No Longer Needed (11 page)

“Crispin, please, or Cris.”

“Okay, Crispin.”

Crispin barked out a laugh. “You surprise me.”

“Why?”

“You seem so quiet and even a little shy, but I sense there’s quite a spitfire beneath that calm surface.”

Emma studied Crispin’s face, unsure how to respond. No one had ever said that to her before, or even noticed her as much as Crispin already had. Her face grew warm under his gaze. Alan had sure never made her feel this way before.

Emma tore her gaze from Crispin and looked down at her lap. She wanted to say something witty, maybe even ask him out for a drink, but her tongue seemed tangled in her mouth.

Forty-five years old and acting like a teenager.

Crispin cleared his throat and opened the envelope. He began shuffling through the papers, mumbling to himself.

“What type of lawyer are you?” Emma forced herself to ask.

He looked up. “Oh, sorry. I do family law, but my practice is unique.

“In what way?” Emma asked.

“I’m tired of lawyers gouging their clients.” Crispin looked slightly sheepish. “I’m no martyr, I have to eat too, but I don’t charge my clients, most of which are women being gouged by unfaithful husbands, unless they get a decent divorce settlement. Since I’m good at what I do, they usually get a fair deal. And I get paid a modest fee. They are usually very grateful for my help.”

Emma raised her eyebrows.

He colored and dropped his eyes. “Not that grateful,” he mumbled.

Emma smiled, happy he was the one fumbling for once. “I was teasing.”

She tried not to fidget while he read over the documents, taking notes as he read.

Moments later Crispin came to the end of the documents. He straightened them and put down the pen, then cleared his throat and gave Emma a direct look.

“Your ex-husband is trying to sneak in a few things in his favor. You told me already what the original agreement had in it. From what I remember, the house was to be sold and the profits divided. You would take whatever things you wanted, apart from his office, and the rest was to be sold. The money and the investments would also be divided down the middle. Correct?”

“Yes.” Emma folded her hands on her lap, waiting for the blow.

“Well, the agreement you read and the one you got from his lawyer are not the same. Basically, you are agreeing to give him the house in Greece, taking only one-third of the money from the house sale here and you’ll receive none of the investments.”

Emma nearly choked in her shock. She cleared her throat and gasped, “What? How can he get away with that?”

Crispin gave her a look that seemed a lot like pity. “He wouldn’t get away with it if you had a lawyer, and if you read over the final documents. He obviously didn’t believe you’d do either.”

Emma twisted her fingers together. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I hate confrontation.”

“Emma,” Crispin said quietly. “You’re going through a divorce. It’s pretty hard to avoid confrontation right now.”

Emma straightened her back and looked him in the eye. “That’s why I’m here.” Her voice wasn’t nearly as strong as she’d have liked, but she was proud of herself nonetheless.

“Good. Now, let’s get to work. I won’t let him get away with this.”

Emma’s eyes teared up. How long had it been since anyone championed a cause for her?
 

Never?

She resisted the urge to grab him and kiss him.

Chapter 17

Connie sat at the first table that came free in the crowded Starbucks. She waited for Alan to arrive before she ordered her coffee, otherwise she might lose her seat. She’d called his home earlier and asked him to meet with her. He hadn’t even asked what it was about, just agreed instantly and suggested the Starbucks two blocks from his house. Connie wondered why he hadn’t asked, but was happy he’d agreed to meet.
 

She hoped to be able to make him back off Emma and treat her more fairly. Maybe it was a pipe dream, but she couldn’t sit by doing nothing. If it came out well, she’d tell Emma what she’d done. If not, then she’d hope Alan would keep his mouth shut. She didn’t think Emma would thank her for interfering, but,
It’s easier to obtain forgiveness than permission.

She’d been waiting and watching customers come and go for about ten minutes when Alan stepped inside and spotted her. He gave her a warm smile and headed over.

“Hi, Connie,” Alan said. “How nice to see you.” He slid out the chair.

“Hi, Alan. How are you?” she asked in a polite tone, now very confused. Alan had never been particularly friendly with her, probably because he’d known how she’d always felt about him.

He looked down at the table. “You having anything?”

She figured she might as well let him buy the drinks. “A cappuccino, please.”

“Coming right up,” he said with a jaunty air completely unlike him.

Connie frowned as he walked away. What was up with him? Alan was normally serious and even brusque. He seldom smiled. At least she hadn’t seen him smile much when Emma and the kids were around.
 

What game are you playing?

Alan looked good for his age. He had a tall, lanky build without the usual fifty-year-old male paunch. Emma had told her he was religious about going to the gym three times a week.

Must be because he had to keep the little girlfriends happy.

He disgusted her. Not just because Emma was her friend, but she hated men like him in general. Rich, powerful, and thought they owned the world. As a result, he could snap his fingers and get any woman he wanted—the thinner, younger and bigger chested, the better.

Connie figured Alan didn’t know she knew about the pregnant girlfriend.

Hmm …

Before he got back with the drinks, Connie grabbed her cell phone and hit redial, calling Alan’s home number again.

When the line was picked up, she said, “Your man is at the Starbucks two blocks from you with another woman.” There was a gasp on the other end. She snapped her phone shut just as Alan set her cappuccino in front of her.
 

“There you go, gorgeous,” he whispered, seductively.

Connie suppressed the shudder that ran up her spine. He thought he was charming.

“Thanks.” She gave him her best smile, and he clapped a hand over his heart.

“You have a stunning smile, Connie.”

Asshole.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, embarrassed. It was going to be harder to do this than she’d thought.

“So, what did you want to see me about?” Alan sipped what looked like a black coffee.

“I wanted to talk to you about Emma.”

Alan made a sour face. “Really? Why? We’re divorced.”

“Not yet,” Connie admonished. “You’ve only got an agreement. Nothing’s signed.”

Alan looked around the Starbucks while she waited for his rejoinder. He was obviously not pleased with the topic of conversation.

He looked back at her. “It’ll be signed soon enough. Then I’m done with her.”

Connie tried to quell her temper by taking a sip of her coffee. She set the cup down a little harder than necessary. “All I really wanted to ask was if you would please go a little easier on her. She’s a good woman and she isn’t asking for much. Just leave her little Greek house alone. It was an inheritance from her grandfather.”

Alan got a belligerent look on his face. “And one she’s never visited. She hasn’t even been to Greece, which was the condition of the will. I figure she doesn’t deserve a house she won’t even use.”

“Oh, and you deserve it? You hate going on holidays.”

“Maybe I hated going on holiday with Emma,” he shot back. “Now you on the other hand, I’d be happy to take you there.”

Connie’s mouth dropped open.

Alan grinned at her. “I’ve always thought you were a stunning woman.”

Connie’s mouth closed with a snap as she struggled not to lose control.
 

The door banged open as a blonde stepped inside the coffee shop. The woman saw them and her face twisted in fury.

Connie reached across the table and took Alan’s hand, bringing it up to her face. She gave him a sweet smile.

Alan looked confused at the change.

“You bastard!” a high, grating voice shouted. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You cheating asshole!” The blonde hovered over Alan, her purse already in mid swing. It hit his head hard and everyone in Starbucks turned to gape at the scene.

Alan whirled around, yanking his hand from Connie’s grasp.

“Alisha? What are you doing here?”

“Apparently I’m catching you cheating on me. And me pregnant with your baby!”

Connie heard a few of the patrons gasp.

Alan turned back to Connie. “What are you playing at?”

Connie ignored him, turning instead to Alisha. “What do you mean you’re having his baby? I’m having his baby!”

Alan’s jaw dropped. He glared at Connie, grabbed Alisha’s arm, and marched her to the door.

Connie yelled after him. “Treat Emma better Alan, or you’ll be sorry.”

The door shut after them and Connie slumped in her chair. Every eye in the place was on her. In a smaller town, word would spread that the owner of Il Giardino was embroiled in a sordid affair. She wasn’t worried if it did. Controversy was good for business.

Connie took her time to drink the rest of her coffee and left, smiling. She’d probably made things worse for Emma, but it felt good to get back at Alan, even a little. She’d have to phone Emma and confess. Hopefully she’d be forgiven. Maybe they’d even be able to laugh together at the stunned shock she’d seen on Alan’s face when Alisha caught them together.

Connie grinned wider as she headed toward Il Giardino. It was time to start the evening prep, and the incident with Alan would entertain her throughout the night.

Chapter 18

The sunshine made it difficult to see through the windshield as Emma pulled into Alan’s lawyer’s parking lot. Crispin waited by the entrance and she gave a little wave to let him know she’d seen him.
 

The lot was packed with BMWs, Mercedes, Cadillacs and the occasional sporty convertible. Emma figured the owners of those cars were the ones just embarking on their midlife crisis. She shook her head in disgust. No one should make so much money off the backs of others. She had no issue with people being wealthy. What she had an issue with were people who gouged others to make their wealth, and lawyers fit the bill perfectly.

Then she thought of Crispin and smiled. He didn’t do that. He championed women who had ex-husbands and their lawyers trying to take advantage of them. Emma thanked her lucky stars she’d decided on having a drink in the middle of the day. She pushed away the thoughts of where their relationship might go once the divorce was over. An image of her sitting on the beach holding a drink and smiling at Crispin jolted her. She didn’t want that, did she?

Crispin looked at his watch as she got out of her car, so she hurried her pace. He’d told her that it was better to arrive before the other side had a chance to talk. He wanted to throw them off balance before the meeting even started.

Emma glanced around the lot as she headed to the door. She didn’t see Alan’s car, so she was sure they’d beat him.

“Hurry, we need to get inside. Do you see Alan’s car?”

Emma jogged the last few steps. Crispin steadied her as she reached him and wobbled in her heels. “No, not unless he’s bought a new one.”

“You look beautiful.” Crispin said. “Just gorgeous.”

Her face warmed. “Thanks,” she said and stepped toward the door. She still felt uncomfortable when he scrutinized her. Alan had never looked at her that way before.

Crispin reached around her to open the door, and Emma stepped into the cool interior of a very different law office than Crispin’s. The front lobby, she couldn’t call it a reception, had a huge desk opposite the door. Above the desk in huge letters that shouted ego, it said, Kennedy, Abercrombie, Zook & Crane.
 

Emma had been in the office before, when they first drafted up their divorce agreement, but she’d been far too upset to notice anything but her own pain.

The woman sitting at reception wore a headset and a white blouse that showed a lot of cleavage while still remaining fairly decent. She looked up and smiled a fake smile with perfect too-white teeth.

Crispin stepped forward to give their names while Emma continued to examine the place her husband helped maintain with the money he should be dividing with her. Impossibly puffy rust pillows decorated a brown leather sofa set which looked to be as expensive as Jen’s yearly tuition at law school.

The leather is probably handmade in the outback of Australia and shipped here.

She stood on a Moroccan rug in the same rust and brown tones of the sofa set. The lighting came from an actual, although discreet, chandelier overhead. No fluorescent lighting for this law office.

The perky receptionist showed them into a boardroom that was an extension of the room they’d just left. The walls were tan, the carpet rust and the table expensive oak.

How much money is he really paying them?

It shocked Emma, this blatant display of wealth. Was this designed to inspire confidence? If the lawyers had this much money, they must win all their cases. All it made Emma think was that if they have this much money, they’re charging too much. If their offices looked like this, what must their homes look like?

The receptionist asked if they’d like coffee, which they both declined. She waved them to seats and said Mr. Kennedy would be with them soon. They sat together on the side of the table facing the door.

“Emma? You okay?”

Crispin looked concerned. Emma realized she needed to learn to control her face better, especially if they were going to see Alan’s legal team. She tucked her purse against her stomach, sat higher and lifted her chin. She gave Crispin a grim smile.
 

“Yes, I’m fine,” she stated firmly. Maybe a little too firmly. He smiled at her like he found her terribly cute.

“Good for you.” He patted Emma’s hand where it rested on the table. “We’re going to beat them at their own game, don’t you worry.”