If Chuck was lying now, he was making a good show of it. Phil put his hand on Chuck’s shoulder and bowed his head. “Father, You see Your son here. You know his heart and You know what he has to face. Honor his sincerity and help him to honor You in his life. Restore his marriage and the trust between him and Bobbi. Help us come alongside him during this time.” Before Phil could say amen, Chuck began to pray.
“God in heaven, I’m not worthy to call You, Father. I have sinned . . . I broke my marriage vows . . . I’ve dishonored You . . . and my wife . . . my family and my church. God, I am so sorry. God, I need Your forgiveness again. Dear Jesus . . .” Chuck dissolved into sobs.
Phil squeezed Chuck’s shoulder and picked up the prayer. “Thank You, Jesus. Bless Chuck and help him to know You’ve heard his prayer. Let him feel Your love and forgiveness. In Jesus’ name, amen.” When Phil opened his eyes, he saw Chuck with his head bowed, tears spotting his designer slacks. Dear God, he is sincere. Thank You.
When Phil stood to leave, Chuck hugged him with a backslap that echoed through the empty lobby, causing the desk clerk to look up. He let go a deep sigh, and said, “Thanks, Phil.”
Phil smiled. “Ninety percent is showing up.” He took a step toward the lobby door to leave. “You golf?”
“It’s almost a job requirement. I keep my clubs in the car.”
“Let’s go tomorrow, say, one o’clock. I’ll call Gavin, and we can talk more then.”
“At Billings or Milford Glen?”
“Billings. I can’t afford to lose that many golf balls.” Phil shook Chuck’s hand. “Think about what I said, and try to get some sleep.”
Silence hung over the kitchen as Bobbi made the coffee. Could Phil Shannon really get Chuck to change in three weeks? No. No one could pull that off. Chuck was a good guy, but he was the center of his own universe. She loved Chuck—she did this morning, anyway, but she wouldn’t beg him to stay.
When the coffeemaker kicked off, she turned to Rita. “So, should I divorce him?”
“Maybe . . . probably . . . I don’t know.” Rita sighed. “See if he’s willing to be straight with you and tell you everything.”
“Everything?”
“If you’re ever going to trust him again . . .”
“What if I don’t want to know everything?” Bobbi set a coffee cup in front of Rita, and sat across the table from her.
“It’ll be worse if you’re left to fill in the details yourself.” Rita stirred sweetener into her black coffee. Worse? How could it possibly be any worse? “Here, see if you can figure this out. That e-mail was sent Monday. Why is it just now showing up in our inbox on Thursday?”
“That’s strange.” Rita took a long, slow sip from her coffee. “Do you check your e-mail every day?”
“Every morning.”
“What about Chuck? When does he check it?”
“Who knows. He gets tons of mail from work through that account when he travels.”
“Have you gone through it?”
“No. I would never . . .” Maybe she should. Maybe Tracy had e-mailed before.
Rita thought for a moment. “I think God did it.”
“Did what?”
“The e-mail. I think God wanted you to find out, so He held that e-mail up until you were the one checking.”
“He had to do something, because I was too stupid to figure it out for myself.”
“Bobbi, you’re a very trusting person, and trusting people aren’t suspicious.”
“I never had reason not to trust Chuck. Good grief, all the traveling he does, the late nights he works . . . he’s had plenty of opportunities.”
“Don’t. Don’t unleash your imagination. That’s the last thing you need. Besides, he can’t keep your Christmas presents a secret. How on earth could he hide a long-running affair or a series of affairs from you?”
“Maybe you’re right.” She twisted her cup on the table in front of her. “You know what today is?”
“The twenty-eighth? What?”
“The day Chuck asked me to marry him. Twenty-one years ago today. Now we’re on the brink of divorce.” Bobbi looked up at the ceiling to keep the brimming tears from spilling onto her cheeks. “The last thing he said to me was that coming home was a mistake. Rita, if he divorces me, I can’t maintain this house and everything on a teacher’s salary.”
“If he divorces you? Listen, if that jerk—”
“The jerk is still my husband.”
“If he has the nerve to file for divorce after what he did,” Rita said, tapping the table for emphasis, “you take him for everything he’s worth, and you do it with a clear conscience.”
“That doesn’t sound very Christ-like.”
“This is about protecting yourself and the boys.”
“The boys. How am I supposed to explain this to Brad and Joel?”
“Make him do it.”
“I can’t wait for that. I need to tell them tomorrow.” She took a long drink from her coffee. “They look up to their dad so much. I hate . . . I hate to destroy that.”
“Chuck destroyed it.”
As they sat in silence, Bobbi mulled over everything Phil and Donna had said, along with Rita’s advice. Forgive and reconcile, or divorce. She couldn’t decide without hearing from Chuck himself. “Saturday,” Bobbi blurted out.
“Saturday, what?”
“I want to talk to Chuck on Saturday. Alone. Here.”
CHAPTER 3 FALLOUT
Friday, July 29
Chuck gave up trying to sleep and dragged himself out of bed before his alarm buzzed. ‘Think about what I said,’ Phil told him, as if he could think about anything else. Phil was wrong. He loved his wife. Just because he didn’t say it yesterday, or Monday before he left, or . . .
People can’t be married for eighteen years and not love each other. He loved his wife, and he would prove it to her and everybody else. Everyone was overreacting, blowing things way out of proportion. It wasn’t like he was unfaithful to his wife, he just had sex with . . .
Chuck, you idiot, that’s what unfaithful means. Phil’s right.
But he didn’t love Tracy. He didn’t want to be with her. Didn’t that count for anything?
He took a long, hot shower, but he didn’t feel any cleaner afterwards. He wiped the condensation from the bathroom mirror so he could shave, but seeing his reflection, he wished he could re-fog the mirror. He, Chuck Molinsky, cheated on his wife. He hadn’t imagined it. He hadn’t dreamed it. He’d done it. What did that say about him as a man? If he would sink to committing adultery, what else was he capable of?
He had a meeting with Walter Davis, senior managing partner of the firm, at eight o’clock to discuss ServMed. Yesterday, he couldn’t wait for this meeting. He visualized Walter saying, ‘You are the key member of my team here at BD&M. No one else could have handled ServMed.’ That tone would be a little different now.
As he tied his necktie, watching himself in the mirror, he rehearsed the rest of the conversation. He planned to ask for a leave of absence. He had no choice. Bobbi would be watching to see if he would take Phil’s advice.
If Walter wouldn’t agree to it, he would threaten to resign.
Granted, he was gambling, but if he overplayed, Walter would take a step or two back. The old man would think he was being gracious, and Chuck would end up with what he wanted. Everybody won. Then Bobbi had to believe he was serious about making things right.
Bobbi showered and dressed, thankful for the comfort of her morning ritual. In the early hours of the morning, she protested when Rita suggested she come up to bed to get some sleep. It wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t just her bed. She shared that bed with Chuck. His affair swept aside every memory of late nights, early mornings, lazy Saturdays, private jokes, intimate conversations. The very bed itself was defiled.
Before she started with the moisturizer, she stopped to study her face in the mirror. What changed? What was so undesirable that Chuck would look for someone
else?
Granted, gray hairs stood out against the black ones, but her shorter, trendy haircut took a few years off. The wrinkles around her eyes betrayed more than a poor night’s sleep. She carried the extra pounds of a two-time mother. Chuck bought his midlife crisis car. Was he ready to move on to a trophy wife as well?
Dear God, what is going on with Chuck? Has he changed, or have I been blind all these years? How do we even begin to work through this?
Opening her eyes from her prayer, Bobbi reached for the bottle of moisturizer, but there beside it, her engagement ring and wedding band lay in a small crystal dish. Sometimes during the summer, the rings were tight, so she wouldn’t wear them. Yesterday, after her morning shower, when the rings didn’t slide on, she left them in the dish.
Should she leave them in the dish until she resolved things with Chuck? “I am still married,” Bobbi said, pushing both rings on. She vowed not to take them off again unless Chuck divorced her.
Walter Davis welcomed Chuck into his office with a hearty handshake. “So, I understand things went well.” Walter outlived the firm’s other, much younger, founding partners, Jim Benton and Jim Molinsky, and attributed his longevity to bourbon and cigars.
Walter’s suits were black, his ties striped, and his cuffs French. He was sour, difficult, and humorless. Several of the firm’s attorneys remarked that after interviewing with Walter, facing a judge was a piece of cake.
“Very smooth,” Chuck said. “We got everything squared away quickly. I think both sides were closer than they realized.” He slid into one of Walter’s office chairs, the very same chairs Walter had when Chuck visited his dad’s office as a little boy.
“Very good. Your hard work paid off. Let’s see, Gina assisted on that one, correct?”
“She handled everything on this end while I was in Kansas City.”
“I’m glad to see you finally found someone who measured up,” Walter said, with just a hint of sarcasm. “After Eva and Jeanette refused to work with you again, my list was getting short.”
Walter leaned forward and folded his hands. “We had a personnel situation while you were gone. Tracy Ravenna gave notice in an e-mail and took her vacation.”
“She resigned?” Why would she . . .? Because of their . . . whatever it was? “When?”
“Yesterday. Her office is empty and I found her files outside my door yesterday morning. Did she have any personal issues you know about?”
There was the rope. Walter sat, watching, waiting for him to hang himself. Chuck shifted in his chair. Say it. You have to tell him. “Tracy and I had . . . we had an affair, Walter. It blew up in the last couple of days.” An uncomfortable silence squeezed him. He was dead.
Walter tipped his chair back, but his eyes stayed fixed on Chuck. “Your personal life is your business, but . . .”
The tension in the office intensified, so Chuck went on the offensive. “Since you brought it up, I need some time to try and put my life and my marriage back in order.” Walter’s expression didn’t change. Chuck tried not to stammer, annoyed that he let Walter intimidate him. “If you can give Blackburn to Pete and Will, and Ryder to Gina, I can handle the rest of my load.”
“What about Burke county, though? You and Tracy were handling that one.”
“You have her files. I can finish it up.”
Again, unnerving silence settled over the office and Walter glared at him a moment too long. “I don’t care what society says these days, this kind of behavior is despicable.” Chuck bristled at the lecture. “Your father was such an honorable man, a man of integrity, a good man. How could you do this to your wife?” As the indignation in the old man’s voice grew shriller, Chuck could feel the heat rising on the back of his neck.
“I can’t justify this.” Chuck matched Walter’s tone and volume. “I’m not trying to, and I’m not trying to get your sympathy. If you won’t give me the time I need to make this right with Bobbi . . .” Chuck hesitated, then lowered his voice, negotiating the way Walter taught him. “Then I’ll get my resignation letter together.”
When Walter didn’t respond, Chuck feared he’d miscalculated, and his resignation was exactly what Walter wanted.
“Tuesday after Labor Day,” Walter said, running his finger down his calendar. “I want to see you in here, with some progress on the home front to report.” He leaned back in his chair, scowling. “Now, are we facing any liability in this situation?”
“Liability?”
“Is Tracy Ravenna going to sue you, or us, for harassment or anything like that?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’d better make sure.” He made several notes in his appointment book. “Get this straight. I don’t care if it takes your last dime to keep her quiet. I will not have this firm’s name, my name, dragged through the muck because of this. Do we understand each other?”
“Completely,” Chuck said as he stood to leave.
“I can’t tell you how disappointed I am.” Walter glared over the top of his glasses at him. “I cannot tolerate men of low character. If it weren’t for your father, you’d be at the unemployment office right now. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Chuck nodded.
Without taking his eyes off Chuck, Walter punched a button on his intercom. “Christine, is Gina Novak here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have her meet with me in fifteen minutes.” He leaned back in his chair again. “Chuck, I’m giving Gina Homebuilders and Missouri Securities to Cary Morgan.”
“But I brought those clients in. They’re mine.”
“I’m also making Pete Weinberg a partner.”
“Are you replacing me, Walter?”
“I have to have men and women I can trust in the leadership positions in my firm.”
“Did you look at the numbers for ServMed?” Chuck jabbed a finger at the sheet lying on the desk in front of Walter. “That’s more than Gina, Pete, and Cary have brought in put together. I have never been anything but a consummate professional. You can’t penalize me for what’s going on in my personal life.”
“I can’t risk your next lapse in judgment coming with one of our clients.”
“You think I’m going to hit on a client? That’s outrageous!”
“The second line is always easier to cross. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting.”
Chuck couldn’t get out of the building quickly enough. How could Walter . . . how could he even think something so ridiculous? Can we just stick with the real sin, and not some intangible, worst-case scenario?
The real sin. With his leave of absence following on the heels of Tracy’s resignation, the wags would soon put two and two together. Maybe they would forget in the five weeks he was out of the office. Right now, though, it was eight fifteen, and he had nowhere to go.
“This was a great idea, coming to the lake, Mrs. Molinsky. We’ve both been working way too hard.” Chuck dumped the charcoal in the grill, and carefully touched a match to the corner. “I don’t feel like we’ve had a decent conversation in months.”
“Yeah. Graduate school’s nuts. Project after project.” Bobbi wore his old, faded Missouri sweatshirt. Just one more thing that looked great on her. “Can you believe how warm it is? It’s almost November.”
“And Missouri’s playing Oklahoma State today. Just so you know what you’re worth to me.”
“You’re taping the game, though, aren’t you?” She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
“All right, yes, I’m taping the game, but I’m here.”
“As long as your brain’s here, too.”
He took her hand and they walked down to the lake while the charcoal heated. “I know I’ve been . . .”
“A jerk.”
“That bad?”
“Yes. Your fuse is about this long.” She held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Chuck, nobody expects you to make partner the first year after you pass the bar exam.”
“I know. I
t’s just . . . I want to make it on my own. I don’t want people to think I just got my spot because of my dad.”
“But you’re a very good attorney, very conscientious, thorough.”
“Thanks.” He knew she was trying to help, but she couldn’t begin to comprehend what his days were like. He sat down on the ground and steadied her as she nestled in beside him. “So, you picked out any school systems yet?”
“Good grief, no. They won’t know what openings they have until spring anyway.”
“But you’ll have your master’s. You’ll be all set.”
“I’ll have no experience, though. That could hurt me. They’d have to pay me more.”
“Good. You should be paid more.”
She leaned her head over on his shoulder and sighed. “You know, we’ve never had a break.”
“What do you mean?”
“From the stress. School, the wedding, more school for me, law firm for you.”
“Honey, that’s the way life is.”
“I just . . . I don’t know . . . I don’t want to lose ‘us’, you know?”
“Never happen.” He squeezed her close and they sat for a long time, not saying anything. No one ever needed him, needed to connect, the way she did. Maybe that came from losing her mom so early. She craved security, and he was doing his best to provide that. That’s what the long hours, the lunches, the dinners, the golf games were for. Building their future.
He leaned over and kissed her neck, inhaling deeply. The vanilla scent of her shampoo fit her. He kissed her again, and again, following her jaw line around to her lips, when she pushed away. “What’s wrong?”
“My stomach’s upset.”
“Since when?”
“I don’t know, all day.”
“You never said anything before now. Maybe you’re just hungry. Did you have breakfast?”
“No.”
“There you go. Let’s go check the grill.”
“Chuck, I don’t . . .”
He pulled her to her feet and walked her back to the grill. The coals were white hot. “I’ll have the steaks ready in no time.” He opened the cooler, and threw two T-bones on. They sizzled as flames licked around them. “I love that smell, don’t you?”