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

Grace said lightly. “I just don’t believe Paula is the one getting as rich as Camryn believes she must be. I’m going to call Mitzi tomorrow, just to let her know what we’ve found out about Paula. And I think we ought to at least let Ashleigh and Suzanne know what Camryn discovered.”

She took her coffee mug and set it in the sink. “But now, I think I’d better head home. Thanks for a lovely evening, Wyatt.”

He walked her outside to her car, his arm slung casually over her shoulder. “I just wish things had gone differently tonight. I wish…”

She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I wish it, too. It was nice while it lasted, though.”

He kissed her. “Nelson wanted me to apologize for him. For ruining our ‘date,’ as he called it. He keeps asking me if we’ve slept together!”

“Oh my God,” Grace said with a giggle. “I should not be telling you this, but Rochelle keeps asking me the same thing.”

“So why haven’t we?”

Grace arched an eyebrow in response.

“I’m a slow starter,” Wyatt admitted. “But once I build up steam … I won’t lie. I’ve been trying to figure out how we can be alone since last week.”

“We can’t be together at the Sandbox, that’s for sure,” Grace said.

“Ditto for here,” Wyatt said, resting his hands lightly on her waist. “Bo and I share a room, and even on nights he’s with Callie, Dad’s room is right next door, and the walls in this trailer are like toilet paper.”

“Poor us,” Grace said mockingly.

“I’ll think of something,” Wyatt said. He lifted her chin and kissed her hungrily. “Soon. Very soon.”

42

The coffee shop was only two blocks from the Manatee County Courthouse in downtown Bradenton. The lunch-hour rush was over, and Grace and Mitzi Stillwell were alone at a booth near the front window, sipping watered-down iced teas while the hostess counted down the money in her cash register.

“I’ve got a little good news for you,” Mitzi said. “After much arm twisting and hand wringing, I heard from Ben’s lawyer today. You’ll have your first check tomorrow.”

“It’s about damn time,” Grace said. “How’d you manage it?”

“A combination of threats, nonstop phone calls and e-mails, and borderline harassment,” Mitzi said. “It’s not nearly enough, but it’s a start.”

“I cannot wait to buy myself a decent pair of shoes. And some new underwear,” Grace added.

Mitzi gave Grace a critical glance. “You’re looking good, Grace. I think the single life must suit you.”

“Thanks. I’m busy, working on a house, and that makes me happy. As for single life? Things are getting, um, interesting.”

“Hmm. Interesting as in good?”

“Very good,” Grace assured her.

“And how’s Rochelle? Do you think she’ll ever get back in the game?”

“Mom?” Grace looked puzzled. “Date? We’ve never discussed it. To tell you the truth, the idea of her going out never entered my mind. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Mitzi said quickly. “She’s not that old, not even sixty, right? My mom married her second husband at seventy, and when he dropped dead five years later, she picked right back up again. She’s always got a guy in the wings. Rochelle’s a very attractive lady, very young-thinking. I just think it would be a shame if she turned into one of those dried-up mean widow women you always see in every retirement community in Florida.”

“Mom. Dating?” Grace couldn’t quite seem to put the words together, in her mouth or in her mind.

“Never mind,” Mitzi said. “Tell me how it’s going in divorce-recovery group. Does your therapist seem to have recovered from her episode?”

“That’s why I called you,” Grace said eagerly. “Camryn—she’s that reporter from channel four. Stackpole sentenced her to group after she put a video of her husband parading around in a pair of red satin women’s thong panties up on YouTube…”

Mitzi coughed violently, and dabbed at her face with a paper napkin. “Oh my God! That’s her husband? Camryn Nobles, News Four You? What’s that song he’s dancing to in the video? Have you seen it? It’s hysterical!”

“No, I haven’t seen it. Stackpole made her take it down,” Grace said. “But listen to what Camryn found out about Paula.”

*   *   *

“Really? I’m impressed. Camryn Nobles figured this out? I always thought she was just a pretty face. Who knew she could actually do real journalism?”

“Paula’s not even a licensed therapist in this state. She gets around that by calling herself a divorce coach. Mitzi, she doesn’t even have a Web site. So how did she get that successful that fast?”

“Her book?”

“It’s only available as an e-book, and Mindful Marriage’s Amazon ranking is 367,459,” Grace said.

Mitzi chewed on some ice. “Those people in the other divorce-therapy sessions, were they all women?”

“Yes.”

“Well … if we knew that all of them were referred to Paula by Stackpole, that might be a very useful piece of information,” Mitzi allowed.

“How could we find that out?”

“I guess you could ask them,” Mitzi said.

“I think our group should have an intervention with Paula,” Grace said. “We could confront her about the pills and her odd behavior. But Wyatt thinks if it goes wrong, it could make things even worse for all of us. With Stackpole.”

“Wyatt?” Mitzi pursed her lips. “He’s the guy we saw in court that day? The one who put his fist through his wife’s car window? Are you two seeing each other?”

Grace blushed.

“Is it serious?”

“I hope so,” Grace said quietly. “He’s a good person, Mitzi. He doesn’t deserve the crap his wife is handing him.”

“I remember the wife from court. She was a terror.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Grace told her. “Wyatt is sick with worry that Stackpole will allow Callie to move to Birmingham with his son, Bo.”

“About Stackpole,” Mitzi said. “I’ve been asking around, very quietly. He and his wife used to be quite the social butterflies around town. She chaired the big Heart Fund ball last year, and they’re members at the Longboat Key Club, where he plays a lot of tennis, but nobody’s seen them out