In Confidence. Karen Young

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СКАЧАТЬ Ted. Whatever you say.” She realized she still held the legal papers in her hand. “Was there anything else you wanted to tell me about this? Like Nick, is there anything more I need to adjust to besides the fact that you want to sell the house out from under us?”

      “As I said, I’ve talked to my lawyer. According to the terms of the original agreement when the practice was established, if Walt and the others are unanimous in any decision—and that includes demanding the ouster of any partner—they can do it. The only negotiable is how much they’ll agree the departing member is worth. And that’s where it all gets sticky. If I don’t accept what they offer—and I’m not about to—then I have to take them to court. Who knows how long that’ll take. Could be months. A year. I’ll need the money—” He paused, then started again. “We’ll both need income while this is ongoing. Your salary at school won’t cut it. The money’s there…once we sell the house.”

      “What does Francine have to say about all this?”

      “She’s shocked, naturally. She says Walter’s just doing it to hurt her.”

      “He’s probably feeling pretty hurt himself, seeing his wife has been sleeping with a man he thought was his friend.” She waved him quiet when he started to argue and said wearily, “Never mind trying to spin what you and Francine have done as anything except the trashy thing it is, Ted. What you and I have to do now is figure out what to do to survive this disaster and to help our children.” She gestured with the papers. “First of all, I hope there’s some place in the fine print here that establishes a regular income to the kids and me while you pursue this lawsuit.”

      “There is, but it’s not enough to maintain this house and all the other perks of our current lifestyle.”

      “You’re planning to stay in the cabin at the lake, I assume.”

      He nodded. “For the time being.”

      “We could sell that, I suppose,” she said, looking beyond him at nothing in particular as she considered various possibilities.

      “There’s one obvious solution that will take care of everything,” Ted said. Something in his tone caught her attention, but he turned away and, with his back to her, tossed off the rest of his drink.

      “And what would that be?” she asked.

      “You and the kids could move in with Dinah.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “It’s the logical thing to do, Rachel.” He tipped the bottle and poured himself a fresh drink. “Now that Dinah’s out of her apartment and settled into her new house, I bet she’ll be happy to have you and the kids for a visit.”

      “A visit.”

      Hearing her lack of enthusiasm, he made an impatient sound. “It won’t be forever, goddamn it! Just phone her and see what she says before you blow off the idea. That’s all I’m saying.”

      “It’s an imposition, Ted. Think about it. She’s a widow in her sixties. She isn’t used to young children. It’s too much to ask.”

      “Explain the problem. She’ll understand.”

      She stood looking at him, wondering at his audacity. “You’re really serious about this,” she remarked.

      “Yeah.”

      “And is it really only a separation, Ted? Or have you decided you want a divorce?”

      “The only thing I’ve decided is that I want to be with Francine right now. I don’t know where that’ll go.” He brought the drink up, then set it down again. “It’s Walter who’s caused all this trouble, Rachel. He’s being a first-class son of a bitch.”

      She stared. “Walter.”

      “I just told you what he’s doing.”

      “Ted. Wake up and smell the coffee. Walter isn’t the cause of your trouble. I can’t believe you! The trouble is your own selfish insistence on having an affair and damning the consequences.”

      “Let’s not get started on that again, Rachel. Just tell me you’ll mention to Dinah the possibility of moving in with her temporarily. She’s crazy about the kids. It’ll be okay, you’ll see. And by the way, I’ve talked to a real estate agent. We can make a ton of money on this house.”

      “You talked to an agent before even mentioning it to me?”

      “I just asked,” he said, shrugging. “I figured you’d be happy to hear what a good investment we’re sitting on.”

      Rachel simply gazed at him in silence for a long moment. “If you thought I was freaked out over your shoddy affair, Ted,” she said in a dangerously soft tone, “then you will really be shocked if you hang around another minute.”

      “Oh, for crying out loud, Rachel.”

      She pointed to the door. “Out, Ted. Now.”

      Muttering an obscenity, he slammed his drink on the bar in disgust and left.

      Eight

      Three months later

      Cam’s first job on his to-do list after finishing his book was to repaint the trim on his porch. Trying to keep the old place in good repair was a never-ending challenge, but he’d found that he liked tinkering around the house where he’d been raised. It was surprisingly satisfying. Not only was the house shaping up, but while doing the work, he found that with his hands occupied, his mind was free to flesh out the proposal for a new book. It was nearing midday now and he was almost finished repainting the trim when he heard the roaring sound of a huge moving van gearing down, then braking to make the turn at the corner of the street. New neighbors…and close by, he thought, since Morningside was a short street. He stopped what he was doing, balanced the paint brush on top of the can and reached for a rag soaked in turpentine to clean his hands.

      The van appeared to be slowing to a stop. With a frown, he saw the driver peering at the number on his own house and then his neighbor’s, Dinah Hunt. Cam watched, assuming the driver had stopped to get his bearings, but then a car turned the corner, pulled in front of the moving van and stopped at curbside. Out of it came Rachel Forrester, her son, Nick, another teenage boy in a baseball cap and a little girl. This couldn’t be what it appeared, he thought, even as he watched Rachel approach the van driver.

      With a sense of impending doom, he saw the driver’s helper get out and head toward the back of the van. Once the doors were opened, he adjusted the load ramp and disappeared inside. The little girl raced up Dinah’s sidewalk yelling, “We’re here, Gran! We’re all ready to move in!”

      It couldn’t be, but it was. Tossing his paint rag aside, Cam slapped the lid on the can and gave it a smart thump with a hammer, heedless of the color splattering his shoes. Scowling, he snatched up the newspaper he’d used to protect the porch floor and stuffed it into a plastic trash bag while out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy, Nick, break away from his buddy and head his way. Just what he needed right next door, Rachel Forrester and her son, highly visible and constant reminders of Jack and how he’d died.

      “Hi, Mr. Ford.”

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