Page 22 of The Me I Left Behind (Tuckaway Bay #4)

Twelve

At fifteen minutes before nine o’clock, the morning after she’d told the kids everything she knew about Max, Maggie sat in a diner off the highway about an hour east of Rocky Mount.

She’d left right after dropping the kids off at school and had to be back no later than two-thirty to get a decent spot in Chloe’s school pickup line.

Julia dropped her a GPS pin the night before, sharing the location and the name of the place. She had about an hour’s drive too, coming inland from Tuckaway Bay.

The eatery was one of those old-fashioned diners inside a silver and red trolley car. Maggie had always thought those cute and nostalgic. This one had a soda fountain with red bar stools on one side, and tables along a long wall of windows on the opposite side.

The server was cheerful, leading her to a table at the end—Maggie had asked for some place less busy—and she quickly set her up with menus, coffee, and a large glass of ice water.

The drive and the wait for Julia gave her some time to reflect—on her life, on her kids’ lives, and on what their futures might look like.

Her mind rolled over some things she’d not thought about for some time—her mother, the therapy sessions she’d gone through about a decade earlier, and how it all connected with Max somehow.

Not to mention her lack of ability to cope with all that.

Should she seek out therapy again? What about the kids? They were all going through some shit.

But she was going to do better, now. With or without counseling. She would put herself on a new track and improve the trajectory of all their lives. Just as soon as they finished with this damn divorce.

She paused at that thought, staring off into the parking lot. Why wait? They all needed that change now.

“Hey. You made it.”

“Planned to all along.” Smiling, she stood and gave her a hug. “Thank you.”

Julia grasped her hands and peered into her eyes. “We’ll get through this, Maggie. Max will not know what hit him.”

“I hope so.”

They sat, and their efficient server—Angie—was there with more coffee and water.

“Have a look at the menu,” she said. “I’ll be back in a few.”

“Can you leave a pot of coffee on the table?” Julia asked. “We might be here for a couple of hours.”

Angie smiled. “Of course. Be right back.”

“I’m glad the place isn’t too crowded,” Maggie said.

“It could pick up at lunch time, maybe.” Julia looked over the menu.

Maggie opened hers. “So, how is Sam? Hannah?”

Looking up, Julia smiled. “Sam is wonderful. How did I live my life without that man? I’m not sure. He’s just…perfect for me.”

“I’m sure he’s glad to have you, too,” Maggie said. “I have to admit, though, I never in my wildest dreams would have paired you with an older fisherman.”

Julia laughed. “Remember that he had a different life for decades. Being a Navy SEAL can make you want to retire to fishing and domestic life. Or so he says….”

“And Hannah? Carol mentions her occasionally. I think they still talk.”

“She’s great. She’s landed an internship at a medical facility in New Mexico. And yes, she mentioned Carol texted her the other day.”

“I’m glad Carol has someone else to talk to.”

Julia touched Maggie’s hand. “I’m sure Hannah won’t steer her wrong. She takes her counseling degree seriously.”

Maggie smiled. “Please tell her thanks.”

“I will.” Julia looked back at the menu. “Let’s order. It’s on me. I’m starving.”

“Oh no. I can pick it up. I have cash.” She didn’t use credit cards for things she didn’t want Max to know she was buying—like lunch with her attorney.

“Save it.” Julia smiled. “I’ll put it on your bill—you know, the one Max is going to pay in the end.”

Maggie laughed and grabbed her menu. “I like the sound of that.”

“In fact, Maggie,” Julia added, “It’s probably not a bad idea for you to save back as much cash as you can, if that’s possible. I don’t know how you and Max work the finances.”

“Why?”

“In case he cuts you off.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t.” Would he?

“He might. I’ve seen it happen, going both ways, depending on which spouse is the major breadwinner.

People worry about not having a partner to contribute to the expenses, so they start the money-grab.

And in a way, that’s what I’m telling you to do, but it’s okay, because Max is a motherfucking asshole. ”

Maggie laughed, then turned serious. “But he wouldn’t do that, would he? That would put the kids in jeopardy.”

Julia gave a shrug. “Divorce does crazy things to people.”

So does marriage.

She’d not had to worry about money for a long time, so she was just used to having it.

What if she didn’t? She met Julia’s searching gaze.

“I have a credit card for household supplies, groceries, things for the kids, gas, and all that. And we have a joint checking account. Max puts the money in, and I take out a monthly allowance to have cash around the house should I need it, for incidentals, kids’ allowances, their activities, and such. ”

“Max agreed to a set amount for the month?”

“Yes. A thousand dollars.”

“How long have you been doing that?”

Maggie thought for a moment. “He raised the amount over the years as the kids got older, but the thousand has been for a couple of years, or maybe three. He started doing that when Carol started school.”

Julia nodded. “So, the pattern has been established for what? A dozen years?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a good thing. A plus for you.”

“Great.”

“Try to save as much of that as possible,” Julia cautioned. “If you can.”

Maggie exhaled. “Right. I will do that. I have saved some already. I try to keep a few hundred put back.”

Julia gave her a nod, then opened her menu. “Let’s see what they have here.”

“Sure. I only had coffee earlier, so am ready for some protein.”

They perused the menu and ordered—Maggie, a breakfast combo with eggs and sausage and hash browns, and Julia a yogurt parfait and an oatmeal cookie—and they settled down to business.

Julia pulled a yellow legal pad out of her bag.

Maggie noticed a lot of notes and scribbles on the page.

“All that for me?” she asked. “Looks intimidating.”

Julia flipped over a few top papers and found a clean sheet. “Just some notes while I was on the phone with Max’s new attorney.”

“New?”

“Yeah.” Julia looked up. “He switched firms, apparently. This new guy is out of Raleigh. His name is Jonathon Murray, just in case he contacts you for any reason. He shouldn’t because I’ve instructed him not to, but you never know. He, or one of his assistants, could try to catch you off guard.”

“Goodness. Is this case going to be that difficult?”

Julia sighed. “Mags, it’s going to be high profile—that is if the media ever gets hold of it. I’m trying to avoid that.”

“Good. I don’t want that for the kids.”

They paused when Angie brought the pot of coffee.

Julia leaned over the table. “So, if anyone, and I mean anyone—friends or foe or unknown—asks questions about Max, your marriage, your pending divorce, your kids, or anything related, your response is what?”

Maggie shrugged. “I don’t know. What?”

“No comment. That’s all. Let me hear you say it.”

“No comment.”

“Great. Say it and then get away from them. Don’t trust anyone right now. I have some idea of what Max is capable of, but I also know we may not have scratched the surface of Max’s intent. Be cautious.”

Maggie sat back, suddenly not very hungry. “I shouldn’t have ordered that big breakfast.”

“You okay?” Julia looked concerned.

Not really. No. “I’m fine. Let’s get on with it.”

Julia held her gaze for a moment. “Alright. So, I had the call with this Jonathan Murray yesterday.”

“You said he knew Max was interested in selling the house, but didn’t know about the inspection.”

“That’s right. I told him Max was jumping the gun and requested he back off until we’ve met with a judge.”

“Wait a minute.” Maggie shifted in her seat. “We’ve not filed yet. I don’t remember signing anything. Is that putting the cart before the horse?”

“No, we’ve not filed, but I want to soon. I know what you want, and I know what you need to demand, so I’ve drawn up preliminary documents for you to look over.”

“Today?”

“That’s up to you. You can keep and review, or we can go over them now.”

“If we have time, let’s do that.”

Julia reached into her briefcase and pulled out a file folder. She sat it to her right on the table. “Alright, but first, I want to share a few things I learned yesterday.”

Maggie braced herself. Max was thousands of miles away, yet his presence in the conversation was palpable.

“Max wants to sell the house. You’ve built up quite a bit of equity in the years you’ve owned it, and the property in that subdivision has substantially increased.”

She nodded. “I imagine it has. Ours was one of the first houses built there. So, if we sold, we’d split the equity. Right?”

“Normally.”

“But this isn’t normal, is it?”

“No.” Julia flipped the papers over to the top again on her legal pad. “Max will push the envelope on everything. He insists on selling the house, and that the proceeds go directly to him, because he is the sole owner.”

“Wait. What?”

“I did some research, Maggie. Your name is not on the title, deed, or the mortgage.”

“But it is marital property, right? Don’t I have some say in whether or not the house sells? Am I not entitled to any of the proceeds?”

“That’s generally the way it works. Even if your name isn’t listed, you’ve been married for twenty years, you’ve established a residence there, made a home for your children and maintained it for Max.

Those are pluses in your column. But Max can request whatever he wants to request. He likely won’t get it, but a judge could agree, and that’s what he’s betting on. ”

“Shit.”

“He is also making the case that instead of you getting proceeds from the sale, he will buy you a two-bedroom condo,”