The View from Alameda Island - Robyn Carr Page 0,40

said.

“He said he’d take them away from me. He said, ‘Lauren, you’ll never make it. I have money and you don’t. I can fight you every step of the way until I starve you out and get the girls.’” She shrugged. “I believed him. I was young. I was married to a man who got everything he wanted. And then there’s that other little thing...”

He furrowed his eyebrows in question.

“I didn’t want the girls to grow up the way Beth and I did.” She blushed in embarrassment. “We weren’t unhappy, I don’t know what I was thinking. Our mother and grandparents loved us, did their best by us. It was hard, though. Barely seeing Honey because she worked at least two jobs, not having enough money to join clubs or teams. I thought, Brad couldn’t provide love and kindness, but he could provide.” She sighed. “I was a fool and I made a deal with the devil.”

These were the kind of truths they shared. Lauren wondered what kind of deeply personal things Beau was keeping to himself because she was barely scratching the surface when sharing with him. She was telling her new friend only those things she was comfortable making public.

Lauren was seeing that divorce was an emotional mine field. Brad was calling and texting her several times a day, alternating between harassing her, sweetly cajoling her to stop this madness or demanding she take care of his errands. She stopped responding but his messages and texts were well preserved on her phone.

She went back to work the following week and told her supervisor and most of her colleagues how the move had gone and that she was living not too far from the plant. She was surprised by the kind reception. She hadn’t expected them to be sympathetic. Bea, the division director and her immediate supervisor, asked her if she had a good lawyer and said, “If there’s anything I can do to support you, let me know.”

She thought it would be a good idea to contact Sylvie Emerson. They planned for a Sunday brunch, just the two of them, at Sylvie’s beautiful home on Nob Hill. “Andy will be playing golf, so he won’t bother us!”

Lauren hoped he wasn’t playing with Brad.

She took a leafy red geranium in a pretty pot and she settled with Sylvie at a table on the patio, surrounded by plants, shrubs and flowers. It wasn’t a large yard, it being a city home, but it was beautifully landscaped with lots of outdoor furniture and a brick fireplace. Lauren assumed they did quite a bit of entertaining here.

After a cup of coffee and a little fruit cup, Lauren broke it to her. “I have something to tell you,” she said. “It’s official now. Brad and I will be divorcing.”

Startled, Sylvie gasped. “Oh my God,” she said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Lauren said. “Sylvie, I was the one to file for divorce. I have to be honest with you—this is not premature. But I understand that Andy and Brad are good friends and if that means you wouldn’t be comfortable as my friend, I completely understand. I would never put you in the middle of it. It’s messy.”

“Not be my friend because of a messy divorce? Bullshit. I’ve known Brad for fifteen years and I consider him more of a business associate of Andy’s than a close friend. He’s been helpful with medical matters. Brad would move mountains to get any of our family or friends a speedy appointment or referral and we appreciate that. Of course, we’re grateful for anything he’ll do for the foundation. But Lauren, we’re not friends. Brad does favors for Andy, Andy takes Brad to his club or includes him with a group of friends when they take the boat out. It’s a business relationship. Not like our relationship, which is not business. This is personal. If you need anything at all, anything, I hope you’ll come to me at once! And I didn’t get where I am today being afraid of a mess here and there.”

“You are incredible,” Lauren told her.

“You and I are going to get together more often,” Sylvie said. Then she smiled. “I imagine it will drive Brad out of his mind.”

“Brad is very fond of Andy. And you,” Lauren said with a touch of nervousness.

Sylvie lifted the silver top off a serving platter. There was a beautiful, cheesy omelet, just a few slices of bacon and toast points on the side. She reached