Brennan stood with a broad smile on his face and shook all of his lawyers’ hands like he was O. J. Simpson and had just avoided a double murder rap.
I spent the next few moments consoling my attorney, who felt like he had let me down. I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and hugged him. He sniffled and nodded.
As Brennan passed me on his way out of the courtroom, he stopped and leaned down. “You look great, babe. Sorry about your little motion.”
“Why are you doing this? Why humiliate me on top of everything else?”
Brennan just grinned and said, “Because I can, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.”
Chapter 14
Outside the courthouse, my lawyer said it was all his fault. As I looked at him and his off-the-rack suit and Supercuts haircut, my thick file tucked under his right arm, I realized he had no idea the hearing had been fixed. He’d followed the rules and assumed everyone else would as well. I’d done the same, and look where that had gotten me.
My lawyer said, “I’ll keep looking for something we can exploit. But at some point you have to get on with your life. Christy, you’re a beautiful woman, and you shouldn’t let this experience sour your outlook on love.”
That was an easy thing for a father of three who had been married twenty years to say. I gave him a hug and sent him on his way.
That evening Marty had to work, so I sat in my quiet room at the Brazilian Court Hotel and did nothing but search the Internet for legal precedents and articles about situations like mine. I wanted to explore every possible option I had.
That night I barely slept, tossing and turning, my stomach tightening every time I thought about the hearing.
The next day, Marty came by around lunchtime, when I was only barely starting my day. He talked me into taking one of our usual walks along the beach. I was quiet for a while; then, after we had gone a way in the soft sand, he said, “Sorry I didn’t sleep over, but I had a ton to do. But because I worked during the night, now I have a few hours to spend with you on a beautiful day like this.”
I said, “It’s all right. I was on my iPad all night doing legal research anyway.” That seemed to catch his attention.
“I thought your attorney was supposed to do that kind of thing for you. Did you at least find anything interesting?”
“A few things.” I wasn’t sure if I was playing coy or worried about trusting Marty completely. It was easier to make him work for the answers so I could decide what I might say.
Marty said, “A few interesting legal leads? Can you give me a for-instance.”
I decided to jump in with both feet. “Did you have a will when you were going through your divorce?”
Marty said, “I had nothing to leave anyone. Teal was getting it all anyway.”
“Did you know that if you die without a will, it’s called dying intestate and generally the spouse is in line to get everything?”
That made Marty stop in his tracks. He even glanced around to make sure no one was near us on the beach, but by now we were blocks from the public beach and there wasn’t a soul in sight. He looked right at me and said, “That can’t be right. Even in a divorce.”
I told him what I had read. “As long as the divorce isn’t final, and there is no will, all of the precedents say the spouse is entitled to the estate.”
“Aren’t wills filed in court?”
“No. They can be held by the attorney, but usually they’re just kept right at the home of the deceased. It’s convenient and doesn’t cost anything. And most people really don’t think they’re gonna die anytime soon. It’s just one of those details that floats by in life.”
Marty started walking again and just said, “Really? Good to know. Next time I’m wealthy, I’ll make sure to give a will to my attorney just in case. One less thing to worry about.” He gave me that adorable smile that made all my troubles melt away. That was a rare quality in a man and something that couldn’t be faked. I started to realize just how lucky I’d been to find Marty at this time in my life.
Chapter 15
It took almost a week for me to get back to normal, but Friday afternoon Marty surprised me by showing up at the Brazilian Court, looking like a true Palm Beacher in his linen shirt with a cashmere sweater draped over his shoulders, khakis, and loafers with no socks. His fake Rolex would pass all but the closest of inspections.
As I assessed him spinning in my doorway and looking a little like a model, all he said to me was “Got any plans?”
I let the smile spread across my face as I said, “None at all.”
I almost thought he’d take me for another walk along the beach, but he told me to dress up and not expect to be back at the hotel for quite a while. I had no idea what that meant.
We hopped into his BMW and drove across the bridge into the center of downtown West Palm. Traffic was much heavier than it was on the island, and I was curious where we were headed.
He turned onto some side roads, obviously to throw me off and have some fun. The man took his games seriously, and I loved that. Then we found ourselves westbound on Okeechobee once again and crossing over I-95.
Finally I had to ask, “Where are we going?”
His goofy smile was infectious as he said, “You’ll see. We’re just going to play a game. Are you up for that?”
I could’ve said That depends, but I really was in the mood for something different. I needed to get my head out of my troubles, at least for a little while.
So I grabbed his free hand, which was resting on the gearshift. “Yes.”
When Marty pulled in to the Bentley dealer off Okeechobee, I became even more curious. This was a fun game, and I had no idea where it was headed. I knew there had to be some connection to seeing Brennan in his own Bentley the other day, but I was happy to watch the whole thing unfold.
I was in a dress that was more appropriate for an evening event but could pass for business attire at some of the higher-end jewelry stores or any of the shops on Worth Avenue. The Christian Louboutin pumps on my feet weren’t the easiest things to walk in, but they made my calves pop, so I had thrown a pair of comfortable shoes into the bag Marty had told me to pack.
I resisted the urge to ask questions and spoil the spontaneity as we walked, hand in hand, through the front door of the dealership and stood next to a dark red Mulsanne. Marty looked through the window of the car and down the hood like he was checking for imperfections. That drew a salesman like chum draws sharks.
We endured the introductions and a few minutes of small talk until the tall salesman, about forty-five, who could’ve been selling Mazdas as well as Bentleys, said, “So what, exactly, brings you out here today?”
Marty was very casual as he said, “My wife and I are in the market for a new car, and I thought it was time to seriously consider a Bentley. Brennan Moore recommended you guys.”
That line shocked me, but it had the desired effect on the salesman.
“I sold Brennan his Mulsanne, just like the one sitting right here.” He patted the hood of the car like it was a racehorse. “Brennan is a great guy, and I’m so happy he recommended us.”
The salesman looked at me for some kind of response, but all I could do was mumble, “Yeah, yeah, he’s the best.”