“I’d also like to see the original agreement for the business sale,” the judge said.
“I have that right here,” Markle said, and he handed the document to the judge.
The judge looked it over, and then turned to Topaz. Despite the scene in the lobby, at least she knew enough to be stoic faced in the courtroom.
“Is this the document you signed?” she asked.
“Yes, your honor,” she said. “But like she said--”
“I know what your lawyer said,” the judge insisted. “What I’m asking is, is this your signature?”
“Yes,” Topaz squeaked out.
“This document explicitly lines out the transfer of the vehicle title for the sale of the business,” the judge pointed out.
I raised an eyebrow. I had been immersed in another case, and hadn’t followed the exact details of this one. I drew a deep breath and glanced at Vicki. I could only hope she had anticipated this one.
“But why would my client have knowingly agreed to that?” Vicki protested.
Weak argument. Come on Vicki. Please tell me you have something better than that.
“The vehicle is valued at just less than four thousand dollars,” Vicki continued. “The business is valued at fifty thousand dollars. Why in her right mind would she agree to that unless the signature was obtained by deception?”
Whoa. Did she have proof of this? I didn’t recall this coming up in the office. Was she bluffing?
“Your honor,” Markle said. “The vehicle had a sentimental value for Ms. Whitestone that was far greater than the value of the business.”
“And what was the nature of that value?” the judge asked.
Markle looked a little sheepish, and glanced at Onyx who stared at the ground and shook his head.
“Ms. Whitestone,” Markle said, “gave birth to her son in that vehicle.”
Holy crap. Seriously? A collective grimace washed over the courtroom at the information and Topaz looked embarrassed again.
I once had a client go into labor in a van that I was driving, and I thought that kid was going to come out any second. I thought that was scary. But, in a Volkswagen Beetle? Really?
“Was Mr. Thomspon the father of the son?” the judge asked.
“Yes,” Markle said.
“And how old is this son now?” The judge asked.
“Five,” Topaz stated.
“So,” the judge stated. “You claim that she gave away the rights to a store to the vehicle in which the son was born?”
“That is correct,” Markle said.
“We’re prepared for cross examination now,” the judge motioned to Vicki. Vicki stepped out from behind the plaintiff’s table and smirked at Onyx. The room was quiet except for Vicki steps against the floor. I just watched her, cool, calm and collected in that navy blue suit.
“Mr. Thompson,” she asked, “you’re an artisan, is that correct?”
I smirked at Vick’s use of the word “artisan.” Only in Sedona would that word be so emotionally charged with meaning.
“Yes,” he responded.
“What do you make, exactly?” Vicki asked.
I was familiar with this technique. She had something up her sleeve.
“I make artisan soaps and pottery and candles,” he said.
There was that word again.
“And what’s the name of your brand?” she asked.
“I worked under the label Black Onyx,” he said.
“Clever,” she said. “Turning your name into a brand. It lends itself well.”
“I thought so,” he said.
“What about your ex-wife?” she asked. “What brand does she craft under?”
“It’s called Balanced Harmony,” he said.
“And what is the significance of that brand name?” Vicki asked.
“Well, she’s your client,” he snorted. “You should ask her.”
“Well as we have so firmly established,” Vicki said, “it’s your business. I’m just asking what’s the significance of the brand name?”
He sighed. “Topaz energy is the energy of balance and harmony.”
“Hmm,” Vicki tapped her fingertips together. “What a great way to incorporate your names into your business.”
“Many people do it,” he said.
“Indeed,” Vicki said.
Vicki crossed the room and grabbed a sheaf of papers from her padfolio. I tried to catch her eye but she was clearly on a roll.
“Do you recognize this?” she showed it to Onyx.
“Yeah,” Onyx said. “That’s our original business license.”
“And what year did you open this shop?” Vicki asked.
“1993,” he replied.
“Right,” she said. “So this states that Boho Designs was opened on August 10, 1993 to…”
She effected a dramatic confused expression. “Oh, wait, it says it was opened to Amelia Whitestone and Gordon Thompson.”
“Well,” he said. “That’s us.”
“Is it?” she asked. “Because I thought your names were Onyx and Topaz.”
“We did a trip to India in 2002, and then we changed our names,” he said.
“Oh,” Vicki nodded. “Did you file a name change with the court?”
“Yes,” Onyx said. “I did a legal name change in 2005.”
I raised an eyebrow. I knew where she was going with this now, and I didn’t expect this argument.
“You did?” Vicki asked. “So you legally changed your name to Onyx Thompson?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Okay,” she smiled and crossed the back to our table. “What about you, Topaz, or should I say, Amelia. When did you change your name?”
“Well,” Topaz groped around as if unsure of this line of questioning. “I did it the same time he did.”
“So you have a name change on file with the court?” Vicki clarified.
“Well,” Topaz sighed. “No.”
“No?” Vicki feigned shock. “Why not?”
“Well, when,” Topaz trailed off and looked embarrassed. “When Onyx did the name change, I...I…”
“You what?” Vicki asked.
“I had a lot of traffic tickets,” Topaz blurted out. “I was
