Miz Sara Faces a Tough Opponent

"I married my husband for better or worse, but not for lunch!"

That line got a laugh from the other women at our table, but it seemed to me that Jeanine Chesterfield (that's what her name tag read) wasn't really joking. She had been telling us about her husband David, who'd been laid off from his position as controller with a local Atlanta architectural firm. "He needs to get out of the house and find another job before he drives me crazy," she continued.

I'm pretty sympathetic to people who've lost their jobs in these difficult economic times, so I thought Jeanine was being a little rough on her husband. But since she was an Agnes Scott alumna like myself, I thought I should try to help.

So after the alumna luncheon was over, I went over to her table and introduced myself. "Miz Chesterfield, I'm Sara Cannon. I know how tough it is to be unemployed, and I also know that job searches are taking a lot longer than usual these days. I might have a temporary opportunity that could be of interest to your husband -- and get him out from under your feet as well."

She was definitely interested. "Please go on, Miz Sarah."

"Well," I explained, "the bookkeeper my law firm has used for years wants to retire, and I thought this would be a good opportunity to computerize my accounting system. My guess is that it would take a couple of months for a good accountant to get my books set up on a new system. I can't afford to pay a lot, but it would give your husband something to do during the day, and I'd be happy to have him continue his job search while he was working for me. Do you think he might be interested in something like that?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation, "David will definitely be interested."

"Of course," I said, handing her my card, "I'd need to talk to him first to make sure he has the background to do the job properly. Why don't you have him call me to set up an appointment?"

"Thank you, Miz Sara," she said, "David will call you right away."

As I drove back to my law office in the Virginia Highland section of Atlanta, I was in a good mood. I like being able to help people, and if I could do a favor for a fellow Agnes Scott alumna, so much the better. If, as I expected, David Chesterfield had the ability to help me get my books into the twenty-first century, this was going to work out well for everyone, a "win-win" situation, as they say these days.

When I got back to my office, however, my good mood disappeared faster than snowfall in Atlanta. I had another phone message to call Betty Mallinson. Betty's husband Herman was suing her for divorce on the grounds of irreconcilable differences. Of course, the fact that he'd moved out of their house and moved in with his former secretary might have something to do with those differences, but since Georgia is a no-fault state, the reasons for the separation didn't really matter.

When you practice family law like me, you see this kind of situation far too often, and this divorce ought to have been pretty routine. But the Mallinsons' case seemed likely to drag on forever. I'd had call after call and meeting after meeting as the unhappy pair wrangled back and forth with each other over one issue or another. The thing was, none of the issues they were quarreling about seemed particularly significant to me. But I guess when the heart is hurting it tends to bring out the worst in people. It certainly did with the Mallinsons.

This divorce already had the makings of a difficult case, but there was an added complication that served to pour more fuel on the bonfire. That complication was Herman's attorney, Rosa Brindisi. Rosa had a well-earned reputation as the meanest divorce attorney in Atlanta. Her nickname was "The Atomic Italian" because "when she hits, no one's left alive." No, really. I don't make this stuff up.

In truth, Rosa was a heavy-set woman of Italian heritage with long black hair and a taste for the spotlight. She was also an accomplished chef who, as you might imagine, specialized in Italian cuisine. Accordingly, it wasn't uncommon to see her pictured in the society pages attending a wine-tasting or preparing an Italian dish for some charitable event.

I didn't mind Rosa's penchant for publicity, but I didn't care much for her "take no prisoners" approach to family law. There's a story making the rounds in Atlanta that one of her clients was a man who married a woman from Eastern Europe and brought her back to the States. He subsequently regretted his decision and retained Rosa to handle the divorce. Not content with a simple case of irreconcilable differences, Rosa supposedly managed to get the poor woman deported and then sued for divorce on the grounds of desertion. I can't say for sure if the story is true, but I could easily believe Rosa capable of such tactics.

Anyhow, my heart sank when I saw the message to call Betty. I just knew that meant that Herman and Rosa had fired another legal broadside in pursuit of their case.

But before I could call her back, my phone rang. When I answered, I was relieved to find it wasn't Betty but David Chesterfield calling to introduce himself and set up an appointment for an interview. Now that I had decided to go ahead with updating my financial records, I was eager to get started, so I suggested he come in first thing in the morning.

"I hope he can do the job," I told myself. "I've been putting it off so long, and now I'm ready to get started. And if he is the right man for the job," I thought with a smile, "that'll get him out of Jeanine's hair for a while."

When David arrived the next morning, he seemed very different from what I was expecting after talking to his wife. He was in his late thirties, had a pleasant face and was very well-mannered. He seemed like a nice young man, and he quickly made a favorable impression on me.

We talked quite a while about the job I needed done, and he told me about his work at the architectural firm. I hadn't thought about it, but David pointed out there were a number of similarities between the way architects and attorneys do business, such as dealing with individual clients, billing by the hour and so on. And it turned out that he had set up his old firm's accounting system too.

Of course I wanted to know why the firm had let him go, and he was very forthcoming about the whole situation. The crash of the residential and commercial real estate markets had virtually brought a halt to new construction, and architects were feeling the pinch in the same way as developers and builders. His firm had had to cut back, and he was one of the casualties.

"I hated to be laid off, but I don't take it personally," he remarked. "I saw their financial results and I could tell how badly they were hurting. Canning me and contracting out their accounting to a service firm made sense."

"That's an awfully mature attitude," I thought to myself. "I'm not sure I'd be able to be so philosophical if something like that happened to me."

"Anyway, I think I can do a really good job for you," David concluded. "I'd be very grateful to have the opportunity, and I know Jeanine will be very glad to have me off her hands." He smiled when he said that, but I thought I detected something else in his tone besides self-deprecating humor.

Regardless of his home situation, as best I could tell, David's background and experience were nigh on to perfect for me. On top of that, he was polite and had a nice, pleasant manner. I thought he'd be a pleasure to work with, so I stuck out my hand to him and said, "Well, David, I think we have a deal. You can start tomorrow, if you like. Let's go out to lunch so we can talk some more about the job and you can meet Cindy, my assistant."

Cindy McCarty is my current research assistant; she too went to Agnes Scott College. I like to hire recent graduates of Agnes Scott as a way to give a little something back to the school that's given me so much. Besides, I know all their graduates will be intelligent, well educated and lady-like.

Of course, Cindy sometimes made me second guess myself on that last quality. I don't mean she wasn't a lady, it's just that sometimes she didn't dress like one. I know that times have changed, but some of the clothes she wears . . .

But I couldn't get onto her too much because she'd proved her worth to me a number of times and in a number of ways. The child had pluck to go with her pretty face, a good head on her shoulders, and most important, a good heart. Despite my reservations about her manner of dressing, I was really high on her.

Lunch was very enjoyable for the three of us. David proved to be a good conversationalist and displayed a nice sense of humor, making the time pass quickly. It just reinforced my belief that he would fit into our little office very nicely.

After he had left, I asked Cindy for her opinion of our new officemate. Although she was young, I'd found she was pretty good at sizing up people. So I was gratified when she had no reservations about him. "He seems like a genuinely nice guy, and I liked the fact that when I talked to him, he looked at my eyes, not down there," she said, gesturing at her bosom. She giggled and added, "That doesn't mean he didn't take a look, he just didn't stare."

"Oh, Cindy," I scolded. "What am I going to do with you, girl?

The next day I called Betty Mallinson to find out what the latest crisis was. As I suspected, she'd received a new proposal from Herman and his Italian-American attorney. "Miz Sara," she whined, "I don't know whether this is a good deal or not."

"Tell me what they're up to now, Betty," I said resignedly.

"Well," she said, "Herman is offering to give me the house in exchange for not paying any alimony. What do you think, Miz Sara? Should I accept?"

I just sighed.

On the face of it, Herman's new offer seemed generous. As part of the proposed property settlement, the Mallinsons had initially agreed to sell the house and split the proceeds. The mortgage on the house had long since been paid off, so the sale of the house should bring a tidy sum of cash.

But selling a house in Atlanta in these recessionary times was no easy task. With a large inventory of repossessions and short sales still waiting to sell, existing homes were averaging over 200 days on the market. The Mallinsons' place was no exception: it had been listed for sale for some time without a single offer. As a result, the house was not nearly as valuable an asset as it had once been.

"Betty," I explained, "this would not be a good deal for you. Herman is trying to stick you with a house that won't sell so he can keep more of his income to spend on his girlfriend."

"But he told me the house was worth more than $400,000," she sniffled, "and this way it would all go to me."

"Betty, your house may have been worth $400,000 before the crash, but it isn't worth that now. More importantly, it's not worth anything to you if it won't sell. And until it does, you're still going to have to pay utilities and property taxes and a lot of other expenses. Without alimony and without a job, how are you going to do that?"

"Oh," she said, "I hadn't thought about that."

"Let me call his attorney and tell her we can't accept this proposal," I said.

"Alright, Miz Sara," she said doubtfully, "if you think it's best."

I sighed again as I hung up the phone. Couldn't Betty see that her husband was just trying to distract her so that he could take advantage of the situation -- a situation that he had created? Then again, I guess that's why I'm in practice: to help people like Betty avoid the pitfalls that others dig for them.

Well, there was no getting around it now, so I called the number for Rosa Brindisi's office. When the secretary answered, I introduced myself and asked to speak to Miz Rosa about Mallinson vs. Mallinson. She put me on hold.

I knew Rosa Brindisi slightly; we'd met at a couple of Bar Association functions, and of course I knew her by reputation. But this would be the first time we had actually crossed swords. I was curious to know what she was like to deal with.

"Hello, Miz Sara," boomed a contralto voice with just a trace of an accent, "it's nice to speak with you again."

"The pleasure is all mine, Miz Rosa" I replied. "I know you're a busy woman, so I'll get right to the point: Herman Mallinson's proposal to substitute their home for alimony just won't fly. Betty is going to need an income to sustain her now that Herman is leaving. No judge would refuse her support under these circumstances."

I could almost hear the smile through the telephone. "Well, it was worth a shot. Herman told me he had her all excited about getting the entire equity in the house."

That didn't set too well with me, and I'm afraid I spoke a bit more sharply than I should have. "Miz Rosa, this is a straightforward case without any complications or unusual circumstances. Let's just let them split with an equitable division of the assets and be done with it. It seems to me that all these proposals and diversions are just wasting time and our clients' money."

This time she did laugh. "Why, Ms. Sara, that's why we're in business!"

Before I could express my disgust, she said, "Sorry, dear, got to run, ciao." With that she was gone. It was just as well: I wouldn't want anyone to hear what I said next.

Over the next few weeks, I felt reassured about my decision to hire David. He seemed to understand instinctively what needed to be done and plowed right ahead with the task at hand. Cindy tried to be helpful, telling him where to find various files and describing the procedures we followed for keeping records of the time spent on different cases. I felt very encouraged about the project.

One day after David had left for home, Cindy came into my office to chat, and I asked her how she thought David was doing. "Oh, I think he's doing fine, workwise," she said.

I picked up on her unspoken comment right away. "Is there something else that isn't going fine, honey?"

"Well," she mused, "I don't think he's very happy at home. He doesn't talk much about it, but I get the distinct impression that things are not too good between him and his wife."

"You're not prying into his personal life, are you?" I quickly asked.

"No ma'am," Cindy assured me, "it's just some things he's said that make me think there are problems."

"Like what, child?" I encouraged her.

"Well, you know how he told us his wife wanted to get him out of the house? Well, he told me that she wasn't kidding -- she's practically forbidden him to come home, at least during the day."

"Well," I said, "I can understand a woman wanting to have some time to herself, but I can't imagine she would ban him from his own house."

"I asked David the same thing, Miz Sarah. He told me it's because of the little business she's started. She sells lingerie out of her house."

Seeing my confusion, Cindy went on, "Apparently It was something she started about a year ago. She invites her girlfriends and their acquaintances over to buy this special French lingerie you can't get in stores. They come over to try it on, and have a big time. She told David she doesn't want him in the house because she's afraid having a man around would scare 'em off."

"I think I've heard of something like that," I said, "but I wouldn't have thought that would be a very good business. How much lingerie can you sell that way?"

"Well, I've heard about things like that, but I've never actually bought anything that way," Cindy said. "Anyway, David says Jeanine seems to be doing well, and she really likes having her own spending money. Now she's starting to hold lingerie parties to bring in even more people than the ones she knows."

"But it sounds to me like the more she time she spends on her business, the less time she has for David," Cindy concluded.

"Well, honey, I think that's a shame, but you and I need to keep out of it. That's between David and Jeanine; they don't need a couple of strangers butting in where they're not welcome," I said sternly.

"Yessum," she said.

The next week Betty Mallinson called and wanted to meet with me right away about her husband's latest proposal. Ever since my meeting with Rosa Brindisi, I'd been certain that something new would be coming down the pike. I quickly learned that my fears had been well founded.

"He's done it again, Miz Sara!" Betty moaned. "Now he's trying to make me pay rent!"

I had thought we had put the issue of the house behind us after my last run-in with Ms. Rosa. I was wrong. When I looked at Herman's latest proposal, I could easily understand why Betty was so upset. "That is so like her," I fumed.

In a nutshell, what Rosa and Herman had now cooked up was a proposal to charge Betty rent to stay in her own home. I was incensed: "He moves out in order to pursue another woman, leaving his wife in the lurch. Now he wants Betty to pay him rent until the house is sold? How is that fair?"

Poor Betty, of course, was in a dither. "I just don't understand, Miz Sarah. He was the one who left me to go have his fling with that little floozy, and now it's almost like I'm being punished for what he's done."

"I think you're absolutely right, Betty," I assured her. "There's no call for him to try to gouge you this way. If you're OK with it, I'm going to go back and see his attorney again and try to reason with her."

Betty was very grateful and readily gave her consent.

I picked up the phone and called Rosa Brindisi's office. When I reached them, I was told that Mrs. Brindisi was in a meeting and couldn't be disturbed. "Probably having a plate of pasta in her office," I thought snidely to myself.

"I understand, honey," I told the secretary. "Could you check Miz Rosa's calendar to see if she has any time free to discuss the Mallinson case?"

We settled on a time and date, and I agreed to make the trip to her office. "Guess I'll go have to face the spider in her lair," I thought. Then I chided myself, "Shame on you, Sarah Cannon. A good Christian woman shouldn't be having such uncharitable thoughts. You'd better not miss church this Sunday -- you need a refresher."

That afternoon, I asked David to see me before he left for the day so I could get an update on how the computerization project was going. He talked to me about his plan of action and the necessary steps to make a smooth transition to the new system. We had a good talk about everything, and he assured me that the project was going well. "And how about you, David, is everything going well for you?"

"I'm really enjoying working here, Miz Sara. This kind of work suits me well, and I'm extremely grateful to have the job. Besides, you and Cindy have been so nice to me I almost hate to go home in the afternoons."

I knew he was trying to make a little joke, but once again I thought I detected a wry note in his voice.

"David, I don't mean to pry, but is everything going OK between you and Jeanine?" I asked gently.

His face darkened, and at first I thought I had made him angry. But then he heaved a sigh and began to speak in a low voice. "No, Miz Sara, things are not OK between us. Over the past year or so, Jeanine has become cold and distant to me. She's started this little business . . ."

I interrupted him, "Yes, Cindy told me about her home lingerie sales."

"Oh. Well anyway," he continued, "it's like her little business is all she's interested in anymore. For all practical purposes, she and I are living separate lives." He blushed a little and went on, "Our marital relations have pretty well fallen away to nothing; if I didn't come home at all, I don't think she'd be that upset."

"Oh, David," I said, "I'm so sorry to hear this. Surely it can't be as bad as all that."

"Miz Sara," he said, "when I came home early from work the day I was laid off, Jeanine practically ordered me out of the house. She said I was going to interrupt one of her sales. I was already pretty blue about losing my job so you can imagine how I felt after that. I wound up at a tavern drinking beer the rest of the afternoon. And it's gone downhill from there. It's as though she wants me around as little as possible. Even when I have to be home during the day, she wants to know exactly when I'm coming and how soon before I leave."