new people and learn new things.” He was striving for a light tone, but he was only partially successful.
“Good to know,” I said, trying to match his tone, but I felt a pang of sympathy. Regular breakups were bad enough; I couldn’t imagine how people got through a divorce. It made you wonder how people ever had the courage to get married in the first place.
“Anyhow, what Naomi said was probably right. Annabel will likely only end up with a share of whatever Gallagher made during the course of their marriage. Anything he made beforehand was probably excluded. That’s how these things usually work. And they haven’t been married for very long—just a couple of years.”
“Gallagher must have made at least ten million just while they were married, though. That’s nothing to sneeze at.” Ten million was enough to buy a sufficiently large apartment that I’d never trip over Peter’s boxes again. In fact, it was enough to buy each of Peter’s boxes its own apartment.
“Not for most people. But a lot of it’s probably already spent, and as for the remainder—let’s just say, unless it was invested in something that really takes off, half isn’t going to be enough to maintain the sort of lifestyle the second Mrs. Gallagher has been maintaining for very long.”
“But were you listening to what Gallagher was saying this morning to his lawyer?”
“Hmm? No.” Jake shook his head as he sipped his drink.
“About the papers being delivered, and how he was sure he’d hear from ‘her’ when they were? Maybe he was going to divorce her.”
“In which case she’d end up with the same amount of money. Or maybe that’s not what he was referring to at all. He could have just been trying to screw Wife Number One in some new way. Or maybe another ‘she’ entirely.”
“Could be. He sure didn’t seem like the faithful type.”
“I still can’t get over the way he came onto you,” he said, shaking his head. “He really was a bastard.”
“It happens.”
“But in this day and age, and after all of the lawsuits you read about and diversity training and everything?”
“You’d be surprised.” Maybe it was the wine on an empty stomach or maybe it was the shock of that morning—either way, I found myself telling Jake about some of the other uncomfortable encounters I’d had with male colleagues and my “insurance policy.” It was nice to be able to talk to someone about it.
“It amazes me how sexist this profession still is,” Jake said in disbelief. “It makes me ashamed to be a guy, practically. But it’s a good idea, keeping a record like that.”
“I just hope I’ll never need it.”
“Does anybody else know?”
“About the notebook? Just my friend, Luisa. It was her idea in the first place.”
“Not even your fiancé?”
“Peter? No. He’s already upset enough about how hard I work. And he gets angry when I tell him about partners acting like assholes; he’d go ballistic if he knew they were acting like lecherous assholes.” I paused. “Why? Do you think I should tell him?”
Jake flashed his rueful smile again. “You’re asking the wrong guy. As my ex-wife would attest, not to mention everyone I dated before her, I’m not exactly an expert at relationships.” He took another sip of his bourbon.
“Me, neither.” My track record before Peter had been more than a little checkered on the good judgment front. Then with a jolt I remembered the other thing I’d wanted to talk to Jake about. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this,” I said.
“Tell me what?”
“Last night. There was an anonymous e-mail on my home account about Perry and the Thunderbolt deal.” I explained about the e-mail and what Peter and I had sent back.
“What a strange thing to happen.”
“Mostly it was just creepy.”
“I bet. I wonder why this Man of the People guy got in touch with you, specifically? How did he even know you were working on the deal? Do you think it’s
“Good to know,” I said, trying to match his tone, but I felt a pang of sympathy. Regular breakups were bad enough; I couldn’t imagine how people got through a divorce. It made you wonder how people ever had the courage to get married in the first place.
“Anyhow, what Naomi said was probably right. Annabel will likely only end up with a share of whatever Gallagher made during the course of their marriage. Anything he made beforehand was probably excluded. That’s how these things usually work. And they haven’t been married for very long—just a couple of years.”
“Gallagher must have made at least ten million just while they were married, though. That’s nothing to sneeze at.” Ten million was enough to buy a sufficiently large apartment that I’d never trip over Peter’s boxes again. In fact, it was enough to buy each of Peter’s boxes its own apartment.
“Not for most people. But a lot of it’s probably already spent, and as for the remainder—let’s just say, unless it was invested in something that really takes off, half isn’t going to be enough to maintain the sort of lifestyle the second Mrs. Gallagher has been maintaining for very long.”
“But were you listening to what Gallagher was saying this morning to his lawyer?”
“Hmm? No.” Jake shook his head as he sipped his drink.
“About the papers being delivered, and how he was sure he’d hear from ‘her’ when they were? Maybe he was going to divorce her.”
“In which case she’d end up with the same amount of money. Or maybe that’s not what he was referring to at all. He could have just been trying to screw Wife Number One in some new way. Or maybe another ‘she’ entirely.”
“Could be. He sure didn’t seem like the faithful type.”
“I still can’t get over the way he came onto you,” he said, shaking his head. “He really was a bastard.”
“It happens.”
“But in this day and age, and after all of the lawsuits you read about and diversity training and everything?”
“You’d be surprised.” Maybe it was the wine on an empty stomach or maybe it was the shock of that morning—either way, I found myself telling Jake about some of the other uncomfortable encounters I’d had with male colleagues and my “insurance policy.” It was nice to be able to talk to someone about it.
“It amazes me how sexist this profession still is,” Jake said in disbelief. “It makes me ashamed to be a guy, practically. But it’s a good idea, keeping a record like that.”
“I just hope I’ll never need it.”
“Does anybody else know?”
“About the notebook? Just my friend, Luisa. It was her idea in the first place.”
“Not even your fiancé?”
“Peter? No. He’s already upset enough about how hard I work. And he gets angry when I tell him about partners acting like assholes; he’d go ballistic if he knew they were acting like lecherous assholes.” I paused. “Why? Do you think I should tell him?”
Jake flashed his rueful smile again. “You’re asking the wrong guy. As my ex-wife would attest, not to mention everyone I dated before her, I’m not exactly an expert at relationships.” He took another sip of his bourbon.
“Me, neither.” My track record before Peter had been more than a little checkered on the good judgment front. Then with a jolt I remembered the other thing I’d wanted to talk to Jake about. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this,” I said.
“Tell me what?”
“Last night. There was an anonymous e-mail on my home account about Perry and the Thunderbolt deal.” I explained about the e-mail and what Peter and I had sent back.
“What a strange thing to happen.”
“Mostly it was just creepy.”
“I bet. I wonder why this Man of the People guy got in touch with you, specifically? How did he even know you were working on the deal? Do you think it’s
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