I parked my new-to-me sedan along the curb outside the law office and headed inside with my head held high. We hadn’t spoken since the day I detailed my findings to her, and I hoped she had some good news for me.
The office was utilitarian with zero frills or pretense. The paralegal at the front desk welcomed me, and I sat in a plastic chair before a window overlooking the street.
My attorney came to meet me and walked me to her office several minutes later. “How’ve you been?” she asked, sweeping her brown hair into a knot atop her head. The move revealed blue and purple strands beneath, and I smiled.
“I could be better,” I said. “But I’m also quite happy. Finalizing the divorce would be the frosting on my cake.”
She nodded and motioned me to an armchair across from her desk. “I’m glad things are going well for you. I’m sorry you’re having to put up with the added trouble of your husband’s bankruptcy claim. I’ve printed and noted everything you sent me about the paperwork hidden at the marital home. We don’t want to reveal our knowledge of any of that to opposing council, if possible.”
I sat back with a frown. “How can we use it to prove he’s lying if they don’t know we know?” I asked.
She tapped her pen against a file folder, looking as frustrated as I felt. “The temporary orders which were put in place following the initial hearing require both of you to be mindful, respectful, and noninvasive of one another’s personal space. No harassing, no stalking, that sort of thing. I’m afraid that breaking in, after he’d changed the locks—”
“Why was he allowed to change the locks?” I interrupted. “It’s still half my house.”
She lifted a palm. “I know, but regardless of how the judge will feel about the lock change, you knew the place was locked, and instead of reaching out to him or coming back another time, you found an alternate way inside. I can guarantee the judge will frown on that. Furthermore, you snooped through his private things. If the tables were turned, and I knew this had happened to you, I’d be in court making a stink.”
My mouth opened, and I slumped. The idea of Robert in my private space, searching through my new home for something to use against me, made me sick.
“What he’s doing is wrong,” she said. “But two wrongs don’t negate one another. Is there any chance he’ll discover you were there?” she asked. “Security systems, hidden cameras? Loose-lipped neighbors? Anything like that?”
Goose bumps cascaded over my skin at the memory of lying on the bathroom vanity in my underwear. “He knows,” I said. “Do I have to give details?”
She hung her head. “Based on your expression, I’m going to pass and move on, unless there’s anything else from that night you want to share.”
I told her about the boat and its sale.
She grimaced.
“I have the receipt, and I opened a savings account with half the money that’s meant for him. Depositing it into one of our joint accounts would only set off his alarm bells, plus the court wants to split those accounts in half, and I’ve already taken my portion of the boat money.”And spent it,I thought.
Jill made a note. “Any word from the forensic accountant?” she asked.
“No.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve worked with that team enough to know they’ll take the information provided and use it to find exactly what you need.”
We spent the next hour preparing for the divorce pretrial. She walked me through what to expect from the time I arrived at the courthouse until the moment things ended. She and Robert’s attorney would do most of the talking, privately with the judge. They’d present all the issues we had and had not agreed upon through mediation and the things the judge might have to decide upon via a trial, unless we came to an agreement sooner.
She assured me that most divorce cases don’t go to trial, and that many are settled on the day of trial before the trial even begins.
I held on to that hope with both hands.
“It’s ironic,” I said, standing to leave. “If you’d asked me when I first moved out, I would’ve said I didn’t want anything. I just wanted to be free of him. Back then, I didn’t have a job and would’ve struggled infinitely without at least some of the marital money. Now, I’ve shown myself I can make it on my own, but I intend to get half of everything, because it’s half mine. We built that life together, each playing ourspecified roles, and regardless of anything he said or will say, my role was just as important as his.”
My attorney smiled. “That’s what I like to hear.”
I stopped by the restaurant that evening, hoping to catch Lucas. I took a leap of faith and prepared a grand gesture in case he was there. A half dozen of my best pains au chocolat, the pastry I’d used to introduce him to the Invisible Baker, sat inside a pink bakery box, clutched in my trembling hands. I wanted the gift to double as a revelation.
I hoped Lucas would appreciate the sweet reveal. Or at least, I hoped the offering would soften the blow of my deceit.
I tightened my grip on the petal-pink box as I opened the glass front door. The dinner crowd was thick as I made my way to the hostess stand to ask if Lucas was on shift.
A cluster of women in pink T-shirts filled the space near the desk.
I contemplated searching for him myself, but frayed nerves held me in place.
The group before me chattered as they waited for the hostess to return. Someone suggested a photo, and they moved to stand before the empty display case with aThe Invisible Bakersign on top.
