“How long did it take you to put on that weight?” Jack asked curiously. Not bothering to wait for a reply, Jack continued. “I want you to be hard on yourself. That’s important. You have to want this, work at it. No one can do it for you but yourself. Now, I suggest you make a chart and post it in the kitchen. The time, the date, what you binged on andwhy you did it. It’s the ‘why’ that’s important, Rosie. One more thing—you can’t disappoint me, you can only disappoint yourself. You’re embarking on a lifestyle change. Food is at the top of the list. Conquer it and you’re halfway home.”
Jack watched as Rosie’s head bobbed up and down as he was talking. He wanted to clap her on the back, praise her for telling him the truth, but he didn’t.
Rosie stared at her trainer. “I started putting on weight when I finished college. I put on the last fifty-five pounds during my three-year marriage. Before you can ask, I ate because I was so miserable. I really don’t want to talk about this.”
“Why? It’s the crux of your problem. Why were you so miserable? What happened when you finished college? What size were you when youstarted college?”
“There was nothing in your contract that said I had to answer personal questions, Jack. I might like to ask a few of you. How would you like that?”
“Ask away. I don’t have a problem. I’m the same weight I’ve been my entire adult life. What do you want to know?”
She wanted to know everything there was to know about him, but she didn’t ask. “Nothing.”
Jack chuckled. “I guess that means you think I’m perfect.”
Rosie grimaced. “I wouldn’t go that far, Mr. Silver.”
“Does that mean you aren’t going to answer my questions?”
“Yep, that’s what it means.”
Jack shrugged. “Listen, Rosie, I want to ask you something. We’re sponsoring a triathlon the day after Thanksgiving. It’s a hundred dollars to enter. All the money goes to the local SPCA and a few other charities. We do it twice a year. The money from the March marathon goes to a battered women’s shelter. We do other indoor competitions at the gym, with money going to the Scouts and local organizations. We usually have a good turnout.”
Rosie stepped on the StairMaster, her heart fluttering in her chest. “You expect me to run more than twenty-five miles?”
“No, no. It involves a ten-mile run, a five-mile bike ride, and a three-mile canoe trip on the Savannah River. There’s a trophy prize donated by the store owners. You have three months to get ready. You can do it, Rosie.”
Those four little words, “You can do it,” were all she needed to hear. “Okay, Jack. Sign me up. How many people will there be?”
“Just about everyone from the gym. Usually about two hundred people counting the outsiders. We try to raise $25,000. If we don’t make it with the enrollment, then the gym throws in the difference. Why, does it make a difference?”
“No. I was just curious. Men and women, huh?”
Jack laughed. “We don’t discriminate.” He hesitated for just a second before he said, “Your husband signed up yesterday.”
At the trainer’s words, Rosie lost her footing and tumbled off the StairMaster. Jack was on his feet in a flash, his arms out to catch her. Startled, she looked into his eyes, her own filling with tears. Either she was nuts or light-headed, but she thought he was going to kiss her. She reared back.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze. “Guess I lost my footing there for a minute. It just goes to show you have to pay attention to what you’re doing.” She climbed back on the StairMaster but remained silent. Jack said she could do it. She would be competing against her athletic husband. Jack said she could do it. Forget the idea that maybe he was going to kiss her. Just forget it. Don’t even think about it. It never happened. It was all wishful thinking.
“Listen, Rosie,” Jack said rather abruptly. “I just remembered something I have to attend to. I don’t know how I could have forgotten. I won’t charge you for this session. You know the routine. I’ll bring the forms for the triathlon next week. Let’s plan on Monday morning for our first run.”
“Yeah, sure,” Rosie said flatly. She didn’t let the tears come until she heard the door to the sunroom close.What the hell is it about me that turns men off? What’s wrong with me? She swiped at her tears with the sleeve of her shirt.
She continued her workout with a vengeance, crying the whole time.
Outside in the driveway, Jack sat in his car staring at the house, his insides feeling shaky. He’d wanted to kiss Rosie. Really wanted to kiss her. That had been a little too close for comfort. He never mixed business with pleasure. For that one split second, he thoughtshe’d wanted to kiss him, too.
There was something about Rosie that triggered something in him. Something he hadn’t felt since his wife had died of ovarian cancer four years ago. On rare occasions he had dated women, but none of them measured up to his wife Martha. Rosie had what Martha had, an inner goodness, a soft vulnerability. She was as determined as Martha had been. He realized now how she must have taken his personal questions. She’d probably felt that she was under attack. It was a stupid mistake, apersonal, stupid mistake.
He slipped the car into gear and drove off, mentally calculating how many hours it would be until he saw Rosie again. Next time, though, it would be all business. Client and trainer. Nothing more.
It was midmorning when Rosie dressed in a powder blue pantsuit. She was stunned at how big it was on her frame. The pants actually slid down over her hips. She couldn’t go out looking like this. She rummaged in the back of her closet until she found a short-sleeved multicolored shift that was what Luna Mae called a one-size-fits-nobody outfit. Obviously, she needed to buy some new clothes.
She was going to see a lawyer, a man Luna Mae said was a pit bull when it came to divorces. A lawyer who stripped every husband whose wife he represented, leaving the husband with nothing but his name. Luna Mae and Vickie both insisted Kent would try to get everything he could out of her. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. He would get nothing from her because he’d brought nothing to the marriage except his person. She wasn’t going to think about the lottery ticket.
“It’s too hot to take you with me, Buddy, and I can’t leave the car open with you in it. I won’t be long. Here’s a chewy—my old slipper—and your water bowl is full.” The dog looked up at her, his eyes sad. Rosie knew the dog understood everything she said. Sometimes, he could even anticipate her. It boggled her mind.
It was a short drive to Timothy Donovan’s office. Rosie turned the radio on so she wouldn’t have to think about Jack Silver. Thinking too much about Jack Silver would give her a headache. At the moment she didn’t need a headache. To prove her point, she hummed along with Roy Orbison singing “Pretty Woman.” She wondered if anyone would ever refer to her as a pretty woman. Thoughts of Jack Silver wormed their way into her thoughts again. She’d beenthat close to the trainer. Why had she reared back when he’d touched her? Kent’s ugly comments rang in her ears. Who would want to kiss or hug a sweaty tub of lard? Not someone like Jack Silver, that’s for sure. Maybe someday. Yeah, right, and pigs fly.
Rosie squared her shoulders. She could make it happen. All she had to do was follow the rules, work like hell. If she believed in herself, anything was possible. “I-will-be-a-pretty-woman when it is time. I can do it. Iwill do it.” The silent affirmation was all she needed to perk up her sagging ego.
Rosie was feeling pretty good when she swerved the van into the attorney’s parking lot. It didn’t look crowded at this time of day, and she was able to get a parking space close to the door.
Luna Mae had given her the skinny on Tim Donovan. According to her housekeeper, men quaked in their boots when they found out their wives had retained him to represent them in divorce cases. More than one errant husband had thrown in the towel the minute his own lawyer told him who opposing counsel was.
Tim Donovan hated cheating husbands and the lawyers who r
epresented them. It was only hearsay, but the story was his own father had cheated on his mother, then she’d lost everything and had to hold down three jobs to support him and his sister. Luna Mae went on to say Donovan would suck the blood right out of his clients’ husbands if he could. It was also said that Donovan’s colleagues respected him and warned their clients what they were up against if they were foolish enough to try to hide assets or in any other way stick it to their former wives.
Rosie thought she would be in good hands if Donovan took her on.
A small, tasteful sign perched among the lush shrubbery indicated that Donovan shared the building with a dentist and an architect. It was called the Donovan Building by most people.
The building was not ostentatious in any way. It was, however, neat and tidy and constructed of old brick that years of sun and the elements had polished to a glossy rose color. The grass was thick and lush, the walkway, made of pink flagstones, was bordered with multicolored flowers. Crepe myrtles, the South’s answer to lilacs, bloomed profusely. All in all, the Donovan Building had a cozy, welcoming look to it.
Rosie walked up the flagstone walkway and entered the building. She proceeded down the hall to the last office, which was to the right of an atrium that was so pretty she stopped for a few minutes just to admire it. It also served to quiet her twanging nerves.
When Rosie stepped into the reception area, she was on time, to the minute. She was ushered into Timothy Donovan’s office the moment the lawyer’s secretary walked around the desk to greet her.
Standing in the doorway, Rosie made her assessment of the lawyer, who was getting up, his hand extended. They eyed one another, neither blinking or looking anywhere but directly into each other’s eyes, as they shook hands. Both appeared satisfied. Donovan motioned Rosie to a deep comfortable chair across from him.
The first thing Rosie noticed, other than the man’s tidy desk, was the box of tissues sitting on the corner of the desk within easy reach of the client. For tearful wives no doubt. Well, she wouldn’t be using them today or any other day.
Rosie simply smiled at the attorney. Donovan responded by leaning back in his chair, a huge grin splitting his homely features.We’re going to get along just fine, Rosie thought.
He didn’t look like a lawyer, more like a schoolteacher, with his shell-rimmed glasses and rosy cheeks. He had a wonderful smile, warm and welcoming. His body language said,I’m going to take care of this and make it all come out right.
“Tell me what I can do for you, Rosie. By the way, I want you to call me Tim. First names are more comfortable. Now, start at the beginning and tell me why you’re here. Don’t leave anything out no matter how inconsequential you think it might be. Can you do that, Rosie? By the way, is it Bliss or Gardener? My secretary wrote down both names.”
“My married name is Bliss. My maiden name was Gardener. I want my name back. Do you mean you want me to start at the moment when I first met my husband?”
“If it works for you, it works for me. I can always ask questions when you’re finished. I hope you don’t object to my taping this meeting. My secretary doesn’t do shorthand, and says she can’t read my writing. Besides, it makes for good record keeping.”
“I don’t have a problem with a tape.” Rosie leaned back in the comfortable chair. “I met Kent a little more than four years ago…”
When she finished her sorry tale forty minutes later, Donovan asked her if she’d like coffee or a soda pop. She declined both. “I guess what I want to know is, does Kent have any claim to anything I have, like the house and my business? Both were mine before the marriage. He contributed absolutely nothing.”
“If it was yours before you married Kent, then it is yours now. Does your husband sell real estate?”
“That’s his job description. Once in a while he sells something. I never knew from year to year what he made until I saw our income tax statements. Most of this is my fault. I was an enabler. I didn’t know that term until my friend used it. I no longer wish to be his enabler. I just want out of the marriage. I suspect he will try to make things difficult for me.”
“No, he won’t. If he gives you one iota of trouble, you call me any time of the day or night, and I will take care of Mr. Bliss. Now, what is it you would like me to get for you from Mr. Bliss? Or is it just your regulation pound of flesh?” His eyes twinkled with this last statement, proof that he knew how to extract said flesh.
Rosie flushed. “Absolutely nothing. I know he’s going to fight me. He is not above asking me to pay him alimony. To keep him in the style to which he grew accustomed.”
Donovan shook his head. “That isn’t going to happen. Where does he work? I will have him served at his place of employment. Do you know if he has an attorney?”
“I don’t know. I am ashamed to admit I know very little about my husband, Tim.”
“That’s going to change real quick, Rosie. You will know more about him when this is over than you ever wanted to know. I know his type,” he said grimly.
Rosie nodded. Luna Mae was right. She liked Donovan a lot.
“I’ll get right on this and have him served with divorce papers by the end of the week. If he gets in touch with you, call me ASAP. Don’t delay. It’s imperative that you understand and do exactly what I tell you. Now, is there anything else?”
Rosie inched forward on the chair. “Can I ask you something…hypothetically?”
Here it comes,Donovan thought.It’s always hypothetical. Still, he wasn’t prepared for what he heard.
“The community property laws being what they are in most states, Georgia included, what would be the rule if someone won, say a large sum of money from something like…bingo or maybe the lottery when they were in the midst of a divorce?”
“I’m not sure, Rosie. I suppose the person who won would have to prove it was his or her money that allowed him or her to play whatever he or she was playing. There have been cases that went to court for just such a matter. I can’t say that I paid much attention because I’m strictly a divorce lawyer. Do you know someone who won a large sum of money?”
Rosie nodded. “It’s…it’s a rather…a rather large sum, Tim.”
“What’s a large sum, Rosie, a hundred thousand?”
Rosie jumped up and walked over to the window that overlooked a patio of sorts in the back of the building. She looked down at a fishpond to see huge goldfish swimming lazily from one end of the pond to the other. Colorful lawn chairs and small tables with umbrellas sat under an old oak tree. She surmised the employees ate lunch outside on nice days.
Her voice was raspy when she blurted, “Three hundred and two million dollars!”
The attorney gaped at his new client. “That sounds like the sum of money won in the Wonderball lottery a couple of months ago.”
Rosie bit down on her lower lip.
“Did…did your…ah,hypothetical friend who is about to get divorced win the lottery, Rosie? I seem to recall hearing that the winning Wonderball ticket was sold here in Savannah. Unfortunately I didn’t buy a ticket.”
Rosie found her tongue again. “Do you think you could do some research on the matter and let me know? I’ll be more than glad to pay…for…for my friend.”
“So then it isn’t a hypothetical matter. There actually is a person who won the money.”
Rosie stared at the attorney. “Yes, there is such a person. They haven’t come forward because…because of what we just discussed. The ticket for Wonderball is good for one year from the date of purchase. It says so right on the back of the ticket.”
The attorney threw his hands in the air. “There you see, you learn something new every day. I didn’t know a lottery ticket was good for a year.”
“Most times it’s just for a hundred and eighty days. Wonderball is a full year.”
“The person who won the ticket…does he or she have it in a safe place?”
Rosie thought the lawyer’s voice sounded anxious. She thought about the flowered cushi
on on the rocker in the guest room. “Semisafe, I’d say.”
“Semisafe isn’t good enough, Rosie. Whoever has the ticket in hand is the owner. You realize that, don’t you? I hope you can explain that to your…ah, friend.”
Rosie ran her fingers through her hair. “I’ll explain it to her. She isn’t in a hurry to claim the prize. Tax ramifications and the soon-to-be-divorced husband could be a real problem. On top of that she needs a good tax man, a good accountant, and an excellent attorney. She’s not hurting for money, so she can take her time right up until the eleventh hour if it comes to that.”
It was the attorney’s turn to get up and walk over to the window. He, too, stared down at the fishpond. The fishpond had been his idea. Perhaps because his father had never taken him fishing because he was always out chasing other women. His gut instinct told him Rosie Gardener’s hypothetical friend was herself. He turned around.
“Let me do some research on the matter, Rosie, since there’s no hurry. I’d like to get your divorce filing done, then take on the lottery issue.”
“What would be wrong with my friend’s giving the ticket to, let’s say, two other friends, and letting them claim the money?”
The lawyer shrugged. “Personally, I don’t think I’d do that. I think I’d put the ticket in a safe-deposit box for the time being. Matters like that have gone to court. You would all be under oath, especially if the soon-to-be-ex got wind of what was going on. You cannot lie under oath, but then you already know that.”
Rosie sat back down on the comfortable chair. “I would imagine lawyers would stand in line wanting to represent the husband.”
“That’s the understatement of the year, Rosie. Like I said, let me have my paralegal do some research on the matter.”
Rosie stood up. “Do I pay you or the secretary?”
“Neither. We’ll send you a bill. Take my card and remember what I told you. Call me any time of the day or night. You can always reach me either on my cell, at home, or here in the office. You can beep me, too. I’m just a number away.
Pretty Woman Page 11
