Miz Sara Finds an Unlikely Ally

Over the years, I've come to believe that one key to success in life is to find resources you like and can count on. You know, like a good dentist or auto mechanic or hair dresser. I count banking in the same category.

Anyway, I've been going to the same branch of the same bank for years now. I guess I could do most of my banking on line, but frankly, I like to put a face to my dealings, especially when it comes to money. And one of my favorite faces to see is Martin Peterson, who's been the manager of my local branch for the last couple of years. He's been extremely helpful whenever I've had to deal with him, he's very polite and respectful, and he always has a big smile on his face.

This hot midsummer day, however, seemed to be an exception. Martin was as helpful and efficient as ever, but there was no smile on his face; instead, he seemed tense and somewhat distracted. Finally, I couldn't take it any more and asked him, "Martin, are you okay?"

My comment seemed to startle him, and he thought about it for a minute before speaking. "Miz Sara, could I possibly impose on you for a few minutes?"

When I nodded encouragingly, he invited me into his small office and closed the door so we could have some privacy. Once we were seated, Martin began. "Miz Sara, you have a great reputation in family law, so I'm hoping you can help me. I have a friend," he said, "who's having troubles with his wife. He thinks she's running around on him, but he doesn't have any proof. He's hoping to keep his marriage together for the sake of their son, but he wants to protect himself and his boy in case things take a sudden turn for the worse. What advice would you have for him, Ms. Sara?"

Well, I could guess who his "friend" was, and I knew I should head this whole thing off at the pass. People are always asking attorneys for free legal advice. But Martin had always been so courteous and nice to me that I just didn't feel right about turning him down.

"Martin," I told him, "this doesn't sound like a situation that can be handled in a few words or a few minutes. You tell your 'friend' he needs to call my office and make an appointment to come see me. Do you understand?"

He looked at me sheepishly, realizing I had seen through his feeble attempt at obfuscation. "Thank you, Miz Sara. I'd really appreciate any help you can give me."

After I returned to my home, which is also my law office, I told Cindy about my odd encounter with Martin. She'd met him when she ran errands for me to the bank, and had always liked him as much as I do.

I guess I need to tell you about Cindy. I'd hired Cindy McCarty straight out of Agnes Scott College about three years ago. I've made it my practice to recruit my assistants from my alma mater; it's one way I could give back to the school for all it had done for me.

Cindy was the best assistant I'd ever had -- and also the worst. She was smart as a whip and an absolute whiz with computers. Prowling on the web, she could find out information like nobody I'd ever seen before. Not only that, but she had a streak of old fashioned detective in her, and on a couple of occasions her sleuthing had turned up information that proved vital to cases I was handling. Finally, she was a plucky little thing, ready to take on any challenge, and I couldn't help but admire that quality.

The downside of Cindy was that even though she was several years out of college, she continued to live as though she were still an undergraduate. She was always up for a party, and drinking and dancing on week nights were a common occurrence. I heard a cute song a long time ago called "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." Well, that was Cindy in a nutshell.

And there was one other thing that bothered me: the way Cindy dressed. I know I'm old fashioned, but her clothes looked to me like something a tart would put on. Skirts too short, jeans too tight, blouses showing too much cleavage -- all those were a regular part of Cindy's wardrobe. Sometimes I just wanted to shake her and say, "It's time to grow up!"

But every time I got exasperated enough to say something to her, Cindy would do something really helpful or say something truly insightful, and I'd be so appreciative I just had to stifle my criticism. And in all fairness, I'd been seeing signs of change lately. Maybe she was finally beginning to grow up a little -- we'd just have to see.

Anyway, we both wondered whether or not we would hear any more from Martin about his "friend's" problem. A lot of times people stop and rethink their situation before they consult an attorney. It's a serious step, and they think better of taking it. But sure enough, a few days later he called to make an appointment. When I told Cindy, she thought his situation must be serious. I tended to agree with her.

Martin was scheduled to come in at 9:00 that morning, but he was late, and when 9:30 rolled around, I decided that he must have had second thoughts. However, before I could move on to other matters, he came walking through the door, accompanied by his four-year-old son Justin. Both Cindy and I had met Justin before at his dad's office, but we were surprised to see him today.

"Miz Sara," Martin said apologetically, "I'm so sorry to be late, and I'm sorry to have brought Justin with me. But the daycare center where he goes in the summer had a breakdown with their air conditioner. There was no place else for him to go and I didn't know what else to do."

Before I could respond, Cindy piped up, "I'll be glad to take care of him while you two meet." Turning to the boy, who was shyly looking at the carpet, she held out her hand and led him to her office. "Come on, Justin, I know some neat websites with games you can play."

I was surprised; Cindy had never shown any particular affinity for children before. But after only a few minutes with her, I could tell that the little boy was happily engaged in his game, and Cindy was cheering him on. Seeing the boy was in good hands, I turned to Martin and led him into my office.

Once he was settled on my settee with a glass of sweet iced tea in his hand, I encouraged him to tell me what was going on with his marriage.

"My wife Jodie," he began, "is a nurse at Grady Memorial Hospital. We met in college and got married right after graduation. That was ten years ago. The first few years our marriage was wonderful; we couldn't have been happier together. And we were overjoyed when Justin was born."

His face darkened. "But in the last few years, Jodie has grown increasingly distant, especially in the last year. She's clearly dissatisfied with me and our marriage. She's increasingly cross and irritable; everything I do seems to hit her the wrong way." He flushed a little and added, "And our love life has shrunk away to nothing. I've tried everything I can think of to improve things, but nothing seems to help."

"I'm so sorry, Martin," I said. "I really hate to hear things are so difficult for you. But my question is: what do you want to do about it? Are you here today for help with a divorce?"

"No, Miz Sara" he replied instantly, "I want to keep our family together if there's any way. My parents got a divorce when I was still a kid and it hit me very hard. If there's any way to spare Justin from having to go through that, I just have to try."

"Then how can I help?" I asked.

"Miz Sara, in the last couple of months, Jodie's been acting very suspiciously. She works the evening shift at the hospital, but she doesn't come home until long after her shift is over. Then, on the nights she's off work, she goes out in the evening without explanation. She's definitely acting like she's seeing someone behind my back."

"The truth is, Miz Sara, I feel like she's taking advantage of me. She knows how I feel about divorce, and that frees her to do anything she wants because she knows I want to protect Justin."

He paused and hung his head. "This is really tearing me apart. I get so angry with her I want to scream, but then I remember Justin and I just bite my tongue."

He stopped to collect himself. "But lately," he continued, "I get the feeling that she's getting ready to leave on her own. Little things she's said, the way she's acting -- everything tells me this is all coming to a head soon. So what I need from you is advice on how to protect myself -- and Justin, for that matter -- if she decides to split."

"If she does decide to file for divorce," I told Martin, "there's nothing you can do to stop her. Furthermore, in the State of Georgia, she will be entitled to half the marital estate. Only under unusual circumstances would that not happen."

Martin looked glum.

"Having said that," I went on, "there are some things that you can and ought to do to protect yourself financially. While Jodie may be entitled to half the marital property, you should take steps now to ensure she doesn't try to get more than her fair share."

"Start with your savings account and any investments you jointly hold. You're entirely within your rights, for example, to divide your savings account in two and put your half into a new account in your name only. The same with any investments. Just be sure that everything is divided equally; you want to avoid even the appearance of impropriety."

"The second thing is to inventory all your credit cards, checking accounts and any other finances where both of you are liable for any expenditures. You want to make sure she hasn't made any unusual or inappropriate purchases or taken out any cash advances."

"Also, sometimes if you've had a credit card for a long time, the company may have increased your credit limit beyond what you really need. It wouldn't hurt to contact them and ask them to reduce your limit, just to reduce your exposure in case she decides to make some inappropriate purchases."

"It may be premature to cancel any joint accounts, but you need to make a list of all of them and be ready to cancel them immediately if required. And there's nothing to stop you from establishing new credit in your own name so you won't be inconvenienced if you have to close out the joint accounts."

"Okay, Miz Sara, that all makes good sense, and I can get started on it right away. But what about Justin? Is there anything I can do to protect him? I don't mean that Jodie would ever harm him, but if she leaves me, I don't want to lose him," he said with a fearful look on his face.

"In a divorce with children that young," I told him gently, "it's very rare for the father to get sole custody. Your best hope will be to get joint custody and work out an even split of time with Justin."

I could tell how heavily our conversation was weighing on Martin. He was being forced to contemplate the very fate he dreaded the most for his son. But the mood lightened a little as we heard Justin's laughter coming from Cindy's office. "Looks like they're having a great time together," I told Martin.

My comment was proven correct when we went out into the lobby and Martin tried to corral his son. "I want to stay and play with Cindy," the boy protested. Cindy knelt down and hugged him. "You can come back and play with me anytime, Justin," she reassured him.

After they had gone, she smiled and said, "Justin is so sweet. He really is a good boy." Then her expression turned more serious, and she asked, "So what's going on with Martin?"

I gave her a quick summary of his marital concerns, and she frowned. "Martin seems like the nicest guy, and he's absolutely devoted to his son. You'd think he'd make a great husband. I just can't imagine why his wife would treat him so badly."

"I really like Martin too, dear, and I have no idea what's going on with Jodie," I agreed. "Tell you what, if you get some spare time, take a look and see if you can find any information on her. From everything Martin said, it wouldn't surprise me if he becomes a client in the near future, and it wouldn't hurt us to get a little advance information, just in case."

"I'll get right on it, Miz Sara," she vowed.

Later that same day, I took a call from a man who introduced himself as Phillip Wasserman. He wanted to make an appointment to discuss possible divorce proceedings against his wife. I told him I was sorry to hear it, but that I would be glad to meet with him. He was anxious to get started, so we set up an appointment for the following day.

When Mr. Wasserman came in for his appointment, I ushered him back to my office. He was a nice looking man, probably about 40 years old. He had a full head of hair and looked to be in good physical shape. I would have guessed him to be a former college athlete, and he later mentioned that he'd played on the Georgia baseball team. He also told me that UGA was where he'd met his wife Valerie.

After we'd gotten through the pleasantries, I thought it was time to get down to business. "So why don't you tell me about the situation that has led you to consider divorce proceedings, Mr. Wasserman?"

"Miz Cannon, this is a bit personal, and some of it is a little embarrassing, so I'd like to keep everything confidential, if you don't mind," he said, looking around a bit nervously.

"Of course, Mr. Wasserman," I said. I got up from behind my desk, walked over to the French doors of my office and closed them. Cindy knew that meant that we weren't to be disturbed. When I returned to my chair, I beckoned him to proceed with his story.

"Miz Cannon . . ."

I interrupted him. "Most folks call me Miz Sara. If we're going to be working together, it'll make things much easier," I told him.

He looked a bit more at ease. "Thank you, Miz Sara, and I'm Phil, please."

"So tell me what has happened between you and your wife, Phil, to cause you to consider a divorce."

The tension returned to his face immediately. "She cheated on me, Miz Sara. She cheated with another man!"

I tried to soothe him. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Phil. How did you come to find this out?"

"I didn't have to find it out," he replied somewhat sharply, "I was there when it happened."

"Oh dear," I said, "that must have been very difficult for you. Can you tell me the circumstances?"

He seemed to hesitate at that, and I could tell he was uncomfortable.

"Phil," I said, "I've been in this business for a long time. There's not a lot that I haven't already heard, and even less that would shock me, so just go ahead and don't be shy. This is just between the two of us."

He seemed to relax a little then.

"Miz Sara," he began, "Valerie and I got married right after we graduated from college. So we've been married now almost 20 years."

He looked at me almost plaintively. "In 20 years, things tend to cool down between a husband and wife, you know what I mean? Marital relations get a little routine, predictable."

Again he glanced at me, then looked down as he continued his story. "Anyway, I wanted to try to spice things up a little, try something new and different. I thought it might get our juices flowing, if you know what I mean."

I just nodded. I thought I knew where he was going with this.

He cleared his throat and then went on. "So Valerie and I started talking about maybe finding another couple and, um, socializing with them. You know, we all go out to a club, have a few drinks, dance with each other's wife and then go someplace to continue the party."

"How did Valerie respond to this idea?" I asked.

"Well, at first she was pretty opposed to it, to be honest," he replied. "But I kept bringing it up, and after a while I guess I kind of wore her down. She told me if I really wanted to try it, she would go along with it."

"We both agreed that we didn't want to do anything with anyone we already knew -- that could have complications. So we started looking on Craigslist to see if there were any couples who sounded nice and were interested in the same sort of thing."

"Well, to make a long story short, we found one and, after talking with them on the phone, we met them at a nightclub here in Atlanta. Their names were Marshall and Nancy. They were a nice-looking couple, not model material, you understand, but nice and pleasant. He was several inches shorter than me, and she was shorter than Valerie and a little heavier, but not overly so. We had a few drinks and danced for a while. They were easy to talk to, and we had a lot in common. They too were interested in spicing up their marriage."

"I pulled Valerie aside and asked if she was OK with going ahead with evening as we'd discussed. She told me if I wanted to do it, she'd go along. So we went back to the other couple and I suggested we carry on the party at the room I'd booked in the Omni. They were game, so we headed out."

"When we got to the room, we had a couple more drinks. Then I found a soft rock station on the television, and we turned the lights out and began to dance again with each other's wife. Nancy sort of snuggled in with me, and we began to get pretty friendly, if you know what I mean."

"Pretty soon, we were on one of the beds and the clothes started to come off." Phil glanced up at me to see how I was taking all this. I just nodded for him to go on; this wasn't the first time I'd heard a client recount an episode of swinging.

"Well, we were getting into it pretty heavy by then," Phil went on, "and then I heard a gasp from the other bed. I glanced over to make sure Valerie was OK, and saw Marshall leaning over her."

Phil swallowed hard and then looked at me almost desperately. "Miz Sara, I'm a pretty good sized guy, all over, if you know what I mean. But even though Marshall was shorter than me, he was much bigger down there where it counts. I've never seen a man that big before, even in the locker room back at Georgia."

"Anyway, for the next hour I had to listen as he drove my wife crazy. Usually, she's pretty quiet when we're in bed together. But that night she was gasping and moaning and panting like I'd never heard before. And every time I thought they were finished, he'd start up again, and so would she. Valerie's never been that way with me."

"Well, I wasn't much use to Nancy. I just lay there listening to the two of them going at it, and I just kept getting more and more angry. When they were finally done, I made Valerie get up and get dressed, and then we left immediately."

"Since then, I've been so angry with her that I can hardly speak to her. All I can think about is the two of them going at it over and over again. How could she treat me that way? How could she respond to him in ways she's never done with me? Finally, I decided that I just couldn't live with her any more, and that's when I decided to come see you."

As he'd been talking, I'd watched his face grow redder and his respiration increase. I hoped that he didn't have a problem with high blood pressure, because I figured his readings would have gone off the chart as he sat talking in my office. I thought maybe I could defuse the situation if I could get him to see what happened from another perspective.

"Phil," I asked, "you told me that you undertook this liaison with the intent of adding a little spice to your love life, isn't that right?"

"Yes," he agreed sullenly.

"And didn't you want to improve things for both of you, for Valerie as well as for yourself?" I continued.

"Well, sure," he said, "but . . ."

I interrupted him: "And isn't that what happened, at least for Valerie?"

"Well, yes, but I never expected her to act that way!"

"So what you're saying," I pressed on, "is that you wanted her to have a good time, but not as good as you."

"No, that's not what I meant at all," he responded violently. "I just didn't want her turning into some kind of sex slave for Mr. Big!"

"Phil," I told him calmly, "I'm not going to take your case."

That seemed to take the wind out of him. He slumped in his chair and looked at me in surprise.