“I
’m sorry, Mrs. Crawford. This credit card has been declined, also.”
My stomach sinks as I stare at the hotel clerk. “There’s got to be some mistake.”
“I’ve tried both twice,” she tells me in a voice that barely hides her impatience.
I glance behind me. Three people stand in line, waiting for me to be done already. One man checks his watch in an obvious gesture of his annoyance. The woman clutching a baby looks as if she’ll lose it if she has to spend another moment waiting in line.
“Since there’s only one person working right now, I don’t want to hold up the line.” I force a smile. It’s the middle of the day, for God’s sake. One clerk! “I’ll just, uh, get some cash and come back.”
I don’t meet anyone’s eyes as I walk away from the front counter. I head to the right and the ATM. But then I change my mind and slip outside the door instead.
Screw it. I’ll call Claudia and see if I can stay with her.
I ended up staying with my sister until this morning, but when she didn’t come home last night, I decided this was my chance to escape. Between her sex stories and her bashing me for staying with Charles so long, I can’t take much more of her.
I get in my car and drive out of the hotel’s parking lot. A couple blocks later, I see a bank and quickly swerve to the right so I can turn into it. Considering something screwy is going on with my credit cards, I’ll take out a hefty amount of cash to have on hand.
I opt for the ATM inside the bank, where it’s cooler. I put my card in and input the figure of one thousand dollars, which I suspect is the daily withdrawal limit.
The machine spits my card out.
INSUFFICIENT FUNDS flashes on the screen.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this bank has a lower withdrawal limit. I insert my card again, punch in my PIN, and this time try to withdraw five hundred. But once again, the machine spits my card out.
INSUFFICIENT FUNDS.
“How can this be?” I ask aloud. This is the joint account I share with Charles, and the last time I checked there was over thirty thousand dollars in there.
I go over the whole process again, this time hoping to get the modest amount of one hundred dollars.
INSUFFICIENT FUNDS.
A prickly feeling sweeps over me.
Oh my God.
My knees give way and I falter backward. I land against the glass window and slump onto the ledge.
No, God. Noooooooo!
An older woman enters the bank, sees me and draws up short. She stares at me, clearly wondering what my problem is. If I’m a psycho, or distressed. I guess she decides I’m not a threat because she continues to the ATM.
When she finishes her interaction, she heads to the door. But she stops there and turns. “Is there something I can help you with, dear?”
I shake my head. I can’t find my voice.
I sit there for only God knows how much longer. Three more people use the ATM, but none of those people utter a word to me.
If I weren’t so completely shell-shocked, I would have had the good sense to get myself out of here instead of looking like some crazy person. But the reality of what Charles has done has left a hole inside me. I feel like my very life is ebbing away.
Charles denied me sex and intimacy for a year and a half. He made me feel as if there was something wrong with me. And then I caught him in bed with his law partner and he didn’t even have the decency to apologize. Instead, he told me he loved another woman and that he wants out of our marriage.
Now he’s withdrawn money from
our
account, leaving me
penniless?
How dare he?
Shooting to my feet, I brush away my tears. No more feeling sorry for myself. I’m mad. Madder than hell.
Fuck Charles. Fuck the fact that I ever loved this man with all my heart. If he can do this to me, he doesn’t deserve even one of my tears.
I stomp out of the bank and curse Charles all the way to my car.
I’ll confront the slimeball at his office, where he can’t avoid me.
I march into Hindenberg, Hoffman and Crawford, heading straight for Charles’s office. Emily, the receptionist, smiles brightly when she sees me. “Hello, Annelise.”
I don’t say a word, but instead breeze by her to Charles’s door. “Annelise,” I hear her call out, “Charles asked not to be disturbed.”
“I don’t give a shit what Charles told you.”
I pick up my pace, feeling like I’m some escaped convict in the law firm where my husband is a partner, instead of his wife. That’s messed up.
A moment later, I throw open Charles’s door. It bangs against the doorstop. As it starts to bounce back, I quickly slip inside and allow myself the pleasure of slamming it shut. I guess I expect to see Charles and Marsha going at it again, but instead I see him with three other well-dressed men.
Charles’s stunned eyes meet my cold ones.
“Annelise—”
“I’m sure you’re in the middle of a very important meeting,” I say, “but right now, I don’t give a shit. And you shouldn’t, either, if you know what’s good for you.”
The men exchange glances with each other, then look at Charles. I can see on his face he’s weighing the pros and cons of what to do.
“If you want me to get into this right here…” I let my statement hang in the air like a dark storm cloud.
Charles pushes his chair back and stands. “Gentlemen, I’m sorry about this. But if you’ll excuse me for a moment?”
When he reaches me, he takes me firmly by the arm and ushers me outside. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Oh, you don’t even want to ask me that,” I shoot back. “You son of a bitch. You took all the money out of
our
bank account?”
He pauses only briefly before saying, “That’s money
I
earned.”
“You?”
“Well, let’s see. Your little photography hobby doesn’t pay squat. So yeah. It’s my money that was in that account. Not yours.”
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Hiding all your assets or something so you don’t have to give me any money? What the hell has happened to you?”
Charles doesn’t answer.
“You know what? I don’t care about the money. You want a divorce so badly, give me my half of the house and let’s be done with this already.”
Dennis Hoffman exits the men’s washroom and eyes us suspiciously. The moment he passes us, Charles lets out a loud groan. Then he takes me by the arm again and drags me down the hall. He ushers me into the men’s bathroom and locks the door behind him.
“What are you thinking? You can’t just come to my office like this.”
“And you can’t treat me as if we were never married.”
“Can you keep your voice down? This isn’t the time or the place. You need to let me contact you. You can’t disrupt the office like this.”
“Like I’m supposed to sit back and wait for you to call me?”
“Exactly.”
I can’t believe he has the nerve to expect me to be docile and conciliatory in this situation. “Have you called a Realtor, or shall I? Because if you’re cleaning out our account, I’d say it’s pretty obvious there’s no reconciling our marriage!”
“You can call someone if you like. I’m not sure what you expect to get out of it.”
“I’m going to get my half. That’s our matrimonial house, you fucking cheating bastard!”
“A home you abandoned,” he answers calmly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Now I’m the one to grip his arm. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You abandoned our home. It’ll be a cold day in hell before you force me to sell it and give you half.”
“You don’t have a choice,” I shoot back, but my voice wavers a little.
“Really? I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”
Charles is entirely too smug. Can he do this? Because I left the house, can he really rob me of what’s mine? Or is the bastard trying to scare me into submission?
“Fine—you want to be an asshole, I’ll get myself a lawyer.”
“Better be a damn good one,” Charles shouts as I storm out of the bathroom.
I called an emergency meeting with Claudia and Lishelle tonight, so here I am, heading into Liaisons to meet them both just after nine o’clock. I’m glad they could meet me, because I’ve been driving around aimlessly half the day, not knowing where to go or what to do. I’m afraid to go back to my house in case Charles has changed the alarm code. Given what he’s done already, I fear what he’s capable of.
Claudia doesn’t look much better than I feel when the host leads me to our table. She’s nursing a Cosmopolitan. Lishelle has a glass of wine in front of her and besides appearing tired, concern clouds her beautiful face.
“Annie,” Lishelle says. “Your message sounded so—”
“That fucking son of a bitch!” I exclaim before I plop myself down on the plush seat.
“Angry,” Lishelle finishes.
“If I could smash his face into a bloody pulp with a baseball bat and get away with it, I promise you I would.”
“Uh-oh,” Claudia says. “Tell me you’ve turned into a psychotic maniac because you’re taking drugs to make it through the day.”
“I’ve turned into a psychotic maniac because Charles has turned into a motherfucking bastard!”
“Wow.” Claudia gulps at her Cosmo. “He must have done something really shitty for you to be cursing like a trucker.”
“I thought I was the one with the foul mouth,” Lishelle comments. “Annie, you hardly cuss.”
“I’ve been cussing something awful today.” Something I didn’t think I was capable of, given the way I was raised. But hellfires or not, I’ve discovered what a stress reliever it is to curse a blue streak.
“You sound madder than when you found out Charles was fucking his law partner,” Lishelle comments.
“Because I
am
madder. I am pissed the fuck off.”
“Let’s get you a drink.” Claudia gets the waitress’s attention, someone I haven’t seen before. I order a Cosmopolitan. It’s a nice strong drink.
“Now,” Lishelle says when the waitress is gone. “What the hell is going on?”
“Do you believe that scum-sucking pig cleaned out our account? Leaving me exactly zero?”
Lishelle gasps. Claudia giggles.
I stare at Claudia.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. But I’ve been popping antidepressants since noon. I know you’re not supposed to drink when you take them, but when you’ve had the day I’ve had…” She finishes her Cosmo and starts laughing again.
“Ignore her,” Lishelle tells me.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“She’s got some news of her own. Maybe it’s something in the water. The men drink it and it turns them into world-class assholes.”
“She talked to Adam?”
“I’ll save that story for dessert,” Claudia announces.
The waitress arrives with my drink, and before she walks away, I tell her that I need another one. Then I down the contents of the glass, wincing the entire time.
“Charles really cleaned out your joint account?” Lishelle asks. “I can’t believe he’d stoop so low.”
“He’s a man,” Claudia chimes. “They’re hard-wired to stoop low.”
“Tell me about it,” I comment. “And it gets better. He pretty much implied that I screwed myself out of my half of the house.”
Claudia’s eyes bulge. “Okay, now that’s low.”
“Oh, yeah. You’d never think I was married to the guy. He wants to cut me out of his life like I never existed.”
“Well, he can’t do that. He’s going to owe you big-time. He’s the breadwinner in the family, and you’re not in a position to support yourself.”
“He says that because I abandoned our home, I’m no longer entitled to any money from it.”
“That’s fucking absurd,” Lishelle blurts out. “It’s got to be—right?”
The reality of all that’s happened today hits me anew. “Oh, God. I can’t believe this is my life. I need another drink.”
The Cosmo I downed is warming my entire body, and I already feel the slightest bit light-headed. But the one Cosmo isn’t enough.
It’s not nearly enough.
“Where’s that waitress?” Claudia asks, glancing all around.
“You have definitely had enough,” Lishelle tells her.
“What happened?” I ask Claudia, who now has her tongue extended into her glass in hopes of catching the last dregs of Cosmo.
She looks beyond me. “Thank God.”
It’s the waitress. She’s got two more Cosmos on her tray.
I sip my drink this time, knowing I’ll need to go slowly with this one. Claudia sniffs at hers, then makes a face.
Lishelle drags the drink across the table. “I told you—you need to stop drinking.”
Claudia drops her head onto the table and softly sobs.
I look at Claudia, who might just be out cold, then at Lishelle. “Someone needs to tell me what happened.”
“Claudia saw Adam with Arlene Nash today. She was at his house, and they looked pretty cozy.”
“And she’s a rival socialite,” Claudia chimes without lifting her head.
“So it appears the wedding is definitely off,” Lishelle concludes.
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Claudia. Then again, maybe I’m not—if Adam’s that kind of pig, you’re better off without him.”
“All that money, wasted. My parents won’t be happy.” Claudia lifts her head. “And you know what’s really messed up? I went to his place to offer
him
a shoulder to cry on, after that story broke about the charity.”
“What story?”
While Claudia lowers her head again, Lishelle fills me in on the story about the children in Macon who won’t have their wish come true because the Wishes Come True Foundation screwed them over.
“How can that be possible?”
“According to Adam’s brief statement, some kind of clerical error,” Lishelle answers.
“Clerical error? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Lishelle shrugs, but her expression says she’s skeptical of the story.
“I’d ask Charles about it—if he weren’t being such a fucking prick.”
Claudia whips her head up. Surprisingly, she reaches for her Cosmo and sips it. “I won’t let him screw you over. I’ve got lawyers in my family. If you can’t afford one, I’ll help you out. You know I’ll help you in whatever way you need to get what you deserve.”