Chapter 27

Back at her house, Cynthia pours me a tall glass of wine. I’ve already explained Miles and my entire encounter twice, but still she asks me, incredulously, “You told him no?”

“Of course I did. I don’t need to tell you again how much of a bad idea it is for me to be spending any more time with Miles than absolutely necessary.”

“Actually… yeah. You do need to tell me again. Because from where I’m sitting, you are absolutely out of your mind for not going along with his proposal.”

Cynthia pours an equally tall glass of wine for herself. After returning the opened bottle to the fridge, she plucks the two glasses off of the counter and joins me on the couch. She hands me my glass.

“Miles Hamilton is the solution to all of your problems, Esther,” Cynthia says. “I can’t believe you don’t see that.”

I do see that, but that’s exactly the problem. “I don’t want to depend on him like that.”

“He offered,” Cynthia argues.

“He’s done enough,” I reply. “He saved my life today. And last week he gave me the best sex of my life…”

“I’m only hearing reasons to keep him around,” Cynthia says. “Those are great qualities in a man.”

“I’ve been dependent on Garnar since we married. I can’t just jump from one man to the next like this. What do I have to offer Miles? I haven’t done anything since I’ve been a homemaker.”

“You are underselling yourself. What have you done? Other than raise two great kids and keep the roof from falling down on that place. I have no idea how Garnar is managing without you.”

He isn’t. I stopped there on the way home to spend most of the evening with the girls. While I was there, I cleaned all the dirty dishes from the sink and scrubbed the toilets. Garnar seems in no hurry to do any of the cleaning in my absence. He hasn’t even hired a maid.

All the more reason I need to win the custody battle and save my girls from that situation. My only other alternative is to take Garnar up on his offer and move back in. I can sleep on the couch in the study. Yes, it would be no fun to play homemaker to Garnar and my sister, but at least I could see my kids.

Drinking from her glass, Cynthia watches me closely over the top rim. “You want to know what I think?”

I’m afraid of what she might say, but I still answer, “Yes.” Cynthia has always been a good friend to me. I can trust her to give me the truth, even if it’s ugly or hard to swallow.

“You’ve been under Garnar’s thumb for so long… At the mercy of his moods and his tantrums… That you don’t know how to live for yourself anymore.” She shrugs. “I think you’re scared of your own success.”

I open my mouth to argue… but can’t really. For so long, I’ve been propping Garnar up. I have no idea how to do the same to myself now that I’m alone.

“You need to push forward with the divorce,” Cynthia says. “The sooner you are out from that man, the better it will be. Here.” Leaving her wine on the coffee table, Cynthia bounces to her feet and runs into her study. She returns a moment later with a business card, that she hands to me.

On it is the name and number of a divorce attorney.

“I won’t lie,” Cynthia says. “She’s expensive as hell, but she’s also cutthroat. That she’s a successful woman will also push Garnar over the edge, which we love to see.”

I don’t have the money for this, but I’ll find a way. I have to.

“She got me this house, and a hell of an alimony,” Cynthia says. “She’ll get you your kids.”

To obtain extra money, I need more hours, so I plan what I’m going to say to Mr. Carver as I drive to the country club my next workday.

I had to take off a couple of days, both because my body aches, and out of respect for Mr. Carver and Paige who both texted me to tell me if they saw me on the country club property that morning, they would personally escort me to the hospital to be cleared by a doctor.

I didn’t need to go to a doctor to know that I should be staying off of my swollen ankle, so I reluctantly called out for two days to elevate my ankle and take care of myself.

Two days of agony, where I wanted and needed to work.

But, admittedly, it was also two days of necessity, because now, my ankle is less swollen and I feel much more put together and calm.

“Esther,” Paige says when she seems me enter the clubhouse. She rushes toward me to check me over for injury. I still have a few greening bruises that look much worse than they feel. She frowns at those but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she shakes her frown away and gives me a smile. “It’s good to have you back.”

Just as she looked me over, I now do the same to her. I can see the way her eyes are glancing to the side and she’s hooking her hands together, almost like she’s nervous.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“My son is getting married next weekend,” Paige says.

I don’t understand. Does Paige not like her future daughter-in-law or something? “Isn’t that good news?” I ask.

“It is,” she says at once. “But there’s an event here that same weekend.”

I try to recall the calendar. “The golf tournament?” There are a lot of golf tournaments, so I’m not sure why this specific one would need her more than any other. “I’m sure Mr. Carver will be able to handle it alone. Not that you aren’t desperately needed, Paige. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know you didn’t,” she reassures at once. “But the thing is…”

“Oh! There you are, Esther,” Mr. Carver calls as he approaches us from across the clubhouse. “You look in good health, I’m glad.” Before I could get a word in edgewise, he continued, “I need to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“The golf tournament next weekend,” Mr. Carver begins. For how quickly he spoke earlier, he now hesitates.

“I know about Paige’s son’s wedding,” I supply, hoping to make it easier for him.

“Yes, well… Mrs. Carver arranged a surprise for me. For our anniversary.”

“A cruise,” Paige provides.

“To the islands,” Mr. Carver says. He frowns a little. “I wish she would have checked the dates with me, but when I pushed her on it, she said, ‘You’re always busy.’” He sighs. “The dates overlap with the tournament.”

I could clearly see where this was going now. “You both need me to cover.” How convenient that I wanted more hours! And here they are, hand-delivered to me!

Their overall nervousness gives me pause, however.

“The club is so used to golf tournaments,” I say, “I’m sure this place practically runs itself.”

“Normally, yes. Most likely,” Mr. Carver says. “But in this case, the tournament is an event for a very special guest. Very elite. Very important.”

“Who?” I ask. They make it sound like the president himself is going to be here.

“That would be me,” says a new masculine voice from behind me. I turn and then stop right in my tracks.

I’ve never met the man standing before me, but I know who he is. Everyone does.

Hugo Harbinger. Heir to the Harbinger News Network.

Our nation’s version of royalty.

“Hi,” he says, giving me a soft smile. “I’m Hugo.”