Chapter 4
Maven
Judge Rost was even more intimidating than I remembered. It could have been her black judicial robes biasing me or the large wooden desk she sat behind in a chair that rose like her personal throne of judgment, but whatever it was, I wanted to look anywhere but at her.
“Mr. Walker,” she said, standing to shake his hand. “You’re the last person I expected to see today.” Her gaze shifted to me, and the ball in the pit of my stomach tightened. “Besides Miss Price.”
Just because this woman held my fate in her hands didn’t mean I had to regress into the fifteen-year-old girl who had once taken a harsh scolding from her. Gathering my confidence, I reached out for a handshake. “Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice, Your Honor.”
Ben quirked an eyebrow at me. Perhaps my tone had come out like I was trying too hard. Better that than appearing apathetic.
“Please have a seat and tell me what brings you two here today.” Judge Rost gestured to the chairs across from her, tucking her coarse, shoulder-length, graying hair behind her ear. It freed itself immediately.
I slid the file of our dismissed divorce case onto the desk, glad I had thought to grab a folder at my mom’s house to tuck it into.
“Yesterday morning, I went to the New York City courthouse to get a copy of our official divorce decree, only to discover that we neglected to submit the Judgment of Divorce to the clerk for recording, so our case was dismissed.”
She opened the folder, her gaze scanning the first page.
“Which is why we’re here,” I continued. “The woman I spoke with at the Records Office in New York said it would take months to have the case reopened, but that if we filed here in Vermont, which we just did, and met with a judge—”
Her gaze lifted to mine. “That I might finalize the divorce?”
I nodded, my chest rising in anticipation.
“Unfortunately, that’s not how it works.
You see, when a case is dismissed, it has no legal standing.
A judge can consider a previously dismissed case for context, but we cannot make a ruling based upon it, especially one from another jurisdiction.
Which means, though it might not take as long as filing a Motion to Vacate Administrative Dismissal in New York, filing here in Vermont starts the entire process over. ”
My mouth went dry. “So, there’s nothing you can do to expedite the process?”
She considered me. “I wouldn’t say there’s nothing I can do.”
I leaned forward, situating myself on the edge of the seat. “However you can help, we would be so grateful.”
“Being that I know you both personally and that I’m aware you have been living apart for…” Judge Rost’s eyes returned to the files. Her eyebrows lifted. “Has it really been over six years?”
I nodded.
“Wow.” She lowered her hands to her desk, shaking her head. “It seems like just last year you two were in high school, stealing my chickens for a senior prank.”
Ben and I shared a glance, condemning us further.
“Don’t worry,” Judge Rost said. “The statute of limitations on that matter has long since passed. Besides, it appears you have both grown into mature, law-abiding citizens.” Her brows rose, and she glanced between us. “Correct?”
“Correct.” I glanced again at Ben to ensure he was making some sort of nonverbal confirmation. Thankfully, he was nodding his head.
“Well, then.” She glanced back at the file.
“Let’s figure out what we can do about your predicament.
In Vermont, the time frame to have an uncontested divorce granted is typically ninety to one hundred twenty days, though it can take longer.
However, considering the situation, I’d allow your final hearing to be scheduled after thirty days if you will complete a good faith reconciliation effort. ”
“Oh, we won’t be reconciling.” There wasn’t an ounce of doubt in my voice. Hopefully, Option C was better than A or B.
“The point of this would not be to reconcile but to verify quickly and efficiently that a reconciliation isn’t possible and the Court can, also in good faith, issue the divorce.”
“Considering she’s engaged, that might not be the best route,” Ben said.
Judge Rost’s eyes locked on me. “You’re engaged?”
Was it a crime to lie to a Superior Court Judge? “I…” I cleared my throat. Shoot. I could feel Ben’s gaze shift to my profile. “It’s complicated.”
“Please.” She gestured for me to speak. “Enlighten me.”
I dropped my left hand by my side, not wanting Judge Rost to catch sight of my ring. She would instantly know it was a fake. “Well, my longtime boyfriend—Colin—proposed in July.”
“And you said… yes?”
I gave a slow, uncommitted movement of my head.
Judge Rost was clearly unimpressed with my offering. “Are you or are you not engaged, Miss Price?”
Even if I convinced Judge Rost of the lie with no legal repercussions, I could tell by the way Ben’s head tilted back slightly and his lips had parted that he had already deciphered the truth. My shoulders dropped. “No. I’m not engaged.”
“Are you in a serious relationship?”
“No.” I avoided glancing at Ben, whose focus did not shift from me. “I do, however, have an international commitment that starts in three and a half weeks, and because my Social Security Number is still in my married name, I need an official divorce decree to get my passport renewed.”
“Miss Price, that timeframe is an impossible request.”
My heart thudded when it fell. “But I won’t be able to go, then.” I said it more to myself than anyone else, allowing the thought to settle. Jean-Paul had vouched for me, and now…? I might never get another opportunity like it. Or worse, he’d drop me as one of his freelance musicians.
“I am sorry about that.” For the blow Judge Rost had just dealt, her apology lacked any genuine care.
Not that I could blame her. With the beep of her watch, Judge Rost stood.
“Unfortunately, I have to get back to the courtroom. If you know which option you’d prefer—the typical route or the thirty-day reconciliation—we can proceed accordingly. ”
“What would the thirty-day effort entail?” Ben asked.
She looked at her watch again, clearly in a hurry. “Just a few provisions to ensure you’re certain of your decision and that a reconciliation isn’t possible.”
He didn’t answer, but his gaze shifted to me.
Whatever would get us the divorce faster. “I’m fine with it,” I said.
“Mr. Walker?”
“That works for me.”
“Wonderful.” She opened the door and ushered us out.
“The court order will come in the mail to the addresses on file. You can schedule your follow-up hearing for as soon as thirty days after receiving it. I would advise you to get on the calendar quickly as it tends to fill up.” Her gaze shifted between Ben and me, then she smiled like she was actually glad we’d stopped in. “It was good to see you both.”
Ha! I’m sure it was. Delivering the news that I’d have to bail on my Europe plans was likely the vindication she’d been waiting years for. But I refused to let her have the satisfaction. There had to be another way to get a passport.
We stood in the hallway until Judge Rost disappeared through a side door.
“I’m sorry about your international commitment,” Ben said.
Instantly, my despondency morphed into anger. I spun toward him. “No, you aren’t.”
His eyes widened and his head cocked back slightly, like the truth had stung.
I could feel my emotions start to morph again. Nope. I wouldn’t let Ben glimpse all the hurt he’d caused me. Pushing past him, I made my way down the long corridor and toward the exit at a light jog.
“Maven!” Ben’s heavy footsteps sounded behind me as I reached Cassandra’s car in the parking lot. “Can we just talk?”
With shaking hands, I yanked the door open and slid inside, ignoring him. When I went to shut the door, he gripped the top, preventing it from closing.
He leaned in. “Why did you pretend to be engaged?”
I shook my head. “Please let go of the door.”
“Not until you tell me why.”
I placed my hands on the steering wheel and stared out the windshield. The sunlight hit my fake engagement ring, and I yanked it off my finger, tossing it into the cup holder.
“Maven?”
“I assumed it would be easier,” I snapped, in no mood to expound.
His gaze remained fixed on me, like he was trying to make sense of my statement. Which, now that I’d said it, was the last thing I currently wanted him to wrap his mind around.
I yanked on the door again, but he still held it. “Can you let go of my door now? I need to go home—to New York—and figure out how else I can get a passport.”
There was indecision in his expression. “I have an idea.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What?” My voice held a heavy dose of skepticism. Since I’d discovered Ben and I were still married, I’d been racking my brain for a solution on the chance I couldn’t get a divorce decree.
“If your Social Security Number is still in your married name and we are, technically, still married, it seems like you could apply for an expedited passport using that name—Maven Walker.”
The thought had crossed my mind. But only briefly.
At the time, it had seemed crazy and presumptuous to consider resuming the use of my married name to go to Europe.
I was adequately desperate now. With the marriage certificate to prove the connection between my two names, it shouldn’t matter that both forms of my government ID—my New York driver’s license and my nearly expired passport—were still in my maiden name.
A divorce decree was only necessary if I was trying to renew my passport as Maven Price, but to apply for a new one under my married name—Maven Walker—I wouldn’t need it.
I also already had all the paperwork required.
I gave Ben a reluctant, albeit genuine, smile.
His suggesting the idea somehow made me feel less deceptive for considering it. “It’s definitely worth a shot.”
“Well, I hope it works out,” he said.
A warmth settled into my core that I worried had nothing to do with my rekindled hope of making it to Europe. “Thanks.”
He appraised me for a moment, then leaned in slightly. “And if it doesn’t, you have round two of our divorce to look forward to.”
And just like that, the warmth inside me was extinguished. “Just because I’m in Prague doesn’t mean I can’t jump on a virtual hearing to get our divorce finalized.”
“I suppose that’s true.” His smile came out in full force. “Though we could stay married until you get home. You know, make sure you don’t get stuck oversees because you exploited the passport system.”
I gave one more yank on the door, and he released it. “Goodbye, Bennett.”
I could hear his chuckle through the closed door. It was a good thing Judge Rost’s thirty-day good faith reconciliation effort was only a perfunctory request. I could think of nothing worse than actually undergoing reconciliation efforts with Ben.