Page 150 of Broken Brothers

I hated the fact that I played this game in my head, but I hated even more that the way Edwin treated her—or didn’t treat her, as the case was—made it all but impossible to play this game.

I came to the coffee shop and saw her approaching from the left. Wearing sunglasses, a nice blue dress, a long coat, and nude heels, I went over and gave her a hug, kissing her on the cheek.

“Hi, Chance,” she said sweetly, much more genuinely and real than before. “Follow me, we’re going someplace besides Joe’s Latte.”

“Oh, OK, not feeling it?”

“Somewhat,” she said, putting her hand into my arm. “You look great!”

I laughed as she first led me in the general direction, back from where she came, before I took the initiative to follow her.

“That’s a… heck of a thing to say for all that has happened,” I said. “I mean, you do know what’s happened, right?”

“I heard the version Edwin gave me,” she said, making her eye roll through her sunglasses practically visible. “Why don’t you tell me your version of things?”

“Oh, alright,” I said, surprised at the acrimonious words she had for her husband. They weren’t the model of a stable relationship, but I’d never seen her say anything other than kind words with anything worse than a passable attitude.

Still, that didn’t stop me from telling her everything that had happened and how it had happened from my perspective. I spared no topic, though I spared some details—I just told her that my father had faked being a former girlfriend to get some blackmail on me. I didn’t need her to know that I had taken pictures of my junk and sent them, now in the possession of my adopted father; God knows who looked worse for that part of it.

“I was just trying to take him down, if I’m being honest,” I said as Mrs. Hunt pointed toward an old coffee store that looked like it was built in the 70’s. “I know that sounds harsh, maybe karma—”

“No, karma nothing,” Mrs. Hunt said, giving a gentle squeeze of my arm as we walked inside “Your Coffee.” “Many, many,many people in this world want to see Edwin Hunt taken down. You are far from the first. He treats people ruthlessly, both in the business world and at home.”

What’s going on? I know you didn’t say that on accident, Mrs. Hunt.

Still, I bit my tongue long enough for us both to order coffee. Mrs. Hunt led us to the isolated table in the back, somehow completely removed from the rest of the cafe—almost like she knew that particular booth would be open at this time.

“See, Chance, if I may. Your adopted father has a personality of ‘get mine.’ He’s only a good negotiator for those who believe in short-term wins at the expense of long-term relationships. He prefers money over relationships. He’s…”

She sighed.

“I don’t fault you for what you did. And to some extent, too, it’s always something of destiny for a father’s sons to try and overthrow him. Usually, it just happens metaphorically, in that the father retires and the sons take over, perhaps not even in the same line of business, but just in the sense that the family’s earning power now revolves around the sons. But you, you were a bit more direct with your actions.”

“I suppose,” I said. “We just felt… Well, let me correct that. I felt a certain way. I can’t speak for Morgan.”

Mrs. Hunt sighed, but she then shook her head.

“Morgan’s got his own plans, I’m sure,” she said. “I know you don’t like Edwin, but it’s not like Morgan loves him, either. Well, he does love him, but it’s not like he likes him. There’s a whole mess of complications with that.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee.

“Anyways, Chance, now that we’ve rambled long enough and had enough gossip to make the Page Six of the NY Post explode, I should tell you why I’m here and why I’ve had us bouncing all over around. You see, I know you think what I’ve said so farmight be out of character, but truth be told, I’m feeling rather free right now.”

“How come?”

“I’m getting a divorce.”

The words didn’t really hit home at first, allowing me to put my coffee down before I spit it up in shock. But slowly, as the implication of the word came through, I wanted to throw over the entire table in surprise.

Wives in Melanie Hunt’s position just didn’t get divorced. I would have thought that by now, if Mrs. Hunt didn’t have a happily ever after marriage—which she clearly had not, something I had known since my teenage years—they would have either sucked it up or they would have made private arrangements with the husband that allowed him to keep his public reputation or, really, they would have just waited until he died.

Granted, I didn’t think Edwin would ever agree to a “side deal” of sorts where they remained publicly together but privately separate, but I’m sure compared to the embarrassment of seeing his divorce dragged out through the various headlines, it beat the alternative.

“Really,” I said, not so much begging the question as I was just stating my thoughts more succinctly.

“Yes, really,” Mrs. Hunt said, finally removing her sunglasses, and I’ll be damned if, for once, she looked younger than she normally did. “You have handled the situation on your side of things with grace. For all that you’ve been put through, you made me realize that a person can lose that connection and still thrive. So, Chance, thank you. You gave me the courage to move on past something that has done nothing but make me feel rich on the outside but very, very poor on the inside.”

“Wow,” I said, but something was bugging me. “How do you know all this? Edwin would have his side, but… you sound like you know what I’ve been up to.”