“Can you hear me?” She spoke at a volume that could probably be heard on the other side of the mountain range. “Because I’m missing every other word you say.”
“We don’t have the best reception out here. Hold on.” After pulling on the hiking shoes I’d purchased in town, I grabbed my new can of bear spray and left my cabin. “Is this better?” I asked when I was on a path that wound through the ranch.
“It’s good enough. Listen, your husband is being a prick.”
Myhusband. Not for much longer, thank goodness. “That’s not a surprise. How are you working this late, Tempest?”
“I’m in LA right now on a business trip. It’s only eight-thirty here.”
That made more sense. “What has Freddy done now?”
“He and his lawyer are playing hardball. They found out a syndication deal is in the works—don’t ask me how—and they’re using it as leverage. He wants alimony, not a lump sum, and he’s asking for more than we offered.”
“Well, we can play hardball, too.” My heart rate increased as I walked up a small incline, passing by several other guest cabins. “How much alimony does he want?”
“He’ll probably get seven to ten years of alimony, and he’s asking for a number in the range of twenty grand a month.”
I gasped as if someone had knocked the wind out of me. “We can negotiate about that, right?”
“Of course, but there’s one more thing. He wants to own a percentage of Ms. Match.”
“What?” I yelped like an injured dog, completely losing my composure. “Seriously? He’s deranged!” A wave of nausea washed over me, and I reminded myself to take deep breaths. Nothing terrible had happened yet. This feeling of impending doom was my anxiety telling me to panic, which I would not do.
“I’d call him more of a greedy opportunist,” she said. “I see those a lot in my line of work, so don’t worry. We’ll deal with Freddy. If you still want to get him to take a lump sum, we’ve got to come up with some amount you can live with. A number that will make him sign the papers and go away. I’m assuming you’re a no go on giving him part ownership of the company?”
“There’s no way he’s getting even a tiny share of Ms. Match. I’d die first.” The idea of giving him a piece of the company Tori and I built was unthinkable for so many reasons. I wanted as little to do with him as possible, and it was bad enough I’d have to see him because we shared children. Involving him in my professional life and giving him access to our company would never happen.
“We need to talk numbers, then.” As if she could read my mind, she added, “You can’t try to figure out what heshouldget. Divorce isn’t about what’s fair. It’s about what’s legal. He’s going to get more than what you think he deserves because, let’s be honest, that’s just how it works. Think about it like this: what can I afford to give him without compromising my lifestyle and retirement?”
“I know he was the dependent spouse in our marriage, and he should get something, but after the way he’s behaved… two hundred and forty thousand dollars a year?”
“I understand.” She sighed sympathetically, as if she’d had a variation of this conversation many times before. “You probably carried the emotional load in your household, as well as being the breadwinner, and I’m guessing Freddy wasn’t busting his ass cleaning the apartment and taking the kids to doctor appointments. I’ve met the guy, remember? Unfortunately, the court doesn’t care about all that. They’re going to see that you still earn a lot of money, and it’s going to be hard to persuade them you can’t afford to pay that much alimony.”
I’d reached the first of two guest cottages, a lovely old house with shaker siding, gabled windows and a sweet wraparound porch. Winded from the climb and the emotional conversation, I walked up the steps and took a seat on the metal glider.
“I’m not giving him a piece of the company,” I said. “That’s firm. If you think he won’t take a lump sum, then I guess we can meet his alimony demands of twenty thousand.”
“We’ll offer lower,” she promised. “That will give us some negotiating room. Who knows? Maybe he’ll get desperate to tie things up, and he’ll take eighteen.”
“Maybe…”
I had no idea whether these machinations were Freddy’s doing or his lawyer’s. He’d never been interested in Ms. Match except as a source of money for all his extracurricular activities, so his request for a stake in the company felt like someone else’s idea.
“The important thing is that he’s out of your life as soon as we get this settled,” she said, “and you can?—”
“Dammit.” My phone cut out, and I had to call her back. “Sorry, I lost you there for a minute.”
“No problem. I can’t imagine being somewhere that barely has cell service. How can you stand it?”
“The technology situation here isn’t great,” I admitted, “but the views are incredible. The sunset tonight was absolutely gorgeous.” Heavy clouds had hung in the sky as a fiery sun sank toward the horizon. For the first time in my life, I’d wished I was a painter so I could try to capture what I was seeing.
“Nice…” She sounded distracted and ready to get on to her next task. “I’ll write up a counter-offer and send it over to Freddy’s lawyers, okay?”
“Sure. Tempest, thank you for calling me this evening.”
“No problem. You know me, I’m always working.” She said a quick goodbye before hanging up, and I couldn’t help imagining that I was the woman still in her office, working late into the night, eating takeout food at her desk. It was easier to imagine that than to believe in reality—I was a guest at a dude ranch in Wyoming, with a newly purchased pair of cowgirl boots and a can of bear spray at my side.
I certainly didn’t envy Tempest one bit. I’d spent many evenings working way too late, missing dinner with my kids, head bent over a spreadsheet. Back then, my career fired me up and was an important part of my identity. The money I earned meant we could provide Serge and Julien with wonderful educations and travel experiences, but those late nights weren’t great for my marriage. Freddy was selfish and vain, but I had to admit that I wasn’t home often and when I was there, I gave my full attention to my sons.
