down? You’re a knockout, Lake.”
That’s helpful, Lake thought. Molly made her sound like a feral cat that ran and hid under the nearest porch whenever anyone approached. Sometimes she rued the day she confided in Molly about what she’d gone through when she was younger.
“I don’t think I’m ready for any kind of romance, anyway.”
“What about the doctor?” Molly asked, her green eyes flashing.
“Who?”
“That guy at the fertility clinic—the one you said was kind of flirty with you.”
“Oh, Keaton,” Lake said. As she said his name she pictured his face: the slate-blue eyes, the brown hair spiked a little in front, so un-doctor-y. And that soft, full mouth. “He’s the type who would flirt with a coatrack,” she added. “A real player, I’m sure.”
“Playing has its place, you know. Why not try a little eye sex and see where it takes you?”
“Do you make these expressions up yourself, Molly?” Lake asked, smiling.
“When there’s nothing suitable in the vernacular, yes.”
“He lives in L.A., anyway. He’s just consulting with the clinic for a few weeks. Should we check out the menu?”
Over lunch Lake did her best to steer the conversation off herself and toward her friend’s latest exploits as a fashion stylist. It wasn’t that she failed to appreciate Molly’s concern for her. When Lake had gradually withdrawn from her two closest friends after the separation, too sick with shame to face them, Molly had persisted with her, offering herself as combination confidante and coach. Lake had eventually relented and had come to like the attention. But at times it could feel overwhelming. Maybe because Molly had always been just a casual friend, someone Lake had known professionally, and it was weird to have her in this new role. Or maybe because at heart, Lake had always been a bit of a loner.
“I’m supposed to hear about another job today,” Molly said later, as their coffee arrived. “Do you mind if I check my email?”
Lake used the moment to look at her own BlackBerry. There was a missed call from her lawyer, Robert Hotchkiss. Finally, she thought. But as she played back the message, she felt a rush of fear, like water gushing through a garden hose. He wanted to see her right away. And his voice sounded grim.
“Look, I’d better jump in a cab and get up there,” Lake said after filling Molly in. “Something’s clearly come up.”
She called Hotchkiss as soon as she hugged Molly goodbye and stepped onto the sidewalk. Though she didn’t reach him directly, the receptionist told her he was anxious to talk—no, she didn’t know why—and it was fine for Lake to drop by as soon as she could. Now what, she thought, as she threw her head against the backseat of the cab. Was Jack going to renege on his promise to let her and the kids keep the apartment? She’d spent a year being humiliated and hurt by him, and it made her furious to think he might have something else up his sleeve.
She was fuming by the time she arrived at Hotchkiss’s midtown Manhattan suite. The receptionist, an older woman whose champagne-colored hair was curled as tight as a poodle’s, didn’t even announce her but simply led her down the hall.
As Lake entered Hotchkiss’s office, he rose from his boat-size desk to greet her. He was about sixty, with a ruddy face and a stomach that draped over his expensive belt like a sandbag.
“Excuse the chaos, Lake,” he said, gesturing toward stacks of bulging brown legal files. “I’m in the middle of a messy case.”
“Well, with two kids in grade school, I know all about chaos.”
Her comment sounded stupid to her own ears. What she wanted to do was skip the chitchat and shout, “What the hell is Jack up to now?”
“I can tell you never let it get the best of you,” Hotchkiss said. “Please sit down. I appreciate your coming on such short notice.”
“Is there some new development?” she asked, working to keep her voice calm.
“Yes—and I’m afraid it’s not good.”
“What is it?” she blurted out.
“Jack has filed a custody complaint,” Hotchkiss said. “He’s now asking for full custody rather than joint.”
“What?” Lake exclaimed, shocked. As shabbily as her ex-husband had behaved, there’d been no hint he’d pull something like this. “That makes no sense. His business is so busy these days—he doesn’t have time to take care of a fish tank, let alone two kids.”
“Then it’s probably a ploy for money. Maybe it’s finally sunk in that besides child support