Four Wives by Wendy Walker Read Free Book Online

which seemed to leave nothing within its domain untouched. No longer worthy of its diner billing, Joe’s lattes were perfect, rich and foamy, served in luscious oversized mugs. Scones and mini lowfat muffins were shipped in from the city at the crack of dawn. Always fresh. And staying true to Hunting Ridge form, the regular, working-class coffee, and those evil bagels driven into disfavor by the low-carb craze, were downright lousy. Marie had been unusually hopeful to catch a fresh pot, but by the smell of the stuff in her cup, there was no question she’d caught the dregs yet again. And it made her miss New York as much as every other thing in this town. Still, it didn’t matter. Musty old office, shitty coffee, the smell of bacon and buzzing fluorescent bulbs that were probably causing a brain tumor’it was all hers, under her command along with the rest of her life.
    The case of
Farrell v. Farrell
was another matter. There was no affair involved, which in itself placed it in the minority, as did the fact that it was Mrs. Farrell who wanted out. Carson Farrell worked in the city trading derivatives’solid income, enough for a house in the back country, though there was a significant amount of leverage on their assets. They had a 401(k), stock options, and other financial muck that would have to be sorted out. Like most of the cases, the fight over the kids would bring everything into play. Time with his children would cost him, it always did. But this case involved something Marie hadn’t seen in all her years of practice, and how it would play out’in court and in her own mind’was not yet clear. Shortly before the split, the unthinkable had happened. A child had died, and it had been on her client’s watch.
    That was all she knew at the moment, her client having mastered the art of holding facts close to the vest. But they were beyond that now. His wife was pushing for sole custody, offering Carson limited supervised visitation with their surviving three children. His deposition had been scheduled for next week. Time was out. Today she had to get to the bottom of what had happened to the fourth child, the baby named Simone. The kid gloves were coming off, and Marie was not at all sure how she would view this case, or her client, when the truth was revealed.
    It was a dilemma for sure, a real headache. And, her daughters aside, taking it on at the throat was exactly what drove Marie Passeti.
    There was a quick rapping on the glass window of the office door.
    “It’s open,” Marie called from her desk as she walked through to the conference room, closing the adjoining door behind her. She heard the familiar squeak of the hinges, then the rattling of glass as the door closed again. When she turned around, a man was there.
    “You’re not Carson Farrell,” she said.
    The young man smiled nervously. Barely into his twenties, he was perfectly coifed’cleanly shaven, tucked in, and buttoned up. The suit was interview navy, conservative and entirely devoid of personality, though his face told a different story. His cheekbones were still rounded’he was obviously young. But his eyes seemed far too old to be placed there. Glancing around the room to get his bearings, he came full circle to focus on the briefcase hanging by his side. Black leather and far too small to be useful to a lawyer, Marie could tell by the ease with which he held it that it was nearly empty.
    “I’m Randy Matthews. The intern from Yale,” he said with the intonation of a question.
    A look of surprise came across Marie’s face. There was no doubt she had hired Randy Matthews. She’d just gone over the resume that morning. NYU undergrad, Yale Law School, first year. The cover letter had expressed an interest in family law, particularly custody situations. She’d asked one of her associates to vet Randy in a phone interview, and a glowing report had followed.
    Still, in all of that, she’d been expecting Randy Matthews to be a woman. Not