“So, tell me about your new things,” he said, pretending to be casual, as he stood up and looked around. “What kind of stuff did you order?”
“Oh …just the usual stuff,” she said vaguely, continuing to tell him about the politics of the newsroom, hoping to distract him.
“You know, your layout is so different than mine, the two places don't even look remotely related.”
“I know. It's funny, isn't it? I noticed that, too, when I was at your place.” She was smiling at him. She had had a beautiful day, and she was totally relaxed, even though she was a little bit tired.
“How much space do you have upstairs?”
“Just one bedroom and a bath,” she answered easily. “We have another bedroom downstairs, but we never use it.”
“Can I look?” He had let her wander all over his place and it would have seemed unfriendly not to let him do the same, so she hesitated but nodded, as he walked easily upstairs and asked her for another cup of coffee. And when she went into the kitchen to get it, he whipped like whirlwind through her bedroom. It was as empty as he had expected it would be, and within seconds he pulled open both closets, and looked through the bathroom cabinets, pawed through the boxes where she kept her clothes, and discovered what he had just figured out but she had never told him …unless his things were downstairs, and suddenly Bill wanted to know, but he didn't dare ask her. A sixth sense told him that there was a reason why Steven Townsend had loaded all their belongings into a van, and it wasn't because they were going to redo the apartment. Even their wedding picture in the silver frame now sat on the bedroom floor with the room's only lamp, because Steven had taken the dresser and all the tables.
“I like the layout,” he said, as he came downstairs looking relaxed, his whirlwind tour having gone unobserved, and then he asked her if he could use the bathroom. There were two doors on the main floor, and he intentionally chose the one he suspected was a closet, pulled open the door and found it empty save for a handful of empty wooden suit hangers. And then he opened the right one, and closed it behind him as he walked into the bathroom. He opened all the cupboards as quietly as he could, and then flushed the toilet and ran the water. And as he sat down to coffee with her again, he watched her eyes for the answers to his questions. But there were none. She had said nothing to him. She had pretended for weeks that Steven was away on business, that he would be back in a few days, that everything was fine, although she had admitted over dinner that it wasn't always easy. She was a beautiful girl, and he knew she was married. She was still wearing her wedding ring. But he also knew one other thing, after going through every closet in the place. For whatever reason she chose not to disclose, Steven Townsend was no longer living with his wife, and when he had left, he had taken everything with him.
Bill thanked her after a little while, and told her he'd drop by the newsroom the next day. And he thought about her all the way back to his place on the other side of the complex, and he just couldn't figure it out. He was intrigued by her all over again. What was she doing? And why? Why was she pretending that everything was okay? Why hadn't she admitted that she was living alone? What was she hiding? And why? But as he thought of the empty closets again, Bill Thigpen was delighted.
THE COMPLICATED PLOT TURNS HE WAS ABLE TO DE-vise were seemingly endless. And at the moment, Helen's husband, John, had recently been arrested for the murders of Helen's sister Vaughn, played by the late, great Sylvia before she moved to New Jersey, and a young drug pusher named Tim McCarthy. Vaughn's drug habit had been unveiled, her misdeeds as a call girl had come out and caused untold embarrassment, and a politician with whom she was involved, and for whom she had had an abortion years before, was about to become publicly disgraced when the entire scandal hit the papers. But even more important, the fact that Helen was pregnant was about to be unveiled on the show that week. And the real scandal was that the baby wasn't her husband's, a blessing in this case, but it would be the cause of untold guessing games in kitchens across the country for the next several months. Who was the baby's father? Eventually, John and Helen's marriage would end in divorce when he wound up in prison serving a life sentence for the two murders, and the identity of Helen's baby's father would become known, but not for a long time. And Bill was going to have a lot of fun with it in the meantime.
And he was thinking about Adrian as he drove to work the next day, and why she hadn't told him that Steven had left her. It was not unlike one of his plots, although undoubtedly the reasons were a lot simpler. And there was always the possibility that he was wrong, he realized, but he didn't see how he could be. There wasn't a stitch of men's clothing in the house. No men's toiletries, no after-shave, not even a razor. He was absolutely sure of it after his brief investigation. But what was she hiding? And why hadn't she told him? He wondered if she was embarrassed, or if perhaps she just wasn't ready to go out yet.
He didn't have time to think about it once he got to work. One of the actors was sick, and the show's two principal writers were having a major battle, and it was almost noon before he had time to catch his breath, and he wanted to go to Adrian's show and pick her up to bring her on the set to watch their one o'clock airing.
And in her office, Adrian was coping with the discovery that a local senator's son had been wantonly kidnapped and murdered late the night before. It was a shocking case, and the family was devastated. The boy had been only nineteen, and the entire newsroom was depressed. And it made Adrian sick to see the tapes as they came in. He had been dumped on his parents' front steps with his throat cut.
She was busy assigning editors to work on what had come in, and reporters to speak to close family friends, when someone told her there was a call holding for her, but she didn't recognize the name when she picked it up, and she had no idea who it was. It was a man named Lawrence Allman.
“Yes?” She was in the middle of a dozen things and writing notes frantically as she waited to hear what he wanted.
“Mrs. Townsend?”
“Yes.”
“Your husband asked me to call you.” Her heart stopped as she heard the words.
“Has he been in an accident? Is he all right?”
He felt sorry for her as he listened to her reaction. This was not a woman who didn't give a damn about her husband, contrary to what Steven had said to All-man. “No, he's fine. I'm representing him. I'm an attorney.” She looked confused as she listened to him. Why was a lawyer calling her and why had Steven told him to call her?
“Is something wrong?” For a moment he didn't know what to say to her. She seemed so totally unprepared for what was coming. He felt like a real heel for calling.
“I thought perhaps your husband might have said something to you. But I see that he hasn't.” Or maybe she was playing games with him, but he doubted it. She didn't sound like that kind of person. “Your husband is filing for dissolution and he wanted me to work some things out with you, Mrs. Townsend.” She felt as though she had been on a roller coaster all day and it had just stopped and pitched her right out of her seat,leaving her heart back about a dozen miles. She could hardly catch her breath as she listened to him. Steven was doing what?
“I'm sorry, I …I don't understand. What is this all about?”
“A dissolution, Mrs. Townsend.” He spoke as gently as he could. He was a decent man and this wasn't his favorite case. Steven had not been totally reasonable when they had discussed this. “A divorce. Your husband wants a divorce.”
“I … I see …Isn't this a little hasty?”
“I asked him if he would like counseling with you, but he insists that there are irreconcilable differences.”
“Can I refuse? …the divorce, I mean …” She closed her eyes, trying not to cry into the phone, or the man would think she was a fool. She had to stay calm, but she was losing control just listening to him. She couldn't believe it. Steven wanted a divorce, and he wouldn't even talk to her about it. He had had a stranger call to tell her.
�
�No, you can't refuse,” the attorney explained. “Those laws changed a long time ago. You or Mr. Townsend have the right to file for dissolution without the consent of your spouse.” She couldn't believe what she was hearing, and there was more to come. “There are some additional papers Mr. Townsend would like you to be aware of.”
“He wants to sell the condo, doesn't he?” There were tears brimming in her eyes as she listened to him, watching her whole world crumble around her.
“Well, yes. But he's willing to give you three months grace before you put it on the market, unless, of course, you'd like to buy him out, at fair market value.” She felt nauseated as she stood in her office. He wanted a divorce. And he wanted to sell the condo. “But that isn't what I was referring to. Mr. Townsend is willing to be reasonable about the town house. I was referring …” He seemed to hesitate. He had tried to talk Steven out of it, but he could only assume that the baby's paternity was in question when Steven wouldn't listen to reason. “There are some other papers he's asked me to draw up. I'd like you to take a look at them.”
“What exactly do they deal with?” She took a sharp breath and tried to regain her composure as she wiped the tears off her cheeks with trembling fingers.
“Your …uh …the baby. Mr. Townsend would like to renounce any parental rights antenatally. It seems a little premature and I must tell you, I've advised him against it. It's a highly unusual procedure. But he's adamant that that's what he wants. I've drawn up some papers in draft form, just for you to look at. They state simply that he renounces any claim to the baby. As a result, he would have no visiting rights, no claim to the child once it's born. It would not bear his name. You will be asked to resume your maiden name, as well as give it to the baby. His name would not appear on the birth certificate when it was born, and, of course …you and the child would have no legal or financial claim on Mr. Townsend. He wanted to offer some monetary remuneration for this, but I explained to him that according to California law, we couldn't do that. There must be no exchange of money in the renunciation of his parental rights, or it could later be declared invalid.” She was crying openly by then and she didn't give a damn if the attorney heard her.
“What do you want from me? And why are you calling me today?” she sobbed. “This is a holiday, you aren't even supposed to be working.” Steven had told him she would probably be at the station and it would be a good time to catch her, so he was calling from home. He felt like a complete louse telling her those things, but he had thought it would be worse if she had just opened her mail and found it all there. Steven had insisted he had no quarrel with her, she had been a good wife and they had been happy, he just didn't want the baby and she had refused to abort it. It seemed perfectly sensible to him. And Larry Allman wondered if Townsend was a little less than reasonable on this issue. But it wasn't his job to argue with him. He had tried to talk him into counseling, urged him to reconsider, and not to do anything about the termination of parental rights until after the baby came and he at least saw it. But Steven didn't want to hear it.
“Mrs. Townsend,” Allman said quietly, “I'm really sorry. There's no pleasant way to advise you of all this. I thought that maybe a phone call …”
“It's not your fault,” she sobbed, wishing that she could change the way Steven felt, but she knew that she couldn't. “Is he okay?” she asked, much to Allman's amazement.
“He's fine. Are you okay?” That seemed a lot more important.
She nodded as fresh tears rolled down her face. “I'm fine.”
He smiled sadly at his end. “I'm sorry to say, you don't sound it.”
“It's been a lousy day …the senator's son and now this.” It was all so awful. And she had had such a nice weekend before this. “Do you suppose …” She felt stupid asking him, but she wanted to know if he thought Steven would change his mind once the baby was born, and maybe if he saw it. She still believed somehow that seeing it would change everything. After all, he was the baby's father. “You don't think he'll change his mind, do you? I mean …later …”
“He could. He's taking some awfully radical steps. Unduly so in some areas, but he seems determined to do this now, for his own peace of mind. He wants everything spelled out, and legally resolved.”
“When will the divorce go through?” Not that it mattered anyway. What difference did it make? Except that it would have been nice to be married when she had the baby.
“Actually, he filed the petition two weeks ago. Which means that your divorce will be final … I'd say in mid-December.” Wonderful. Two weeks before the baby. With no father's name on the birth certificate. It was great news. She certainly was glad he had called her.
“Is that all?”
“Yes, I …I'll be sending the papers out to you tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” She wiped her eyes again, and her hands were still shaking.
“We'll be in touch in a couple of months about the condo. And, of course, any request for spousal support would be appropriate coming from your attorney.”
“I don't have an attorney. And I don't want spousal support.”
“I think you should seek the advice of counsel, Mrs. Townsend. You have a right to spousal support according to the laws of California.” And he thought she'd be foolish if she didn't take it. He hated the case. And he would have liked to see her at least get some money out of Steven. He owed her something, for chrissake. And he had advised him of that himself. “We'll be in touch.”
“Thank you.” She listened as the phone clicked in her ear after he said good-bye, and she stood holding the receiver for a long time, as though a voice was going to tell her it was all a mistake, and they were just kidding. But they weren't kidding. Steven had filed for divorce, and he wanted papers saying that he was giving up his rights to the baby. It was the worst thing she had ever heard, and she stood shaking as she thought about it, wondering what she was going to do now. In truth, nothing had really changed. She still had the town house for a while, he still had all their furniture, and she still had the baby. But everything really had changed. She had no hope anymore, except a wild fantasy that eventually he would come back and fall head over heels in love with his baby. But even she knew that that was unlikely. What she had to face now was having the baby alone, keeping her job, finding a new home, and at least buying a couch to sit on. But more important, she had to face the fact that he was divorcing her, and legally, the baby would have no father. It was a stunning blow and her shoulders shook as she cried, as she finally put down the receiver. She had her back to the door, and she hadn't heard anyone walk into her office. And seeing only her back turned toward him, he hadn't realized that she was crying. She turned slowly, her face awash with tears, and through the mist, she saw him. It was Bill Thigpen.
“Oh my God …I'm sorry … I didn't mean to … I guess this is a bad time.” It was a mild understatement, and she tried to smile through her tears as she groped under her desk for a tissue.
“No …I …actually …it's fine …” And then she collapsed into a chair, crying again, as she buried her face in her hands. “No …it's awful.” There was no way to explain it to him, and she didn't really want to. “It's just …I'm not … I can't …” She wasn't even making sense, as he walked over to her, and gently rubbed her shoulders.
“Take it easy, Adrian. It's going to be all right. Whatever it is, it'll get straightened out sooner or later.” He wondered if she had gotten fired, or someone had died. She was shaking all over, and she looked green, she was so pale. For a moment, he wondered if she was going to faint. But he made her take a deep breath and handed her a glass of water, and a minute later, she looked better. “Looks like you've had a terrific morning.” He looked down at her sympathetically and she tried to smile, but it was a meager effort.
“It's been quite a day.” She blew her nose again, and looked at him with a mixture of embarrassment and appreciation. “First the senator's son is kidnapped and killed and we get five thousand miles of tape
on it, with close-ups of his throat slit.” She sobbed again, thinking of it. “And then …” She hesitated, looking up at Bill, debating whether or not to tell him. But there was no point to keeping it a secret anymore, and even if it was her fault, it hadn't been her decision. “And then … I got this stupid call from my husband's attorney.” Her eyes filled with tears again and her voice trembled as she said it.
“Attorney? What's he calling you for? And today's a holiday anyway.”
“That's what I said.”
“What did he want?” Bill scowled, feeling protective of her.
She took a deep breath, clutching the tissue in her hand as she looked away. She couldn't face Bill as she said it. “He called to tell me that my husband …” her voice dropped so low, he could barely hear her. “…just filed for dissolution. Two weeks ago, actually.”
For a moment, Bill was startled. But it was more the way she said it than the fact of it. It was her obvious anguish over it that touched him. He had actually figured out the night before that they were separated, and he was relieved now that it was out in the open. But he was sorry for her, she seemed to be taking it very hard, as though it was something she hadn't expected.
“Does that come as a shock to you, Adrian?” His voice was very gentle.
“Yes.” She sighed and looked up at him, as he stood leaning against her desk, looking sympathetic. “I never really thought he'd do it. He said he would. But I didn't believe him.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“About six weeks …maybe seven. … He moved his things out about three weeks ago. My things too.” She smiled as they both thought of the empty apartment. “That doesn't matter to me. I just didn't think … I didn't want …”
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