Searching for Tina Turner - By Jacqueline E. Luckett Page 0,56
mother, who was raised in a small town without access to a phone directory and kept the names of people she knew she could count on close at hand. “Elizabeth Silvermann is more your style. She’s sharp and a bit egotistical, but she knows what she’s doing.
“Now, I want you to memorize these four rules—they’ll help you deal with your lawyer and with Randall. They worked for me, and the least I can do is pass them on.”
Lena holds her pen tightly in her hand, poised and ready to write.
“Lesson number one: time is money. If your lawyer won’t give you her time, then she won’t get your money. Lesson number two: even if muscle remembers, the heart must forget. You understand?”
The man boldly looks over Cheryl’s shoulder. She gives him a cold MYOB smile. “Do you need a lawyer, too?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. Been there, done that.”
Cheryl whispers. “He’s fascinated that a black woman knows this stuff. Happens all the time. Lesson number three: the only color that matters is green. Our friend here just proved that. And lesson number four—this one may be hard for you, Lena—let Randall think he has the upper hand. Let his ego get him in trouble. Now, questions for the lawyer.”
“You’re no fun today.”
“Work now, lots of fun later. I’ve got plans!”
Lena turns the page and writes her questions in outline form: what am I entitled to, lawyer fees, options, support—who pays for the apartment once we have separate accounts, the house, art and furniture she still wants but had to leave behind, how long does it take, next steps.
The freckled man chimes in again in that effortless way Californians have of butting into strangers’ conversations. “If you haven’t acknowledged receipt of your divorce notice you should take money from joint accounts.”
“Now that,” Lena says, extending her hand to the man, “is good advice.”
“Timing,” he finishes, beaming at the flattery. “It’s all a matter of timing.”
f f f
Lena let go of her white voice when she gave Elizabeth Silvermann all the details on the phone—she a homemaker, Randall the successful businessman—so that Elizabeth could occupy herself with the facts and not the mystery of how two black people got to be where they are. Still, the lawyer’s eyes widen briefly when Lena walks into her office, and Lena can tell by Elizabeth’s quick double-take that she is not what the lawyer thought she would be either. On the phone Elizabeth’s voice was forceful, and Lena imagined the lawyer would be masculine and broad shouldered. Not that it matters, Lena thinks. The white lawyer is lithe, skinny as a rail with full head of black hair. Her exaggerated stride and firm handshake hint that she will do well by Lena.
Lesson number three: the only color that counts is green.
Elizabeth’s confidence oozes across her massive wooden desk as she brags about her successes for fifteen minutes nonstop: how many cases she has won, how many clients she has, the settlements. Her voice is full of ego, self-assurance, and challenge. Slowly it becomes clear to Lena that this is the lawyer’s prologue, her curriculum vitae to back up one of the most important pieces of advice Lena has ever received.
“I have no doubt that this is a painful time for you.” Elizabeth stops to call to the outer office, where an aide shuffles papers, to hold her calls for twenty more minutes. “Divorce may not be what you want, may not be what you end up with, but you have to decide. This could be the best thing that happened to you, or the worst. Do you want to be a victim or do you want to make this an opportunity for a fresh start? Your chance to rediscover yourself and what you want out of the rest of your life.”
This, Lena thinks, is undirected direction. “So what you’re saying is that I should take advantage of change?” Elizabeth’s concept or Vernon’s foresight? “Divorce as a second chance?”
“It’s the only way to look at your situation, and I don’t represent victims.”
Lena nods her agreement.
“Do you have a plan?”
Elizabeth listens carefully while Lena explains the details of Randall’s proposal. The lawyer takes his note and chuckles. “He may know his way around a corporation, but he doesn’t have a damn idea of how family law works. I hope you didn’t say yes.”
“I moved into an apartment. Randall says he won’t pay for it.”
“Moving was probably not the wisest choice, especially if you have to worry about money, but