A Change of Heart (19 page)

R.J., who followed his lawyer in, offered a hand to his wife's attorney, but instead of taking it, Quentin nodded toward a seat at the table.
 
"We have your little document here," he said, looking down at R.J.'s financial statement as though it were a trashy novel.

Annabeth looked toward her lawyer.
 
He was totally imperious!

"Good," said Sennet, apparently unaware of Quentin's disdain.
 
"We all want the same thing here, a fair distribution of marital assets and a speedy divorce.
 
My client has moved forward with his life and so has yours."

"Why be so hasty?
 
We're talking about a long marriage here.
 
Perhaps a legal separation is all that's needed right now."
 
Quentin's voice was calm.

"What?" interjected R.J., his voice growing louder,
 
"You jerkin' with me?"

Sennet placed his hand briefly on his client's shoulder, calming him.
 
"We were thinking an immediate divorce.
 
We file the papers today or tomorrow and both these people have their freedom in thirty days.
 
That's the beauty of our system here in Florida."

"I just don't see that happening.
 
You have incomplete, inaccurate financial records.
 
No effort has been made to pay maintenance.
 
It's a complicated, messy, situation."
 
Quentin shook his head, his voice remaining calm.
 
"We intend to file a motion for temporary support.
 
These things take time."

"There are no minor children, and your client is perfectly able to work."

"I am working," interjected Annabeth.

R.J. laughed.
 
"I heard about your soda jerk job."

"The job she has now is temporary, simply because her husband abandoned her after stealing their joint funds.
 
You and I both know that in a marriage of this length, the judge is likely to grant support for life."

"For life?"
 
R.J. grew livid.
 
"Even convicts get paroled."

"And," continued Quentin, bestowing on his opponents a withering glance that caused R.J. to hold his temper at bay, "The fact that your client is currently living in an adulterous relationship with a woman young enough to be his daughter isn't likely to grant him any favors with the court."

R.J. and his lawyer looked helplessly at Quentin as he continued to speak, "Thus it seems quite likely to me that this case will go to court.
 
Why should we sign away any of our rights?
 
This is no simple divorce.
 
Could take years."

"Years!" exploded R.J., "All right, look, what do you want?"

"First of all, we want the funds stolen from the bank accounts to be restored."

"I don't got that money no more.
 
I had expenses."

Annabeth glanced at her attorney. What a scary guy he seemed.
 
So combative.
 

R.J. swallowed hard.
 
"Annabeth stole my classic cars and sold them behind my back."

"We have listed her automobile as part of the assets we expect to claim.
 
Your van is worth more than twice what her car is worth."

"That don't make up for a collection of cars it took years to get."

"As I said before, divorce can be messy.
 
Can string along for years.
 
And of course lawyers bill by the hour."

Sennet squirmed in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with this line of reasoning.
 
"Well, we can surely come to some agreement regarding maintenance.
 
And your client will be entitled to a lump sum when the house is sold."

"And we will be selling the vending machine business as well?" countered Quentin.

"What?" exclaimed R.J., "No way I'm gonna sell my business.
 
How else can I provide maintenance?" he asked sardonically.

"My client wishes to remain in her home."

"It's our home, not her home," said R.J., a tinge of desperation in his voice.

"I spent twenty years fixing it up," said Annabeth softly.

"And I paid for all them repairs," countered R.J., turning and looking angrily into her eyes.

"Look," said Sennet, "There is a way out of this.
 
What's the difference in the value here?"
 
He ran his finger along the columns, adding figures that Quentin had already totaled. Your client can simply pay the difference and then my client will let her have the house."

"We'll consider that possibility.
 
What we need to do now is to settle the maintenance issue."

"What about four hundred a month?
 
There are no children at home and there's no mortgage on the house."

"Don't insult us."

"You know what my client earns."

"I intend to find out."

Annabeth was astonished to hear R.J. say, "Look, I'll pay a thousand a month.
 
Probably break me, though."
 
He didn't have that kind of money to spare, did he?

"We're all too well acquainted here.
 
It's a shame, really."
 
Quentin's voice was deceptively calm.
 
"I think we should just let a judge sort all this out.
 
A judge would be far better able to determine what's fair and for how long.
 
We'll set a court date, you'll have your hearing by the spring, the divorce sometime later and it'll be lots easier for us all."
 
He paused for a long moment, then turned toward Annabeth asking, "Do you mind waiting a bit?"
 

"No," she answered softly, feeling intimidated not only by the proceedings but by her own lawyer.

"Are you outta your mind?" raged R.J., "I want this divorce now, not who knows when down the road."

"Yes, I can see that," conceded Quentin.
 
"We'll just have to work harder to cooperate then."

R.J., surprised by this comment, nodded.
 
"That's right.
 
Okay, look, twelve hundred, but that's really it.
 
Won't do nobody good if I go bankrupt."

Quentin nodded, his face serene.
 
"That seems fair, based on your current earnings.
 
And of course Annabeth keeps the house."

"What!" exclaimed R.J., "Are you out of your mind?"

"You keep your business, she keeps the house.
 
And you pay maintenance for twenty-five, no twenty years.
 
Unless of course she remarries."

"This is bullshit," replied R.J., who rose then and stormed out of the office.

Sennet rose afterwards, offering his hand to Asprey.
 
"We'll be in touch."

Both Quentin and Annabeth watched as he walked from the room.
 
"I thought that went very well," said the attorney.

Annabeth looked worried, "Now R.J. is mad.
 
He never cooperates when he's angry."

"That wasn't anger, it was frustration.
 
He learned that he can't have what he wants so easily."

"It doesn't seem fair to hold him up though.
 
It is half his house too."
 
He was so desperate to be rid of her quickly he'd put himself in financial peril.
 
It seemed so sad.

"So what!
 
I can only be on one side and that's yours."

"Do you think he will actually give me the house?"

"All I can do is try."

There had to be a way to save her house. As she drove away from her father's office, Annabeth looked at her watch, something that had become a habit since she began working.
 
She was late! Annabeth tensed then relaxed.
 
It was her day off.
 
How odd it was always to have to be somewhere at a certain time.
 
When would she be used to it?
 
Maybe they could strike a bargain.
 
Maybe she could find a better job, a way to make more money.
 
And then she could get a mortgage for the rest.
 

She drove for a bit, intending to stop at the auto dealership, but on impulse turned the car back around toward the center of town.
 
There was a convenient space and she pulled into it and walked into the bank.
 
Sally looked up in surprise as she saw her mother approach.
 
"Who do I talk to about mortgages?" Annabeth asked.

"Mortgages?"

"I just want a little information."

Sally gestured toward a woman seated at a desk toward the front of the bank.
 
"Tell her you're my mom."

"That would give me an unfair advantage, I'm sure."
 
Annabeth winked at Sally then walked over to the woman, and said, "Excuse me…"

"Hello," she smiled, "Can I help you?"

"I'm Sally Welner's mother.
 
I wanted some information about mortgages, if you have the time."

"I'm Bridgett Spieler.
 
It's so nice to meet you.
 
We all love Sally here.
 
Have a seat."

"Thanks."
 
Annabeth sat down opposite Bridgett's desk.

"How can I help you?"

"I'm getting divorced but I was hoping to keep my house.
 
So I was wondering what it would take to buy my husband out."

"Is there a mortgage on it now?"

"No, we own it."

"And have you had it appraised?"

"Not officially, but I think I'd need quite a bit to pay to my husband, um, well, ex-husband.
 
I mean, I don't earn very much.
 
And I've never had a job before, till now, that is."
 
Annabeth looked down nervously and back toward Bridgett who was scribbling on a pad of paper.

"Let's see what amount you'd qualify for."

"You mean you'd consider loaning me money?
 
Even at my age and with no real job history?"

"There's something called the Community Reinvestment Act.
 
We want our neighbors to own their homes.
 
And you already have your house--it's good collateral."
 
Bridgett scribbled as Annabeth answered her questions, then handed her the results, which Annabeth regarded with surprise.
 
"And of course if you have alimony, we could consider that and you'd qualify for a bit more."

"I can't believe it.
 
I figured you'd just laugh at me.
 
I hardly earn anything."

Bridgett laughed, "That's not such a bad thing.
 
At your salary we figure you could easily get another job paying just as much.
 
It's not like you're an out of work space engineer."

Annabeth shook her head.
 
"No chance of that.
 
And my income from painting--that wouldn't count?"

"Sure it would--after two years and with some tax returns to prove your income."

"And I wouldn't need a down payment?"

Bridgett shook her head.
 
"We could even add the appraisal and the closing costs into the mortgage.
 
And then all you'd need to do is have your husband sign over the deed."

"I'll keep all this in mind.
 
You've been so nice and so helpful.
 
Thank you so much."

"It was nice meeting you.
 
I hope we see you again soon."

Annabeth waved to Sally and walked outside to her car, this time driving toward Hawkins Ford.
 
She couldn't believe it.
 
She could get a mortgage! Amazing.
 
It felt like a giant brick had been lifted from her heart.
 
Her home.
 
Her whole life was there and it felt as though part of her would die if she lost it.
 
That Quentin was one scary guy. She was lucky to have him on her side.
 
Now it was just a question of her coming up with the money she'd need--the bank couldn't give her all of what she'd need to buy off R.J.
  
Of course if she got maintenance from R.J., she could borrow more.
 
That's what that nice woman at the bank said.
 
She sure could never earn that much.
 
But there was hope, lots of hope.
 
Somehow she would find a way; she would save her home.
  
She sighed then, relief coursing through her body.
 

Grady Hawkins sat at his desk, looking out the window at the car lot beyond as Annabeth entered.
 
"Excuse me?"
 
Her voice was soft and tentative.