The Cost of Happiness: A Contemporary Romance

by Braden, Magdalen

  McIntyre waved at Dan to hand the phone over.

  “Hold on, Mr. Walczek. Jack would like to finish this call. Look for the motion to modify, okay?” Dan passed the phone over.

  McIntyre listened for a moment. “See? I knew you’d see the merit of this, Sam. The victims will be paid much quicker this way. Oh, and Sam? Let’s be clear about something. I think what you did to Ms. Mattson was despicable. You and I both know she’s innocent, as much the victim of her mother as any of the people Ms. Boudreau bilked. More, perhaps, as Ms. Mattson never opted to believe her mother’s too-good-to-be-true promises. I think it says a lot about Ms. Mattson’s sense of honor that she agreed to pay the restitution. Let’s remember that, shall we? She’s a remarkable young woman.”

  He got off the phone, probably leaving Walczek still sputtering.

  Meghan closed her mouth with a snap. “Thank you so much, sir.”

  “Don’t thank me. Thank Dan. Entirely his idea. I told him I needed to believe your story for myself. Assuming I did, all I could do was cut the time it would take to resolve this. He impressed upon me that you need to get back to law school, and I agree.”

  Meghan stared at Dan, at his relaxed grin and casual posture. He literally had fixed her life when she’d thought it irreparable.

  Dan winked at her, then thanked the US Attorney for all his efforts.

  “My pleasure. Oh, and Dan, I added to your contribution to Franklin Law’s library fund, so that should take care of the other matter we discussed.”

  Dan grinned. “I’d hug you, but as Ms. Mattson’s counsel, it wouldn’t be appropriate.”

  McIntyre laughed. “No, it wouldn’t.” He turned to Meghan. “Say hello to Libby for me.”

  Meghan nodded although she couldn’t think when she’d see Libby again. Even if Meghan could get back to Franklin Law next year, Libby would have graduated.

  Dan had them out the door and down to street level before she’d finished processing what had just happened.

  They went outside. It was a classic Philadelphia September day. Temperature in the mid-seventies and humidity so high that she was sweating as though it was July. Even breathing felt clammy somehow.

  Dan hailed them a cab. “Thirty-eighth and Woodland.”

  “The law school?”

  “Well, you have to get re-enrolled.”

  “But I have no financial aid.” Then she remembered that final comment of Blackjack’s about a contribution. She swiveled to point at Dan. “You’ve greased the wheels, haven’t you? Neither of you went to Franklin Law.”

  “Cheap at the price. Look, don’t tell anyone, but Jack’s not poor. Plus, his niece goes there. Leave it at that.”

  “Surely I’m too late for this semester?” Meghan could feel the white room dissolving in a sudden rush of anxiety. So close. What if they said she couldn’t enroll without the patchwork of grants and loans she needed to pay for law school? She had applied for them in the spring, but presumably those applications had been trashed. “This will never work.”

  “Don’t panic.” He took her hand, warming it with his own certainty.

  Ted—Assistant Dean Dorchay—met them immediately. He gave Meghan a huge hug, shook Dan’s hand, then explained everything she would have to do to start school on Monday. He even had some paperwork from the financial aid office for her to sign.

  The whole thing took less than twenty minutes. With another hug and a warm smile, Ted assured her she would be in class on Monday morning.

  “I think my head exploded,” she told Dan as they walked out to find a cab. She was so flabbergasted that she hardly noticed what address Dan gave the cabbie. She assumed when the cab crossed the Market Street Bridge that he was taking her back to the coffee shop. She checked her watch. Three-thirty. That wasn’t too bad.

  Then the cab stopped alongside one of the office towers.

  “Where are we going now?” Meghan looked up at the doors—the Mellon Building. Who was in here?

  “You’ll see.”

  He led her to the far bank of elevators. They got off at one of the law firm reception areas. Bradford Wayne. Depending on who you talked to, either the number one or number two firm in Philly.

  Meghan was still looking around—gorgeous Oriental rug, antique secretary, comfortable sofas—when Dan came back.

  Everyone seemed to know him. One assistant stood to give him a hug. “She’s waiting for you,” the woman said.

  Then they were in a large office on the west side of the building, overlooking the Schuylkill and West Philly. A blonde woman, young and impeccably dressed, stood and greeted them. “Danny. You’re early.”

  He pecked her cheek. “All credit goes to Jack and Assistant Dean Dorchay at the law school.”

  “Good to hear.” She held out her hand to Meghan. “Well, if Dan won’t introduce us, I will. Hi, I’m Susan Wolfson. Danny calls me Shana.”

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry. Meghan, this is my wife for about five more weeks. Shana, this is the woman I’d very much like to marry someday, Meghan Mattson.”

  Meghan shook hands on autopilot. “Hi.” She barely noticed Dan leaving the room and closing the door.

  “Have a seat,” Susan said. “Would you like some water, a cup of coffee?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  Meghan looked at the blonde. Short hair, not pretty but quite appealing especially when she smiled. “I’m sorry, I’m staring, aren’t I? It’s just you’re not…”

  “What you were expecting. No, I can imagine. I bet you thought I’d be another Vicky.”

  Was that it? Had Meghan assumed Dan could have married some barracuda? “No. Actually I thought you’d be really busy and brittle and abrupt. You’re not. You’re nice.” Meghan flushed at how gauche she was being.

  Susan—Shana?—tipped her desk chair back. “And I was expecting someone who’d look really young, twenty-two, and I’d feel every one of my thirty-five years.”

  “I’m twenty-seven. Twenty-eight next month.”

  “After this summer, you must feel a lot older.”

  “I feel older just from this afternoon,” Meghan admitted.

  Susan pulled her chair in toward her desk and rested her forearms on the blotter. “I asked Dan to bring you here. No, not to check you out. Okay, maybe a little to check you out. Mostly just to explain.”

  “What do you have to explain?”

  “Dan and I fell into getting married. I know that’s no excuse, but it’s the truth. My parents really expected it, and his parents were enthusiastic, and my mother desperately wanted throw a wedding for after we took the bar exam. Like it was some huge party.” Susan grimaced. “We were planning to stay together, but we were both completely focused on our careers.”

  She looked out the window for a moment. “When I think about it now, I guess we thought we were agreeing to a wedding. We never discussed marriage, kids, any of that. We were together, our parents were just old-fashioned enough to prefer we stand up and say ‘I do’ to each other rather than live in sin, and we couldn’t be bothered to mount any argument either way. Which is pretty much the problem, isn’t it?”

  Susan tucked her hair behind her ears. “Okay, long story short, we eventually admitted it wasn’t working the way we instinctively knew it should be. So we went our separate ways. We each had to hire a divorce attorney even though we’d worked out our own division of assets. And then the divorce attorneys screwed up the paperwork in such an ass-backward way—” She held her hands out to her sides. “Okay, I’m trying to live a complaint-free life, so I won’t describe that.”

  Meghan chuckled. She really liked this woman. Was that awkward or a good thing?

  “Anyway, we fired our lawyers and said we’d do it ourselves. Only we let it go. For five years. It’s not like anyone cared. The IRS considers us to be single. Our accountant considers us to be single. I suspect I could count on one hand the places that care we’re still married.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then, a fe
w weeks ago, I got a call from Dan. He was in a hotel near Boston on a case. He told me, and I quote, ‘It’s time. I need to be single.’ So I got a Family Law paralegal here to draw up the paperwork the next day.” She produced a file folder and handed it over.

  Meghan flipped it open and looked at the date. Her eyes flew to Susan’s amused gaze. “But this is—he had to have called you—I don’t understand.”

  “Yeah, he called me the first night you guys were away. You made a huge impression on him. I think he just knew.” Susan took the folder back. “What you may not know is that there’s a mandatory ninety-day cooling off period in Pennsylvania for a consensual no-fault divorce. So, although it’s uncontested and although we’ve lived apart for over five years, we have to stay married for a little while longer.”

  Susan stopped and waited for Meghan to say something. What was there to say?

  Meghan pulled in a deep breath. “This has been the craziest day. I woke up trying to keep my Americano separate from my flat latte, and less than twelve hours later, I’ve been handed my old life back. I think I have whiplash.”

  Susan nodded, appeared to think about things, then nodded again. “Okay.” She held out a business card. “Call or email if you have any questions at all.”

  Meghan tucked the card into a side pocket of her bag.

  Susan walked her out to the reception area where Dan was reading a copy of Smithsonian magazine.

  “She’s all yours,” Susan said.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Where now?” Dan asked when they got back to Market Street. He was waiting for Meghan to get happy, but she still looked shell-shocked.

  “The coffee shop, I suppose.”

  “You’ll need to give notice.”

  She turned to face him, but her eyes were still scanning the street. “Hunh? Oh, yeah, I guess so.”

  Dan reached out to grab one of her shoulders. “Are you okay? Have you eaten today?”

  “I should just go.”

  “Wait.” He carefully let go of her. “Come back to my place. Let me feed you. No strings attached, promise.”

  He had her attention at least. She’d focused on him finally. Poor sweetheart. A week ago, she’d been happy planning her at-home spa day with Kassie. Now she was about to quit a second job in five days, needed to prepare for school, and had a future again. He could see it was an abrupt change of fortune, but why did she look so lost?

  “Okay, maybe not my place. Not the office, clearly. Can I take you home?”

  “I should go back to work.” She didn’t sound very certain.

  Dan hailed a cab, his fourth of the day. He bundled Meghan in, climbed in beside her, and told the driver to take them to West Philly.

  Her hands were like ice. Had she eaten anything? She needed someone to mother her sometimes.

  Dan shook his head. If that indictment was any guide, Meghan’s mother was a crazy bitch. Who could possibly do that—use her daughter’s identity and in the process ruin her legal career? That was sociopathic.

  He looked at Meghan. Her hands were warming up, but her head was resting awkwardly in her corner of the cab, her eyes closed. What was she thinking?

  Love of his life, and he still wasn’t sure he even knew her. Pieces of her, like her bright and fascinating legal mind, her enthusiasm over little things like that red pot holder, her honor and scruples, but he didn’t know anything of her childhood.

  She rested her head on his shoulder. He checked—her eyes were closed. Yeah, she was exhausted. He stroked her hands lightly. Get some food in her and she’d be okay.

  Did Kassie know more about the crazy mom, Bianca Boudreau? How does someone with a name like that have such a wonderful, grounded daughter? He was glad Bianca was doing time in a federal facility in Minnesota. He supposed he’d have to meet her at some point, but he was not looking forward to the family reunion. No way she was getting invited to the wedding…

  Didn’t Meghan mention a grandfather? Dan remembered someone she called “Pops.” That must be where she got her moral values.

  He looked down at her slumped body. He’d done what he could to get her life back on track. Would it be sufficient?

  At her building, Meghan woke up enough to get them into her apartment. Dan told her to take a hot shower while he made them some soup. He took off his suit coat and rolled up his sleeves.

  While the shower was running, he called Tessa to explain that he wouldn’t be back to the office. Then he called the coffee shop, using his best official lawyer voice, to say that Ms. Mattson would be unable to return this afternoon.

  When Meghan emerged, bundled into her robe, a towel wrapped around her head, Dan was right back to the aftermath of the Formal. She’d looked pale and fragile then, too.

  He wasn’t going through that twice. She was going to have to talk to him. Not yet, though. After she’d eaten.

  He found some cans of soup which he emptied into a saucepan and heated on the stove. Crackers and cheese—well, it was hardly gourmet, but it would warm her and nourish her.

  “You don’t have to stay.” She looked at him while he set the table and arranged the soup bowl on a plate. Her expression reminded him of a neighbor’s dog from childhood. The dog lived almost exclusively outside, in a fenced-in yard. Maybe it had been more active at one time, but Dan recalled it as looking both hopeful and resigned as it just lay there.

  He spooned some soup into her bowl. “You need to eat.”

  She looked into his eyes. There was hope there, and maybe a little trust again? Then she looked down at the soup and the moment was gone.

  She started to say something, then took a spoonful of soup instead. “Mmm. Yummy. Thanks.”

  They sat in silence until the soup was all gone. Dan put the dishes in the sink to soak—he’d wash them later—and led Meghan to her bed, which was rumpled.

  “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make it this morning.”

  He gave her a questioning shrug. It wasn’t like her to leave thing undone.

  She swallowed. “I haven’t been sleeping well, so I oversleep in the mornings.”

  “It’s going to be okay.” He fetched her sleeping T-shirt and hung up the robe and towel while she changed. When he came back to the bedroom with her comb, she was in bed.

  “Here, let me do this,” he said, waving the comb at her. She scooted forward so he could sit behind her. He kicked off his shoes and got her settled in the vee of his legs. He pulled the comb through the bottom few inches of her hair.

  “My grandfather used to do this for me.”

  “So a nice memory?”

  “Yes.” She sighed. He could feel her muscles relaxing.

  “Meghan?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “Tell me about your mother. Why’s her name Boudreau?”

  “She decided when I was thirteen that she was really a Southern belle and belonged in a mansion outside New Orleans. Which she pronounces “Nawlins” in her mid-west accent.” Meghan’s voice hardened. “We—Pops and I—didn’t see her again for almost two years. When she next showed up, she’d gone from being Brenda Mattson to Bianca Boudreau. I never did meet Mr. Boudreau.”

  Dan pulled the hair gently back from her forehead so he could comb it. “When did she start scamming people?”

  “I’m not sure. She wouldn’t call it that, of course. She was always an opportunist, as long as the opportunities fit her self-image as a woman who deserved all the best things in life. Very grandiose and demanding in her manic phases.”

  Suddenly, Meghan slumped back against Dan’s chest. She was exhausted, strung out from all the upheaval in her life. He set down the comb, then wrapped her in his arms. “Shh. It’s okay, it’s going to be okay, I’ve got you now.” He murmured tiny words of reassurance into her ear. Her silence tore his heart out. How long had she suffered like this?

  He pulled her into his lap, her torso curled sideways into his chest. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s going to be okay, you’ll see. I’m here.
I love you.”

  Finally she fell asleep. Dan tucked her in, then went out to the living room to check his email on his BlackBerry. He returned some phone calls and emails, but after a while, opened one of Meghan’s library books.

  Meghan woke up hearing a thump. She got out of bed and went into the living room. There was Dan, sprawled in the easy chair, a book on the floor below his open hand.

  The events of the day flooded back in. He’d done so much for her. She had a reprieve from the restitution, she was going back to school, she even liked his—well, Susan. And he’d fed her when she’d been so out of it.

  Look at that face. His lips were parted slightly, and his hair was a mess, but he was perfect. Kind and caring and devoted to getting the right result. Justice and fairness.

  She sat very slowly on her desk chair. She didn’t want to wake him up. As soon as he woke up, they’d have The Talk. Not yet. Let him be her beloved for another few minutes.

  She couldn’t keep him. She knew that. Oh, it wasn’t because of his being married—or maybe it was, in the sense that Susan seemed so normal and healthy. Not raised by a crazy mom and a taciturn grandfather.

  So Meghan was going to let Dan go. Yes, he loved her. God, he must love her like crazy, all the things he’d done for her today. He’d given her back her life. No one, not even Pops, had ever done that for her.

  And she loved Dan. She wished love was all they needed. She wished life were that simple.

  The entire summer had been a mistake. Meghan shouldn’t have gotten caught up in her mother’s indictment, she shouldn’t have negotiated without a lawyer, she shouldn’t have agreed to pay the restitution immediately, accepted the paralegal job, or fallen in love with Dan.

  He’d wiped all that away. She’d have to hustle to catch up in school but she could do it, and when she did, she’d be back where she belonged.

  And Dan would be where he should be, back in his normal life.

  It would break her heart to give him back, but Meghan knew the rules. You only get some toys for “a visit,” as Pops used to call it. They don’t get to stay.