If a stack of papers could stare back at me, the divorce papers were glaring with judgment. There was no reason for me to feel guilty. I had done everything to ensure that Harleigh was going to be taken care of. Her property was financially secure. I had fulfilled my promise, I made sure that Harleigh would be taken care of.
My team had confirmed the division of assets was beneficial to both parties. McGrady and his firm had gone through and agreed to the terms. All that needed to happen was for me to sign where indicated and have the papers delivered to Harleigh for her signature before filing them with the courts.
The divorce was a few action items from being final.
I poured another glass of whiskey and continued to stare back at the papers. The culmination of my past year was wrapped up in that document. It seemed like too small a stack for everything I went through with Harleigh.
I downed the glass. She wormed her way into my thoughts. I would be elbow deep in work and supply chain issues, and Harleigh’s smile would infiltrate my mind, and I would lose all focus on anything work-related. I was a signature away from being free from her, but I felt more haunted by her now than I ever had while we had been living together.
I had no idea how much time I wasted sitting there staring at the divorce papers. There were a hundred different things I could be wasting my time on. Hell, even watching TV would have been more productive. Instead, I brooded, refusing to step into the misery that waited for me with open arms.
I put down my empty glass and stood. Going for a run would help to process all the thoughts that clamored for my attention. Hopefully, they would just leave of their own accord. I didn’t want them.
Once I changed, I took the stairs down. It seemed hypocritical to be wearing running gear and riding down in the elevator. I bypassed the exclusive gym on the property for residents and hit the pavement.
Typically I was a treadmill runner. No need to worry about traffic or weather, just running. Mindless running gave me the mental space to work through a situation in my head. I could brainstorm, I could look at different perspectives, I could solve problems.
Staring at one spot for hours tonight would only allow my brain to return to Harleigh. I needed the distraction of weather, people, and cars. I didn’t want to leave even the smallest space in my head for Harleigh to take root in. I needed her banished from my consciousness.
After an hour, I was dripping with sweat and momentarily free of any thoughts beyond needing a long shower, and maybe another drink. I did not feel like some hypocrite riding the elevator back up to my floor. I was tired.
My phone buzzed as soon as I finished unlocking my front door.
I hated that my gut temporarily twisted in anticipation of who could be calling. Disappointed that it wasn’t Harleigh, I grumbled my hello.
I was caught off guard that Sanderson had called me this late into the evening.
“It’s late, but if you’re available, can I meet you in forty-five minutes?”
I needed to shower and change before I went back out into public.
He suggested a bar not too far from my building. I walked the short distance. Attempting to find a parking space would have taken longer. He was already seated at the bar when I arrived.
“You are a tough man to get a hold of,” Sanderson said as he held out his hand.
I shook the offered hand and slid onto the stool next to him at the bar.
“I’ve been away on business,” as if that explained everything. I glanced up as a bartender in a crisp white shirt and bow tie appeared.
“Jameson on the rocks,” I ordered.
Sanderson ordered a whiskey sour.
“You’ve been away every day for nearly seven weeks?”
I glared at him. Seven weeks was not a random number he pulled out of a magician’s hat. I walked away from my marriage with Harleigh six weeks and some days earlier. He was up to something. But what?
The bartender returned and placed a little square napkin down with my glass of ice and amber-hued liquid. Sanderson’s drink glowed, matching the twist of orange segment on top.
“Almost. I’ve been hitting all of our primary suppliers, checking in with core clientele. Shaking hands and ensuring that the official transfer of ownership would not disrupt production or delivery.”
“Weren’t you traveling extensively after the funeral?”
“Definitely. Yeah, this time I’ve been touching base and confirming that everything is still the same.”
He nodded and took a drink. “I think all the travel is catching up with you. You look tired.”
“I had just come in from a run when you called. Truthfully, I think the culmination of my year is finally catching up to me,” I confessed.
“The old man certainly set you up on an obstacle course. But in the end, it was all worth it.”
“I’m not so certain.” I took a sip of my drink. “I’m glad I never gave up the apartment. Having to find a new place while dealing with everything right now would have been too much.”
Sanderson didn’t say anything, he glanced over at me and his eyebrows went up. The question was etched on his expression.
I explained the entire situation making sure that accounts were established and funded to ensure the house could continue to run, even though the old man had not left Harleigh with the means of maintaining and running her property.
“I’m offering to fund these and McGrady refused to even consider the option. I know he didn’t tell Harleigh. He wasn’t willing to work with me before the end of our year. It wasn’t until I had information that forced his hand that he accepted the offer.”
“I would have thought once everything was out of probate things would have eased up. It sounds like the work really started. McGrady turned down money for Harleigh? Or was he turning down the association with the company?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea. Both. The continued association with the company is the money. If we surgically divided the assets, Harleigh is the one who would bleed out. She would hemorrhage funds so fast she would be bankrupt before anyone could figure out what was happening and stop it.”
“And what was your information?” he asked.
“The household staff have always been employees of the company. My choices were to fire them all, and watch her struggle to pay them or to maintain their employment.”
Sanderson nodded. “Why are you so convinced that Harleigh wouldn’t be able to manage?”
“It’s in the numbers. She wouldn’t be managing, she would be struggling. Her costs outweigh her income.”
“She could sell off the art collection,” he offered.
“She could. But she is an heiress, she shouldn’t have to. With the movement of a few million, I took care of something her father hadn’t. She shouldn’t have to sell off the Picasso because she needs to pay her cook.”
“And none of that would have been necessary had you stayed married?”
I scoffed, “I think that’s what the old man expected to happen. He couldn’t manipulate people from the grave.”
“Seems to me he came pretty close,” Sanderson chuckled.
“He did. He did.” I lifted my half-empty glass. “To the old man, not even death stopped him from trying to run the show.”
Sanderson tipped his glass with a quiet clink against mine to salute the toast.
“Did you know Harleigh is thinking of selling the art collection anyway?”
“No, I didn’t. I expected her to drop in a laser security system now that the Picasso is back.”
“I don’t think she likes it on an aesthetic level. I’m sure the memories it brings back over the funeral and the investigation are not something she is interested in reliving. Do you know if she’ll be pursuing damages from the widow, or if she’s leaving prosecution to the insurance company?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. She hasn’t been communicative.”
“Have you called her? You know communication is a two-way street.”
“I was told in no uncertain terms that communication is to be handled by the lawyers.”
“By whom? The lawyers? They just want to be able to have billable hours for passing notes back and forth. Call Harleigh yourself. I never knew you to sit back and do something because someone told you to do it, even when it was in your best interest.”
“I doubt Harleigh is interested in hearing from me. She was just as eager to have this past year over as I was.”
He shook his head. Clearly, he thought differently. He hadn’t been there in the end. He hadn’t seen the pain I had caused her.
“I saw her the other week. She was asking about you.”
“Why would she do that?
“Maybe because you were married for a year. And I don’t really think the two of you are as over each other as you pretend.”
“We’re still married. The divorce papers are sitting on my living room table right now,” I grumbled.
“Not signed, huh?” Sanderson sneered into his glass and took a sip.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked as I sipped at my drink.
“You haven’t signed the papers, and you certainly don’t seem like you’re too eager to do so. Could that have something to do with the fact that Harleigh is pregnant?”
I was halfway to putting my drink back on the bar when I stopped moving. I didn’t blink. I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing. Sanderson didn’t stop talking but all I could hear was blood rushing in my ears.
“What’s that?” I asked when I finally was able to function again. I drained the glass in my hand.
“I said, I had honestly thought that you two were going to make it. Especially after I found out about the baby.”
Harleigh was pregnant. The glass slipped out of my hand and shattered as it crashed to the floor.
