any good."
"Yes, but ..." Jessie, it's going to be ugly. You have to be prepared for that. "His eyes sought hers and she nodded.
"I understand that" But she didn't. Not really. It hadn't even begun to sink in yet. How could it? Nothing had sunk in since eleven o'clock that morning. She was in shock. She only knew two things, and she didn't even understand those two things: that Ian was gone, that she couldn't see him, feel him, hear him, touch him; that he had slept with another woman. She had to face that now too. Publicly. The rest would sink in later.
There wasn't much more Philip could do, and he didn't know Jessica well enough to offer her any comfort. Only Ian knew Jessica that well. And Jessie made Philip nervous. She remained so calm. He was grateful that she was subdued, but it made him feel cold toward her, and confused. He found himself wondering what she was really thinking. He thought of his own wife and how she might react to something like this, or his sister, any of the women he knew. Jessie was a different breed of cat entirely. Too poised for his taste--and yet there was something shattering about her eyes. Like two broken windows. They were the only hint that all was not well within.
"Is there any chance he can call me? I thought you had a right to make one phone call from jail." He had before, when they had busted him for his tickets.
"Yes. But I gather that he didn't want to call you, Jessica."
"He didn't?" She seemed to recede still further into her own reserve.
"No. He said he wasn't sure how you'd feel. Said something about maybe this would be the last straw."
"Asshole." Philip looked away, and in a few moments took his leave. It had been an excessively unpleasant day. He found himself feeling grateful that he didn't practice criminal law. He couldn't stomach it. He didn't envy Martin Schwartz this case, however much money he made on it.
Jessie sat in the living room long after Philip had left. She was waiting for the sound of the phone ... or of Ian's key in the door. This couldn't be happening. Not really. He would come home. He always did. She tried to pretend that the house wasn't quiet. She sang little songs and talked to herself. He couldn't leave her alone ... no! ... she sometimes heard her mother's voice late in the night ... and Jake's ... and Daddy's ... but never Ian's ... never Ian ... never ... He would call, he had to. He couldn't leave her alone, scared like that, he wouldn't do that to her, he had promised he never would, and Ian never broke his promises ... but he had. He had broken a promise now. She remembered it as she sat on the floor in the hall, in the dark, late into the night. That way she would hear his key sooner when he came home. He would come home, but he had broken a promise. He had slept with another woman, and now he was making her face it. She coldn't ignore it anymore. She hated her ... hated her ... hated ... her, but not him. Oh God ... maybe Ian didn't love her anymore ... maybe he was in love with the other woman ... maybe ... why didn't he call, dammit? Why didn't he ... why had he ... the tears ran down her face like hot summer rain as she lay on the smooth wood floor in the hall and waited for Ian. She lay on the floor until morning. The phone never rang.
Chapter 5
The offices of Schwartz, Drewes, and Jonas were located in the Bank of America Building on California Street, an excellent address. Jessica rode to the forty-fourth floor looking prim, sleek, and tired. She wore a large pair of dark glasses and a somber navy blue suit. It was an outfit reserved for business meetings and funerals. This was a little bit of both. It was ten-twenty-five. She was five minutes early, but Martin Schwartz was waiting.
A secretary led her down a long carpeted corridor with a sweeping view of the bay. His offices took up one corner on the north side of the building. It was evidently a large, prosperous firm.
Martin Schwartz's office boasted two walls of glass,
"Yes, but ..." Jessie, it's going to be ugly. You have to be prepared for that. "His eyes sought hers and she nodded.
"I understand that" But she didn't. Not really. It hadn't even begun to sink in yet. How could it? Nothing had sunk in since eleven o'clock that morning. She was in shock. She only knew two things, and she didn't even understand those two things: that Ian was gone, that she couldn't see him, feel him, hear him, touch him; that he had slept with another woman. She had to face that now too. Publicly. The rest would sink in later.
There wasn't much more Philip could do, and he didn't know Jessica well enough to offer her any comfort. Only Ian knew Jessica that well. And Jessie made Philip nervous. She remained so calm. He was grateful that she was subdued, but it made him feel cold toward her, and confused. He found himself wondering what she was really thinking. He thought of his own wife and how she might react to something like this, or his sister, any of the women he knew. Jessie was a different breed of cat entirely. Too poised for his taste--and yet there was something shattering about her eyes. Like two broken windows. They were the only hint that all was not well within.
"Is there any chance he can call me? I thought you had a right to make one phone call from jail." He had before, when they had busted him for his tickets.
"Yes. But I gather that he didn't want to call you, Jessica."
"He didn't?" She seemed to recede still further into her own reserve.
"No. He said he wasn't sure how you'd feel. Said something about maybe this would be the last straw."
"Asshole." Philip looked away, and in a few moments took his leave. It had been an excessively unpleasant day. He found himself feeling grateful that he didn't practice criminal law. He couldn't stomach it. He didn't envy Martin Schwartz this case, however much money he made on it.
Jessie sat in the living room long after Philip had left. She was waiting for the sound of the phone ... or of Ian's key in the door. This couldn't be happening. Not really. He would come home. He always did. She tried to pretend that the house wasn't quiet. She sang little songs and talked to herself. He couldn't leave her alone ... no! ... she sometimes heard her mother's voice late in the night ... and Jake's ... and Daddy's ... but never Ian's ... never Ian ... never ... He would call, he had to. He couldn't leave her alone, scared like that, he wouldn't do that to her, he had promised he never would, and Ian never broke his promises ... but he had. He had broken a promise now. She remembered it as she sat on the floor in the hall, in the dark, late into the night. That way she would hear his key sooner when he came home. He would come home, but he had broken a promise. He had slept with another woman, and now he was making her face it. She coldn't ignore it anymore. She hated her ... hated her ... hated ... her, but not him. Oh God ... maybe Ian didn't love her anymore ... maybe he was in love with the other woman ... maybe ... why didn't he call, dammit? Why didn't he ... why had he ... the tears ran down her face like hot summer rain as she lay on the smooth wood floor in the hall and waited for Ian. She lay on the floor until morning. The phone never rang.
Chapter 5
The offices of Schwartz, Drewes, and Jonas were located in the Bank of America Building on California Street, an excellent address. Jessica rode to the forty-fourth floor looking prim, sleek, and tired. She wore a large pair of dark glasses and a somber navy blue suit. It was an outfit reserved for business meetings and funerals. This was a little bit of both. It was ten-twenty-five. She was five minutes early, but Martin Schwartz was waiting.
A secretary led her down a long carpeted corridor with a sweeping view of the bay. His offices took up one corner on the north side of the building. It was evidently a large, prosperous firm.
Martin Schwartz's office boasted two walls of glass,
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