“Sorry, Martin. Yesterday was quite an eventful day. Besides, I thought you’d be out of town the rest of the week…”
“Well, I’m back, and I’ve already had a few intense exchanges with Michelson. I really wish you hadn’t called him before we spoke,” Martin said in his most aggrieved tone.
“Like I said in the voicemail, I just wanted to stop the meter. I can only imagine what sort of bill he’s going to present us with.” Philip listened to the long sigh and weighty pause that followed. It was interesting to observe just how effective his strategy had been. He had never been able to reach Martin by phone any earlier than 9 a.m., for one thing. Nor he had ever witnessed Martin at a loss for words.
“Philip, first of all, let me congratulate you on The Phoenix. I really hope that works out for you—”
“No more than I do, I can assure you,” Philip interjected.
“Yes, I’m sure. But—”
“And it will work out. The Phoenix will be restored to its former soundness. In a couple of weeks, it’ll be like the collapse never happened.”
“Good. I’m thrilled to hear it. But I don’t think you should be so optimistic about your marriage. You seem to be equating the downfall of the building with the downfall of your marriage, and I’m afraid you might be wrong about that.”
Philip smiled. He couldn’t wait to hear the arguments against reconciliation, from both him and Marianne. They had a very narrow road to tread, thanks to their deceptions. “Is that so? Are you saying you know something that I don’t?” Philip challenged him.
“Only what I’ve heard from Michelson, who is getting it straight from his client’s mouth. Apparently Marianne has no desire to reconcile with you, regardless of The Phoenix’s turnaround. She says that she’s ‘moved on,’ quote unquote.”
“Martin, I know Marianne. This whole business with The Phoenix was very distressful for her. She’ll be willing to reconcile once I have a chance to sit down and explain everything to her. Maybe you were right, maybe I should’ve waited to tell Michelson after Marianne got back into town. Getting the news secondhand from that shyster—whose best interest is not being served if we stay married—was probably a tactical error on my part,” Philip humbly admitted. “But after we have a chance to talk, face-to-face, she’ll be more amenable, I’m sure of it.”
“Philip, I’m sorry—you’re not taking my meaning here. Per Michelson, she will not meet with you alone, face-to-face, the way you envision it. She absolutely refuses to do it, according to him.”
“Wait until she gets back to town, Martin. I can reason—”
“She’s back. She got back last night. She was so distressed by your change of heart—”
“My change of heart? Is that how she sees this? Like I’m acting on a whim?”
“She sees it as a double-cross, actually. You agreed to a settlement, and before the ink’s dry, you change your mind. She thinks you’re intentionally trying to torment her. I can see how this would be upsetting for her,” Martin said. Philip could hardly keep from laughing.
“It’s not like that, Martin. The reason for our breakup will soon be a thing of the past. There is no reason for us to get divorced, not the reason she gave anyway. I mean, unless she’s got some ulterior agenda…”
“Oh, I seriously doubt that Marianne is being anything but ingenuous here.”
“Okay, fine. If that’s the case, then we can sort this out.”
Another deep sigh on Martin’s end. “Phil, we’re going in circles here. She does not want to work things out with you,” Martin said in an exaggerated cadence, as if he were speaking to a particularly dense client.
“Well, where does that leave us, then? I don’t want to get divorced, period. I want to work things out. I want a chance to talk to my wife, in private, the way married couples do.”
“Then you’re going to have to take the first step of meeting with her and Michelson and me. Then you can take it from there. But you’ve got to get to first base before you start thinking of a home run.”
Philip pulled the phone away from his ear to glare at it. He was glad he wouldn’t have to listen to Martin’s patronizing platitudes much longer. “Okay, what do you suggest?”
“I suggest we meet at my office at ten o’clock. I’ll clear my calendar and we’ll pound away until we get somewhere.”
Philip let the reference to clearing his calendar slide. Martin had planned on being away with his wife, therefore he had no appointments to cancel. What a pompous bastard, forever trying to puff himself up. How could Marianne stand his company? Go figure, Philip thought sourly. “All right, I can be there.”
“Great. I’ll confirm with Michelson. And Phil, keep an open mind, okay? It’s better to approach these kinds of situations in the spirit of compromise rather than being dead set on one outcome. You’ll find it’ll work out better in the long run,” his solicitor advised him. Yeah, for whom? Philip almost let slip.
“Okay, Martin. I’ll do my best.”
Philip sat in the chair closest to Martin’s desk, awaiting the arrival of Marianne and her attorney. Martin had excused himself from the room, no doubt to intercept his lover and review strategies.
Since all the conference rooms were booked, Philip found himself staring at Martin’s personal effects, including pictures of Laura and the kids, Charlton and Bernice—as if having the last name Fink wasn’t bad enough. But they were children; they shouldn’t be expected to account for their father’s crimes. And Laura was a nice enough woman, all in all. She certainly didn’t deserve to have a cheating, lying scoundrel for a husband. What a shock all this would be to her.
But maybe not. If Marianne didn’t come away from the divorce with the windfall she was anticipating, it might taint the feelings she had for Martin, or vice versa. Maybe this weird alliance would fizzle before it destroyed another family. In any event, somebody’s plans were about to be altered.
Martin held the door open as Marianne and Lou Michelson entered the room, the first looking pained by emotional agony, the latter looking like he was out for a pound of flesh. Martin sheepishly followed them in and closed the door.
“Okay, I suppose there’s no need for formalities. We all know what my client wants,” Martin began. His apologetic tone set Philip’s teeth on edge. He couldn’t have found a more ambivalent advocate if he tried. Good thing he’s not representing me in a capital case, he thought, shifting in his chair as Michelson tried to bore a hole through his skull with his penetrating stare. Naturally, he was the first to attack.
“As I said on the phone Martin, this sudden, desperate ploy for reconciliation is out of the question. The time for that kind of approach is long past,” Lou said, as if his was the final word on the Glessners’ marital status.
“I’d like to hear that from my wife, if you don’t mind,” Philip said, his eyes fixed on Marianne, who was steadfastly avoiding any eye contact with her estranged husband.
“We don’t need to play games like that,” Michelson interjected. “I’m her attorney—I’m paid to handle this divorce.”
“There isn’t going to be any divorce, Lou. This is neither a ploy nor a game,” Philip said calmly, finally earning an embittered glare from Marianne.
Martin fidgeted nervously as he tried to find neutral ground to stand on. “What my client means is that he would like to exhaust the idea of reconciliation before anything is finalized,” he said, watering down Philip’s initiative.
“We agreed to meet with you in order to put this notion to rest, once and for all. In order for a couple to reconcile, there needs to be a desire to do so on both sides.”
“I disagree, Lou. I think if one spouse has enough love and desire, he or she can eventually break down the resistance in the other,” Philip said. Marianne looked at her lawyer askance, as if sending him an S.O.S.
“Look, what I’m purposing is that we have a trial reunion—I’ll move back in and we can go to family counseling and work through the impasse we’ve
come to. When you think about it, it’s really not such a radical idea.”
“You want to move back in with Marianne, the woman who says she has no affection for you anymore?” Michelson asked incredulously. Marianne gripped her handbag tighter, as if she were hanging on for life and liberty.
“I never heard her say anything of the kind,” Philip said, putting Marianne on the spot. All eyes turned to her, waiting for her to set the record straight.
“I don’t see any point of dragging this out any further, Philip,” Marianne said.
“I do,” Philip countered. “There is one very important point—our daughter. I think we owe it to her to try and work this out.” Marianne grimaced, this time in Martin’s direction. As if picking up on some telepathic directive from her paramour, she found the appropriate argument.
“It is precisely Caitlin that I’m most concerned for. I believe it is far more damaging for a child to be brought up in a home without love, than it is to divide his or her time between parents,” she said, sounding as if this spontaneous theory was in fact the crux of her case.
“Well, again we disagree, but that doesn’t worry me. I believe love conquers all, and in time you and I will be happy and as much in love as we were before our troubles started,” Philip said serenely.
His insistence in reuniting was starting to get under Marianne’s skin. She held her tongue at first, with difficulty, while waiting for her lawyer or her lover to come to her rescue. Neither seemed equipped to do so.
“You don’t honestly expect to move back in with me, do you?” she finally snapped.
“Yes, I do, and why not? It’s my home, too.” Marianne, exasperated, turned to Michelson. “Do something,” she hissed under her breath.
“My client refuses to reconcile, and that’s that. We will proceed with the divorce as agreed,” he said, standing to emphasize the finality of the decision.
“Sit down,” Philip said, languidly shifting in his chair. “We’re not through here.” As there was no hysteria or desperation in Philip’s tone, Michelson was forced to sit back down.
“Okay, Marianne—I’ve tried to take the high road here, but if you insist on taking a hard line against reconciliation, I’m afraid you leave me no choice but to formally contest this divorce.”
“What do you mean?” Martin asked, a question completely out of keeping with his role in this drama. Both Philip and Michelson regarded him with surprise.
“What I mean, Martin, since you and I have had little time to go over contingency plans, is that I will go before a judge and contest the grounds on which this divorce was filed. Because of the guilt I felt at having to put my family through the humiliation of a public scandal, I willingly agreed to be sued for divorce, allowing Marianne to be the plaintiff in the matter.
“As we now know, the building that caused us such personal disgrace will now be saved, thereby eliminating the sense of guilt spawned by a desire to protect my family. In other words, I’m not willing to roll over on this one, Marianne.
“I’m going to fight this divorce. I’ll go into court and explain to the judge how willing I am to make our marriage work. What do you think he’s going to say to that? Hmmm? Without cause on your part, I think he’s going to grant time for counseling, don’t you? And if you don’t like living in the same house as me, then you’ll have to be the one who moves out,” Philip said, smiling at her, sending her the distinct message that he meant every word he said.
“Wait a second here,” Michelson said, holding up his hands as if to stop some outrageous buffoonery. “Last I remember, we had all worked out the details of a fair and equitable divorce settlement. Now, a week later, you’re back here threatening to reconcile. I smell a rat,” he said, narrowing his gaze at Philip. “A rat disguised as a caring husband.” Philip smirked, but he didn’t lose his temper the way Lou had hoped.
“I think I’ve made my position clear,” he said. “Oh, except for this: if you want a divorce, Marianne, then I’ll be the plaintiff, and I’ll be suing you for divorce and sole custody of Caitlin.”
“You have got to be joking!” Marianne cried, jumping up out of her seat. Michelson stood, leveling a look of priggish contempt at Philip.
“We’ll have no part of this charade,” he scowled. “You’re going to have to face us in court, Fink,” he said, turning to escort his client away from this vile company.
“You know, I think I forgot to mention that if I wanted to sue for divorce and custody of our child, I have the grounds on which to do so,” Philip said placidly from his seat next to Martin’s familial photographs. This got Marianne’s attention. Martin’s, too.
“Now what are you on about?” Marianne asked, her eyes flashing hatefully.
“Let’s just say that if you and your attorney don’t sit down and adjust your attitudes, I can walk out of this room this minute and find myself other legal representation and sue you for infidelity,” he said.
A dead stillness filled the room. Marianne stared at Philip, her mind frantically searching for a breach in her discretion. Philip saw the light of realization as she hit on the source of Philip’s intelligence. His eyes surveyed the faces of the two attorneys as they separately pieced together the basis of Philip’s threats. Michelson started to speak, his tongue slightly ahead of his brain. He glanced at Marianne then Martin, and decided to cancel his remark.
“I’m going to give you and your client fifteen minutes to think about this,” Philip said, as he stood up. He gave Martin a look that the attorney couldn’t quite decipher. He left the room, followed seconds later by the man whose job it was to represent his interests.
“Phil,” he said, shuffling to catch up.
“Let me just say this, Martin, so that we understand each other clearly. I’m not sure of the exact names, but there have to be laws on the books that prohibit the kind of acts you’ve committed while under my hire. I’m thinking along the lines of conflict of interest, breach of trust, fraternizing with the adversary…things of that nature.”
“That would kill my wife,” Martin croaked hoarsely.
“What—the part about being unfaithful, or the part about being disbarred?” There was a lump in Martin’s throat that refused to go up or down. Philip could actually feel the painfulness of it. “Here are the terms: she moves out, I get full legal custody of Caitlin, and her settlement is two million dollars, period.” Martin blanched.
“What about alimony and child support?” Philip paused as he pretended to consider this.
“Since I will have full custody of Caitlin—with generous visitation rights for Marianne—there will be no child support. As for alimony, four thousand a month, terminating in five years, unless she remarries first.”
“Four thousand for five years?” Martin squeaked. “She’ll never go for it.”
Philip shrugged as if to say it wasn’t his problem. “You’ve got twelve minutes left,” he said.
Forty
Priscilla raised herself up on her elbow and looked across Tobias’s sleeping body. The clock read 4:08, yet it felt like she had been lying awake for days. She folded back the sheet and eased out of bed without disturbing her fellow occupant and found her way to the living room in the dark. She switched on a table lamp, temporarily blinding herself.
Once her eyes adjusted, she canvassed the room for the notebooks she had sold to Tobias. She found them neatly boxed and bagged under a hall table, apparently in some sort of order. She flipped through book after book until she came across what she was hunting for.
Quietly, she tore out a few blank pages and put the notebooks back the way she had found them, all except one. She went to the piano, searching for Tobias’s pen. She then sat cross-legged on the floor, using the sofa as a backrest.
Though she had ample verses piled up in her head waiting for release—like water in a backed up sink—now, with pen in hand, she didn’t know where to begin. Writing may have been the craving that propelled her out of bed in the middle of the night
, but there were bigger issues praying on her mind than pent-up creativity.
If she had any sense, she’d pack up and head out of there before Tobias woke up. She’d never had an affair so quick to heat up and so quick to fizzle. Of course, that was her take. For all she knew, Tobias could still be as enchanted with her as ever. But her feelings toward him had most definitely cooled.
She couldn’t say what exactly had put her off, but she supposed finding out he wasn’t the man she had imagined all these years was the main cause. It was odd, too, because they had a real connection—very easy and natural. But music was really their only common ground. Finding out his words did not reflect the spirit of the man devalued much of what she had admired about him, and left her feeling vaguely swindled.
Priscilla bit her lip as she doodled the word ‘connection’ repeatedly. She thought about their brief history together, remarkably short considering how much ground they had covered. There were moments when she’d felt herself sinking deeper and deeper into the danger zone with him. She could still feel the thrill of them.
How does a spell like the one he cast on her lift so suddenly? She recalled the scene at the club, the jilted lover dousing him with champagne and running off in a fit of heartache. She could read Tobias’s thoughts as clearly as if they’d been printed on his skin: people come into his life and they leave. There was never any reason to mourn their departure, for someone else would always appear to take their place.
Brody Haversham might be the one exception to that philosophy, but it hadn’t assured him any better treatment from Tobias. To say Tobias was selfish was like saying coyotes were cruel and unfeeling. They are, of course, but that’s their nature. Instead of hunger and the need for survival dictating his every move, Tobias had the cumbersome burden of extraordinary talent to pamper and coax.
Trying to pretend it didn’t exist for many years had burned a hole inside him, which had festered and produced a dangerous self-loathing. It was almost impossible to be so disdainful of others without being doubly disdainful of one’s self.
Alligators in the Trees Page 46
