She’d been a fund raiser for every charity she stumbled upon and been relentless when trying to raise money for a new playground. Unfortunately, she’d hated nearly every minute of her perfect life. Everyone turned to her in times of crisis. “Chéri will handle it.” “Get Chéri on it and you’ll see results.” “The woman is ferocious when it comes to getting what she wants.”
The problem was that while “Chéri” was taking care of everything and everyone, no one was taking care of Chéri. Well, those days were over, she told herself. Standing, she smoothed down her skirt and marched from her office, passing Mary on the way and taking her coffee.
“I’m going in,” she snapped. “And Mary, you might want to think about a new wardrobe.”
“Why, what’s wrong with my clothes?” Mary demanded, looking down at her blouse and skirt.
“Nothing but it’s possible you’ll be moving up.”
Mary watched her boss strut down the hall, her heels clicking with each step and shrugged her shoulders. Chéri had been acting a little strange for months.
Chéri knocked once and opened the door. The old man was surrounded by eager young pups all trying to look ready to take charge. She nearly snorted.
“Ah, Chéri, good, we can begin,” he said, indicating she take the chair in front of his desk.
Instantly he went into a spiel about the new client and how important it was for the company to get them signed as quickly as possible. This would be a multi-million-dollar ad campaign and he had no intention of losing it. He handed out packets filled with information about the company and copies of their last big ads.
“Chéri will take the lead on this,” he stated firmly. “The rest of you will take over some of the smaller campaigns she’s been working on. This will be her baby, and knowing Chéri, she probably has most of the other ones well underway. No changes without consulting her,” he insisted. “Okay the rest of you can get back to work. Chéri, I’d like a few words with you in private. Well, what are you waiting for?” he bellowed, staring at the others until they hurried from his office.
“Chéri, this is the biggest campaign we’ve ever undertaken,” Ben Waters sighed as he sat in his huge leather chair and steepled his fingers.
“Yes, I can see that,” she replied, “but there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“You don’t know how glad I am to have you in charge. Those pretty boys don’t know how to close a deal and the woman who owns this company is no fool. I want you to make this your priority. I don’t care who has to work overtime.”
“Mr. Waters—” she began.
“Hiring you was the smartest thing I ever did,” he crowed.
“Mr. Waters, I—”
“I almost didn’t you know,” he said with a grin. “I thought what does she know? Sure she has a degree in advertising, but hell, she’s been nothing but a housewife and mother for most of her life, so far. Boy, how wrong I was. Chéri, you have your finger on the pulse of women—”
“Mr. Waters,” she nearly shouted.
“Huh, oh was there something you wanted to say? I’m sorry I got carried away. What is it?”
“I just want to tell you…I mean…that is…have you ever given any thought to promoting Mary?” she finished lamely.
“Mary?” he asked in surprise.
“Yes, Mary. She’s been my assistant for more than ten years and she’s very qualified. Mary knows my job inside and out,” Chéri offered. “If the day ever comes when for some reason I have to—”
“Mary, you say,” he said, scratching his head. “Well, no I haven’t, but I will.”
“Good, you should,” Chéri said firmly as she rose. “You never know when…well staff doesn’t always stick around for—”
“Enough said,” he replied with a wink. “If you want me to promote Mary, I’ll definitely consider it. I trust your judgment implicitly, Chéri, and I want you to know if we get this account there’ll be a big bonus for you, a very big bonus indeed,” he said quietly.
“Thank you, Mr. Waters,” Chéri sighed as she left the office in defeat. Michael wasn’t going to like this.
“You’ll get started right away?” her boss called after her.
“Of course,” she replied. No, her daddy was not going to like it at all.
“This court is now in session, the Honorable Michael Reynolds presiding,” the bailiff said loudly as Michael took the bench. Oh Lord, he thought looking down at the courtroom. Not these two again.
He listened absently as the clerk read the docket number but he already knew their names, Master Sergeant Timothy West of the United States Air Force and his wife, Missy. They’d been before him twice already, but for various reasons, including their nitwit attorneys’ failure to produce the proper documents, their divorce had not been granted. Now, here they were again.
The tall young man had the same frozen expression on his face as he had during his two previous appearances. His wife was actually shaking as she stood long after Michael had taken his seat.
“You may sit down now, Mrs. West,” he informed her kindly, shooting a look at her lawyer that clearly showed what he thought of him. The attorneys before him now were about as bad as you could get. Money grubbers did not even begin to describe them. As far as Michael knew, not once had any of their clients ever been able to work things out in mediation, due no doubt to the imbeciles representing them. These were the type of lawyers who gave the legal profession a bad name, dragging out billable hours to the last second. Oddly enough their names were Smith and Wesson and Michael often thought his courtroom would be better off if they would just shoot themselves in the foot with the real thing instead of verbally.
“Let the squabbling begin,” Michael said.
“Excuse me, your honor?” Mr. Wesson said.
“I assume you and our colleague have brought this couple before me to obtain a divorce. Is that correct?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“And have they managed to work out all their issues, division of marital property, child custody, alimony or support?”
“Not exactly, your honor,” Mr. Smith said with a cough.
“Of course not,” Michael sighed. “So what are we dealing with today?”
“Mrs. West is refusing to accept any support or marital property from her husband, your honor,” Mr. Wesson said.
“So?”
“Well, Sergeant West will not agree to the divorce unless she accepts something for her, um years of service so to speak.”
Michael smiled.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, your honor,” Sergeant West replied, snapping to attention.
“I am not your commanding officer,” Michael said kindly. “Relax, Sergeant.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Tell me, if your wife doesn’t want anything from the marriage, why are you insisting? Why not just sign the papers and walk away a free man?”
“Because it’s not right, sir. Missy is my wife and I accepted responsibility for her nearly ten years ago. It’s not right that she walks away with nothing.”
“Was it you who started divorce proceedings?” Michael asked.
“No, sir.”
“I see. Mrs. West, wouldn’t it be easier to accept what your husband is offering and get this whole thing over and done?”
“I don’t want anything from him, your honor,” Missy West replied, turning her head away and dabbing at her tears.
Michael sighed and sat back in his chair. A sob escaped the small dark haired young woman and her husband made a move to go to her which his lawyer prevented with a hand on his arm.
“Look, do you two want a divorce or not?” he demanded.
“Yes,” they both yelled in unison while glaring at each other.
Michael rose.
“Bailiff, call a recess. Sergeant and Mrs. West, I would like to meet with you in my chambers. Privately,” he snapped when both lawyers gathered up their things to follow.
&n
bsp; “Your honor, this is highly irregular,” Mr. Wesson said, clearly offended.
“How long, your honor?” the bailiff whispered.
“An hour,” Michael replied.
“Court is recessed until one o’clock. An hour will take us into the noon hour, Judge Reynolds,” he advised. “We may as well return after lunch.”
“That’s fine. Come with me,” he instructed the couple, stepping down from the bench. “We are not to be disturbed,” he added.
“But your honor,” Mr. Smith called after them.
“Look,” Michael snapped, turning around. “This is nothing but a money making proposition to you. For them it’s about their future. Go to lunch, Mr. Smith. You and your associate always have a hungry look about you.” With those words, he ushered the couple from the courtroom and into his private chambers.
“Take a seat,” he advised, unbuttoning his robe, removing it and hanging it up. Moving behind his desk he sat. “I don’t usually do this,” he remarked as though surprised by his own actions. “Couples come through here like cattle, one divorce after another. Usually they are battling it out, trying to screw each other out of the last marital dime. I find you two interesting.
“Maybe it’s because I’ve seen you in my courtroom several times, or maybe it’s because you’re trying to provide for your wife and she won’t take it,” he said to the sergeant. “In any case, I’d like to know what happened between you. Was it another woman?”
“Certainly not,” Sergeant West insisted. “I’ve been faithful to my wife, sir.”
“I’m happy to know that. Another man?”
“Never,” Missy West gasped. “I’ve never been with another man.”
“So far, so good,” Michael remarked absently as he looked through the file on his desk. “I see there are no children. Was that by choice?”
“We were planning to have children,” Missy said with a blush, “but we agreed to wait until Tim’s time was up with the Air Force.”
“And when will that be?”
“I have another year, sir.”
Michael nodded.
“So it’s not infidelity, it’s not arguing over children, neither of you seem to be greedy, so it’s not financial. What happened? You don’t have to tell me, but I’m curious why a couple still obviously in love with each other want a divorce.”
“What makes you think he loves me?” Missy demanded.
“I saw the way he looks at you, the way he wanted to go to you and offer comfort when you were crying in my courtroom,” Michael said gently.
“Well, you’re wrong,” Missy said with a snort. “He doesn’t love me at all.”
“There you go again,” Sergeant West said, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
Michael was surprised to see the strapping young man shrink before his eyes. He knew that man. He’d been that man.
“Why do you think your husband doesn’t love you, Mrs. West?” he asked quietly.
“I just know, that’s all,” she whispered. “He doesn’t care what I do, or where I go. All he cares about is that I have trouble balancing the checkbook. I can’t believe I waited so long for him to come back, through two tours of duty,” she pointed out, “and all for him to ignore me.”
“For God’s sake, Missy, you work in a bank. Surely you should be able to stop bouncing checks. And I don’t ignore you. Every time I open my mouth you bite my head off. If I ask where you’re going, you get mad. If I don’t ask, I don’t care about you. I can’t seem to please you at all.”
“Stop trying,” Michael said softly.
“Excuse me?”
“I said stop trying to please your wife.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Sergeant West said while his wife looked at them both as though they each had two heads.
“Sergeant West, I assume based on your rank you have a position of authority in the Air Force. Is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And do you command respect from those under your authority?”
“I certainly do,” he replied.
“If someone under your command were to thwart your authority, or treat you in a less than respectful manner, what would happen to them?”
“They would be reprimanded, sir.”
“Verbally?”
“Yes.”
“And if they continued to act inappropriately would they be further punished?”
“Yes, sir, they would.”
“Yet your wife can speak to you any way she chooses and you do nothing. Perhaps your wife is correct and you need to give her a little more attention. Perhaps you are ignoring her. You’re certainly ignoring the fact she needs a little guidance in managing your finances and perhaps some discipline as well.
“Mrs. West, do you still love your husband?”
“I guess so. It makes me sad to think about us being apart. I thought that was over when he came home.”
“And what first attracted you to him? What made you fall in love with him?”
“That’s easy,” she said with a blush. “Look at him. He’s so big and strong. I knew he’d be a man who would protect me, someone who would always take care of me. He was happy back then, you know. He made me laugh, but at the same time I felt like I had to listen to him.”
“So you respected him?”
“Well sure, who wouldn’t? He was fighting for our country, fighting for me. I was so proud to be with him. I liked that he was tough.”
“Has your husband ever disciplined you in any way?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Has he ever spanked you?”
“Your honor,” she gasped, blushing wildly.
“Well, has he?”
“Not really,” she whispered. “Once or twice back when we were dating he pulled me over his knees and smacked my bottom a couple of times when I was mouthy, but that’s it.”
“Did that change your attitude?”
“Well sure. It hurt. I mean who would want to be spanked by someone with a hand like his?” she laughed.
Michael glanced at her husband and noted he was paying very close attention.
“What if he spanked you now?”
“Why would he?”
“What if he did? What if he said, if you bounce one more check I’ll give you a good spanking?”
“I guess I’d be more careful,” she admitted, twisting a tissue in her hand. “But he never would.”
“Are you sure?” her husband asked.
“Tim, you wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t. Besides, isn’t that abuse?” she asked Michael.
“I guess it would depend on the situation. Would you leave marks or bruises on your wife, Sergeant? Would it be your intention to beat her, hurt her, or merely teach her a lesson?”
“I would never hurt Missy, your honor. I love her, I always will, but boy there have been times when I thought a good spanking would improve both of our moods,” he admitted, his voice strong and firm.
Missy sank back in her chair in shock. Her mouth opened and closed several times as she looked from one man to the other.
“Mrs. West, a lot would depend on whether you’d feel you’d been abused. If your husband took you in hand when you got out of control, would you feel loved and cherished? Would he still be ignoring you?”
“I guess a man can’t be ignoring you if he’s doing that,” she said, looking at her husband.
“Do you think you could accept his guidance and discipline as long as it was done with love?”
“I guess we won’t know until we try,” she said with a sob.
Suddenly she was in her husband’s arms, crying softly.
“Oh, Tim, I do love you,” she sniffed. “I don’t want to lose you and I promise I’ll try to be a better wife.”
“I’m going to help you with that, honey,” he promised, meeting Michael’s eyes over his wife’s head. “You won’t mind if we slip out this door?” he asked as he stood and nodded at a different door that di
d not take them back to the courtroom.
“Not at all. There’s just one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“This conversation is off the record. That means it’s confidential and no party involved will repeat any part of it.”
“Yes, sir,” Sergeant West said briskly as though he were talking to a commanding officer.
“Fine. Don’t let me see you two in my courtroom again,” he warned.
“We won’t,” Missy added, lifting her head from her husband’s chest and giving Michael a watery smile. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, and I mean that,” Michael replied with a laugh. “Good luck.” He watched as the sergeant tightened his arm around his wife’s waist and led her from the room.
Chapter 12
Michael looked at the clock on the stove as he pulled their dinner from the oven and placed in on a trivet. She was late, quite late he realized, and she hadn’t called. It had been months since she’d done this and he worried she may have had car trouble. More than once he dragged her around to dealerships trying to tempt her into a new vehicle to no avail. The last time her car had been in the shop for repairs he’d told her exactly that, it would be the last time.
Frustrated, he covered the pan with foil and lowered the temperature of the oven to keep the food warm. He hated her on the expressway after dark. People drove like maniacs. Two hours ago when she should have been home, the traffic would have been light to moderate. Now it was likely bumper to bumper. “She better have a good reason,” he said out loud, looking out the window.
Twenty minutes later when she let herself in the garage door, she was dragging. She kicked off her heels on the rug by the door, dropped her briefcase on the floor and went straight to his arms.
“I’m sorry,” she sighed, snuggling as close as she could. “It was a day from hell.”
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