Chapter 19
After another restless night that was continually interrupted by nightmares of handcuffs and headlines, Simon went downstairs, in jeans and a T-shirt, and made coffee.
It promised to be another dreary Monday.
He had a list of eleven unpleasant phone calls that he had carried over from the last unproductive week.
First, though, he had to deal with his wealthiest client and her mounting legal problems.
He actually paused for a moment and stared at his phones.
Which one should he use? Cell or landline?
Since he was such a small-time gambler, would the FBI really have an interest in him?
Would Yolanda send him a warning if he were a serious target?
And would they really be listening in? Such thoughts had kept him awake all night.
He decided to use the old phone on his desk.
Regarding Eleanor’s auto insurance, he felt compelled to at least notify the company that she had received three tickets for moving violations.
He was careful to point out that he, as her lawyer, was contesting the charges, and that there had been no final adjudication. He was just putting Allstate on notice.
He placed a call to the city prosecutor’s office and talked to a secretary.
The assistant prosecutors were quite busy, it was after all a Monday morning, but someone would call him back.
Half an hour later, a rookie prosecutor called to inform Mr. Latch that she did not have the authority to reduce the penalties for traffic violations.
She was stiff and important and seemed to equate bad driving with capital murder.
After the call, Simon checked her out online and learned that she finished law school in May and had just passed the bar exam.
His banker finally called him back just before ten, and Simon was forced to sing and dance through the same routine about needing another jolt to his line of credit.
The terms of that wretched agreement were clear and did not require him to justify anything.
The $25,000 was there for his taking, no questions asked, but he was expected to notify the bank before hitting it again.
He cursed the line of credit every day of his life.
The damned thing was not his fault. Five years earlier, he had been working at his desk late one night when he saw a pile of mail Tillie had opened and left in the in-tray on his desk.
The friendly solicitation from Union Bank asked, “Do you need $10,000?” In fact, at that moment he did.
The first paragraph proclaimed that the money was his because he had somehow qualified.
No application. No credit check. No security.
No repayments for twelve months. The money was his simply because he was a self-employed lawyer.
Cautiously, he signed on for only $4,000.
That relieved some pain and was so easy.
Within the year he was up to the limit, needed more, and the bank happily raised him to $15,000.
His excuse had been a dispute with the IRS, something the bank heard all the time from lawyers.
More tax problems followed and the bank finally stopped the bleeding at $25,000.
After the first round of Monday morning phone calls, he was in a dark mood and decided to make matters even worse. There would never be a good time to tell Tillie, and doing so would not be pleasant. So why not do it during an already awful day, as opposed to ruining a good one?
Just before lunch he asked her to step into his office, close the door, have a seat, and ignore the phone. Neither could remember the last time she sat down in his office.
“Paula and I are getting a divorce.”
She took it with a sad face but also with a little nod that said she figured as much. Indeed, she had known for some time that the marriage was not stable. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve probably noticed that I’ve been spending a lot of time here at the office.”
“Are you living here?”
“Basically, yes.”
“I’m sorry, Simon. It must be awful.”
“It is, especially for the children. But it’s also been awful with the two of us living in the same house.”
Tillie and Paula had long since realized that their lives were easier if they remained in their own separate corners.
Paula had lost interest in Simon’s career years earlier and wanted nothing to do with it, except, of course, the income it generated and what that meant to their ever-straining budget.
Tillie had always seen her as aloof, probably because she had a college degree and a professional job.
“May I ask if things are civilized?”
“You may and they are, for the most part. I’ve prepared a simple property settlement agreement and she’s considering it.
She gets everything, basically, including the kids.
I have liberal visitation. We’re splitting expenses, with me paying the mortgage.
So far, no fireworks. There are no allegations of bad behavior. ”
“This is so sad.”
“It is, but we’ll be okay. I’m determined to get through it and move on to a happier life, hopefully. It should not impact you in any way.”
“I wasn’t thinking about myself, Simon.”
“I know. I appreciate the work you do here, Tillie, and I know I don’t say that enough.”
“Thank you, Simon. I like my job.”
“That’s good to hear. And on another unhappy note, I’ve gone to the bank again because Paula needs some cash. You know how much I hate to do that, but I have no choice.”
“Your call, boss.” She smiled and got to her feet. “And, if you need someone to talk to, I’m always here. With, you know, the female perspective. Plus, I have one divorce under my belt so I’ve been through it.”
“Thank you.”
She turned and walked to the door. Simon couldn’t help but admire the view.
Tillie was really getting in shape. After she closed the door, Simon pondered something that he should have already noticed.
Tillie was a brighter, happier person these days, and she was spending more time not only in the gym but also at the mirror.
The clothes, in smaller sizes, were more stylish and flattering.
Could it be that Tillie, after a long dry spell, had found someone new? He certainly hoped so.