Ladies' Night Andrews, Kay (great novels .txt) 📖

can’t come back. And if you don’t believe me, you can ask Dad. That’s where I was when you came by, out looking for him. He saw Callie asleep on the sofa this morning, and he was so pissed, he just took off, because he can’t stand to be under the same roof with her. Or ask Bo. He’s in the other room, sulking, because he didn’t want his mother to go. But she has. Okay? It is over between Callie and me.”

Grace bit her lip. She pulled out of the driveway and into traffic. “You just think it’s over,” she told him. “But she’s not going to let you go, and Bo’s not going to let her go. I can’t do this, Wyatt. I can’t hang around, wondering what will happen with Callie’s next crisis. You need to figure all this stuff out by yourself. You’re not ready for a new relationship. Not with me, anyway.”

“Grace?” His voice was pleading. “I care about you Grace. Don’t hang up, please. Just meet me someplace, okay, and let’s talk about this. What about Gus’s? That doughnut place? Can you just at least talk to me face-to-face?”

“I don’t think so,” she said sadly. “Not even for doughnuts.”

61

Grace unlocked the door to Mitzi’s condo and gently set Sweetie down on the floor. She sank down onto the white sofa and stared out the sliding glass doors at the jade-green surf below. The giddy euphoria she’d experienced earlier in the day, after finally forcing Ben to agree to a financial settlement, was forgotten. Now she felt the gray mist of depression settling over her, like a suffocating woolen blanket.

The bright, buttery-hued sunlight pouring into the apartment was a cruel intrusion. She covered her eyes with one of the colorful throw pillows she’d bought only days earlier and flounced facedown on the sofa.

She heard the muffled sound of her cell phone ringing and ignored it. She let two more calls go directly to voice mail. Time passed. Grace was vaguely aware of the warmth of Sweetie, who’d curled up on the sofa alongside her. She heard the waves rolling ashore outside, and the distant sound of seagulls, and the occasional slamming of a car door.

But the sound of a key turning in the condo’s door jolted her back to consciousness. She rolled over and saw the front door swing open, but she did not bother to sit up.

“There you are,” Mitzi Stillwell exclaimed. “I’ve been looking all over town for you. Why didn’t you answer my calls? Or your mother’s?”

“I just … didn’t want to deal with anything,” Grace said dully. “Why? What’s going on?”

Mitzi walked over and sat on the edge of the club chair. “What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

“I’m okay,” Grace said. “Relatively speaking.”

Her lawyer gave her an appraising look. “You had a fight with Wyatt, didn’t you?”

“It’s over,” Grace said.

Mitzi groaned. “Oh no. Don’t tell me. He’s gone back to his wife?”

“Not yet, but he probably will,” Grace said. “She broke up with her boyfriend, and she spent the night at his place last night. Which he didn’t feel the need to tell me. So it’s only a matter of time.”

“Did he tell you he wants her back?”

“No,” Grace admitted. “He says she slept on the sofa, and the only reason he let her stay was because it was raining so hard last night, and Bo begged him to. He swears they’re through, but I don’t believe it.”

Mitzi patted her arm. “I’m sorry, Grace. I see this all the time in my line of work. Couples go through the worst kind of traumas, file for divorce, then, at some point, they begin to think maybe they ought to give it another try. You especially see it in families with young children.”

“No kid wants to see his parents split up,” Grace said, thinking about her own reaction to Rochelle’s recent disturbing revelation about her marriage to Grace’s father.

Mitzi sighed. “Well, that’s not exactly true. There are kids who’ve seen too much—too much violence, hostility, aggression in their parents’ marriage. Those kids crave normality; they crave peace. And the smart ones know that’s only possible if a toxic marriage does break up.”

“I’m just thankful Ben and I didn’t have kids,” Grace said.

“Speaking of Ben,” Mitzi said, raising an eyebrow. “Dickie Murphree called me out of the blue a little while ago, to say they’re ready to talk settlement.”

“Good,” Grace said.

“Good? That’s all you can say? Come on, Grace, snap out of it! This is huge. For months now, they’ve totally stonewalled us. And now, suddenly, they finally want to settle. Any idea what caused this new development?”

“I went over to the house this morning, to get some of my things. And in the process, I found pretty solid proof that J’Aimee really did vandalize Mandevilla Manor.”

“How the hell did you get past security?” Mitzi asked. “Please don’t tell me you burglarized the place.”

“Camryn—my friend from divorce-recovery group? She’s friends with the woman who lives directly behind our house, Marissa. She’s married to LaDarion Banks, the baseball player. Marissa called the gate and told them she was expecting Camryn as her guest. And I didn’t have to break into the house. I still have my key. Easy-peasy.”

“And at some point during your unauthorized visit, Ben just agreed to a fair and equitable settlement with you?”

“Ben doesn’t want J’Aimee charged with the vandalism—and arson—at Mandevilla Manor. I told him I’d let Arthur know what I’d discovered but that I’d suggest Arthur allow Ben to pay for all the damages and make restitution, without getting the cops involved. Naturally, Ben was grateful,” Grace said.

“Naturally,” Mitzi said wryly. “I’ve got news on another front, too. I had a long chat yesterday with Carlton Towne concerning the experience of his client, Harriett, with Judge Stackpole.”

“And?” Grace was determined not to get her hopes built up. She’d had enough of an emotional roller-coaster ride for one day. For one year, even.

“Carlton is very old-school. He’s been practicing