How to Kill Your Husband (22 page)

“That's it,” Melanie said. “You got his ass.”

Claire knew she did, and it was the very thing she wanted, but still it didn't feel like a victory.

* * *

The girls stayed up for another three hours drinking gin and juice and talking bad about Claire's husband. When George got home at one they were still in the midst of the revelry. He stepped into the den and all noise stopped as if shut off by a switch. Six mean eyes settled on him with undisguised hate.

“Huh-hey, y'all,” he said. “How you ladies doing?”

No one answered.

George stood uneasily, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “I'm, um, I guess I'll go upstairs…” he told his wife.

Claire frowned, and the ladies continued to stare him down.

“Um, okay. Well, I guess I'll see you later.” He paused a few moments longer but still didn't get a response. He backed out cautiously as if expecting someone to throw something at him.

The girls burst into laughter when he was gone.

* * *

Her friends stayed only thirty minutes more, and when they left, they did so without ever hearing about Claire's special night with her lawyer. She was dying to tell them, but she knew that conversation would get very loud and rowdy. They would want to know all the particulars. It was bad enough they were talking about the divorce while the children were home, but Claire couldn't live with herself if the kids accidentally found out she'd been carrying on with another man.

Plus, her time with Trevor was special. The longer she kept it to herself, the more special it felt.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ONE LAST THING

With her final bit of evidence secured, Claire felt no need to delay the inevitable. George was clearly an adulterer. He was a proven liar, and he was
definitely
not the man she married. If he wanted to be with another woman, that was fine. He could marry Kimberly Pate (if they weren't already married) and live happily ever after for all Claire cared. The only thing left was to make him pay what he owed.

George owed Nikki, Stacy, and George Jr. an upper-middle-class upbringing, and Claire would be damned if they wouldn't have it. He owed them a college education, and they would have that, too. Keeping the house and car were a given, but if Claire had it her way, George would give up a lot more. She wanted the lake house and the time shares. She wanted the stocks and bonds. She wanted
all
of their savings, but would settle for merely half.

The odd thing was, even if Claire got all of those things, she still didn't think she'd be happy, because what she wanted most of all was an explanation. Before things got ugly in the courts, she wanted to sit her husband down and get an honest answer.

Why would you do this to us, George?

How could you do it?

Why, George, why?

Trevor said he could almost guarantee her everything else, but no judge in the country could force George to explain himself. Claire thought that was a travesty of justice.

She sat in her lawyer's office on a balmy Saturday afternoon. Strewn across Mr. Smiley's desk were photographs, receipts, account statements, mortgage paperwork and titles. In his hands was the folder Melanie gave Claire five days ago. Trevor studied the genetics information with more sense of understanding than Claire had when she looked over the documents.

He wore a dark green button-down with black slacks and a black tie. He was serious today, all business so far. He made it to the last page, and then flipped back to the middle and looked up at his client.

Claire wore blue jeans with a blue T-shirt. She thought about wearing something a little more upbeat, but she didn't feel sexy at all today, not even in this gentleman's company.

“Where'd the first sample come from?” he asked. “The one they got off the toothbrush?”

“That was from my oldest girl. Her name's Nicole.”

Trevor nodded. “So she definitely has a relative in that house. I guess she's got two…”

Claire wondered how Nikki would react if she found out she had another little sister, and heaven help us, another little brother. Claire didn't think she should tell her, but she had to, didn't she? She was sure to find out anyway.

Trevor closed the folder and sat it atop his desk with the other things. He had quite an impressive pile of evidence. He looked past it all and stared into his client's eyes. Claire had her hair in a ponytail. She wore no lipstick or eyeliner this afternoon.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked.

She nodded. She knew this was coming. Trevor always played lawyer first, then counselor.

“As well as to be expected, I guess.”

“Don't worry about expectations,” he said. “Tell me how you feel.”

Claire considered her response. She hadn't cried since she first found out about the affair, but the closer they got to filing papers, the less confident she felt. Just yesterday she found herself misty-eyed while setting the table for dinner.

“I've been going back and forth,” she admitted. “Sometimes I think,
It's okay. You don't need him. If he would do this to you, you're better off without him
. But other times, I feel like he's all I have. He's all I've ever known. I get scared to step out in this world by myself.”

“You don't have to do it alone. You know that.”

“I know,” Claire said. “I know you want to help, but even that scares me. I worry about what it would be like to be in a relationship with another man, to learn all about someone new.” She chuckled. “You know, there are just so many things. With George, I
know
he's going to leave a face towel in the sink after he shaves. I know he's going to soak the floor when he tries to wash dishes. I know what he likes to do, what makes him mad. I know which relatives he likes to visit over the holidays…”

“You can learn all of that about someone new. It might even be fun.”

“I know it's possible,” Claire said, “but lately I've felt like, like it's something I don't want to do.” She looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I can't even
imagine
introducing my children to another man…”

Trevor nodded. He didn't seem upset. “That's disheartening,” he said. “You're too young and beautiful to be an old maid.”

Claire met his eyes again. “Of course
you're
going to say that.”

He smiled. “Claire, you're not the only one who's ever felt this way. People have written whole textbooks about women in your situation. Even me, I felt just like you do when Michelle died.”

That got her attention.

“Except I probably had it worse because my wife never cheated on me,” he said. “She never did anything wrong. She was the perfect woman, and then she was gone. I didn't even think about dating again for a year. And when I did, I knew none of them would measure up. I went on a few dates expecting substandard women, and that's what I got. After a while, I quit looking altogether. It's too hard to be in the rat race. I did that when I was a young man. I knew I wasn't going to find another Michelle, so why bother?”

Claire was right with him. If she could somehow have a
faithful
George, she'd be the happiest woman in the city.

“But I was only thirty-two,” Trevor went on. “I decided okay, I'm probably not going to find another woman like my wife, but that didn't mean I shouldn't find another woman
period
. Michelle would want me to be happy. So I got back out there and put my heart on the line again. It hasn't worked out for me yet, but I thought I was getting close…”

Claire didn't know how to respond.

“When are you going to file the papers?” she asked.

Trevor's face went slack for a half-second, but he pulled himself together quickly.

“I can do it anytime you want. When do you want George to get served?”

“I don't know. Sometime this week, but he's hardly home.”

“I could get a constable to go to his job,” Trevor offered.

Claire shook her head. “No. I want to be there. When he gets those papers, I want him to turn around and look at me. I want to tell him what I know, and then I want him to explain himself, and then I want him to leave.”

“Are you sure?” Trevor asked. “You don't think he might respond violently?”

“George would never hit me,” Claire said. “If he did, I guess I could get that lake house for sure,” she kidded.

“I don't care about that lake house,” Trevor said. “If you think—”

“George isn't going to hit me,” Claire said. “I'm positive.”

“All right. So when do you want the subpoena to come?”

“How about next Saturday? A week from today.”

“Okay,” Trevor said. “We'll do it Saturday morning.”

“Around what time? I want to get the kids out of the house.”

“Either nine to twelve or twelve to three.”

“Nine to twelve would be good,” Claire said. She did a few mental calculations in her head. “Yeah. That would be perfect.”

“If you change your mind, call me before Thursday.”

“I'm not changing my mind. You can pay with cash if you want. It's a done deal.”

“All right. I'll get it typed up.” Trevor leaned forward in his seat and stared at her for a second. “I guess I shouldn't ask why I haven't heard from you since, since we went out…”

“I wanted to call,” Claire said. “I actually dialed your number twice. But George came home early the first time, and my son walked into the room the other time. I got real nervous and hung up, and I started feeling
really
guilty.” She frowned. “I didn't like that feeling. I don't see how George can do that every day. I mean, I guess you get used to it after a while, but it's just not in me to be deceitful.”

“That's good,” Trevor said earnestly. “But if he fights this, you know it could go on for months…”

Claire knew what he was getting at, and she knew he wouldn't like her response.

“I'm thinking maybe that would be okay,” she said. “It'll probably take that long to clear my head.”

“When he moves out, you'll be legally separated,” Trevor said. “I don't want to wait three months to see you again.”

Claire looked down at her hands.

If Trevor was upset, he didn't show it. He pushed his chair away from the desk and pulled open the top drawer. He reached in and came out with a small, hard-cover book with a cartoon drawing on the front. He handed it over the desk and Claire took it curiously.

The drawing was a big block of Swiss cheese, which made sense because the book was titled
Who Moved my Cheese
. Claire flipped through it and saw a few more illustrations. This didn't look like a serious text at all.

“It's very helpful,” Trevor said, studying her expression.

“What's it about?”

“It's about change,” he said. “Living with change. Adapting to change. Expecting change as a part of everyday life.”

“I would have expected a thicker manual,” Claire said honestly. Nothing she could get through in a few hours was likely to change her life significantly.

“Sometimes the most complicated subjects have the simplest explanations.”

Claire nodded. “Thanks.” She stood to shake his hand. Trevor stood also, and it was a regular lawyer/client handshake this time, no funny stuff.

“Make sure you read that,” he said.

“I will,” Claire promised. “I guess I'll talk to you later.”

“You can call me Saturday,” he said, “to let me know how things went, if you want.”

Claire smiled and said she might, but she was pretty sure she wouldn't.

* * *

She thought she'd feel better to have all of that out of her hands and officially
in the system
, but Claire was as depressed as ever when she got back on the freeway. She was upset because her marriage was virtually over, but she also felt bad about the way she treated Trevor.

She knew he was a good man, but she wasn't ready for
any
man right now. She never should have gone to his house. She felt like she led him on, and that was a terrible feeling because that wasn't the type of person she was.

* * *

George took the kids to the track earlier, so Claire didn't have any particular place to be for another few hours. She felt like there was
something
she should do but didn't know what it was. She got on I 35, not really sure where she was going, but after forty minutes on the road things started to look familiar.

Claire realized she wasn't driving aimlessly after all. Somehow she made it all the way to Highway 121. While she considered how odd this was, powers beyond her control made her exit on Story Road. Claire navigated the beautiful Irving neighborhood from memory and turned onto Stevens Court five minutes later.

She pulled to a stop across the street from Kimberly Pate's house. She knew she shouldn't be there, but she put her car in park and turned off the engine anyway. She decided that if she had to be there, she
definitely
wouldn't get out of the car, but moments later Claire stood, confused, in the middle of the street.

Ms. Kimberly Pate was in her front yard, no more than ten feet away. She was on her knees near the curb, pulling stubborn weeds up by hand. George's mistress wore denim capris with a short-sleeved T-shirt this afternoon. She had a red handkerchief wrapped around her head to keep the hair out of her eyes.

The sun and hard work had her skin a shade darker than Claire remembered. Kim had a crimson tint now, like the Native Americans. Beads of sweat stood on her forehead, and her chest was stained with a dark bib as well. Claire walked right up to her, still with no particular game plan in mind. Kim looked up and regarded this stranger oddly.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” Claire said.

They stared at each other uncomfortably.

Kim tilted her head, and then looked around at Claire's car. “Did you come to look at the Swanson's house?” she prompted. “I have the keys. I could let you inside.”

Claire looked back and saw that the FOR SALE sign was still in the yard across the street. “Yeah,” she said. “I came to look at the house.”