The Palm Beach Murders James Patterson (ebook reader with built in dictionary .TXT) 📖

up back to back that will carry me through next summer. I may not be designing the next New York library or be considered the Addison Mizner of my generation, but at least I have a good reputation. And it’s nice to have the money coming in.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Teal is happy about it too.”

I caught the bitterness in his voice. Recently, I’d been trying to judge if he was getting over his ex-wife and the circumstances of his divorce, or if he was focusing on them more. It was hard to tell. In a way it made him more human, like a regular guy. He wasn’t flawless, even though I found him engaging and caring.

As we were standing by the covered front entrance to Charley’s Crab, I looked up and was shocked to see Brennan driving by us on Ocean Boulevard in his Jaguar convertible. It was the blue one that I’d picked out for him. I couldn’t keep a “son of a bitch” from coming out of my mouth.

Marty looked up quickly and said, “What’s wrong?”

I nodded toward the Jag and said, “There’s Brennan looking like he owns the world.” And he did. It looked like he should be wearing a commodore’s cap. Then he did the worst thing I could imagine him doing. It cut me like a knife and left me shaking.

He waved to me.

Not a nasty wave. Not a condescending wave. Just a casual raising of his right hand like we were old acquaintances passing on the street. Like I meant nothing to him. Not only was he over me, it was like I had never existed.

I couldn’t let Marty see how this was affecting me, so I pretended to sneeze and put my hands over my face.

Marty was too smart for that. He slid an arm around my shoulder and said, “Let’s find a place to sit back and talk for a while.”

Chapter 10

We walked across the street to the public beach and found a park bench on the south end. It was a breezy day and the sun was behind us as we looked out over the choppy Atlantic. A lot of people say the Palm Beach public beach is the least-enticing beach in Florida. Parking is expensive and the locals clearly don’t want people visiting from off the island, but our comfortable bench, just off the road, provided a vista most people can only see in magazines.

Marty put his arm around me and didn’t say a word. He didn’t try to solve my problems or analyze me or give me advice. We just sat quietly, and I found my head rolling onto his shoulder. It was exactly what I needed. Before I knew it, I started to talk. I talked about Brennan and our marriage for maybe the first time.

When people hear you’re going through a divorce, it’s almost like you have some communicable disease. They stay at arm’s length and let you know they’re still your friends, but that this is probably something you should get through on your own.

Not Marty. He just listened.

I said, “Brennan was so dashing the first time I ever saw him. He was playing polo in Wellington and I was there with a girlfriend. He looked like a knight sweeping through the pack and swinging his mallet, or club, or whatever they call that thing that hits the ball. It was almost like a dream, it was so perfect. And he was charming. I mean actually charming, not faking it. He had an accent like a yacht club member on Martha’s Vineyard, but he was also funny and extraordinarily polite. A sense of humor and good manners go a long way with most women.

“Until about our third date, I hadn’t even known he’d been married before. They had been college sweethearts, and it sounded like she hurt him pretty badly. At least that’s how I interpreted it. I never heard many specific details, except when he’d tell me she never made him feel like I did. What a load of shit.”

Marty didn’t seem fazed at all by my rambling as we both watched the few families on the beach build sandcastles or run through the shallow water along the shore.

“Brennan proposed to me after six months. Two days before the wedding, he said his father insisted on him signing a prenup with me. He assured me it was no big deal, but the family wanted to protect the assets that provided the income for him. I didn’t care about money. I really still don’t. At least not that much. Anyway, I never even bothered to consult an attorney. All I wanted was to be his wife, maybe have a few kids, and live with this dream husband. I signed the prenup. Ugh. What a rookie mistake.”

Marty said, “You didn’t talk to any of your friends about it?”

“None of them had any experience with prenups. They were all married to teachers, insurance agents, or firemen.” I wiped a tear from my eye and regained my composure. I hated that Brennan still got to me like this. Then I said, “He never really kept any promises. We were going to travel, have a kid, be a family. He never even took me to Disney World like I wanted. He said there was no time. It was Disney World, for God’s sake. Was that too much to ask? My parents couldn’t afford a trip from Jersey when I was little, and my husband didn’t have time for fun. I’ve still never been to the Magic Kingdom.” I looked out at the ocean in an effort to hide my emotions. Marty had done nothing to deserve this kind of baggage.

After a long silence Marty said, “What happened in the end? I mean, why’d you guys break up?”

“Maybe he wanted a younger woman, but I think the real reason is that he just got bored with me. Then he threw me out on the street.