Ladies' Night, Andrews, Kay [best time to read books .txt] 📗

an exorbitant amount of money to pay your monthly expenses. I find it hard to believe a resourceful woman like yourself can’t live on $2,000 a month. My own wife manages quite nicely on that amount.”

“But Judge,” Mitzi sputtered. “Ms. Stanton is entitled to much more than that. She has business expenses involved in writing and producing her blog. And she’ll need to find a place to live. She can’t continue to live in her mother’s very small quarters. And furnishings … Besides, it’s really immaterial how much allowance you give your wife. Ms. Stanton was the primary breadwinner in this marriage…”

Dickie shot to his feet. “That’s not true! Mr. Stanton incorporated Gracenotes. He managed the business, sold advertising, dealt with every aspect of the business, and built it up from a small-potatoes hobby to the entity it is today. He, in fact, is the CEO of Gracenotes, Inc., and the owner of the domain name, among other things. It was Ms. Stanton’s choice to be paid a weekly salary on a work-for-hire agreement, because she did not want to be troubled with the business of running a business.”

“What?” Grace shrieked, then quickly covered her mouth with her hands. She tugged urgently on Mitzi’s hand. “I never agreed to any kind of a weekly salary,” she whispered. “Ben just drew money out of the corporate account and put it in our personal checking account. I left all of that up to him and the accountant.”

“Judge,” Mitzi began, but Stackpole wasn’t listening.

“Two thousand a month,” he said firmly. “It was apparently Ms. Stanton’s decision to leave this marriage, so I’m afraid she’ll have to deal with the repercussions of that.”

“Thank you, Judge,” Dickie said quickly.

“That’s not all,” Stackpole said. He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Ms. Stanton, I find myself at a loss for words as far as your behavior in this matter goes. This is the second instance today of parties to a divorce acting in dangerous, violent, even criminal behavior. I’m troubled by that. Deeply troubled.”

“Judge, if you’d just listen to what provoked my client,” Mitzi began, but Stackpole held up a hand to stop her.

“There can be no justification for the wanton destruction of property or for harassment or assault on a third party. This is just the kind of thing that escalates, until we have domestic violence, armed stand-offs, and God knows what.”

“It won’t happen again,” Grace said in her meekest voice.

“It certainly won’t,” Stackpole agreed. “We’ll see how you do with this new financial settlement, while the two of you work out the other details of your divorce settlement. But in the meantime, Ms. Stanton, I want you to begin seeing a therapist who is an expert in divorce, uh, counseling. Immediately. Dr. Talbott-Sinclair does excellent work, as you’ll see.” He glanced down at his calendar. “I believe she has a group meeting on Wednesday. If she can fit you into her group meeting tomorrow night, that will give you six weeks.

Mitzi stared at the judge. “Your Honor, are you also ordering Mr. Stanton to attend these group sessions?”

“No,” he snapped. “Mr. Stanton seems to have his anger issues under control. Now, Ms. Stanton, if Dr. Talbott-Sinclair signs off on your rehabilitation, then I’ll take that into consideration when I see you later this summer. Understood?”

Grace could do nothing but nod. Inside was another story. Inside she was screaming.

But Mitzi wasn’t done. “Judge, we still need you to rule on the matter of ownership of Ms. Stanton’s business. As it stands right now, Ms. Stanton has been deprived of access to her blog, which in effect deprives her of making a living.”

“Why can’t she just start another blog?” Stackpole asked, gathering up his papers and shutting the file in front of him. “Nobody’s keeping her from writing, are they?”

“Mr. Stanton is keeping her from writing,” Mitzi said, sounding weary and out of patience. “He is in effect hijacking her intellectual property.”

“Talk to me in six weeks after your counseling,” Stackpole said. He jerked his head in the bailiff’s direction. “I can feel my blood sugar getting low. Let’s break for lunch.”

*   *   *

Mitzi was stuffing papers into her briefcase. Ben stood and began to stride past, but Grace reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

Ben looked down at her with a blank expression. “Don’t do this,” he said, his voice chilly.

She jumped up. “Do what? Ask you to answer my lawyer’s phone calls? Ask you to treat me with some kind of fairness, some kind of decency, even if our marriage is over? Why are you doing this? If I can’t write my blog, neither of us makes any money. You realize that, right?”

Dickie was at Ben’s side now. “Now, Gracie. This is very inappropriate. You heard what Judge Stackpole just told you. You need to get your issues under control. If you have something to say to Ben, you need to have your lawyer bring it up with me.”

Ben looked her in the eye. “That means no more phone calls. No more showing up at the gates at Gulf Vista, embarrassing the security guards. You wanted it over, Grace, so that’s what you’ve got. It’s over. You get on with your life, and I’ll get on with mine.”

He carefully pried her fingers from the fine fabric of his suit coat, then picked up his briefcase and strolled toward the door, where J’Aimee was already standing, waiting for him. She grasped his arm and, just before walking out, turned and shot Grace a triumphant smile.

8

It was four o’clock on a steamy Tuesday afternoon and Jungle Jerry’s Olde Florida Family Fun Park was nearly deserted. There were no families present, and not much fun in evidence.

A quartet of blue-haired tourists from Michigan were taking advantage of the “buy one, get one” coupon they’d found in that day’s newspaper. They were having a nice enough time, wandering the crushed-shell footpaths, admiring the unusual flora and fauna, especially the wading pool full of preening pink