Totlandia: The Onesies, Book 1 (Fall) (8 page)

“As we discussed, Mrs. Frederick, California is a no-fault divorce state, which means the court will consider an equitable division of assets acquired after the marriage. Keep in mind, though: ‘equitable’ doesn’t always mean ‘equal’. And considering the underlying circumstances, he may be open to signing over his portion of the house to you. But be expecting some quid pro quo.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“For example, you’re asking for full custody. He may take issue with that.”

“I doubt that.” Jillian blushed when she heard the quiver in her own voice. She busied herself by shaking one of Amelia’s tiny dolls in front of her daughter’s face, so she wouldn’t have to look at Lutz.

The last thing she wanted was for him to see the tears welling in her eyes.

“Even if Mr. Frederick gives you the deed to the house, there is the question of the mortgage payments, not to mention annual property taxes. If he doesn’t cover those as well, you’ll soon find it a hollow victory.”

He had raised his voice, not to make his point, but because both girls were making it known that they were hungry and cranky.

Aw, heck, Jillian thought. I can’t just whip out both of my boobs and feed them now. If I did, Lutz would be the one throwing up.

Scott had also averted his eyes whenever she nursed the girls in front of him.

That son of a bitch
…

Jillian forced her lips into a smile before turning back to face Lutz. “Yes, he should be making the house payments and paying all the taxes. Isn’t that what alimony is for?”

Lutz nodded. “So, you’d rather go for alimony than child support?”

Jillian shook her head, confused. “What’s the difference?”

“Child support provides you with a stipend for the girls’ expenses until they reach the age of legal majority, which is eighteen.” He was now trying to talk around the twins, who were crying. “Alimony is paid directly to you. You could do with it as you wish, with certain stipulations. For example, should you remarry, he would no longer have to provide spousal support.”

“Ha! The way I feel now, I never want a man to touch me again.”

Lutz shrugged. “If I had a dollar every time I heard a client say that, I’d be a very rich man.”

By the looks of it, he was well off without collecting on that bet, considering his retainer was $600 per hour. Jillian frowned. “Aren’t we eligible for both?”

It was Lutz’s turn to smile. To smirk, actually. “We can ask for anything. It doesn’t mean we’ll get it. That is what the judge will decide.”

“What about the pre-nup I had signed? It was stupid, really. Scott suggested it, in the hope that his parents wouldn’t cut off their support while he was in college. They insisted that he was ‘marrying beneath him.’ Even after I signed, they cut him off anyway, so a lot of good that did.”

“I’ll look it over. Some of its clauses may be struck down, but it depends. For the most part, the good of the children is the first consideration. However, depending on how it’s written, issues such as his infidelity may not be of any help to us.”

Jillian felt like she’d been kicked in the gut. Having gotten Victoria pregnant was an even bigger wrong than had they been merely fuck buddies.

He looked at his watch. “We’ll be filing the papers for the legal separation later today. My assistant, Tara, will ring you the moment the petition for divorce is ready for your signature. Then we’ll serve Mr. Frederick. At his office, I’m guessing.”

Good
, Jillian thought.
 
That should embarrass the hell out of both him and Victoria
.

“Tara will also be handing you a checklist of things you’ll need to do as soon as possible, like closing all joint bank accounts, making a list of all assets, pulling the paperwork on savings and retirement accounts, those sorts of things. If he’s got an employment contract, you need to get a copy of it.” Lutz stuck out his hand to shake but pulled it back. Instead, he hesitantly patted her back. “My assistant also has your invoice on her desk. You can make the necessary arrangements regarding payment with her.”

Time to pay the piper, Jillian thought. “But I didn’t bring a checkbook.”

He was practically shoving her and the stroller out the door. “That’s okay. We take credit cards.”

Tara waited until Lutz closed the door before handing Jillian his bill. Jillian’s eyes bulged. “Forty-eight hundred dollars? But I was only in there for two hours! I thought it was six-hundred dollars each—”

“We bill the first eight hours in advance,” Tara explained sweetly.

Jillian fumbled in her purse until she found her Visa card and handed it over.

Tara swiped it, then frowned. “Oh dear! Declined. I guess Mr. Frederick has already had it cancelled.”

“What? Can he do that?”

Tara’s nod was sympathetic. “We see it all the time. If I were you, I’d head down to the bank. He may have closed your accounts there as well.”

I can’t do that now! Jillian thought. I’ve got to get the girls to the meet-up! Oh hell, this is a nightmare.

A tear dropped from her cheek onto the assistant’s desk. Patting Jillian’s hand, Tara murmured, “Don’t worry. I’ll bill you for it. But hit the bank as soon as you can.”

Jillian was too choked up to do anything but nod.

She practically ran down the hall to the elevator. By now the girls were so hungry they were wailing.

She waited until the elevator started its descent before she allowed herself to cry, too.

9:52 a.m.

“Well, well, well! Aren’t we the early birds!” Bettina’s tone was all sweetness and light as she reached out for Dante. Once he was in her arms, she dismissed Lorna with a wave of her free hand.

Lorna had already made up her mind that nothing Bettina did today would get under her skin. But then Bettina stared down at Dante. “What is that, a tracksuit? Omigod! You’ve dressed him like some little old Florida retiree!”

Lorna’s retort—that it was Ralph Lauren; that it was official Olympic gear; that Matt had chosen it for him—stuck in her throat as the room filled with more moms and tots.

Most of the other little boys were wearing tuxedos.

If not a tux, then monogrammed sweaters and khakis.

Had Matthew been standing beside her at that moment, Lorna probably would have kicked him. Hard. Then she would have ordered him to run home and get Dante’s tuxedo.

Instead, she stood there like a lump while Bettina introduced “Dante Connaught, and his mother, Lorna,” to two other women who gushed reverent thanks for the honor of being there.

In fact, one of the women—Chakra Crutch—proudly said, “I made Quest’s tuxedo myself—out
o
f hemp! My husband, Stone, and I
 
eschew
 
synthetics. Plastics, too, for that matter. In fact, we live our lives entirely green.”

Who the hell actually uses the word ‘eschew,’
 
Lorna thought as Bettina and the other woman, Kelly Overton, cooed admirably over the little boy’s duds. Then Kelly did a double take and turned to Lorna. “Oh, so you’re a Connaught? Then you must be married to Bettina’s brother, Matthew.” Kelly shifted her son, Wills, onto her other hip and held out a hand to Lorna.

“You know my husband?” Lorna asked as she shook it.

“Ha! You bet I know Matty! Why, Bettina and I practically grew up together. She’d be the first to tell you I had a crush on her older brother. He’s still adorable, I presume?”

Lorna didn’t like the way Kelly had practically purred his name. Her only consolation was that Bettina was just as annoyed. No one else would have picked up on Bettina’s ire, but Lorna had been around her long enough to know that whenever she smoothed her hair behind her right ear, she was pissed about something.

She waited until the women drifted off to the buffet table before asking Bettina, “It sounds like she knows Matt pretty well. Why is that?”

Bettina shrugged. “We all prepped together at Lick-Wilmerding.”

That’s when it hit Lorna. “Bettina, if that Kelly person hadn’t caught my last name, no one here would have known we were related.”

“That’s the point.” Finally, Bettina was smiling again. “I’d rather that it not become an issue—I mean, should you ever have to leave the club.”

“What does that mean, ‘should I ever have to leave’? The invitation said—”

“The invitation specifically mentioned a probationary period. Seriously, Lorna, with your lack of attention to detail, I’m surprised you actually graduated from Berkeley.” Bettina’s giggle was accompanied by a shrug. “To be perfectly honest with you, this year we’re in a bit of a pickle. Too many great families for too few slots. There’s still some weeding out to do. So let’s all pray you don’t somehow screw up Dante’s chances here at PHM&T, because we both know I don’t, and can’t, play favorites.”

Ha, Lorna thought. What you mean is that you won’t play favorites with me, but you certainly will for your BFF, Kelly.

Lorna waited until her voice was steady. “I would never presume that you would,” she said.

“So glad we’re both on the same page. You deserve to pat yourself on the back, Lorna. For once, you got somewhere all on your own.” Bettina didn’t excuse herself. She just handed Dante back to Lorna then walked toward the women and children who were now flowing through the doorway.

Lorna had a good mind to grab Bettina by her fake blond roots and pummel her into the ground. To stomp that smirk right off her face. To yank off one of her suede Prada platform booties and beat her to death with it.

But no, of course she couldn’t do that. It would set a bad example for Dante and the other children.

Besides, there were too many witnesses.

And as much as she’d like to, she couldn’t run away, either. She had to stick it out, for Dante’s sake.

She sighed deeply and tickled him under the chin in hope that he might smile. When he didn’t, she reasoned that her perceptive little man felt her pain.

He probably knew his Aunt Bettina was the cause of it, too.

From now on, whenever she read him a fairy tale, she knew what name she’d substitute for the word “witch.” It started with a ‘B’. And no, it wasn’t bitch.

As her heart swelled with love for her son, she smiled and hugged him even closer. “Come on, Stud, let’s go impress all these cute little girls.”

10:15 a.m.

Knowing the Pacific Heights Moms & Tots Club’s Official Onesies Inaugural Play Date had been underway for the past fifteen minutes was driving Ally Thornton crazy. Flocks of mothers with children rushed through the gated entrance of the Flood Mansion and up its grand old stone staircase, but all Ally could do was watch from the backseat of her BMW X6 SUV while Ellis Conway, the chief executive of the online shoe company, Foot Fetish, droned on and on about the finer points of the latest inventory procedures.

To make matters worse, Ally was missing half of what he was saying because Zoe, her fifteen-month-old daughter, kept tossing her Baby Stella dolls into the front seat. Each time Ally retrieved one, Zoe would squeal, then send yet another doll over the headrest.

“Okay, Zoe, game over,” Ally whispered. Her cell phone was on MUTE, but she hoped that leading by example would silence Zoe.

As if
 
that
 
would ever happen.

“No! Babas!
 
BABAS!
” Zoe shouted as she motioned toward the front seat, where her dolls had flopped, like drunken sailors after a beer binge.

“Shhhh!”
 
Ally warned her daughter. So that Zoe could be buckled into her car seat, Ally handed her a sippy cup.

Not a smart move. Zoe slapped it out of her mother’s hand. The top popped off, and Ally’s chest was hit with a wave of milk.

“Bad girl! Bad
, bad
 
girl!” she hissed as she scrounged in Zoe’s diaper bag for a cloth to wipe herself off.

If she thought it would shame her daughter into silence, she was sadly mistaken. Instead, Zoe screamed gleefully as she climbed out of her car seat.

Ally had just grabbed hold of one of Zoe’s plump little legs when she heard Ellis say through her cell phone’s earbud “—which I presented to the board a list of proposed options to be granted to company employees and its advisors, for their approval. Ms. Thornton had previously mentioned a concern regarding the initial stock split. Ally, would you care to elaborate?”

Ally quickly tapped her cell phone’s MUTE OFF button so her corporate board members could hear her.

Big mistake. At that very second Zoe let loose with a banshee cry. Then, with her tiny fist, she grabbed the cell phone and tossed it out the window.

“Ally! Are you there? Are you all right?” The last voice Ally heard before the moving truck ran over it was that of Barry Simon, her corporate attorney.

Well, thank God he had attended the meeting on her behalf. He’d make something up so the board wouldn’t think she’d been eaten by an anaconda or something.