Treasured Past by Linda Hill Page B

into a corner table, out of the way from most of the other clientele.
    We began catching up, Melanie filling me in on how everyone was and how they were doing. We ordered iced tea and waited for our salads to appear.
    “How’s Beth doing? Do you ever see her?”
    “She’s doing well. I see her all of the time.” It took me a second to realize that the last contact Melanie had with Beth was during Billy’s custody battle. She was studying my face carefully, and I knew where her thoughts were going.
    “She actually sees quite a bit of Billy, too. Her ex-husband came around after a while. Billy was having a lot of trouble adjusting, and so her ex finally gave in. She doesn’t have custody, but they get to spend a lot of time together.”
    Melanie remained silent, still studying me. “I’m okay, Melanie,” I told her.
    “It wasn’t your fault, Kate. Judge Leahy is a redneck son of a bitch.”
    I could see her beginning to get excited, and I did my best to intervene. “I know, Mel. Really. I’ve forgiven myself for losing the case.” I knew as I said the words that I was lying. I could have done more to win custody for Beth. “Beth and I have moved on, and life is good now. Stress free.”
    She narrowed her green eyes. “You certainly look happier.”
    “I am. I promise.” The waitress rescued us by placing two large salad plates on the table. I waited for her to leave the table before turning back to Melanie.
    “So why don’t we get down to business?” I watched her closely while I lifted a tomato slice to my lips. “I understand that the only joint property here is a home in Cambridge.”
    Melanie nodded. “The house originally belonged to my client’s parents. She inherited the house when they died about eight years ago.”
    I completely lost my appetite. “You mean they didn’t purchase the home together?”
    Melanie shook her head. “She only put his name on the title to keep the peace.”
    Swallowing hard, I dropped my fork to the table. “That son of a bitch,” I muttered.
    “Aha.” Melanie pointed her fork directly at me. “So you didn’t know about the inheritance?”
    I shook my head. “I knew that he was an ass. But I actually know very little about him.” I was steaming, shaking my head. “I had no idea about the house.”
    Melanie was carefully quiet, chewing pleasantly on a piece of lettuce. Trying to control my temper was difficult. I was walking a fine line with my old friend. I wanted to rant and rave and scream about the situation I was in, but at the same time I was acutely aware of my professional obligations.
    “He wants the house.” I was almost growling. “No ifs, and’s , or but’s .”
    Melanie took another bite of her salad, completely calm. “I’d call that stealing,” she said between bites.
    “Legal theft, I’m afraid.” My stomach was sour. “More like blackmail, actually.”
    I finally got Melanie’s attention. “What do you mean, blackmail?”
    “You don’t know?”
    Melanie shook her head, and I felt a sick kind of thrill at the irony of the situation. “I certainly don’t know the details,” I began. “But apparently my client witnessed his wife having sex with another woman.”
    Melanie’s grin was sinister. “Good for her, I say.”
    “Melanie ...” I was exasperated.
    “Sorry.” She held up one hand. “I’m aware that my client was caught in a rather compromising position with another woman.” Her voice was almost prim.
    “In the home that they shared, in their bed.”
    “Which they hadn’t shared for four years,” Melanie interjected.
    I studied her closely. “The house or the bed.”
    “Both.” The sound of a carrot crunching between her teeth sounded far too smug. “They were separated.”
    “For four years?” I was incredulous.
    “Yep.”
    “Legally?”
    Melanie paused. “Nope. Got me there.” She took her time sipping from her glass of iced tea. “Apparently he couldn’t hold a job and kept floating from one