Matter of Choice (21 page)

She gazed at the yachts going by, wondering why she and Greg never purchased one, then realized it, too, would be included in the assets about to be sold and divided. Still, a ventured guess fantasized the wonder of cruising towards New York, Jersey, and finally the open sea. Maybe escape to the Caribbean. She loved St. Lucia with its emerald peaks rising out of pristine crystal waters. Do some scuba diving, ride a bike through the trails surrounding the estate at Anse Mamin, stay in a resort between the Pitons. No one would find her, she wouldn’t hurt
anyone, no one could hurt her.

The fresh water washed through Shannon, slowly easing her mind until her eyes opened, refocused. She’d have to apologize to Triston, she knew, but first she needed time to think, head clear of the vision of Veronica leaning into him so she could talk rationally and no
t run away with feelings again.

Until then, she
needed to get back to dealing with the divorce.

Chapter Thirty

The door slammed harder than intended as Triston stormed into his room. Shannon’s words cut deep, and he blinked hard to keep their damage from spilling onto his cheeks. He threw the key on the counter, hands laced behind his head, pacing the living room. Understanding her pain was easy, but the extent of the wrath scorched his heart. Leaving, not leaving. If she though
t that little of him, why stay?

Scratching the side of his nose with a thumb, he gave the carpet a break from the circling rounds and marched into the kitchen. Blinking hard, he snatched a bottle of water from the refrigerator, guzzled the refreshing liquid. Slamming the bottle down on the counter, he leaned against the counter top, mind swirling. A good run, some weight-lifting, a tough punching bag, anything to work off the frustration. Triston drew an audible breath in and rapped the counter with his knuckles. He hadn’t been down to the exercise room yet. Now w
as a good time to check it out.

*

Shannon entered the building, heart heavy, not paying attention until someone called her name. She looked upward to see a man walking towards her, a large envelope in hand. She studied his casual attire - khakis with a button-down black cotton shirt, clipped graying hair and purposeful stride - and her gut flipped.

“Ms. Winters. I have legal documents I need to deliver to you,” he said as he pushed the envelope forward.

Shaking fingers took it, “Thank you.”

“Have a nice day, ma’am.”

She nodded without looking up. “You too,” she replied in a voice soft and distant.
Now what?

She backed into the wall, index finger slipping across the top fold, and pulled the document out, breath cons
tricted tight within her chest.

Reading it over once, then a second time, and then a third, her mind struggled to grasp the document’s meaning. Greg had filed for a restraining order against her, citing destruction of property within their home. Wrinkles distorted her featu
res.
Mr. Collins, please be in
.

It took three tries before she could dial the numbers with quivering fingers, Shannon’s words disjointed as she asked the receptionist to be transferred to the lawyer. The double-tone beeps drummed in her head as she waited, watching the clock tick do
wn five minutes and then eight.

“Ms. Winters? I apologize for the wait. What can I help you with?”

“I’ve been served a restraining order. Something about destruction of property. I don’t even know what he’s talking about.”

“I’ll need to review order. I have some time at four o’clock. Can you bring it in then?”

She glimpsed at the clock. Three hours. It was going to be a long wait. “Yes.” She confirmed, breathless. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you then. And don’t panic. Just don’t go to the house until I have a chance to review the order.”

She nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her, and whispered in agreement before hanging up. Shannon held the paper within her fingertips, staring down at it, mind paging through flashing memories for an explanation for the allegation. She hadn’t destroyed anything, knocked anything over, made any threats. He had, but she didn’t, not a single veiled suggestion.

With the envelope tucked securely within the purse slung over her shoulder, keys in hand, Shannon hurried down the hall, nearly b
umping into a sweating Triston.

“Oh! I’m sorry.”

He pressed a towel against the sweat dripping down his forehead, voice careful. “That’s okay, Shy. Looks like you’re in a hurry.”

She nodded, turned her lips inward, glancing away before meeting his guarded eyes. “Listen, we need to talk. I need to say some things, but I can’t right now - I’m headed to the lawyer’s office. Can we meet in the restaurant, say, seven?”

Triston rubbed the back of his neck with the towel, his shirt just damp enough to boast the worked carvings of his chest. “I don’t know, Shy.”

She reached out with tentative fingers to graze his hand. “Please? Really, it would mean a lot to me.”

Triston looked above her head, dabbing his jaw line, then sighed. “All right. You sure you want to do this in public? Don’t want everyone to see us together, you know.”

“They can see us, I don’t care anymore. I’ll see you then?”

“Sure.” He narrowed his eyes, opened his mouth to say more, then brushed past her.

Dropping her head to a shoulder, looking out the corner of the healthy eye, Shannon made out the shadow of Triston’s silhouette standing at the elevator. She didn’t think he was looking in her direction, and couldn’t bear to turn around to see for sure. Her pace quickened and she headed for the back parking lot. She’d hurt him, and wasn’t sure an apology would be enough, but it would have to wait until t
hat night. There was no choice.

Shannon strode into Richards and Collins law office, hoping she looked a lot more confident than she felt. After informing the receptionist she’d arrived, she took a seat in the waiting area. Though most everything - the receptionist desk, the counter top, the wall behind the desk holding the massive signage, the trim- were all oak, there was no mistaking the contemporary flare of sharp edges, clean lines and chic lighting. Everything raved success, money and even a bit of power. New York grandeur, she knew, but there wasn’t a better office, or better lawyers, than Mr. Richards and Mr. C
ollins. Not in her price range.

She glanced down at the watch. About ten minutes early. Drawing in a breath, she picked up a copy of
Architectural Digest
and flipped through the pages, not seeing the beautiful designs featured among its articles. Trying again, she started at the beginning, slowly turning each page. New York penthouses, countryside estates and even an old Southern Plantation slid past her eyes. Nothing caught her interest, nothing distracting enough.

“Ms. Winters?”

“Yes?” The magazine plunged to her feet against the tan carpeting. She smiled softly, bent to pick it up, righted the pages, and laid it on the coffee table. “Sorry. A little preoccupied, I guess. And high strung.”

Mr. Collins held out a hand. “That’s quite alright. Come to my office and we’ll talk.”

Shannon nodded, gathered the purse and followed him past frosted glass doors and planted palms. Four offices down, he stopped and held a hand out in welcoming gesture as she slipped past him and sat in one of the charcoal chairs.

After closing the door, he sat across the desk and clapped his hands together. “So let’s see what you’ve been served with.”

Fumbling fingers pulled the envelope from her purse and passed it to the attorney’s waiting aged hands. She watched as he pulled the document out and scanned the words silently before placing it on his desk. Folded hands hovered above it, and he spoke with a voice hoarsened with age and too many years spent smoking. “Yes, you are correct. This is a restraining order. You may not go back to the home you shared with Greg without escort, and that includes retrieving any belongings.”

“But I don’t understand. What grounds does he have for this?”

Mr. Collins waved his hands open and reclined in the chair. “It doesn’t specify. Have you ever, even in a fit of rage, broken anything within the home? Thrown something at Greg? Shredded bed sheets? Anything?”

A nervous giggle passed through Shannon’s lips. “Shredded bed sheets?”

“You’d be surprised the things I’ve heard over the years, Ms. Winters.”

Her lips curled upward in a soft smile. She supposed he had heard a lot. “No, nothing.” The same nervous giggle repeated itself. “Except once, a couple of weeks ago, before I filed for divorce. Greg wasn’t even home yet. But there was this wine glass in the sink, lipstick on the rim, and I felt so sick. I threw it against the wall, along with all the other wine glasses. But I cleaned them all up before he got home, and his memory wasn’t back yet …” Her voice broke off. “Oh.”

The attorney nodded. “That is the probably the incident he’s using. Were they his wine glasses? A present from his parents?”

She shook her head, eyes wide as they focused on the order. “No. They were gifts from someone when we got married. I don’t even remember who. I never drank, and before the accident, Greg didn’t - at least not in front of me. We never used them.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s spite, pure and simple. But you’ll still need to abide by this restraining order,” a middle finger prodded the paper with a dull
thump
, “which means no going near the house, or Greg.”

She shrugged. “I’m not interested in either. But is this going to look bad at the hearing? Give him favor with the judge?”

Mr. Collins leaned against the desk and curled a corner of his lip, wrinkles radiating to frame his eyes. “It shouldn’t, as long as you don’t break the order. Bailing you out of jail will not help your case. Otherwise, as long as you’re telling me everything, I think we can explain this away to make Greg look bad, and you good.”

She shook her head again. “I’m not interested in bad or good. I just want out. I want to be free of all of it.” She paused. “And to keep my hotel. That’s it. That’s all I care about.”

“I will do my best. Do you have the financial reports for me to begin reviewing yet?”

“No. My accountant just compiled the information this afternoon, and I was going to put it all into a spreadsheet for you, then this happened.”

He nodded. “Understood. Can you get it to me by Friday?”

“Yes.”

He stood. “Okay then. Don’t worry about this, Ms. Winters. It’s a flex of muscle, nothing more. Don’t break the order and you’ll be fine.”

She rose to her feet, a little steadier now, insides less tumultuous. “Thank you, Mr. Collins. I think you’ve set my mind at ease.”

Outside, Shannon settled into the driver’s seat, mind immediately turned to the next meeting, the one with Triston. Judging from his attitude at the hotel, it wasn’t going to go as smoothly as the one she’d just left. Pulling out into traffic, she wondered if, this time, it was just too late for them.

Chapter Thirty One

The restaurant was a busy place that evening as rain raged outside for the first time in more than two weeks.  Shannon sat with butterflies fluttering in her stomach, listening to the angry droplets of water pound at the window panes, and took an anxious sip of her Sprite. Triston was five minutes late, and she was beginning to
wonder if he was coming at all.

She lifted her eyes to watch couple after couple after family pass by, happily enjoying one another’s company with laughs, conversations and familiar subtle touches. Shannon glanced over a shoulder to the entryway, and her heart stopped. Triston passed through the entryway, motioning in her direction to the maître d’, and continued with barely a pause. His head remained high as he wove through the crowd, turning more than one woman’s head.

Shannon swallowed hard. Jeans and a fitted t-shirt flattered him well.

“Hi, Shy.” He eased into the chair across from her and leaned back. The friendliness in his voice didn’t disguise a tigh
tened face or guarded posture.

Her voice trembled as she said his name, eyes moistening. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but she had. Insecurity was such an ugly monster. “I’m … I’m so sorry.”

He glanced downward, then leaned forward with elbows leaning against his knees. “Do you really think I’m like Greg?”

Slowly, she shook her head in deliberate mo
tion, unable to find the words.

“Listen. I’ll fight for you, whatever it takes. But not if you honestly think I’m going to treat you like Greg has. If you think that little of me –"

“Oh, isn’t this cozy?”

Shannon and Triston both looked upward, so intent on their conversation they never saw or heard Veronica approach.

Triston stood.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to join you, Triston? It’ll be a chance for us all to catch up.” She glanced at Shannon. “It’ll bring back so many memories, don’t you think, Shannon?”

Shannon shook her head with slitted eyes. “I’m not interested in taking a walk down memory lane with you, Veronica. Seems pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

Veronica giggled as she turned to face Triston. “Jealously is such an ugly thing on her, isn’t it?”

“Veronica, this is bordering on harassment. If this continues, I’m going to need to pull the contract.”

She tapped his shoulder. “Don’t be silly, Triston. At the size of that contract, you’d be shooting Keyes Associates in the fo
ot. You’re too smart for that.”

Shannon shifted the gaze from Veronica to Triston. He had been telling her the truth. Of course he was. How could she doubt him?

“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you out of my personal life. Please leave us alone.”

Veronica looked from him, to Shannon, to him again. “Maybe I’ll see what I can do about cancelling that contract for you. See how high and mighty you are then.” She turned on a heel and marched out of the restaurant.

Triston sat down, focus carefully on Shannon. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, lips curling upward. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. Everything you told me was true. I should have believed you. I wanted to believe you, but seeing her again, it was hard to not see us all as kids again, you know?”

He leaned forward. “Of course I understand, Shannon. I just hoped you had a little more faith in me than that. I told you once, I’d shout my love for you from the rooftops. In fact,” he stood up, the mischief in the smile unmistakable.

Shannon’s hand reached out and pulled on his wrist. “Triston, d
on’t. The divorce,” she hissed.

He leaned down with a whisper. “Tell that fancy lawyer of yours to work a little harder. I never was good at keeping secrets.”

“Triston!”

“Excuse me everyone.” He struggled to keep his balance as Shannon pulled harder against him. He leaned over again. “Careful Shy, you’re making a scene.”

“I’m making a scene?”

He straightened up, cheeks glowing. “I’m sorry to interrupt your meal, but I have an announcement to make.”

“Triston!” She scanned the dining room, all the guests looking up with amusement and expectation. “Oh,” she groaned, laying her face in the palm of a hand and closing her eyes.

“After twenty years, I’ve found the love of my life again, and while we have some obstacles we still need to overcome, it is my intention, with all of you as my witness
to hold me to my word, to prove to this very special lady everyday for the rest of her life how much she holds my heart in her hand.”

A chorus of clapping and
aww
’s rippled through the room as he sat down, the smile illuminating every feature while his chest swelling.

Shannon lifted her head, eyes wide, face blank. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“There. I’ve chased Veronica away, and made a very public declaration. Now it’s up to you to decide. Do you still think I’m looking anywhere else for what I’ve already found?”

She wiped a tear away. “That was stupid to do, you know that?” But the smile on he
r face spoke louder than words.

“Did it finally break through that thick head of yours?”

She laughed. “Triston, I … I’m so sorry. I love you.”

“I know, love, I know.”

*

The gardens were quiet in the afternoon sun, and Shannon sat with feet propped on the bench, file folder in hand, reviewing assets and annual income, her laptop resting awkwardly on her legs. As she reviewed the numbers, Shannon couldn’t suppress the pride, and fear, creeping into her gut. No one could deny the success she’d had in building the business, but Greg would have no problem proving the hotel provided a fai
r amount of their joint income.

Her brows furrowed as she stared at the numbers, her swollen and bruised eye howling in pain, her head throbbing. She gritted her teeth, willing both away, and wished Triston was right. If only there was some way of fighting Greg, but numbers didn’t lie. The judge would surely see it as sizable
enough to split up the assets.

“Shannon? Can I have a moment?”

Her insides twisted and she turned her head to face Lauren. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

Lauren paused, her mouth dropping and closing, and then stepped forward to settle in the chair next Shannon. “I think you need to hear what I’m about to tell you. I don’t want to see you lose anymore because of me or Greg.”

Shannon sighed and closed the lid to the laptop. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lauren drew in a deep breath and looked out across the garden. “This was always my favorite place to sit. I miss it here.” She returned her focus to Shannon. “I miss our friendship. I’m so sorry.”

Shannon shifted her weight, and reached for a folder. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Please, believe me.” Lauren reached out and touched her hand. “You need to make time.”

Shannon looked away for a moment, steeling herself. “Okay. But you better have a good reason for coming here.”

“Believe me, it could change everything.” She drew in another deep breath. “Listen, what I’m about to tell you, this isn’t easy for me. I wanted everything you had, you were always so perfect. The hotel, your marriage … you had it all together. And really, I mean, your husband, he seemed like the icing on the cake for your life. Oh,” she hummed the word into several syllables. “I admired you, and Greg.”

“Do I have to listen to this?”

“Please.” Lauren stood up and walked across the pebbled patio. “When Greg approached me, I slapped him, told him you were my best friend and that I wouldn’t hurt you.” She shrugged. “He kept coming anyway, and,” she rolled her eyes, “oh, I couldn’t resist. I know that makes me weak, it does. And I’m a horrible friend.”

“To put it mildly.”

She nodded, “Yes, I know. But, let me finish. We started the relationship, if that’s what you can call it, in November of 2009.”

Shannon bristled. Not an ounce of curiosity yearned to hear more. She was about to brush Lauren off when the date screamed in her head. The math …

“Wait, say that date again?”

Lauren nodded slowly, staring at Shannon, the words taking their time. “November. 2009.”

Shannon’s jaw clenched, and she shot to her feet, the pile of papers scattering around her like autumn leaves. “2009. November of 2009. Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, Shannon. I thought I had finally seen my dream come true. A girl doesn’t forget a time like that.”

Shannon’s hands reached into her hair, pulling it into a ponytail as she turned to look out over the gardens towards the Hudson. It couldn’t be. And if it was, it changed a lot.
Could Greg
… The thought trailed off. He’d already proven he could do just about anything. “That was four months before the accident.”

Lauren walked to Shannon’s side. “Yes. But that’s not all.”

Shannon’s chin scraped a shoulder as she spun to stare at Lauren. “What do you mean?”

“Shannon, he was with me that night. He left my place, and we had been drinking. I begged him not to leave, he could barely walk. But Greg said he had to go, pushed me, and I fell into my coffee table. I blacked out.”

“So he got away with a DUI. Nothing I can do about that.”

Lauren shook her head. “No, there’s not, because that would be double jeopardy.” Lauren took a step closer, her voice dropping low. “But he also hit someone, and no one ever knew it was him.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” A hit and run?
Oh Greg, what have you done?

“A man that lived down the block from me. He didn’t die, but it was a hit and run. The man moved out of the area, but he’s paralyzed from the accident.”

“You never told anyone this?”

“I thought I was protecting the man I loved. I was wrong. Stupid. The point is, now you know. It could save your hotel, save you from all of this.”

“I don’t have any proof, nothing the police could use. It would be my word against his.”

“I have proof. I have his confession on a recording.” She blushed as a lone eyebrow shot high into Shannon’s forehead, eyes creased at the corner, the other features crushed in a comical display. “I know. Sounds a little creepy. I guess I am, but I saved all the recordings Greg left on my voicemail. I just liked listening to the sound of his voice, the way he talked to me.”

“The statute of limitations … I don’t think it’s passed for a hit and run.”

Lauren shook her head.

Shannon looked away, rubbed the back of her neck. “Why are you doing this?” She studied Lauren. A change of heart never came easy. “Greg break it off with you, so you want to get even?”

“We were together just last night. He told me how he’s planning on stripping you of the Grande, of everything, really. After he left, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I know how much you love this hotel.” She shrugged. “It’ll never succeed with anyone else running it. You fit here, the guests love you. I couldn’t let him take that away too, not after all he’s, and I’ve, already done to you.”

“You could go to jail too.”

“I know. I can’t change that.”

“And this doesn’t make us friends again.”

“I know that too. I’m so sorry, Shannon. I loved you, I did. I just loved him and myself a little more.”

She handed Shannon the memory stick. “I transferred the files onto this. I’m not brave enough to turn it in myself.” She began walking away, then turned back. “I’m so sorry. I can’t say that enough. And, if the police don’t come for me, but you need testimony, please let me know.”

“Thank you, Lauren. I do appreciate this.”

Another time, Shannon would have hugged her friend, but that time had passed. Now, they shared an awkward silence, Lauren nodded and walked out of the garden for what Shannon was sure would be the last time. Staring at the memory stick in her palm, fingers refusing to close around it, she was frozen. With it, she may win back the right to keep the hotel, but she’d also put her husband and the woman she’d once considered her closest friend in jail. What kind of choice was that?

“An awful one,” she whispered as she forced the fingers to wrap around the small device and tucked it in her suit jacket. She stooped down, gathered her papers together and rested them within the folder. Packing everything into the laptop case, she headed inside.