Amanda, her gaze unwavering. “We do have some leverage. Depending on how we handle this information, your husband could be disbarred or end up in jail. But, of course, with either of those scenarios his earning potential is cut off for good. That’s not in your, or the children’s, best interests.”
Stunned, Amanda tried to take it in. She’d promised the children they’d keep the house. But that was when she’d assumed the house was just one of many assets available to divide. And as angry as she was with Rob, did she really want to send Meghan and Wyatt’s father to prison? Tying him in the basement and torturing him, yes, letting him languish in a real prison with hardened criminals, no.
“I can’t lose the house,” Amanda said. “I promised the kids it would be ours.”
“I’m going to get you the house, Amanda,” Anne Justiss said. “That I promise. The payments are low and you’ve got a good bit of equity in it. If you sell it and scale back, you should be able to buy some time to get on your feet.”
Amanda shook her head slowly. “But, I told the kids they wouldn’t have to move.”
“Unfortunately, they’re going to have to get used to a lot of things they shouldn’t have to. Your husband has a lot to answer for.”
But Amanda was the one who’d have to face Meghan and Wyatt; she was the one who would be held accountable. Somehow she’d have to find a way to keep her promise to them. Anything less was completely unacceptable.
Anne Justiss’s smile was apologetic. “I’m sorry, Amanda. I’d hoped to do so much better for you. We need to give some serious thought about how to proceed. Your husband’s firm isn’t going to want this made public, so he may not end up disbarred. Still whatever happens, he’s not going to be of any financial help for a long time to come, if ever.”
She closed the file on her desk and stood to shake hands. “I have a meeting scheduled for Monday morning with his attorney. We’ll see who’s still standing after this little bomb gets dropped.”
Once again, Amanda drove home from Anne Justiss’s office in a fog. One minute she was stumbling toward the law office’s parking garage. The next she was pulling into her own.
When the kids got home, she put on her mother smile and heartiest good humor and ferried them to where they had to go, grateful that they were both sleeping over at friends. She might have been a drama major but at the moment acting normal was a real stretch.
When she got home again, she picked up the telephone and punched in Rob’s number. She needed to know how this had happened, needed to have some sense of perspective on how their lives had gotten so flushed down the toilet.
“Rob Sheridan’s office.” His secretary answered on the third ring.
It was a challenge to keep her voice steady. “Is he there, Cindy?”
“Sorry, Mrs. Sheridan,” the secretary said. “He’s out of town for the day taking a deposition. He’s due back early this evening.”
Hanging up, Amanda punched in her parents’ cell phone number but hung up before the call went through. For months she’d failed to offer so much as a hint that there was a problem. How could she call now and admit to total defeat?
She stared at the phone searching her brain for the right person to call, but the hard cold truth was there was no one. She knew lots of women through her volunteer commitments and the kids’ activities but she’d been so wrapped up in her family and her responsibilities that she hadn’t pushed very far beyond the surface with anyone; had never gone the extra mile necessary to establish and maintain that kind of closeness. She had had pleasant social relationships with many women, but there wasn’t a single one she felt she could share all of this with now.
She was still clutching the phone when it rang.
“Hello?”
“Amanda? Is that you?” Candace’s voice was firm and smooth with none of the wobbliness Amanda felt in
Stunned, Amanda tried to take it in. She’d promised the children they’d keep the house. But that was when she’d assumed the house was just one of many assets available to divide. And as angry as she was with Rob, did she really want to send Meghan and Wyatt’s father to prison? Tying him in the basement and torturing him, yes, letting him languish in a real prison with hardened criminals, no.
“I can’t lose the house,” Amanda said. “I promised the kids it would be ours.”
“I’m going to get you the house, Amanda,” Anne Justiss said. “That I promise. The payments are low and you’ve got a good bit of equity in it. If you sell it and scale back, you should be able to buy some time to get on your feet.”
Amanda shook her head slowly. “But, I told the kids they wouldn’t have to move.”
“Unfortunately, they’re going to have to get used to a lot of things they shouldn’t have to. Your husband has a lot to answer for.”
But Amanda was the one who’d have to face Meghan and Wyatt; she was the one who would be held accountable. Somehow she’d have to find a way to keep her promise to them. Anything less was completely unacceptable.
Anne Justiss’s smile was apologetic. “I’m sorry, Amanda. I’d hoped to do so much better for you. We need to give some serious thought about how to proceed. Your husband’s firm isn’t going to want this made public, so he may not end up disbarred. Still whatever happens, he’s not going to be of any financial help for a long time to come, if ever.”
She closed the file on her desk and stood to shake hands. “I have a meeting scheduled for Monday morning with his attorney. We’ll see who’s still standing after this little bomb gets dropped.”
Once again, Amanda drove home from Anne Justiss’s office in a fog. One minute she was stumbling toward the law office’s parking garage. The next she was pulling into her own.
When the kids got home, she put on her mother smile and heartiest good humor and ferried them to where they had to go, grateful that they were both sleeping over at friends. She might have been a drama major but at the moment acting normal was a real stretch.
When she got home again, she picked up the telephone and punched in Rob’s number. She needed to know how this had happened, needed to have some sense of perspective on how their lives had gotten so flushed down the toilet.
“Rob Sheridan’s office.” His secretary answered on the third ring.
It was a challenge to keep her voice steady. “Is he there, Cindy?”
“Sorry, Mrs. Sheridan,” the secretary said. “He’s out of town for the day taking a deposition. He’s due back early this evening.”
Hanging up, Amanda punched in her parents’ cell phone number but hung up before the call went through. For months she’d failed to offer so much as a hint that there was a problem. How could she call now and admit to total defeat?
She stared at the phone searching her brain for the right person to call, but the hard cold truth was there was no one. She knew lots of women through her volunteer commitments and the kids’ activities but she’d been so wrapped up in her family and her responsibilities that she hadn’t pushed very far beyond the surface with anyone; had never gone the extra mile necessary to establish and maintain that kind of closeness. She had had pleasant social relationships with many women, but there wasn’t a single one she felt she could share all of this with now.
She was still clutching the phone when it rang.
“Hello?”
“Amanda? Is that you?” Candace’s voice was firm and smooth with none of the wobbliness Amanda felt in
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