As she waited for a traffic light to turn green, Amy wondered why Jack had not asked Elaine’s husband to take care of his estate, but then she realized that Jack’s will had been made before James had even started law school. There had been no real reason to change the appointment, she supposed.
Amy climbed the rickety stairs to Jason Cooper’s second-floor office. Only in Charleston would a prominent attorney locate his office in a building like this one. On the other hand, it was only a couple of blocks from the courthouse, and Amy recalled that Jack had once told her that Jason’s father, grandfather, and, perhaps, his great-grandfather had practiced law from this same location. Amy smiled. Charleston’s old families were nothing if not traditional.
She entered, took a seat in the reception room, and waited.
“Ms. Barrett, Mr. Cooper is ready to talk with you now.”
The receptionist held the door as she entered Jason Cooper’s office. Large, bright windows looked out onto Broad Street. Law books filled shelves along one wall and dark paneling covered the others. Amy’s feet almost sank into the thick, green carpet. A painting of the Cooper family’s home, a three-story white house that towered over the Battery, hung across from Jason’s desk. Amy recognized the house as the one next door to Mary Alyce Butler’s, where she had eaten dinner after the ball.
As she entered, Jason Cooper remained seated behind his large mahogany desk. “Amy, it’s so good of you to come by. Please sit down.” He motioned to a chair. “Would you like coffee or tea? Something stronger, perhaps.” He smiled.
“Coffee would be good, Jason. I left home in such a rush this morning, and I need to be awake when I discuss finances.”
“Yes. Of course.” He turned to the receptionist. “Bring Ms. Barrett coffee, Stacy, and bring me a cup too, please.”
“Would you like cream or sugar, Ms. Barrett?” Stacy asked.
“Cream, please.” Amy sat, placing her pocketbook on the floor beside her chair.
He asked how she was getting along, how the children were doing, and they discussed their families, making small talk until Stacy returned.
She was carrying a tray with cups and saucers, and a small pitcher of cream. She handed one cup to Jason, then turned to Amy. “Ms. Barrett.” She waited while Amy added cream to her coffee. “Can I do anything else?” She looked to Jason and back to Amy.
“I’m fine,” Amy said.
“Thank you, Stacy.”
As she left the office, closing the door behind her, Jason straightened up and cleared his throat. “Now, well, Amy, it will be time to settle Jack’s estate in just a couple of weeks. We had to leave it open for a year, you remember.”
Amy nodded.
“I wanted to go over the figures with you.”
“Okay.” Amy pulled a small notepad from her pocketbook and took out a pen.
“Well, okay, all right, there is your home, of course. It appraised for two hundred thirty-five thousand dollars. Jack had a life insurance policy for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, with the estate as beneficiary. He had a collection of stocks and bonds that are worth approximately twenty thousand dollars.”
“All right.” She wrote the numbers on her pad and did the calculation. “Four hundred fifteen thousand?” Amy looked up at Jason to verify.
“That, well, that sounds right.”
“About what I had expected.” She leaned back in her chair and took sip of coffee. “What happens next? You file something in probate court?”
Jason took a deep drink of his own coffee, then leaned forward, resting one arm on the desk. “Well, there is a bit more to the estate.”
“More?” Amy frowned, puzzled. “What else?”
“Yes, well, uh, there is the condominium on the Isle of Palms that he left to Marci Johns and—” the words came in a rush.
“The what?” Amy rose from her chair, her voice growing louder.
Jason took a deep breath. “A condominium—
“The what?” Amy shouted.
“A condo. He left it to—”
“I heard you.” The cup clattered against the saucer as Amy slammed her hands against the desk, coffee sloshing over the side. “He bought that tramp a condominium? She lived there? He left it to her?”
Jason nodded. “Yes.” His voice wavered. “He purchased it about fifteen years ago.” His eyes dropped to a paper on his desk. “It’s, ah…well, Amy, it’s worth five hundred thirty thousand dollars.”
The last part came out almost as a whisper, but Amy heard clearly enough to make her feel dizzy as she sank back into the chair. Fifteen years? How long would he have, could he have, known her before buying her a condo?
She had been hired shortly after Amy worked at Jack’s office. She had only worked for him ten years. He’d hired his mistress.
She glared at Jason. “You knew this,” she murmured.
He nodded, sinking lower into his chair.
“When? How long have you known about the condominium?”
Jason sat up straight and raised his hand, motioning for her to stop. His voice was firm. “Amy, let’s focus on the will.” He spoke as if she were an unruly child and he was attempting to re-establish control over the situation.
She ignored him. “How long, Jason? Tell me. How long?”
“I was Jack’s attorney, so, of course, I handled the closing. Now, if we could move—”
“You were my friend too, Jason. We had you to our home for dinners—I cooked for you—and all that time you…you…knew.”
“Well, you understand, Amy…privilege, and all that.”
Amy perched on the edge of her chair and leaned over the desk, speaking slowly. “Let me make sure that I do understand, Jason. I am to receive my home, stocks, bonds, and insurance worth about four hundred twenty thousand dollars, and Jack’s…mistress,” she spat out the word, “is to have a condominium worth five hundred thirty thousand. Am I missing something?”
“Well, actually, yes.”
Amy waited while he took another sip of coffee. “I should have had bourbon,” he muttered then cleared his throat. “There is a fifty thousand dollar mortgage outstanding on the condominium. It will have to be satisfied out of the insurance proceeds.” When Amy did not respond, he continued. “When all is said and done, you will receive property and cash worth about three hundred seventy thousand dollars.”
Amy stared blankly for almost a minute, watching as Jason shifted uncomfortably, tugging on his shirt collar as if it were too warm.
“It was Jack’s property, Amy.” He sat up straight. “He had the right to dispose of it however he wished. If he wanted Marci to—”
“Marci?”
Jason looked puzzled. “Yes, I told you. Marci Johns.”
“You call her Marci? Awfully familiar isn’t it? Do you know this woman?”
“Well, I, of course.” He darted a glance out of the window for a moment. “Marci is my niece, Amy. You met her at the ball.”
Amy didn’t respond.
“I didn’t think that you recognized her.”
The woman in the green dress. Amy had thought she looked familiar, but she had not seen Marci in several years—except for the day she caught her in bed with Jack and, on that day, she had not been wearing an evening dress. In any case, Amy had been more interested in getting a clear shot than in anyone’s appearance.
“Your niece was my husband’s mistress?” Amy’s voice rose.
“Yes.”
“Privilege kept you from telling me this, for over a decade?”
Neither spoke for a moment.
“Marci was in love with Jack. I didn’t want to cause her to be unhappy.”
“If she was in love with Jack, why didn’t she have him leave me and marry her?”
He snorted, looking smug. “She wanted to do just that, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Jack would not have been any more appropriate a husband for Marci than her father was for her mother.” He tipped his chair back and looked down his nose at Amy.
“We marry among ourselves, Ms. Barrett.”
Amy could hear Barb’s voice—Rich men don’t marry poor girls, either.
“Understand, my sister, Marci’s mother, was wild, even as a child. Headstrong, wanted her own way, refused to understand the word no. Broke all of the rules. She became worse as she aged. By the time she turned sixteen, she seldom stayed at home more than two nights in a row. Married a piece of trash that hung around just long enough to get her pregnant.”
He shook his head. “Can you imagine what it was like for Marci, growing up like that, her family here,” he gestured to the picture on the wall, “while she was exiled to one of those shacks across the river?” He motioned to his left.
“I live across that river, Jason.”
“Of course you do.”
Amy felt as if he had slapped her across the face.
Jason shook his head and waved his hand as if to push his comment away. “It wasn’t a shack,” he grudgingly acknowledged, “but it was nothing like home.” He gazed up at the painting of his house, then turned to face Amy.
“Look, Amy, be reasonable. You wouldn’t want the condo, and Marci needs it. She needs that condo, or the money she gets for it. It will pave her way to respectability, make it possible to live as she ought to live. Years ago, I told Jack to deed it to her, but he never would.” He sighed. “But it worked out in the end.”
“No. I was his wife.”
“Well, uh, I understand that you had filed for a divorce…”
“I was his wife,” Amy said firmly. “I know a little of the law, Jason. I was married to him when he died. I know that I am absolutely entitled to at least one half of my husband’s estate, even if he had left it all to that tramp.”
“Well, for you to receive half…”
“I am entitled to at least,” Amy did a quick calculation, “four hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
“Well, we would have to sell the condominium, Amy, and it doesn’t seem right, somehow. It was Jack’s wish—”
“Doesn’t seem right?” Amy rose from the chair, her voice rising along with her. She stared down at Jason Cooper. “No, it doesn’t seem right. It does not seem right that he would acknowledge his mistress in a public document. It does not seem right that he would take better care of her than he would of me—let alone any of his children.” She started for the door, but as her hand touched the handle, she stopped and spun around.
Jason had turned his chair and was looking out through the window.
“How did you know that I had filed for a divorce?”
“What?”
“You said that I was divorcing Jack. How did you know that?”
“Well, he told me. The afternoon of the accident, before he died. He came by the office to talk. He told me you’d had him served, asked a few questions about his will, and had me draw up the codicil with the bequest to Marci. I suggested, again, that he deed the property, keep it quiet, at least keep it out of court.” He looked puzzled. “I never have understood what he was thinking.”
Amy’s mouth dropped open. Payback, she thought, for the divorce. Her body was shaking, but she took a deep breath to regain control, then stepped back toward Jason.
“Be very clear about this, Jason Cooper. I will contest any settlement of this estate that gives me less than half of Jack’s assets. If that means that you have to toss that tramp out on the street, then you do it. Do you understand?”
He rose from his chair and walked slowly across the room to stand over her. His eyes were small and dark. “You are not one of us, Ms. Barrett, so you don’t understand. We take care of our own.” He smirked. “And if you don’t believe me, ask your friend, Dr. Nelson. He will explain it to you.” He stared into her eyes. “We will defend that will in court. Marci will get what is hers, and you will take what is left.” He continued to glare at Amy. “If you are not careful, Ms. Barrett, you’ll lose even more than the few dollars that have you so upset.” He paused. “The house where you currently live, it’s a part of the estate. I have the authority to sell it. I could list the house this afternoon, in fact. I could leave the estate open for another year, wait another year further to give you any money.”
“I may not be one of you, but I will have what is mine,” Amy shouted, not backing down. “Do you understand? You even try to cheat me, and I’ll complain to the court. I’ll complain to the bar. I’ll have your license, Jason Cooper. Good day.” Amy turned and strode out of the office, slamming the door, ignoring the muffled words echoing behind her.
***
Jason’s receptionist jumped and dropped the file in her hands as Amy slammed the office door. “Ms. Barrett, is there a prob—”
Amy flung the main door open and was gone, ignoring the receptionist’s words. She strode down the hall and stomped down the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator. She wanted to hit something. A trash can stood outside the elevators on the first floor and she kicked it down the hall, scattering waste paper across the floor.
She finally stopped as she reached the sidewalk, gasping as the cold air hit her. Her arms were shaking and she was breathing rapidly. Leaning against the building, she squeezed her arms around her body. She screamed, primal, no words, but the sound of an animal in pain.
She breathed deeply and focused her thoughts. She didn’t want to hit something, she decided, she wanted to attack Jack, specifically. For over half of their married life, he’d had a mistress. He had deceived her, forced her to scrimp on groceries and clothing for their children, made her account for every penny, even when it was from her own paycheck, while he had spent their money on housing his illicit lover.
She supposed that when he had missed Rich’s ball games, he had been with her. When he was late to Cathy’s dance recital, he had been with her. When Amy’s brother had been rushed to the hospital after an automobile accident, she had waited alone by the telephone, because Jack was with her. She’d had to make do with a part-time husband because he had been with her.
When she had discovered what he was doing, he had taken the chicken route, dying in an airplane crash rather facing her in court, rather than revealing his true self in public, to his children. And right before he boarded his airplane, he had changed his will, just to humiliate her.
He could have done what Jason Cooper had suggested—given Marci the condominium. It would have been done privately, and Amy would never have known. The bastard had chosen to do it in public. She knew that denying her the several hundred thousand dollars for which she could have sold the condominium was a consideration, but she felt certain that it was secondary to the humiliation.
Surely, as he had pointed the nose of his Cessna toward the ground, he had known what he was leaving behind. Jason Cooper knew—had known for a year now, and had not breathed a word. Tom Williams, Jack’s supervisor, had known of his affair. Elliot Barnes, the friend who had given her the details, had known. They had all known. For years. Not one of them had had the decency to tell her.
Who else knew? His entire office? Had they laughed at her at office parties? Neighbors? The children? Surely not. Was she the only blind, stupid person who had not realized what he was doing? For over fifteen years?
Amy began to cry. She would not be able to bear it if she found that the children had known. She might follow Jack’s route if she found that.
“Men.” She spat out the word as if it were a piece of spoiled fish. They were all alike, weren’t they? Drew’s face floated through her mind. No, not Drew, she thought, then paused, hearing Jason Cooper’s voice. You are not one of us…ask your friend, Dr. Nelson.
She rubbed her temples. Why not Drew? Elaine believed he was a snake.
Amy began to walk. It was too early to go to the office. She saw the green sign ahead and turned in to the coffee shop. Finding a place at the second-floor window, she numbly sipped her latte and stared at the street below. Even though it was early, tourists were wandering along King Street, looking for breakfast, perhaps. Heading toward
the Battery for a walk. Amy lost focus on the street below. In her mind, it was three decades earlier, and she was a senior in college.
***
She and her friend Maddie stood on the steps of the Student Union Building, watching the crowd gathering in the quad—a large, grassy area surrounded by the Student Union, two of the older men’s dorms, and Benning Hall, a classroom building.
A woman was standing on a small platform in the middle of the crowd—about two hundred people, Amy guessed, all women. She held a megaphone in one hand, but, even so, it was difficult for Amy to understand everything that the woman said. She seemed to be complaining about male domination of the university, of American society, of the world, in general.
Students had gathered on the steps to the Student Union. Amy could see groups of men on the front porches of the dormitories, and a crowd was gathering at the foot of the steps leading into Benning Hall. Occasionally, a man would shout out, but Amy didn’t understand what the men were shouting.
“Women’s libbers,” Maddie sniffed and she turned to go. “Come on.”
“Wait, Maddie.” Amy caught her arm. “I want to watch.”
A man was walking across the quad, staring at the book in his hand, apparently paying no attention to the crowd of women.
“Male chauvinist pig,” one of the women shouted. The man did not seem to hear, and other women took up the call and began to chant. “Male chauvinist pig. Male chauvinist pig.”
A student standing near Amy on the steps shouted too, but Amy saw that this girl was laughing, while the women in the quad had angry expressions on their faces.
The man finally seemed to hear the shouts. He looked up and saw the women shaking their fists and almost tripped as he began to run. He crossed the quad, and entered one of the dorms, the women’s jeers following him as he ran.
To Fall in Love Again Page 19
