by Carol Grace
The next thing she heard was someone pounding on Max’s front door.
“Max, open up. It’s me, Lila,” came a high voice.
More pounding, more shouting. “Where are you? I know you’re home.” The woman sounded desperate.
Then she came around the back of the house. She was tall with flaming-red hair. Her skin was pale, but she had no freckles, or if she did, they were expertly covered with makeup, and she was stunningly attractive in short white shorts, smooth, tanned long legs, a tight, low-cut T-shirt and a big straw bag over one arm.
“Have you seen him?” she asked Sarah.
“Max?”
“No, Ralph Nader,” she snapped. “Of course Max. I have to see him. Now. Immediately.”
“No, I haven’t seen him. Are you sure he’s not home?”
“Unless he’s hiding from me. But why would he do that? I’m one of his best clients. Divorce number four coming up. What about you?” the woman asked, taking her sunglasses off to observe Sarah more closely. “Are you a client or just a neighbor?”
“Me? Neither really. I don’t live here normally. I’m just house-sitting and I’ve never been married.”
“Well, if you ever do take the plunge, I can recommend Max. As a lawyer, of course. Aside from that, he’s a heartbreaker. Ask anyone. Love them and leave them, that’s his motto. I guess it’s no big surprise. Anyone who’s seen the ins and outs of divorce court, naturally they’d be gun-shy. He’s got protective armor that even the best can’t penetrate. I know. Not that I’ve tried to pierce it. But I’ve heard all about it.
“I don’t know a woman who hasn’t fallen for him. Especially his clients. They’re hurt. They’re vulnerable. He makes them feel better. He doesn’t lead them on, I’ll say that for him, he’s just being nice, but they don’t get the message. Even though he makes it clear he never dates his clients. That’s his Golden Rule. And Rule Two, he doesn’t get serious about anyone he dates, no matter how attractive they are. When they want to know why, the answer is always the same. If there were fewer marriages, there’d be fewer divorces. He doesn’t want to be a statistic. He wouldn’t put anyone through the hell of divorce. Especially himself.”
Chapter Seven
Sarah stared at the woman in disbelief. She couldn’t imagine telling a stranger what this woman was telling her. She apparently needed no encouragement, in fact she hardly noticed Sarah was there. Her mouth never stopped moving. The message she was sending was even more depressing than the messenger. Though it was no surprise to hear he had no interest in marriage. Max had made that very clear.
“But like I said,” the woman continued, “if you’re the one getting a divorce, and I hope you’re not, he’s the best. Where would I be without him? I’d be penniless. My ex-husbands didn’t know what hit them. You know what he’s even better at than settlements?”
Sarah blinked. “Well, no.” The woman certainly went on and on. She wondered how Max would feel to hear her giving this run down on his methods and his rules of behavior.
“Prenups. They’re airtight. If you ever get married…You want my advice? Don’t fall in love with your husband. Not that I ever made that mistake. It would have made everything so messy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’m Lila, by the way,” she said and looked at her watch. “Where could he have gone? He’s not an early riser.”
Sarah shrugged. She was fairly curious herself. “Have you tried his cell phone?”
Lila nodded. “No answer. I left a message. I think I’ll wait around.” Lila sat down in a deck chair, stretched her long legs out in front of her, pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her purse and lit one.
Sarah waved the smoke away and stared at the woman. She was so sure of herself, so gorgeous, so rich. She had everything, including the best divorce lawyer money could buy. Everything but love. Why couldn’t she find happiness with one man? So this was the kind of person Max dealt with every day. How could he stand it? Even for all the money in the world, she could never put up with that kind of cynicism.
“What went wrong?” Sarah asked, curious in spite of herself, fully expecting the woman to tell her it was none of her business.
Instead she raised her eyebrows in surprise. Maybe she’d forgotten Sarah was still there.
“Wrong? With my last marriage?” She didn’t seem surprised or offended at the question. “The usual. He cheated on me.”
“That’s awful.” What a blow that must be, to be betrayed by the one person you thought you could trust.
“Yes, it is.”
Sarah backed away from the fence. She’d heard enough. She’d heard too much. It was all so tawdry. “Good luck,” she said, for want of anything better.
Lila waved her hand and Sarah went back to her computer. But her mind wasn’t on her work. She kept glancing toward the fence, still smelling the faint cigarette smoke that wafted toward her. Wishing Max would come back and do something about his client. Tell her to shape up. Tell her to face up to her own mistakes. To stop being greedy.
When he did, it was even harder to concentrate as they had their consultation, if you could call it that, right across the fence from her.
She didn’t know if Max saw her, because he didn’t look in her direction, but she saw him and heard everything he said to Lila.
The first thing she saw was Lila throwing herself into Max’s arms. Sarah felt a powerful twinge of pain as if she’d been struck by an arrow between her shoulder blades. It couldn’t be jealousy. She had no reason to be jealous. Max wasn’t anything to her, not even a real neighbor.
The pain increased as Max patted Lila on the back and muttered, “Everything’s going to be all right.”
Then he asked, just as Sarah had, “What happened?”
Lila burst into tears and Sarah couldn’t make out what she was saying until Max held the woman at arm’s length and said very loudly, “What?”
“Okay I cheated on him. What was I supposed to do, sit home at night crying into my pillow while he was out with other women?”
“You were not supposed to give him any reason to distrust you. God, Lila, you’ve been through this before. You knew the rules. Besides, Norm’s a friend of mine. You met him through me. You can’t possibly expect me…”
“But I do expect you to represent me.”
“Not this time.”
Lila threw a flowerpot at Max. Sarah jumped up and stifled a scream. Max ducked and the pot hit the side of the house.
Since the pot hadn’t struck Max, Lila tried hurling insults. “Pig, rat, scumbag. I’ll never trust you again. And I’ll never recommend you to any of my friends. Men. You’re all the same.” A few minutes later she’d stalked out of the yard. Sarah heard the squeal of her tires in the driveway and then it was quiet again.
Sarah didn’t move. If she held perfectly still, maybe Max wouldn’t notice she was there. He’d go into his house and then she’d sneak back into hers.
But a moment later, he called to her. “Did you hear that?”
“I’m afraid so,” she said. She got up and walked over to his fence. He looked uncustomarily glum. “So that’s what a divorce lawyer does to earn his money.”
“Nobody ever said it would be easy.”
“What does a lawyer do when he knows both partners in the lawsuit?”
“He steps back and lets somebody else handle it. I feel bad for Norm. But I warned him. I told him she was trouble. But he was head over heels.” Max shook his head. Worry lines creased his forehead. “I just went to see him. He looks awful. Can’t sleep. Can’t eat. He says he loved her.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“I believe he thought he loved her,” he said flatly.
“If you had a different job…”
“If I had a different job, I wouldn’t have this nice house.” He glanced behind him at the trees and shrubs surrounding his sparkling pool. “And what would I do on Sundays, play golf? Boring. That’s not me. Sure,
there are episodes like this from time to time, hysterical women, angry men, but I can’t let it bother me. What bothers me is when my clients don’t take my advice. They don’t get a prenup or they don’t wait until the divorce papers are signed before they’re back out there looking for the next husband or wife. They can’t stand to be alone. And whatever I did for a living, I still wouldn’t believe in love. I mean, what’s the point?”
Sarah didn’t have an answer for that one. What was the point of falling in love? She’d never done it, so she couldn’t speak from experience. For all she knew he was right. It didn’t exist except in song and story.
“Did he really cheat on her?” she asked.
“He says he didn’t. Until she cheated on him.”
“That’s awful.”
“Now maybe you understand why I don’t get married.”
“Not everyone’s like them,” she said. But she did understand. How could she not? She’d just had it all spelled out for her. Who could blame him? First his parents didn’t get along, didn’t provide an example of a happy marriage, then all his clients. If they were all like Lila, no wonder.
He gave her a long look. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes. She felt the tension rise between them. What was he thinking? Was he depressed because of Lila and her husband getting a divorce? Depressed because they hadn’t followed his advice? Depressed at the state of matrimony in general?
Finally he spoke. “You know, you’re one of the only women I know who hasn’t been married or divorced?”
“Really? I’m not sure if that’s something to be proud of or not.”
“Of course it is. It shows a strength of character. It shows an independent spirit, an ability to stand on your own. Earn your own living, enjoy your own company. You’re not even out looking. Hanging out in bars or reading the personals. Or are you?”
She laughed. “No. But I’m not sure I deserve all those things you said about me. Sometimes my own company bores me. Sometimes I wish…nothing.”
“You see? You’ve got what it takes. You have a life. Best of all, you’re not angry or bitter. In my experience, it’s all too common these days.”
Sarah blushed. Although she wasn’t sure it was that much of a compliment, considering where he was coming from. If his idea of a typical woman was one like Lila, then yes, she was a rare bird. To be realistic, it wasn’t as if she’d turned down a dozen men. It was easy to be single and independent when you didn’t have a choice.
“By the way,” she said, trying to sound offhand. “Would you like those tickets to the opera on Friday?”
“I’d like one of them.”
“You’d go alone?”
“I’d go with you. Isn’t that what your aunt would want?”
“I suppose she would. All right.” Sarah felt pleased and apprehensive. This wasn’t a date. There was no need to be nervous. It was just the opera. But what would she wear?
“Go get your bathing suit,” Max said, as if he wasn’t worried at all. Why should he be? He’d simply put on a suit that night and enjoy the evening for what it was. A chance to hear some good music from the best seats in the house. “Time for our next lesson.”
Sarah hesitated. Would he think less of her if she quit her swimming lessons? Yes, he would. Was she going to concentrate on the lesson with the water and the sun and her teacher’s half naked body with his suntanned skin and well-defined muscles so close to her? Maybe this time he wouldn’t have to hold her so tightly. Maybe he’d stand on one side of the shallow end and she’d swim to him. If she could swim at all.
She sighed. “Okay.”
Max watched her go, his arms crossed and on the top of the fence, his brow furrowed, his chin resting on his hands. The vision of Lila’s face contorted in anger wouldn’t leave him alone. Then he thought about poor Norm, who’d fallen for her, despite all advice to the contrary.
Max had to ask himself what he was doing, representing people who couldn’t manage their own lives. Was he inadvertently contributing to their problems by making it easy to get divorced and remarried? Because he was good at what he did, his clients only had to throw money at him and all their problems were solved. All except for the emptiness in their lives between marriages. Emptiness that they tried to fill by turning to someone else, over and over again. He rubbed his aching head. This wasn’t the first time he was disgusted by a client’s issues, but it was the first time he was disgusted with himself for his part in it.
He turned his head and looked at the house next door. Now there was a different kind of woman. He’d deliberately wangled that invitation to the opera. Not only did he want to hear the music, but he wanted to see what Sarah would look like dressed up.
What was it about this skinny, studious woman that had him so interested? So interested that he’d dreamed about her last night. He would never tell her because it meant nothing. Besides it would only embarrass her. She would blush and look away. It was the contrast, that was it. She was so different from the Lilas of this world.
He smiled to himself at the recollection of his dream. It was the craziest thing. He’d been wearing a satin jacket and riding hell-bent for leather across the golden hills of California. Sarah had been waiting for him behind a curtain in an adobe house, wearing that nightgown he’d seen her in the first night, her long hair cascading over one shoulder. It was her. He was sure it was her.
It was the middle of the night. He’d paused in front of the house and she’d leaped out of the second-story window onto his horse and they’d galloped off into the night. Sitting behind her in the saddle, he held her tightly, as her hair teased his senses, her soft curls blew across his face, the fragrance tantalizing his nose. He was sure she could feel the swell of his physical response as they sat pressed together, with the horse rocking beneath them.
Of course he knew what prompted the dream. It was all that talk about the early days of California’s history. He’d never known much about it, but it was obvious how much she was caught up in it and she’d made it so interesting. He was tempted to tell her about the dream, because she’d appreciate the historical aspects of it. But he wasn’t going to. The dream changed nothing, only increased his desire to know her better.
Sure, he’d kissed her that night and he’d dreamed about her, but she didn’t know about either incident, and she wasn’t going to know. She was the perfect person to lighten up his summer. She was the complete opposite of his clients, especially Lila. He shuddered at the thought of having anything to do with that woman. Sarah wouldn’t take anything that happened between them this summer seriously. She wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship. Hell, she wasn’t looking for anything at all, except to further her career by delving deeper into California’s history. The only thing she was serious about was her work. Just like he was. He had the feeling that her work was more satisfying than his. Dangerous thoughts for a man who depended on his income for a lifestyle he intended to hang onto. After five years of divorce law he’d have to start at ground zero if he wanted to do anything else.
Back in her house, Sarah had changed into her swimsuit. She told herself this was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. A chance to learn to swim, a chance to be like the other normal women who bantered with men and put the books aside for a while in the summer. Then there was the opera. Instead of sitting by herself or with a colleague, she’d be sitting next to a really good-looking man who appeared to be interested in her. And not just her mind, her body, too.
Sure, it was a little late for this transformation. She should have started earlier, like in high school the way the other girls did, and gotten it out of her system, but that’s the way life was. If her mother hadn’t told her not to swim the other day, she wouldn’t be so determined to learn. This was better, more convenient and cheaper than going to the YWCA in town. That was all it was. A matter of practicality. It wasn’t because of Max.
She had to admit that if she was her usual sensible self, she’d stay away from him. She
would have insisted he take both tickets to the opera. He was definitely the sexiest man she’d ever met. And that scared her. She was bewitched by his silver-gray eyes, his arms that wrapped around her and carried her up the stairs. Just standing on the other side of the fence from him made her knees weak and her head spin. Of course she hadn’t met all that many sexy men, so maybe she was exaggerating.
His appeal wasn’t all physical. He was warm and kind and fun to be around. He confided in her. Told her about his job and his family. She felt like she really knew him. When in reality she barely knew him.
The best thing? He seemed interested in history. How rare was that! In her experience almost unknown. Oh, people pretended to be interested, but she saw the vacant looks, the stifled yawns and the excuses they found to leave the room or hang up the phone. Even her own parents got tired of hearing about California’s history.
Max had a winning personality and good looks which were combined into one very attractive package that was hard to resist. As if she’d tried to resist. All she had to do to keep herself from falling under his spell was to remember who she was and who he was.
Yes, he was the man next door. But that was just for a week. He was a divorce attorney, so cynical no woman had ever penetrated his heart. She imagined many had tried. He was that appealing. It was a warning to her that however much she liked him, he could never be more than a friend to her. Which was fine. That was all she wanted. All she expected.
Because she was who she was. She’d made that perfectly clear to him. As if he hadn’t seen it for himself. She’d sleepwalked, almost drowned, and went on and on with her tales of California’s history. He’d actually encouraged her to tell them to him.
As she was about to walk out the back door, towel in hand, the phone rang. She hesitated. If it was her mother, she didn’t want to talk to her. She didn’t want to hear any more dire warnings about her asthma. She stood there and let the answering machine pick up. It was Trudy, her boss. She picked up the phone.
