The Pre-Nup (22 page)

Ellie
Chapter
26

M
ommy. Mommy! I
said,
do you want some more tea?” Hannah’s exasperated voice pierced through the fog of worry and wild speculation that had engulfed Ellie all morning.

“Hmm?” Ellie forced her attention back to the impromptu tea party Hannah was hosting on the living room floor with assorted dolls and stuffed animals. “Why, yes, I’d love another cup.”

“You’re not paying attention,” Hannah accused. For a tiny blond pixie in lavender pajamas and a tinfoil tiara, she looked quite formidable. “Stop looking out the window.”

“I’m sorry, honey, I thought I heard a car in the driveway.”

Hannah dropped her blue flowered teapot onto the carpet and peered out the window. “Is Daddy coming over?”

“No, not today.”

“Is Gramma?”

“No. But Alex is coming back, and—”

Hannah’s lower lip jutted out. “Don’t like Alex.”

“Yes, you do! She made orange milk for you, remember?”

“I don’t want anyone else to live here but you and me and Daddy.” Hannah sucked on the tip of her index finger, a habit from infancy that Ellie thought she had given up months ago. “I want Daddy.”

“I know you do, sweetie.” Ellie gave up on trying to hug her daughter and let Hannah scowl and stomp her feet. “But he doesn’t live here with us anymore, remember? We talked about this. You’re still going to see him lots and lots, and you’re still going to see Gramma and Grandpa, and all of us love you so much.”

“I hate you!” Hannah punted her teapot into the head of a bedraggled stuffed panda. “And I hate Alex, too.”

Eight-thirty
A.M
., and Ellie was ready to trade in her cup of imaginary chamomile for a tall, icy Long Island Iced Tea. She did her best to calm Hannah down and was reading
A Bargain for Frances
aloud for the fifth time in a row when finally,
finally,
she heard a car engine outside.

Hannah raced back to the window. “Why’s Alex in a taxi? I hate her.”

“I heard you the first time.” Ellie opened the door. Alex sashayed in with her gown wrinkled, her eyeliner smeared, and her hands clutching a black laptop computer and a large paper bag.

Ellie gasped. “Is that…?”

“It is.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Ellie wiped her suddenly damp palms on her jeans. “So what should we do now?”

“Now?” Alex placed the computer on the coffee table in the sitting room and cracked her knuckles in gleeful anticipation. “Now we copy the hard drive and nail this S.O.B. to the wall.”

Ellie glanced sidelong at Hannah. “Little pitchers have big ears.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Give me a break. Do you really think little pitchers know what S.O.B. stands for?”

Hannah sidled up to Ellie and tugged at her jeans. “Mommy, what does S.O.B. mean?”

Ellie patted her daughter on the back. “Go to your room and start getting dressed, sweetie. I’ll come help you in a few minutes.”

Hannah dawdled for a moment, until Ellie followed up with a stern “Right now, please.”

When she heard the door to Hannah’s room close, Ellie turned to Alex, who shrugged and said, “Listen, I can either set a good example or I can get stuff done. Take your pick.”

Ellie ran her hand along the top of the laptop. “So I guess I should call my attorney now.”

Alex snatched the computer away and hugged it to her chest, crinkling the bodice of the gold gown. “Are you crazy or just stupid?”

“Well, she needs the information on there, and—”

“And what are you going to say when she asks how you convinced him to hand it over?”

Ellie frowned. “Oh.”

“Keep the lawyers out of this. Words to live by.”

“But how are we supposed to find all the information by ourselves? We don’t even know what we’re looking for.”

“Luckily, that’s not our problem.” Alex’s crafty grin reappeared. “I just happen to have a…
connection
that can take care of all that.”

Ellie raised one eyebrow. “What kind of connection?”

“One of my regulars from the Black Diamond. Nice guy, hopelessly nerdy. But smart. Very smart. He does a lot of high-tech work.”

“Why is this sounding shadier by the second?”

“Trust me, all we need to do is turn on this computer, copy the hard drive, and give this guy a call. He’ll take it from there.”

“Are you sure? Mara says we’ll need a forensic accountant to find all the files. Michael’s very sneaky.”

Alex smirked. “My guy hacked half a dozen casinos. I think he can handle a few personal firewalls.”

“But if we’re not going to hire a forensic accountant, and we’re not going to tell the lawyers, how exactly are we going to convince Michael to break the terms of the pre-nup?”

“It’s called blackmail, and it’s next on my list of things to do after we finish up here.”

Ellie covered both ears. “I’m not hearing this.”

“Fine by me. Now start ’er up and let’s see what we got.” Alex flipped open the laptop and pressed the power key. The screen lit up and a long, thin box materialized in the center of the screen with a blinking cursor and a prompt that read:
Please enter password.

“Okay.” Alex positioned her fingers over the keyboard. “Hit me.”

Ellie “Uh…”

Alex clicked her tongue. “I’m waiting.”

Ellie fiddled with the cuff of her sweater. “Can’t your hacker in Vegas figure out the password?”

“He doesn’t have ESP!” Alex sat back in disgust. “I can’t believe you don’t know your own husband’s password.”

“I didn’t know lots of things about him! Computer passwords don’t even crack the top ten.”

“Well, you lived with the man for like ten years. Take a guess!”

“Try his birthday.” She recited the numerals corresponding to the day, month, and year.

Alex typed this in. “Nope.”

“How about ‘Hannah’?”

“No dice.”

“Um…” Ellie racked her brain. “‘Rufus’? That was his childhood dog.”

“Uh-uh.”

Ellie concentrated on the blinking cursor. “Let me think…” She was startled when she heard Hannah’s voice behind her.

“What are you doing, Mommy?”

“I thought I asked you to go get dressed,” Ellie said.

“I did.” Hannah rounded the corner wearing ballet slippers, a pink tutu, a green bathing suit, and a threadbare white T-shirt covered with cartoon cats that Michael’s parents had brought back from a trip to Greece. “Whatcha doing? Is that Daddy’s computer?”

“Well.” Ellie looked to Alex for assistance. “Yes.”

Hannah clapped her chubby little hands. “I wanna play the ABC game.”

Ellie struggled to put all her panic and guilt on hold. “What ABC game?”

“The one where you find the ABCs in the jungle. Daddy put it on there for me. Can I play?”

“Maybe a little later. Right now, Mommy and Alex are—”

“But
whyyy
?” Hannah whined. “I wanna play
now
!”

“That’s enough,” Ellie said. “Unless you’d like a time-out.”

“Sorry, kiddo,” Alex told Hannah. “Anyway, we can’t even get into the main menu, so unless you happen to have Daddy’s password…”

“Moodle.” Hannah looked expectantly up at Ellie. “Now can I play?”

“What’s Moodle?” Alex asked.

“The puppy that lives in my closet.”

“Imaginary,” Ellie explained. “Because her cruel, highly allergic mother won’t let her get a real dog.”

“Moodle starts with
M.
” Hannah helpfully pointed out the letter on the keyboard.

“Try Moodle,” Ellie said, and Alex typed it in.

“Bingo.” Alex nodded. “We’re in. Good work, Hannah.”

Adrenaline surged through Ellie’s veins. She was going to
win.

“Can I play now?” Hannah asked hopefully. “Find the ABC’s?”

“In a little while.” Ellie shepherded Hannah back toward the bedrooms. “First Alex and Mommy are going to find numbers.”

Forty minutes later, Alex finished copying Michael’s hard drive and was preparing to send off the information to her contact in Las Vegas. “All right. Phase one of Operation: Pre-Nup Payback is now complete. Now I’ll get this computer back and have a little chat with him before he wakes up and calls the cops.”

“Please hurry.” Ellie blotted a thin sheen of sweat off her face. “We could be arrested for this.”

“But we’re not gonna be.” Alex twisted her arms back and reached for the zipper on her gown. “I better change.” The dress slithered off her lean, tanned body and pooled on the floor in a shiny gold heap.

“What are you doing?” Ellie shrieked. “My daughter is in the next room!”

“Little pitchers have big eyes, too?” Alex sauntered toward the guest room in high heels and minuscule ivory underpants. “Relax, I’ll be out of your hair soon. I’ll find my own place and walk around naked all day. Ah, sweet freedom!”

“No, it’s okay.” Ellie was instantly contrite. “You’re more than welcome to stay. As long as you want. Well, until we have to move to a house with a much smaller mortgage.”

Alex stopped halfway down the hall, turned, and faced Ellie. “Do you really mean that? I can stay?”

“Of course.”

“That’s darn decent of you.”

Ellie knew they should bask in this moment of sisterly strength, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from Alex’s huge, pert, perfect breasts. They were a marvel of medical engineering. “It’s the least I can do. And if there’s anything else I can ever do to repay you, please let me know.”

“I’m so glad you said that, because actually, I need to borrow an outfit. Something classy. Like a twinset-and-pearls-type deal. I have a lunch date after I finish putting the fear of God, your lawyer, and the IRS into Michael.”

Ellie rummaged through the contents of her closet and handed Alex a conservative petal pink cardigan and knee-length gray skirt. “Will this work? It’s from my pre-baby days. I keep hoping I’ll fit into it again someday.”

“Perfect.” Alex wriggled into the sweater sans bra, which somewhat detracted from the ladies-who-lunch effect.

“Who are you meeting?” Ellie asked. “Any one I know?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact.” Alex had one foot on the front step and the door halfway closed behind her before she finished answering Ellie’s question. “Josh.”

Jen
Chapter
27

H
oly charred rubble, Batman.” Jen surveyed the blackened debris strewn across Mara’s flagstone patio. “You weren’t kidding around with that bridal bonfire.”

“I may have gone a little overboard with the lighter fluid.” Mara approached from the kitchen with two cups of coffee and a foil-wrapped packet of toaster pastries. Since Ellie had her hands full with houseguests and legal strategy sessions, Jen and Mara had decided to forgo their usual Monday morning walk in favor of a quick breakfast powwow before work. “Barbecueing’s not really my forte. I’m more of a peruse-the-steakhouse-menu-and-point kind of girl.”

“You scorched the stonework.” Jen indicated the dark streaks marring the paving slabs that bordered the edge of the golf course. “Is that going to hurt your resale value?”

“Probably. But it was worth it. Pop-Tart?”

Jen made a face at the very thought of all that white flour and refined sugar. “I haven’t seen you so Zen since you first got engaged. Did you finally start taking that yoga class we talked about?”

“No, I just incinerated everything that reminds me of the ex.” Mara handed Jen one of the coffee mugs. “Dramatic results in a tenth of the time. And no sweating. Speaking of exes, how was your dream date with Patrick?”

“It wasn’t dreamy at all. More like a wake-up call,” Jen said. “He took me to Jasper J’s.”

Mara brightened at the mention of their old college hangout. “Jasper J’s is still there? Hey, are our names still carved in that ceiling beam over the jukebox? Is that crazy bartender with the Fu Manchu and the grizzly bear tattoo still working there?”

Jen sipped her coffee and watched as the golf course sprinklers came on, creating hundreds of tiny glittering prisms in the rising sun. “Yeah, it was just like old times. But I don’t fit in there anymore. And I definitely don’t fit with Patrick.”

“You’re not attracted to him at all? Drool-inducing man beauty leaves you cold?”

Jen lifted one shoulder and tried to explain. “I’m still attracted to him, but more on an abstract level. Like, I
should
be turned on, but I’m not.”

Mara bit into her Pop-Tart. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re impossible to please?”

“I believe the man I married might have mentioned something along those lines.”

“Eric is one tough customer,” Mara agreed. “Asking you to do nothing—”

“Nothing.”
Jen tightened both hands around the warm mug. “That doesn’t even make sense! How am I supposed to do nothing? He wants me to sit motionless in a dark room?”

“I know what will make you feel better.” Mara nodded out at the ashes. “May I recommend a white gown and a Zippo?”

“I’ll stick to yoga, thanks.” Jen pushed up the sleeves of her black jersey shirtdress. “All right, it’s been lovely, but I better get back home. Duty calls.”

“You’re so disciplined,” Mara marveled. “If I worked from home, I’d never change out of my pajamas.”

“Yes, you would. How else would you manage to justify buying all those handbags and shoes?”

“I’d just buy swankier pj’s. Which I’m going to have to do anyway, now that I can’t swipe Josh’s T-shirts to sleep in. What
do
they put in men’s T-shirts to make them so comfortable?” Mara started packing files, notepads, and a few extra Pop-Tarts into her briefcase. “You know, you have the right idea. If I’d spent my free time working this year instead of planning a wedding, do you have any idea how many billable hours I’d have accrued by now? I’d probably be up for partner! Why should I be miserable and heartbroken when I could be rich and successful?”

“Why can’t you be rich, successful, and still have a happy relationship?” Jen said.

“Life doesn’t work that way. Exhibits A, B, and C: you, me, and Ellie. At least when you put time and effort into your job, you’re guaranteed to get something back. Look at everything you’ve done with Noda this year. You were on the Rory Reid show, for God’s sake. You’ve arrived!”

Jen drained the remainder of her coffee. “Yes, I suppose I have. And now that I’ve arrived, where else am I supposed to go?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the future. I think I’m burned out.”

Mara shook her head. “You can’t be burned out. You’re my new role model.”

“Oh, well, in that case…” Jen clasped the empty coffee cup to her heart and gushed, “I love my life. I love having no free time and hardly any friends. I love the fact that I haven’t had a vacation in over five years.”

“That’s more like it.”

Outside, they heard the squealing of tires, then a series of loud, staccato horn honks.

“Doesn’t the HOA have rules against noise pollution before breakfast?” Mara groused. “I can’t believe that I get harassed for having a tiny little bonfire on my own property but the overprivileged teenage hooligans are allowed to roam the neighborhood, wreaking havoc in their Escalades.”

Jen started to laugh. “You do realize that you’re dangerously close to adopting a dozen cats and standing on the front porch with a broom, screeching, ‘Get off my lawn!’”

“I look forward to it.”

Then a voice started shouting. A loud, insistent, male voice.

“That’s it.” Mara picked up the phone. “I’m calling the gate guard.”

“Hang on,” Jen said. They both lapsed into silence. “I think he’s saying your name.”

“Yeah, that’s real likely.”

“No, really! Listen.” And sure enough, the voice started up again.

“Mara!”
This time, it was unmistakable.

Jen and Mara raced through the town house and threw open the front door to see Josh’s Toyota idling in the driveway.

He greeted Jen with a friendly wave and Mara with a curt “Get in.”

Before either woman could recover their composure enough to ask questions, Jen’s cell phone started ringing.

“Go.” Mara shooed Jen back down the hall. “Answer it.”

“But—”

“
Go.
I need a moment.”

Jen didn’t recognize the area code blinking on her caller ID, but picked up anyway. “Jen Finnerty.”

“Hello.” The woman on the other end of the line sounded supremely smooth and self-assured. “This is Sheila Geiger. I’m a senior VP of business development with—” And then Sheila Geiger named a soft drink corporation so massive, so global and ubiquitous, that Jen sucked in her breath. She had always known she would face them sooner or later: the dark forces that had gotten her hooked on diet soda in the first place.
The evil empire.

“We saw your segment on the Rory Reid show and all of us here want to congratulate you on your product. Very original.”

“Thank you,” Jen croaked.

“Your innovation—Noda, is it?—creates a brand-new niche in the soft drink market. As you know, that’s no easy feat.”

“Well.” Jen hesitated. “I try.”

“We’re interested in discussing what kind of synergy can be forged between your brand and ours,” Sheila said. “We’d like to set up some meetings, maybe as early as next week.”

“Synergy,” Jen repeated. “But Noda is the antisoda. That’s the whole point. That’s the official slogan, in fact.”

“And we love that! Healthy soda. It’s genius.”

“But, actually, it’s not soda. At all. So I’m not sure how merging with a soda company could—”

“Listen, Ms. Finnerty, I’ll get right to the point.” The executive started to sound a tiny bit testy. “We’d like to buy Noda from you. The name, the recipe, everything.”

“Oh, it’s not for sale,” Jen said instantly.

“We’re prepared to offer a very generous buyout package. Plus stock options, consultant salary, you name it. We’d like to talk to your business partner, as well.”

“My, uh…” Jen’s throat went dry. “How did you—?”

“We did a quick check with the corporations division of Arizona’s secretary of state. An Eric Kessler is listed as cofounder. Do you have his contact information?”

“I have to go.” Jen hung up and glanced out the window to see Josh’s Toyota pulling away with Mara in the passenger seat. But she didn’t have time to speculate about where they were going or why. She had to get to Eric before the evil empire did.

She dialed his number with shaking hands. He didn’t pick up (no surprise there), so she left a voice mail: “I know you’re screening but this is important. Call me back right now. Strictly business, I promise.”

Thirty seconds later, her phone rang.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.” She closed her eyes in a rush of relief. “Listen, Eric, I understand you’re less than thrilled with me right now, but I really need to talk to you.”

“I need to talk to you, too.” He sounded wary and tired. “I have separation papers for you to sign.”

She forgot about the evil empire for a moment. “Oh.”

“So?” he prompted. “What can I do for you?”

She tried to match his clipped, businesslike tone. “Well, it’s about the company.”

“I don’t want to talk about your company, Jen.”

“It’s ours, actually, not just mine. That’s what we need to discuss.”

“Noda is
yours,
” he said emphatically. “I don’t want anything to do with it. Not now, not ever.”

“But because of the pre-nup—” she started.

He cut her off as soon as she said the
P
word. “Screw the pre-nup. Tell you what: I’ll sell you my share of the company for a dollar.”

She blinked. “You’re willing to relinquish all claims?”

“Yep. Have your accountant draw up a bill of sale. Consider it your divorce gift. Anything that happens to Noda from now on is your deal only.”

She put down the phone for a moment, stung by his indifference.

“Hello?” he prompted.

She put the receiver back to her ear. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I’m sure.” He sounded even more burned out than she was.

“Well, I’ll pay back the personal loan,” she promised. “Plus interest.”

“I don’t care about that, either.”

“I insist.”

“Take your time. I know you don’t have that kind of capital on hand right now. Next year, ten years from now…don’t sweat it.”

“Actually.” She cleared her throat. “It might be a lot sooner than you think.”

“Whenever. Can I come over with the papers tonight, or should I have my lawyer send them to you?”

Before she could reply, her call waiting beeped. The evil empire was nothing if not persistent. She ignored the call and kept talking to Eric. “Listen, before you make any final decisions, you should know that I just got a call about Noda from—”

“I’m hanging up now,” he warned. “Can I come over tonight or not?”

“Fine.” Anger at his total dismissal swept away any twinge of remorse. “You’re going to get exactly what you wanted: nothing.”

“What?” He seemed genuinely confused.

She didn’t bother explaining. Eric was right. Noda was all hers: her time, her passion, her life. She was entitled to reap all the rewards. But not legally. Not yet.

“Come on over,” she told him. “As soon as possible. I’ll have some papers for you to sign, too.”