Her words startle me. Since I already agreed to take their case yesterday, I’m not sure why she’s pleading with me now. Unless… she somehow sensed that I might be having second thoughts.
If she did, bringing Wren here to meet me was a stroke of genius. Yesterday, their case was complex, but abstract. But after meeting that little girl and hearing her story, it’s very, very real to me. There’s no way I can drop them now.
“I’m glad you don’t think there’s any danger from your husband and your family. But I guess I can’t say Tank is wrong to be concerned,” I concede. “One thing I’ve found from my years as an attorney is that divorce is a process of telling yourself that your spouse would never do any of the horrible things people warn you about — and then finding out that they could do all of that, and more.”
Cady raises a brow. “Wow. Well, let’s hope not. But thank you for being understanding about it.”
“Of course. And like I said at our first meeting, I promise I’ll talk to you before considering any action that could have unpleasant consequences. But I have to warn you, Cady, that might mean we hit a roadblock or two. Or even a dead end.”
She sucks in a breath. “I know. We’ll just hope for the best.”
We spend a few minutes going over the documents she brought me. They cover most of the information I asked Cady to provide, and give me suggestions of ways to follow up on the info she doesn’t have. When we’re finished, Cady, leans back in her chair, looking hopeful.
“Thank you so much, Ember.” She glances toward the door. “We should probably get going. I’ve got some other errands to run this morning, and then I have to get Wren to a play date.”
I stand with her, and we walk back out into the reception area. Cady tells Wren it’s time to leave. The little girl dips her head shyly at Margot in goodbye, and then runs to me, giving me a tight hug around the waist.
“Bye-bye, Wren,” I murmur, feeling a tug in my chest. I reach down and stroke her hair. “I’ll see you soon, I hope.”
Wren releases me, and Cady takes her hand. Together, they walk out the front door to the parking lot.
“Damn cute kid,” Margot says, watching them leave.
“She really is,” I breathe. Even to me, I sound almost wistful.
Margot turns her head, cocks a brow. “Is that the low violin string of your long-dormant maternal instinct I hear?” she jokes.
It’s a running gag between us that she thinks I’m suppressing my desire to be a mother. I think she’s full of it. I mean sure, I love her son Benji, but I’m more than happy to be Auntie Em. Aunts get to be there for all the fun, give ridiculously impractical birthday gifts, and leave the discipline to the parents. That’s much more my speed.
Wren definitely charmed me, though. I know I’ll do everything I can to do do right by that little girl. She deserves it, and so does her family.
9
Ember
Later that afternoon, I’m interrupted by a soft rap on my closed door. Margot pushes it open and appears in the doorway.
“You have a visitor.”
I frown. “I don’t have any appointments.”
“I know.” She purses her lips, and the irritation on her face tells me instantly who it is.
“Oh.” Shit. “Um… did you already tell him I’m here?”
She looks pained. “He saw your car in the lot. Sorry.”
Dammit. “Of course he did. Okay, send him in.”
Margot turns and calls out into the waiting area. “Come on in,” she barks.
Seconds later, my husband squeezes past Margot through the doorway. She doesn’t bother moving for him.
“Do you mind?” Mark snipes at his cousin.
“Yes, I do,” Margot shoots back. “You don’t have an appointment, so don’t waste her time. She’s got a lot of work today.”
I love Margot so much. When I first met Mark’s family after getting engaged to him, she kept me at arm’s length. Eventually, she warmed up to me, but Margot still kept her distance for a long time. It wasn’t until I confided in her that Mark and I had split that she finally told me why.
“I figured if you fell in love with my cousin, there was something wrong with you,” she said. “But eventually, I realized he’d pulled the wool over your eyes like he does with everyone else. I decided you were okay. Just dumb.”
“Gee, thanks,” I remember joking.
“Oh, I don’t mean it in a bad way.” Margot gave me a sympathetic look. “A lot of people are dumb where Mark’s concerned. He’s got that charming narcissism that seems to suck people in.”
She was exactly right. Thankfully, I no longer believe the act.
“What do you want, Mark?” I ask as Margot pulls the door closed behind him. “Margot wasn’t kidding, I do have a lot of work to do.”
“December,” he intones, ignoring my question. His eyes flick over my outfit, my hairstyle. “You’re looking well.”
I hate this overly formal condescending way he talks to me since we split up. It’s like he’s talking to a wayward child who hasn’t come back to her senses yet.
“Thank you,” I reply.
He waits a beat, maybe expecting me to return the compliment. I don’t give him the pleasure.
Mark is attractive enough. Of course, I used to think he was very handsome. He’s not particularly tall, at five feet nine inches. His hair is light brown, his eyes are brown behind his tortoise shell glasses. He has a tendency to talk a little too loudly in a crowd, the kind of man who works to be the center of attention in any room. He’s charming in a glad-handing, superficial way that works to his advantage in his career as an investment advisor. Mark Pante of Pante Investment Securities LLC makes his living by convincing other people to let him take risks with their money, and lining his pockets with the profits. And he’s got just the personality for it.
“I assume this isn’t just a friendly visit, Mark,” I prompt. “So maybe you could get on with it?”
“Aren’t you going to ask me to sit?”
“You’ll do what you want anyway,” I retort.
With a smirk, he takes the seat across from me that Cady occupied earlier.
“I do have a bit of a favor to ask.” Mark shoots me a coy look that is meant to seem sheepish.
My impatience turns me snippy. “What is it?”
He pouts, put out that I’m not playing along. “I’d like you to come to dinner with me this Saturday at the club, with Fletcher Hadley and his wife.”
“Fletcher Hadley?” I snort in disbelief. “You mean, the father of the woman you cheated on me with? No thank you.”
Fletcher Hadley is easily one of the richest men in Tanner Springs. The Hadley family owns half of Main Street, the biggest bank in town, and a construction and contracting business that seems to always get first dibs on any large-scale project that the City Council approves. His daughter Denise is an old flame of Mark’s from high school, and one of a string of women Mark slept with without my knowledge during our relationship. From what Margot has told me — and from what Mark’s mother herself has wistfully confirmed — Mark and Denise were the “it” couple back then. The high school sweethearts everyone assumed would get married.