Secrets, p.12
Secrets, page 12
“Sure. But you need to explain further.” Nathan watched as Ellie put a twenty-dollar bill in the jar.
“And they just leave the money and sandwiches out?”
“Yes. I know it’s unusual, but we appreciate each other’s efforts and try to support each other in whatever way we can. That’s how I charge rent, too.”
The two walked toward the large sliding patio doors. Ellie motioned Nathan to sit at one of the café tables.
They sat quietly for a brief moment. “It really is good to see you, Nathan.” Ellie smiled and touched his hand.
Nathan gave it a squeeze. “Likewise.” They unwrapped their lunch, and Ellie began to explain her rental agreement with the artists.
“I charge them ten percent of their net business. That, too, is on the honor system.”
“You mean you leave it to them to figure out how much rent to pay?”
“That’s the system. It’s been working so far.”
“But how do you know if they’re being honest?” Nathan had a very puzzled look on his face.
“I have to trust them. Of course, I could always ask for an audit of their books. It’s in their lease agreement. But I can tell by foot traffic and just by looking at what they have in inventory. Besides, they will never get a better deal unless someone bankrolls them.”
Nathan snickered. “Miss Ellie, you always had good instincts. This place is magnificent. Why would anyone want to screw it up for themselves?”
“That’s what I am counting on. By the way, you’re not going to keep calling me Miss Ellie, now are you?”
“Force of habit, I guess.” Nathan gave her a knowing nod. “I’ll do my best. So, tell me, what do you have in mind?”
“The Stepford wives come almost every Thursday. With their precious children. If you could be here Thursday through Sunday, that would be perfect. We’re open from eleven until five on Wednesdays and Thursdays, from ten until eight Fridays and Saturdays, and from eleven to four on Sunday. If we are having an event, the times may change. Once a month we have a string quartet from six until eight on a Saturday.”
“Would you want me here all four days?” Nathan was calculating in his head.
“That would be wonderful. Saturday can be a long haul. We get rather busy in the afternoon.”
“What if I get one of my young adult fellows to pitch in for a few hours?” Nathan was thinking out loud. “I have a fine young man who would probably appreciate the apprenticeship. I’ll train him to look mean.” Nathan laughed.
“That could work,” Ellie said. “As I said, it’s the physical presence of an authority figure. Does he look young or older? You know what I mean.”
“He’s Latin-American. About five-foot-ten-inches tall with a build that will make the women swoon. He can be intense, but a nice kid. Name’s Mateo.”
“Well, that sounds like a good plan.” Ellie had already put pen to paper and wrote down the numbers as far as his salary and benefits. “I’ll pay you thirty dollars per hour, plus health insurance. It’s thirty-seven hours. You can pay Mateo from your salary. Would you be amenable to that?” Ellie slid the page over to him.
“Eleven hundred a week?” Nathan eyes widened.
“That’s what I was paying you when you were at the farm.”
“Yes, but this is a much easier gig.”
“Wait until Chuck E. Cheese Thursday.” Ellie cackled.
“Ellie Stillwell, it will be a pleasure doing business with you again.” Nathan leaned back in his chair. “So what type of uniform do you want me to wear?”
“Go to Seigel’s or Howard. They have very nice dress uniforms. Single- and double-breasted.”
“You have done your homework, haven’t you? Why am I not surprised?” Nathan gave her a big grin.
“You know me well. You can have a badge embroidered, or something to pin on. I’ll leave the authoritative visual aspects to you.”
“Roger that.”
“Which reminds me. Everyone has a walkie-talkie. We had an incident early on, and I wanted to be sure my people had easy access for communication.”
“Is there anything you haven’t thought of?” Nathan kept grinning.
“I guess I’ll find out if and when the occasion arises.” Ellie let out a huge sigh of relief. “I am so very happy you are willing to do this for me.”
“Like I’ve said so many times, anything for you.”
Ellie reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Come, I’ll show you around the place.”
Chapter Eleven
Wednesday
Tori awoke with a sense of anticipation. She crawled out of bed so as not to wake her husband. She planned to fix something for him to eat later. Her mission was to keep him in a good mood for as long as she could.
The week before, she had frozen some beef stew, so she pulled it out to defrost. She boiled up some noodles that he could reheat. A big chunk of bread was wrapped in aluminum foil, which he could also warm. Satisfied that he would be satisfied, she started on her usual fare of toast with a little butter. She decided to trade off her coffee for herbal tea. Not that she was a fan of herbal tea, but she didn’t think she needed the caffeine that morning. She was already juiced up. She had no idea if she would find the woman, nor did she know if the woman would spend any time with her. But it was worth taking the chance.
She heard her husband get out of bed and head toward the bathroom. She wasn’t sure if she should bolt or wait. It was too early to head to the art center, but she didn’t know what else to do with her time. Bake! She decided if she baked cookies, that would keep her busy and her husband satisfied his wife was doing something wifey.
About a half hour later, he came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. She knew what that meant, but not today. She was already showered and dressed.
He came up from behind and put his arms around her and pulled her close to him. She could feel him getting aroused. As if a guardian angel was watching over her, the timer rang on the oven. “Oops. Can’t let these burn.” She jiggled away from him and put on oven mitts.
“Well, maybe while they’re cooling down before I do?” He sounded rebuffed.
“Oh, hon, not now, please.” Tori was sweet, but she knew it didn’t land well with him.
“Fine.” He let out an exaggerated sigh and meandered out of the kitchen.
Tori looked up at the ceiling, mouthed the words, “thank you,” and gave a sigh of relief.
She checked the digital clock on the stove. It wasn’t even close to nine. She had to find something to do to keep herself occupied. Maybe she would stop in the office to check the mail. It would kill some time. She yelled down the hallway, “See you later, honey. There’s food in the fridge for you to heat up later.” She heard a grunt in the distance. His way of saying, “Have a nice day.”
Tori realized she was very nervous. There was so much to think about. She also realized that once she thought about things, she would have to take action. If the past twenty years hadn’t taught her a lesson, then she would never learn. She was happy she had chosen to tell her boss about her situation. It gave her enough confidence to get through another day. The pregnancy would be a challenge, but she was feeling better about it now that she knew her employer would be on her side. She didn’t want to think about how her husband would react to the news. She also knew she might have to leave him at some point. As confused as she was, one thing was for certain—she was not going to spend her life having more regrets. She knew people stayed together “because of the kids,” but kids are a lot smarter and much more in tune with what is going on around them than adults give them credit for. Kids can sense tension. Most people can. But kids internalize it more. They will blame themselves for the tension between their parents. She knew that firsthand. For years, she blamed herself for her mother’s drinking and her father’s absence. But by the time she was twelve and had to care for her little brother, she was aware enough to realize that her circumstances were not her fault. The sad part was that she never took care of herself. Sure, as far as hair, clothes, makeup as she got older, but mentally she was “on hold.” She kept believing the answer was ahead, never thinking it was within her.
Since working at the law firm, she had witnessed a lot of reasons for the sort of domestic turmoil that led to divorce. Most of the time it was infidelity, but the infidelity was a result of someone’s not feeling loved, not being emotionally supported, or just mutual disengagement. On countless occasions, she had heard the words “We drifted apart.” It made her wonder about the word “drifted.” Were they ever on course, or were they always adrift? Looking back, she realized that she and her husband had been adrift from the beginning. First it was being adrift from their families. Second, they were adrift from a purpose. A goal. Consequently, they drifted away from each other, but neither one recognized it. At least neither admitted it. Now that she was finally aware of how her lack of a compass had gotten her into this boggy mess, she wasn’t going to let her boat run aground again. Not if she could help it. But enough of the metaphors, she thought to herself. But they gave her a clear picture of her situation.
On her way to the office, she stopped at the diner to get a buttered roll for herself and a donut for Mr. Bellows. She would have picked up something for Arlene, the receptionist, but Arlene was gluten-free and there were few diners in the area that didn’t specialize in high sugar and wheat content.
As she was paying the tab, the same woman gave her a knowing nod. It gave Tori a bit of the willies. Who was that woman and how did she know about her and her “cop” husband? In her excitement, and plans to get to the art center, she had almost forgotten about the foreboding message the woman gave her. “Thursday. Ringo’s.” Then she remembered he said he might go fishing on Thursday. What’s up with Thursday? She shook it off for now. She had bigger things on her mind today.
When she entered the office, Arlene gave her a big hello. “Hey, thought you weren’t coming in today.”
“Just wanted to check the mail,” Tori said confidently. “Is Mr. Bellows in? I brought him a donut. Sorry, they didn’t have any gluten-free goodies.”
“It’s OK. I bake my own.” Arlene raised her ugly-looking muffin to show Tori. “He’s not in yet,” she said, with a longing glance at the donut bag. “Sure wish I could eat one of those, though, but if I do, well, you know what happens.” Arlene pointed to her backside, referring to the gastrointestinal issues she experienced.
Tori smiled, thinking, Too much information, thank you. “I’ll leave it on his desk.” Tori walked into Robert Bellows’s office and placed the donut on top of a napkin so the grease wouldn’t get all over his desk blotter. Blotters were made to absorb ink, not necessarily an oily piece of fried dough. Tori looked around the office. It was as stereotypical as a lawyer’s office could be. Big Brayton Manor executive desk with a large brown leather chair, matching barrister bookcases and credenzas. Two club chairs sat in front of the desk and a settee was in front of the large bay window. A small round table was on one side with four chairs. It was almost a duplicate of George Layton’s with the exception of the window treatments, wall covering, and carpeting. Robert’s office had a green palette while George’s was deep burgundy. His wife wanted more warmth and did the decorating for her husband. It had remained that way since they opened the office thirty years before, but George hadn’t had the heart to make any changes after his wife passed away.
Both men had family photos, awards, and various memorabilia on their shelves. Robert’s were sports related, while George’s were family and historical, with a large old-world globe on a stand in the corner. But both offices were comfortable and gave the client a sense of safety and security.
Tori tried to imagine how many people passed through the doors and what troubles they brought with them. But she knew that whatever the issue, George and Robert would find a solution. Just like George was helping her find hers.
After an hour of sorting through mail and e-mails, Tori went into George’s office. She pulled out a law book that contained information about divorces in North Carolina. Even though she did most of the research for her boss, she wanted to look at the statutes from her own perspective. The most important detail was in order to file for an “absolute divorce,” the couple must be separated for at least one year and one day. In many instances, couples signed a separation agreement, which covered terms and responsibilities. She knew he would never go for it. Another option was a DBB: Divorce from Bed & Board—a court-ordered separation due to abuse or adultery. It does not constitute an absolute divorce, but the court can intercede to resolve property issues. Tori’s head was spinning. She knew she wasn’t eligible for a DBB. Sure, he was sullen, but that didn’t reach the level of abuse. It was more of emotional abandonment that pained her. The one bright spot was the issue of child support. That could be filed at any time.
She was sorry she had opened the book. Her elation about going to the art center was clouded by the reality of logistics. She folded her arms and rested her head on the table. A soft knock startled her.
“You OK?” Arlene asked.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just a little headache,” she lied. It was a huge headache, literally and figuratively.
“Can I get you something for it?”
“Thanks, but I have some aspirin in my purse.”
“Is there anything I can help you with? I thought you were taking the day off.”
“No, but thanks. I was just looking up something for a friend.” Tori checked her watch. “I’d better get going. I have a lot of errands to run.” She waited for Arlene to leave the doorway so she could put the book back on the shelf. She didn’t want Arlene to know what she had been reading about. Tori stood up, hoping it would give Arlene the hint to scram. It worked. She stretched and put her thoughts on pause. Maybe the psychic could steer her in the right direction. At least she knew Mr. Layton had her back, even if he wasn’t yet aware he might be representing her at some point. She resigned herself that if she didn’t face her issues head-on, she could be spinning in circles. Getting there was the big challenge.
She grabbed her purse, keys, and jacket and headed out the door. “See you tomorrow.”
“Sure thing. Have a good one!” Arlene was still picking at that ugly muffin.
* * *
Luna, Ellie, and Chi-Chi got together for their usual morning coffee and delectable delights from the Flakey Tart.
“What’s on your agenda today?” Ellie asked as she sipped her cappuccino.
“I have several clients.” Luna broke off a piece of her brioche. “Word must be getting out. I hope you don’t mind, Ellie.”
“Why would I mind? It brings people into the center. Some of whom would most likely never come here. I look at you as a ‘promotional item.’” Ellie smiled.
“Huh. I never thought of myself as that.” Luna scrunched up her face. “But if it keeps the traffic flowing, then that’s a good thing. I just don’t want people to get all weirded out.”
“Have you looked around?” Ellie chuckled. “We are surrounded by eccentric people.”
Chi-Chi almost spit out her coffee. “I suppose I am one of them?”
“Of course you are. That’s why we love you,” Luna teased. “I think anyone who has any sort of an artistic streak is a bit eccentric.”
“That’s what makes them special.” Ellie patted Chi-Chi’s hand.
Chi-Chi smiled brightly. “I suppose you are correct. We are special.”
“Yes indeedy!” Luna got up and rinsed her coffee cup. Chi-Chi and Ellie did the same.
“OK, you fine women. Y’all have yourselves a lovely day.”
Chi-Chi folded her hands in prayer position. “Oni a dara.”
“You have a nice day as well.” Luna gave her a slight bow. “Namaste.”
Luna made sure everything in the café was set up and ready for her influx of clients. She checked her schedule. Five. That’s a lot of energy for one day.
* * *
Tori nervously began the thirty-mile drive to the center. So much was going on in her mind. The word “divorce” floated through her head a few times, but when it came to the actual act of it, well, that was a different story. After reading through the law books it hit her. There was a lot to do. Now, looking at it from a personal point of view, she had a much better appreciation for all the divorce cases she had worked on. She simply did the paperwork. This time it would be her doing the heavy lifting. How? That was a big question. How was she going to approach him? He would feel like he’d been blindsided. Not that it should come as any big surprise. Many marriages are mediocre or even bad, but no one has the wherewithal to make a move, so they suffer in silence. Then comes resentment. She thought of asking him to go to marriage counseling, but he would balk. He was perfectly fine with his situation. That was the problem. It was his situation. Not theirs, as a couple, or hers. She never had the strength to fight back. Stand her ground. Speak her mind. She feared his wrath, so she remained silent.
Tori thought about stopping somewhere to grab lunch but had heard there was a café in the center. She wondered if it was the same café the woman operated from. She wanted to give herself ample time to check out the situation before she approached the woman. If she was, in fact, approachable. She drove another twenty minutes until she came upon a lushly landscaped area with a sign that said:
WELCOME TO THE STILLWELL ART CENTER
She turned on to what appeared to be a private road that led to the massive structure. It was the size of a mini-mall. She found a place to park and sat in her car for a few minutes to gather her thoughts and fortitude. She had never done anything like this before. Venturing on her own. In search of answers. She checked the visor mirror. She looked respectable; her short-cropped blond hair framed her face. Her makeup stayed intact. She ran a stick of gloss over her lips, unbuckled her seat belt, and got out of the car. She steadied herself. She was embarking on a different course. One that hadn’t been laid out for her. She was on her own today.
