The View from Alameda Island - Robyn Carr Page 0,67

second after he pinched.

* * *

Lauren heard from Cassie that she’d been approved for a low-interest student loan, just enough to get her class schedule started. Lacey was knee-deep in her master’s of English education and when Lauren saw her, they avoided talking about the divorce. And Brad was silent.

Lauren’s lawyer was not silent. She’d had no difficulty securing a restraining order but she was having a hard time getting an accurate accounting of the Delaneys’ net worth, since Brad handled all their finances and investments. She had copies of the couple’s tax returns so she knew what the family income was, but the value of property, medical equipment from his private practice and his total investments was a little murky.

“I suspect we need a forensic accounting,” Erica Slade said. “He’s offered you a settlement, which usually means he’d like to get off cheap.”

“A settlement?” Lauren asked. “Seriously?”

“Four million. The house plus two million. I suggest you reject it. It almost certainly means your estate is worth far more than eight.”

She was dumbstruck. “He’s worth more than eight million?” she asked in a whisper. “Really?”

“Lauren,” Erica said. “You contributed mightily to that. Your income and blood, sweat and tears. Quite literally.”

She thought for a moment. “The house is probably worth closer to six, but there is a big mortgage. The practice must be very valuable, though I never thought of it as ours. The investments—I can’t imagine. He controlled the money. This is terrible. I feel so pathetic and incompetent. Why don’t I know what we have?”

“Because your husband didn’t want you to know,” Erica said. “He was obviously never secure. He may have been concerned that you might file for divorce throughout your marriage. When we get a believable accounting, we’ll talk about a settlement. In the meantime, I’ll get his lawyer to agree to a stipend during your separation.”

“Is there something I should be doing?” Lauren asked.

“Yes,” Erica said. “Begin to rebuild your life.”

She was more than anxious to do that. She began by making an appointment with the last counselor she had seen and felt comfortable with, Jan Straight. In the first session, they renewed their acquaintance and then Lauren filled her in on what had been happening in the last six months, including Brad’s violence.

“I didn’t realize I’d been in denial,” Lauren said. “The more I confront the truth, the more comes to the surface. Stuff I just didn’t want to believe, so I ignored it or tamped it down...”

“Give me an example,” Jan said.

“Well, he was sued by an employee. She alleged he kicked her in the operating room. When she did something he didn’t want her to do or failed to do something he expected, he kicked her. Not hard, but still... Of course he said she was crazy—it never happened. Eventually, he settled with her and she quit her job. I never learned the details. He said he had deep pockets and was a target as a result and it was to be expected people would go after him from time to time. And I accepted that.

“Then, a couple of years later I went to the dentist, a new dentist. Oh my gosh, he was a handsome young man with the most beautiful smile. His assistant was a young woman who’d worked for the previous dentist who’d retired. She was a single mother, was gentle and kind with a good sense of humor.

“During the procedure, he corrected her twice, harshly. Then he kicked her leg underneath the back of my reclined chair. I said, ‘Stop! Did you just kick her?’ And he said, ‘Of course not! Please relax, Mrs. Delaney.’ I couldn’t relax. I was on high alert. Then he did it again. And she winced. And I knew in that moment—Brad was guilty of doing that to one of his nurses. I tore off the bib, pushed away his tray and with my mouth stuffed full of cotton, I sat up and spit it out. I told Ashley she should sue him and if she needed a witness, she could call me. I walked out. And cried all the way home.”

“You’re sure that’s what happened?”

“I have a mental closet full of those things,” she said. “Sometimes I buried them so deeply, I couldn’t even remember them. Like the time he deliberately tripped me at Disneyland—my daughter Cassie never forgot it, but I did. Or at least I refused to think about it. Because if I thought about it, I’d have to do