Sam dug at the red and raggedy cuticle on her left thumb. ‘You don’t really know Nelson, do you?’
‘I don’t have to know Nelson, Sam,’ Oakfield came back. ‘I know the law, and I know that he’ll be behind bars for over a decade.’
Sam’s cuticle started to bleed, as she chuckled nervously. ‘If you think his reach won’t go beyond prison walls just because he’s behind bars, then you really don’t know Nelson Stewart.’
Oakfield consulted his watch before looking round at the busy corridor that they were in. ‘Do you have time to go get a coffee… or a drink somewhere, away from the courthouse. There’s something I want to talk to you about – something that I’m sure will change the way you’re thinking.’
Six
The city of Cambridge, in Massachusetts, was located a mere ten miles away from Woburn and the courthouse where Nelson’s trial had taken place. It was home to Harvard University, one of the most prestigious and well-known universities in the world, and that was exactly where Oakfield had suggested that he and Sam went for a drink – not to the university itself but to Harvard Square, which funnily enough was actually triangular in shape and located outside the university campus. The square, which was a favorite among students and professors alike, offered an abundance of coffee shops, restaurants, bars and, obviously, bookshops.
Oakfield and Sam each drove their own cars – Oakfield leading and Sam following – and he guided her to a stylish and sleek cocktail bar right at the western end of the square called The Longfellow.
The time was just coming up to five-thirty in the afternoon, and despite being only Wednesday, the place was almost packed to capacity. The waitress at the entrance explained that she had no booths available at that time, but they could either sit at the bar, or take one of the outside tables, under a heater.
Oakfield and Sam opted for the outside table.
Sam ordered a Cosmopolitan, while Oakfield went for a single malt on the rocks.
‘Have you filed for divorce yet?’ Oakfield asked, once the waitress was out of earshot.
‘I wanted to, but my divorce lawyer told me that we should wait for the criminal court verdict.’
‘Who’s your divorce lawyer?’
‘Kristin Miller.’
‘Oh, she’s great.’ Oakfield nodded his approval, while he sipped his Scotch. ‘Actually, she’s one of the best. And she’s one hundred percent right – the criminal court verdict will make a world of difference. Was Kristin in court today? I didn’t see her.’
‘No, she wasn’t.’
‘Does she know the outcome of the trial?’
‘Yes, we spoke briefly on the phone right after the verdict.’
‘So she’s probably already told you that it will be even better if you wait for Judge Reeves to pass sentence first before filing the divorce petition.’
‘Yes,’ Sam confirmed.
Oakfield paused and studied Sam for a few seconds. Despite what the stress of the past couple of months had done to her, she was still a very beautiful woman, there was no doubt about that, but right then, she looked more like a scared little child than a woman who was just about to become a millionaire.
‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ Oakfield asked.
Sam shook her head.
Oakfield lit up a cigarette and took a deep drag.
‘Actually,’ Sam said, nodding at the packet on the table. ‘Could I have one of those as well?’
‘Of course.’ Oakfield tapped a new cigarette out of the packet before lighting it up for her. ‘I didn’t know you smoke.’
‘I stopped about two years ago. Nelson forced me to, but since this whole thing began…’ Sam allowed the unfinished sentence to dance away in the air, just like the smoke that she blew out of the corner of her mouth.
Oakfield nodded, sympathetically. He knew that for Sam, going back to smoking was much more than just giving in to the crave. It was a way for her to get back at Nelson. The fact that she had just sent him to prison didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was doing something that he had specifically stopped her from doing. Psychologically, going back to smoking symbolized “taking back control” of her actions and of her life.
‘I’m guessing that you want to get as much out of this shitty deal as you can, right?’ Oakfield asked.
Sam had a sip of her cocktail. ‘What do you mean?’
