How to Kill Your Husband (19 page)

* * *

Before her friends left for the evening, Claire went up to Nikki's bathroom and snatched one of her old toothbrushes from the holder. She gave it to Melanie so she could get her friend at work to compare the DNA to the unknown samples from Ms. Kimberly Pate's garbage. The rubber bands they pilfered didn't have enough roots attached to the hairs to retrieve a sample, but the milk carton and Styrofoam cups still looked hopeful. Melanie said they would know for sure if the twins were George's within a week or so.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CALIFORNIA SAND

The next day, Claire left work a few minutes early so she could drop off her retainer to Mr. Trevor Smiley. He wouldn't file any paperwork until the bloodwork came back from Melanie, but there were a lot of preliminary things he wanted to get started on.

Claire wrote the check from her personal account, but she had to take fifteen hundred dollars from their joint savings to cover it. George wasn't too involved with the bill-paying side of their marriage, but he did check their balances every so often.

Claire knew it was a gamble, but fifteen hundred was a pretty small percentage of the bulk they had in there. Plus George had a birthday coming up in a couple of months. If worse came to worst, Claire could say she was planning something very special for him. Technically, that wasn't even a lie.

Before she left his office, Mr. Smiley reached to shake her hand. Claire offered it, and he stared longingly into her eyes when he shook. Claire knew his advances were serious, but she didn't have him figured out yet. She'd been out of the dating game for a long time; almost two decades. She had no idea what men really wanted anymore. She was pretty sure she didn't want to find out. But then again…

“What do you want from me, Trevor?
Seriously
…” she asked him.

The lawyer leaned back against his desk and smiled warmly. He wore a suit today. The coat and slacks were a soft maroon. His shirt was tan. He was smooth, poised, and confident.

“That's not a fair question.”

“Why not?”

He shook his head. “Because if I say
I just want to be friends
, you'll know I'm lying. And if I say anything
but
that, then I'm out of line. You're a married woman, Claire. You're not even separated yet. And as soon as your check clears, you're officially my client. I'm not in a position to want anything at all from you.”

“So why do you persist?”

“Why does a moth chase a flame that might devour him?” he asked. “I can't explain my actions anymore than he can. All I can say is this: When you walked out of my office after that first meeting, I
knew
you were a good woman. I knew you were beautiful, strong, kind, and intelligent. I didn't think it was possible for a man to cheat on you. I thought you would discover you were wrong, and I'd never hear from you again.”

Claire listened intently and she watched his eyes. She didn't believe he was lying.

“When you came back,” Trevor went on, “I was torn. I knew how much it hurt you to find out your suspicions were true, but I also believed you deserved a better man who would never cause you pain like that. I felt that right away. I told you, George is stark raving mad to disrespect you in this manner.”

“But what do you want?”

“I want to make you happy,” the lawyer said. “I know it's wrong. I know I shouldn't. I'm going to win this case for you, and if that's the only happiness I can ever give you, I'll accept that. But you're no old maid, Mrs. Hudgens. It may not feel like it right now, but you
will
date and probably marry again. That may not be any time soon, but when you're ready, I'd sure like to take you out sometime.” He threw up his hands. “That's it. That's my story; the whole truth.”

Claire liked his answer, but this guy was starting to sound too good. “I think you're a player,” she said.

He chuckled softly. “A
player
? No, ma'am. I grew up in a household with seven sisters and no brothers. Plus my dad left when I was two, so I was the only boy in our home. I respect women to the utmost. I've never hit a woman or cheated on one. I've broken a few hearts in my time, but I was the recipient of the heartbreaks more often than not. Girls used to tell me I was
sensitive
. They thought I was the nice-guy type—which wasn't so good, considering I grew up in the ghetto.”

Claire smiled. “Well, if you're such an all-around good guy, why are you not married yourself?”

“I was,” Trevor said, and his smile went away completely. “My wife died of breast cancer four years ago.”

Claire felt bad for being so nosey. “I'm sorry.”

“You had no way of knowing,” he said. “I've dated a few women since then, but none who struck me as
marriage
material. The game's changed a lot since I was young. A lot of women don't like to cook nowadays. They don't like to take care of kids. They act like I cursed them out when I ask them to do my laundry.”

Claire laughed.

“The game's going to be a lot different for you, too,” Trevor warned. “There aren't too many straight-laced, hard-working black men out there.”

Aye, there's the rub
.

“So you think I should hook up with you so I don't waste my time searching.”

He grinned. “I knew you were smart.”

“I'm married, too.”

“I'm working on that.”

“Well, let's take care of that first,” Claire said. She knew she was giving him hope, but what was wrong with that? George had a whole family on the side. Maybe she should have an ace in the hole as well.

“Do you ever look at my card?” he asked. “There's a cell phone number on there. That's my personal line. I have it with me all the time.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Claire said.

She left his office with a tight squeeze in her stomach, and it didn't go away until she got to her car. She sat behind the steering wheel breathing slowly, trying to calm her heartbeats. She knew it was wrong to carry on with her lawyer in that manner, but it was thrilling, and it was
different
. Nothing George could do right now would put a smile on her face, but when Trevor said she was beautiful, Claire felt like she might float out of the room. And she believed he meant it, too.

She wouldn't call his personal number, but a fine man like Mr. Smiley could compliment her as often as he wanted. If that violated some lawyer/client protocol, then so be it. She sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to report it.

* * *

With the retainer paid, Claire knew the façade of her happy marriage would collapse in a matter of weeks rather than months. She felt it was time to have a long talk with the only parties still left in the dark, but discussing DIVORCE with the kids was a worst case scenario. How do you tell them their life is going to be altered in ways that might still affect them twenty years from now? How do you explain that their father is not the fair and honest man they looked up to?

Originally, Claire wanted to wait until the papers were filed. George would move out, and she could sit her babies down and explain why Daddy was never coming back home. But Becky thought that might be too much of a shock, especially if they didn't think Mom and Dad had problems previously. Claire definitely wasn't ready to tell them today, but she thought she'd test the waters a little bit.

She started with George Jr. since he was the first one to be picked up. She pulled in front of Wedgwood Elementary and got out so she could stand under the large awning that shaded the front door. The bell rang a few minutes later, and the students started marching out in orderly lines, headed by their teachers. George Jr. rushed from the pack as soon as he saw his mother.

“Hey, Mama!” He threw his arms around her waist, and Claire patted his back.

“Did you tell your teacher you're leaving?” she asked.

“I saw him,” a flustered Mrs. Flores called over her shoulder. She turned quickly to yell at another student. “
Justin!
Justin, get over here! Sit down!
I mean it
!”

Claire walked away hand-in-hand with her little one. “You don't hang around with Justin, do you?” she asked.

“No, I don't like Justin. He never shuts up, and he
never
makes good grades. He can make milk squirt out of his nose, though.”

“Well that's special,” Claire quipped.

“I know,” George Jr. said. “He's got a girlfriend and
everything
.”

When they got to the car, Claire found she didn't have to work too hard to get little George's opinion of his dad. She didn't even have to initiate the conversation, as a matter of fact.

“Is Daddy coming home today?”

“He just left a couple days ago,” Claire said. “Do you miss him already?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you miss your Dad?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. Because I love him?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“I'm telling you,” he said. “Don't you miss Daddy?”

“We're not talking about me. Tell me, what do you like to do with your Dad?”

“I like when he's not at work and he can take us to the race track, and sometimes he takes us fishing. He taught me how to swim, and we swimmed in the lake before.”

“You
swam
in the lake,” Claire corrected.

“Oh yeah, swammed.”

Claire giggled. “What about when he's gone all the time?” she asked.

“I miss him.”

“What if he left one day and didn't come back to live with us anymore?” she asked with a straight face.

George Jr. had to think about that. “Why not?”

Claire shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe he wanted to live somewhere else…”

Now he was confused. “Why would he do that?”

“I don't know,” Claire said. “I'm just asking how you think you would feel about it if that happened.”

“If he didn't come home?”

“Mmm, hmm.”

“Could I go live with Daddy, too?” he asked.

Oh, God
, Claire thought. She'd forgotten that was even an option. “No, you'd still be with me.”

“Why couldn't we all stay with you?” he asked. “I don't like it when Daddy doesn't come home.” He folded his arms and pouted.

“Daddy
is
coming home,” Claire said, realizing what a total mess this was. “I was just asking a hypothetical question.”

“What's
hypothetical
?”

“It's when you ask a question that can't really happen. Like if I asked you, ‘Would you like it if you had cauliflowers for ears?' ”

She tugged his earlobe and he giggled.

“There's no way you could have cauliflowers for ears,” Claire said. “That's why it's called a
hypothetical question
.”

She was glad to get the smile back on his face, but George Jr. never came across a bit of new knowledge without sharing. As soon as Stacy got into the car, he showed off his new word.

“I got a hypo-medical question.” He turned and grinned at her. “What would you do if Daddy didn't come home?”

Claire's mouth dropped open, and she stared at him with wide eyes. But the damage was done. Stacy's face fell also. She glared at her mom in the rearview mirror.

“Daddy's not coming home?”

“Daddy's coming home,” Claire assured her daughter.

“Did he get in a plane crash?” Stacy asked.

“No.”

“Train wreck?”

“
No
.”

“Hurricane Katrina?”

“No! Girl, where are you coming up with this stuff?”

“That's how they did my friend when her brother died. Instead of coming right out with it, they asked how she would feel it he didn't come home anymore.”

“Well, that was wrong,” Claire said, “but there's nothing wrong with your father. I talked to him earlier today. And Hurricane Katrina was a one-time thing. You can't get the same hurricane twice.”

Stacy kicked the back of George's seat. “Why you playing?”

“I'm not playing. Mama asked
me
that.”

Stacy's angst went back to her mom. “Mama, why'd you ask us that?”

“I didn't ask
you
anything,” Claire pointed out. “I asked George Jr. And I didn't tell you to ask your sister,” she scolded her son.

“But are you asking because it really is happening?” Stacy asked.

“No,” Claire said.

“So there's nothing wrong with Dad?”

“Nothing.”

“He's not dead?”

“I
promise
you, he's not dead. He's just fine, and he'll be back in less than a week. So can we just drop it?”

They did, until Nikki got in the car.