The War of the Roses

charge.

'I know what that means,' Oliver huffed. 'You want it short and sweet. No problems. No headaches. A nice fat fee.'

'From your mouth to God's ears.'

'I hope she feels the same way.'

'Never be sure,' Goldstein said. 'It is the first rule of domestic law. Never be sure. Divorce makes people crazy.'

'Well, it won't make me crazy,' Oliver muttered. 'If it's meant to be, then let's get it over. You just proceed along the fastest track.'

'There's a waiting period for a no-fault divorce in the District of Columbia. Six months if the parties don't contest. That's the quick way. If there's problems, there's a year wait. A divorce you get either way. But the property settlement is separate. It could go on and on. If it goes to court, there's more waiting. A judge decides.' Goldstein bent over, blowing smoke. 'All judges are putzes.'

Oliver nodded. It was going too fast. 'It won't come to that.' 'You hope.'

'We're reasonable people.' 'That was yesterday.'

'I know lawyers. They can fuck things up. They call Thurmont the Bomber.'

'Personally, I have mixed feelings. A court battle can help make me an even richer man. I have a loving devoted family, Mr. Rose.' He looked longingly at the picture of his rotund children and obese wife. They are all going to college now. I have a very large house in Potomac and a maid that lives in, two Mercedes, and I go to Israel twice a year. Harry Thurmont has all these things and, in addition, an airplane and a house in Saint Thomas and he's always very tan, which means he gets away often.'

‘I don't need the lecture, Goldstein. I'm also a lawyer.'

'The worst kind. You need the lecture more than a plumber. We can chop up your estate like scavengers and leave you nothing but the bare bones.' Goldstein's cigar had gone out, and Oliver caught a whiff of his bad breath.

'All right, you've scared the shit out of me, Goldstein. I already told you I want to settle this amicably. No hassle. I detest the idea of anyone getting rich from my misfortune.'

Goldstein relit his cigar, puffed deeply, and exhaled smoke clouds into the atmosphere.

'I'll talk to Thurmont and get back to you,' Goldstein said, getting up. 'From here on in, we talk to your wife only through Thurmont.'

'And I pay for both?'

'I don't make the rules.'

'Just the money.'

'I don't make the divorces, either.'

'But it wasn't my fault,' Oliver protested.

'It was mine?'

Oliver, sorry now he had engaged Goldstein, was more confused than ever.

'Have you moved out yet?' Goldstein asked as Oliver rose.

'No. Perhaps tonight. I can't seem to manage it.' 'Why not?'

'I'm not sure,' Oliver replied, wondering about his candor. 'It's my nest. I can't seem to fly away. It's my place, Goldstein. My orchids. My wines. My workshop. My Staffordshire figures are there.'

'Your what?'

'Little porcelainlike figures, beautifully painted. There's a cobalt blue -'

'I don't understand this, Rose,' Goldstein interrupted.

'I don't either. None of it.' Never in his life had he been racked with such indecision. He searched Goldstein's eyes for direction. Through droopy lids, they stared back lugubriously. Their look depressed him.

'I need time,' Oliver said after a long pause.

'Time we got.'

'Have we?' Oliver asked. It seemed his first rational thought of the day. 'I just threw out nearly twenty years.' He felt too overcome to continue. 'When you speak to Thurmont, call me,' he muttered as he left the office, not certain of his destination.

9

I can't believe it,' Eve said. She had intruded on Ann, who was working on a bibliography for her thesis, 'Jefferson as Secretary of State,' just at that point when the number of books to read and sources to check seemed overwhelming. Ann was in no mood to be provoked by the perpetual crises of a teenage girl and had learned not to be panicked by Eve's propensity for dramatic overstatement.

But she looked up and saw in Eve's misty-eyed face an agitation that engaged her attention. Eve bent over her seated form and embraced her, putting her cheek against her own. Patting her head, Ann waited for Eve to unburden herself.

'They've split,' she said, unable to hold back a chest-racking brace of sobs.

'Hey, what's this?' Ann said, turning and embracing the troubled girl. She waited until her caress soothed her.