Authors: Sherryl Woods
He turned slowly to face her. “I think we are, Ms. Newton. I’ve heard just about enough of your outlandish accusations. This business about representing a ten-year-old in a divorce proceeding against a parent is garbage. Any court in the country would laugh you out the door.”
“Sorry. A child in Orlando won in a similar case just last fall. I’m surprised you didn’t read about it. It was in all the papers.” She glanced around, apparently taking in the elaborate, futuristic sketches pinned to the corkboard walls for the first time. “Of course, perhaps you don’t live in the real world with the rest of us.”
“So that’s it,” he said, finally beginning to get a glimmer of understanding about what had driven this woman to charge into his office like an avenging angel. If it wasn’t money, then it had to be publicity. In the long run, one well-placed story in the Los Angeles paper and picked up by the wire services and networks would equal money in the bank.
He shook his head in disgust. “God knows how you zeroed in on Davey, but you probably took some innocent remark he made and latched on to it because you knew the case would generate a lot of publicity. Are you that desperate to get your career off the ground?”
Instead of lashing back with the fury he’d half expected, she simply laughed. To his bewilderment, the amusement seemed genuine. And the sound of that laughter did astonishing things to his pulse rate, stirred it in a way that all that yelling had not.
“Mister, I don’t need the publicity,” she retorted bluntly. “I get more than my share. That’s how your son chose me. He read about my last case in the paper. As for the validity of the agreement David and I have, you have the retainer he signed. I think under the circumstances it would hold up in court.” She shrugged. “But if that’s not good enough for you, go home and ask him what he wants, ask him why he felt the need to retain a lawyer in the first place. At least, that’s one way to assure that the two of you actually sit down and have a long-overdue conversation.”
The sarcastic barb hit home, just as she’d obviously intended. Suddenly filled with despair as he realized that this situation wasn’t going to evaporate, that she genuinely believed she was in the right, he felt all the fight drain out of him. “You’re really serious about all this, aren’t you?” he asked wearily.
“You bet I am. I don’t like seeing a kid sitting in my office telling me that he and his father have quote, irreconcilable differences, unquote.”
David sank down in a chair and regarded her miserably. “He said that?”
“That and a whole lot more,” she retorted without a trace of sympathy. “It’s been my experience, and Lord knows I’ve handled enough custody disputes, that kids don’t make this sort of thing up. Even so, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Is there any truth to his claims? Have you been neglecting him? Shutting him out?”
He struggled with the answer to that one. “I suppose he might see things that way,” he admitted eventually, not liking what that said about him as a father. He’d wanted desperately to believe that Davey didn’t need him right now, because he wasn’t at all sure he had anything left to give.
“Is there another way?” she asked. “What’s your perspective?”
“My wife…” He couldn’t even bring himself to complete the sentence aloud.
“Davey told me she died,” she said, finishing it for him. She said it with the first hint of gentleness she’d displayed since storming into his office.
He regarded her in astonishment. “He actually told you that?”
“Does that surprise you?”
He nodded. “He never talks about it.”
“He says it makes you both too sad.”
The thought that Davey had recognized his anguish and shared that with this woman penetrated all the barriers he’d slid into place months before Alicia’s death. To his amazement, he found himself saying more than he had to anyone in all these long weeks, the angry, tormented words spilling out before he could censor them.
“My wife’s death was agonizingly slow and painful,” he said. “It was horrifying to watch. It wasn’t easy on any of us. I tried to protect Davey from the worst of it. So did Alicia. She insisted on being away from home, in a hospital, for the final weeks. Davey was only allowed to see her when she had her good spells. Those became increasingly infrequent.”
“So even before she died, Davey already felt cut off from his mother,” she said.
Phrased that way, it sounded like an accusation.
“We both felt it was best for him,” David said stiffly.
“How do you protect a child from the fact that his mother is dying?” she asked quietly. “I still think about my father’s last days. It’s been years since he died and I was an adult when it happened, but I still remember his illness, how frightened I was at the prospect of losing him. I can’t block out those thoughts because they might be painful. I know that eventually the good memories will begin to overshadow all the others. Why wouldn’t Davey feel the same way?”
She paused for breath and regarded him evenly. “Why wouldn’t you?”
David ignored the question because he had no answer for it. He was more fascinated by what she had just revealed about her own feelings. He had a hunch it was far more than she usually shared. He suspected that she, like he, tended to keep a tight grip on messy emotions. It struck him as all the more surprising, then, that she had taken Davey’s side with such passion.
His impression of Kate Newton altered slightly. Perhaps she did really care about what happened to Davey, perhaps she was more capable of empathy than he’d given her credit for.
Then again, despite her disclaimers, perhaps she was simply meddling for the potential publicity a case with him at its center would generate. His might not be a household name, but the films he’d worked on were as familiar as those of Spielberg or Disney.
“Look, I appreciate your coming here and telling me about Davey,” he said in an admittedly belated attempt to sound gracious and cooperative. “I’ll have a talk with him. We’ll work it out. Just send me the bill for your time.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. Davey hired me. He has to fire me.”
David felt his irritation climb again. Was there no getting rid of this pesky woman, even after he’d conceded that she’d made her point? “No document signed by a kid his age would be legal,” he argued. “Drop it. You’ve done your job.”
“I’m not referring to the legalities,” she said stubbornly. “I’m discussing moral obligations. I took his case. I’ll see it through.”
He started to protest, but she cut him off. “I’m sure you mean well, Mr. Winthrop, but I have an obligation to my client. I hope you will talk to Davey. I hope you will work things out, but until he tells me the case is closed and he no longer wishes to divorce you, I’ll be sticking around.”
She stood up and headed for the door. David was about to breathe a sigh of relief, when she turned and faced him. She glanced pointedly at her watch. “It’s nearly eight o’clock on a Friday night, Mr. Winthrop. If you meant what you said, shouldn’t you be going home to your son?”
* * *
Kate thought the meeting had gone rather well. She’d served up a healthy combination of threats and guilt. With any luck David Allen Winthrop would take a good, hard look at himself and change his ways. He’d certainly looked shaken once he realized that she wasn’t going to vanish without a fight, that she was taking his son’s claims seriously.
Over the past ten years she had developed a keen eye for an adversary’s weaknesses and strengths. As much as she’d been inclined to dislike him on sight, David Winthrop had struck her as a man who possessed a great deal of inner strength. He also was a man in pain. She had never known anyone who’d loved so deeply, whose grief was plainly written in the depths of his dark, almost midnight black eyes. Hopefully she had forced him to examine the price his son was paying while he struggled with his own suffering.
But she had meant what she’d said; she would be sticking to him like a burr until she was certain that her client had his father back again.
She was surprised by the shaft of anticipation that shot through her as she contemplated that prospect. When was the last time she’d even noticed a man in a sexual way? Months? A couple of years? She thought she’d pretty well buried her libido under a schedule that would wilt a well-trained athlete. The fact that she’d been at least marginally aware of David Winthrop’s ruggedly handsome features and the snug fit of his jeans was downright startling.
That worrisome bit of self-awareness was still nagging at her when her car phone rang just as she turned onto Pacific Coast Highway heading up to her summer retreat in Malibu.
“Ms. Newton, this is Davey. You know, Davey Winthrop.”
“Hi, Davey. What’s up?” she asked, trying not to let on that she’d recognized the faint trace of fear in his voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said, his voice flat.
“Davey, what’s wrong?”
“I was just thinking, about the case and all. I think my dad is going to be really, really mad when he finds out. Maybe it would be a good idea if I came to live with you now.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. So, that’s all it was. Regret. She’d never met anyone seeking a divorce yet who didn’t struggle with regrets the instant the decision had been made and the first steps taken. The calls came with such frequency that even Zelda had grown adept at all the necessary reassurances.
“Sweetheart, I just saw your father. I don’t think he’s mad at all.” Except at me, she thought to herself. She probably should have crossed her fingers as she boldly lied. “In fact, I think he’ll probably be home any minute and that things will start getting back to the way they used to be.”
“Really?” Davey said, his voice suddenly filled with excitement. “You mean it?”
“I can’t swear to it,” she cautioned, “but I think so. Why don’t you and I talk on Monday and see how the weekend went, okay?”
“Geez, yes,” he said, sounding more like a high-spirited kid again. “I think I hear his car right now. ’Bye, Ms. Newton! Oh, yeah, thanks!”
As the phone thunked in her ear, Kate prayed she hadn’t gotten his hopes set too high. If David Winthrop hurt that sweet, savvy kid again, he’d have to answer to her.
* * *
As David stepped out of the four-wheel-drive wagon that Alicia had insisted they needed to haul Davey and his friends around, his son came barreling through the front door. The huge, old Bel Air house had once belonged to some star of the silent-movie era, according to the real estate agent, who’d probably tacked an extra half a million on to the price for that bit of trivia. As overpriced as it had been, David had seen the glimmer of pleasure that a tie to the glamorous Hollywood past had put in Alicia’s eyes, and he’d signed the papers without a second thought.
They had moved in six months before the cancer had been diagnosed. For those six months his wife had been deliriously happy redecorating, putting her personal stamp on every room.
David watched his son, and for an instant he could almost believe that Kate Newton’s visit had been a bad dream. His son looked healthy, vital and every bit as exuberant as any other ten-year-old. Until he caught the shadows in his eyes. Then he knew that there was some measure of truth in what the attorney had told him, and his heart ached.
“Hi, Dad! Did you eat yet? Mrs. Larsen is fixing pot roast. She says it’s almost ready.” A worried frown creased his brow. “That’s your favorite, isn’t it? I told her it was. She said you might not get home in time for dinner and that everything would go to waste, but she made it anyway.”
“Pot roast is definitely my favorite,” David said, blinking hard against the tears that always threatened when he saw so many reminders of Alicia in his son. The same reddish blond hair, the same devilish brown eyes, the same scattering of freckles across his nose and that same crooked smile, flanked by dimples. Given what he now knew about Davey’s sorrow, that hopeful, impish smile nearly broke his heart. “How was your day?”
The smile faltered slightly. “Okay, I guess,” he said, looking guilty. “I met this lady today. I guess you know about that, huh?”
“Ms. Newton,” David said, trying not to sound angry. How could he blame Davey for taking desperate measures? It was his fault his son had gone to see a lawyer.
“Yeah. She said she talked to you.” Davey regarded him worriedly. “You’re not mad, are you? I had to see her, Dad. I had to.”
David hunkered down until they were eye to eye. “Are you so upset with me that you really want to leave home and find a new family?” David asked, unwilling to concede even to himself how much that hurt.
“I guess,” Davey said, shifting from foot to foot uneasily.
“Why?”
Davey’s expression suddenly turned belligerent. “You’re never here anyway. It probably doesn’t even matter to you what I do.”
David sighed. “Oh, Davey,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “It matters. I promise you, son. What you do will always matter to me. You’re the most precious part of my life.”
“Then how come you never spend any time with me?”
Months of hurt were obviously summed up in that one damning question. David found himself reacting as if he were under siege. “I do spend time with you,” he countered too sharply.
Davy shook his head. “Not like you used to. You’re always too busy. You haven’t been to one single game all summer. Most of the time you’re at the office. Even when you’re here, it’s like you don’t even see me. You’re always telling me to be quiet and stuff.”
“Because I’m working. I have to earn a living,” he said, fully aware of the defensive note that had crept into his voice but unable to contain it. Kate Newton had touched off a spark of guilt in him. Davey was fanning it into a roaring blaze.
“Yeah, I guess,” Davey said, sounding defeated. He started for the stairs.
“Where are you going? I thought you said dinner was almost ready.”
That steady gaze met his. “I don’t think I’m very hungry anymore.”
As David stared after him, his son plodded up the stairs as if he carried the weight of the world on his narrow shoulders.
Chapter Three
“S
o, boss, how’d it go with your new client?” Zelda inquired on Monday afternoon when Kate finally reached the office after a long, frustrating morning in court. Zelda grinned. “Filed his divorce papers yet?”