The Best Laid Plans

"The best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry." (Robert Burns)

This is the story of Patrick Murphy, who found his soul mate and planned to live happily ever after.

This is also about Margaret Murphy, who grew angry and bitter when she lost the man she loved to his work, and who planned revenge and a life of wealth and luxury.

Then there was a plan to reconcile.

In the end, there was no plan at all.

I was ready.

This evening, I was making my last appeal to the managing partner, Henry Potter. I had been the biggest revenue generator in the firm for the last three years. Last year, I had been considered for partner and had been blackballed by Potter. Last week I had been considered again and had been blackballed by Potter again.

In the past year, Potter assigned me to work a variety of minor cases, while still maintaining a full load of litigation. I was carrying two gallons of water in a one-gallon bucket. I was working 14 to 16 hours a day. I didn't close as many of my big cases as the year before, yet somehow I was still the largest revenue maker in the firm. And I still didn't make partner.

Last week when I came up again for partner, Clarence Goodbody, the chairman of our board of directors, put Potter on the spot, insisting Potter justify his veto. As Chairman of the Board and senior to Potter, Potter knew not to openly oppose him.

Even though the meeting was closed to all but partners, the word still got out. Potter's stumbling explanation of his veto was that I didn't have the social skills, the leadership skills, the "essence of a gentleman" to be a partner, and never would. I was and would always be just a peasant, low life scum. I was a success only because I could connect with a jury of idiots. I could never be a dependable rainmaker, bringing in the big name clients.

I had been with the firm for 15 years. I had paid my dues. I had put in the hours, especially in the last year. And it cost me. My family had become strangers to me.

So tonight, I would demand that Potter either withdraw his no vote, or I'd quit.

Before scheduling this meeting, I had shopped around. My blackballing was the gossip of our town's legal community. I had three job offers from three sterling firms within the week. Two of the offers included partnerships. I had discussed details with each of these firms. The least of them would increase my income substantially. If I jumped ship, I was going to have a soft landing.

As I took the stairs up to the next floor, I thought about the years I had known Potter. In the beginning he was always pleasant to me. At office functions, he would always come over and sit at my table and spend time with my wife and me. I often thought I was a favorite. But in the past year or so a coldness entered our relationship. He'd rarely acknowledge my existence except to send me his shitty cases. At social events I was ignored. He'd smile at my wife but ignore me. Somehow, I had become invisible.

And it had taken its toll. I was neglecting my family, especially my wife, Margaret. On the rare times I'd have a little free time, I would try to make it up to her. A date night. A weekend escape. When she'd agree, there was no passion, no warmth in our time together. I told her that once the partnership came through, things would be different. But we continued to drift apart. After a while, she refused requests for date nights. It was even worse with my two children. Liam was now a Junior at College and Colleen had just started college a few weeks ago. I had missed both her high school graduation and all her college tours.

Potter's administrative assistant's intercom buzzed, she turned to me and said he was ready for me to go in. I was armed and ready to go for my confrontation. I got up, confident and ready to either make partner or walk out, knowing either way I would be in a better place than I was right now. A sense of freedom filled me as I walked into Potters oversized office.

Potter was behind his desk, balding, with a paunch, his 70 years well lined in a face worn by years. But for all of that, he could be a charming fellow, charming at least to everyone but me.

As I approached his desk in his large office, he held his hand up to stop me and said, "before you say anything Murphy, Maggie is leaving you and she and I are going to be married." He then pointed to the far corner of his office, and I turned and there was my wife, Margaret, standing with Bert, our security guy. Margaret looked at me, then fixed her eyes on Potter. Bert, who I counted as a friend, looked deeply embarrassed.

It took me a moment to connect what Potter had just said to Margaret. My heart was pounding. I started breathing hard. I reached out and grabbed the chair in front of Potter's desk to steady myself. My legs began to feel like rubber.

"Margaret, what's he talking about?" I finally managed to say. Margaret said nothing.

Potter spoke, "Maggie, come over here and stand by me." Margaret walked over to behind Potter's desk and stood next him. Bert accompanied her. It was clear that Bert's role was to protect Margaret and Potter from me.

Potter then told Maggie to give him a kiss. She bent over and gave him a kiss on the mouth. It was a short kiss, but it hit the target. My heart was breaking.

Potter then continued speaking, "Maggie and I have been seeing each other for over a year now. You were so obsessed with making partner, you didn't even notice that you had lost your wife."

"Anyway, Murphy, you see we have a bit of a problem. To avoid any awkwardness in the office, you need to withdraw from the firm. You have no future here. I have here a proposed severance package. Probably better than you deserve, but the firm doesn't need any untidiness over any of this, so there won't be any problem getting it approved." He held the file out to me, but my eyes were on Margaret, and I made no effort to pick it up.

"If you don't sign it, you'll be fired, so give it a look."

"Also, Maggie and I have prepared a very generous Settlement Agreement for your divorce. We want to get married as soon as possible, so we are asking you sign it and return in the next two weeks or it will be withdrawn. You'll probably be served with the divorce papers next week."

As my attention had been focused only on Margaret, Potter added with some impatience, "do you understand what I'm saying, Murph?"

I repeated my question, "Margaret, what is he talking about? Talk to me sweetheart, what is happening." She ignored me.

Potter then started talking about the details of both packages. He droned on.

"Margaret, do the children know?" I asked.

Margaret finally answered me, "Colleen suspects, but doesn't know. Liam doesn't know unless Colleen has talked to him about it."

"Should I tell them tonight or would you rather tell them?" I asked.

"You do it."

Potter interrupted, "Maggie, let me do the talking."

"Why do you let him call you that, you hated that name?" I asked.

She didn't answer, breaking the eye contact we had. I waited for her to answer, my eyes on her. Potter continued to drone on about the terms of my severance package. Then I said, "fuck this, this is just too damn painful." I picked up the two packets, turned around and headed off, never acknowledging Potter's existence. Bert followed me out.

Once in the reception room, I gave out a big sigh. Behind me Bert shut the door to Potter's office. I turned to Bert and said, "Bert, I need a minute, let me sit down." Bert walked me to a chair and sat next to me, his hand on my shoulder. I leaned forward and put my hands over my eyes.

Potter came out of the office, and yelled at Bert, "You were suppose to walk him out of the building, why the fuck is he still in my office?

"Damn't it man, give the guy a break, what you just did was cruel and cold blooded and this poor guy is badly shaken." Bert was a retired Army MP, no one had ever heard him talk back to any of the lawyers in the firm, let alone the managing partner, and never in such a loud and angry tone.

"Mr. Earnst," Potter said, referring to Bert, "if you value your job, you will do as you were told." Potter was almost yelling.

At that point, Clarence Goodbody rushed in from his adjoining office. The whole hall was now hearing what was being said. "What the hell is going on in here?"

"Sir, this is a private matter." said Potter.

"To hell it is" responded Bert, "Potter here just fired Murph because he is fucking Murph's wife."

At that point, I looked up. I saw Potter standing in the doorway to his office with Margaret standing behind him.

Goodbody looked at Bert and I and said, "You two, in my office. Potter, you stay here until I call you. Then looking at Potter's admin assistant said, "Molly, you stay here too." Then looking at Margaret he added, "Mrs. Murphy, I would like to hear from you about what this is all about, but of course, you don't have to talk to me."

In his office, Goodbody asked the very specific questions he needed to paint the picture of what was happening. After only about 15 minutes he had what he needed. He then told Bert to take me home and stay with me as long as necessary; he added that I didn't look well. He then told me that he was deeply sorry about my marriage, that there was nothing he could do about that, but he asked me to give him a week, that maybe he could make things a bit more tolerable about my position in the firm. I said I doubt he could so long as Potter was here. His response: "give me a week."

Bert took me home in his own car. The house was still. I opened a bottle of Scotch and Bert and I had a drink together. We talked only a little about small stuff, not what had happened, until I noticed a lot of stuff in the house was missing. No furniture was missing, just pictures of the kids and of Margaret, some Knick-Knacks, etc. That hit me. Bert finished his drink, and I rushed him off, telling him I needed to call my kids. He told me to call him if I needed to talk and that he would be by to pick me up in the morning for the meeting.

The call to the kids forced me to relive the thing all over again. My daughter and I cried. She acknowledged that she was very worried about what Mom was up to because of the long and frequent errands she would run and the occasional night outs with some friends. These nights were too often and she would dress up too much for it be just causal things.

My son dealt with it mostly by being silent. He said he never suspected anything, but as he was away at college most of the time, he was mostly out of the loop on that stuff. He also asked me if I had any suspicions before tonight, and I told him I did not. "Geez, dad, this is really shitty news" was his summary of these events. A poet could not have painted a more accurate picture.

Afterwards, I was emotionally exhausted and I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up again at 3 am. Not being able to go back to sleep, I wandered about my house, now seemingly larger and empty. I again noticed many of the photographs that used to hang on the wall were now missing, all of them of the kids or her and the kids. Any picture of me was still there, a relic of her life that she had moved on from.

All evidence of her presence in our bedroom had been removed. No clothes, no jewelry box, no photographs, no makeup, nothing of hers was left. She must have spent days clearing out.

With daylight came Bert. He wanted to check up on me and make sure I was alright. He was genuinely concerned. I took him out for breakfast and I updated him with the kids.

I called in Monday for the day off. I signed the Settlement Agreement. Margaret had waived any claim to our marital assets provided it was signed within 15 days. I had no illusions about saving the marriage. I hired an attorney, a friend of mine who did divorce work. The divorce petition was filed that day together with the Settlement Agreement and was served the next day.

I had no delusions about my future with the firm. Potter's grandfather founded the firm. His roots ran deep. And his inherited wealth exceeded all other partners twice over. He moved in lucrative circles, a genuine rainmaker.

On Tuesday, I went to work and started assigning the smaller cases Potter had given me to junior litigators, and sent memos to Potter setting out my recommendations. He responded that he was glad to see me come to my senses. Later that day, he sent an email telling me that "Maggie" had been served, and that he was glad to see things moving on. I ignored both emails.

On Thursday, I got an email from the Chairman, Mr. Goodbody, asking that I make myself available to the directors Friday morning, as an inquiry was being made into events of last week. There was also gossip that an emergency meeting of the partners was scheduled immediately following the directors meeting.

The directors meeting started at 9 exactly. Bert had also been summoned, and he and I sat outside the conference room, as did Molly, Potters receptionist. I was asked in first, and questions focused on what happened on Friday last, especially whether Potter was going to fire me and why. I handed the severance package and told everyone that Potter was making it clear I had no future at the firm, and if I didn't agree to the severance package, then I would be fired.

Potter was present and was given an opportunity to ask questions. Potter was never much of a trial lawyer, and while he tried to conduct a cross examination of me, he failed miserably. His questions were opened ended, which just gave me the chance answer at length and restate the points I was trying to make.

I was excused from the room, and Bert was sent in to testify. For twenty minutes there was silence, until I heard Bert say in his booming voice, "I don't think I have ever seen anything in this office so mean spirited as your performance last week, and its sole objective was to humiliate a human being you had already wronged. I know if you get your way, I'll be fired. But frankly, that is the lesser evil if staying in this job means working for such a depraved individual as you." Shortly after that, Bert walked out of the room and sat next to me.

Bert said, "damn, I got to give Potter hell, and that felt good." Molly smiled at that. The only expression any of us had seen from her since all this business began.

Molly was in and out in 30 minutes.

Then a door opened down the hall at Potter's office and Margaret walked out. She was staring straight ahead. She walked directly to the conference room, opened the door and walked in, avoiding looking at me at all. When she came out 15 minutes later, we could see tear stains on her face. She looked at me, and said, "Patrick, you ruined everything..." she then stopped, shook her head and blinked away the gathering tears, then walked away.

Half an hour later, Potter burst out of the room and his face red as a fire engine. Twenty minutes later the meeting broke up. Mr. Goodbody came up to me, told me that Potter had been suspended for misconduct with a recommendation to the full partnership that he be fired. Also, outside counsel would be hired to sue him for breach of his fiduciary responsibilities to the partnership with the goal of clawing back his shares in the partnership, and seeking a money judgment for the money he cost the firm.

I asked Goodbody what money he cost the firm, and he said, "why, hell, son, by dumping all those shitty little cases on you, you weren't able to score on all those lucrative cases you had to put on hold."

Things moved quickly after that. That afternoon, all the partners met and voted unanimously to terminate Potter from his managing partner position, without a severance package, and to suspend his partnership rights status. The partners approved hiring outside counsel to file suit for breach of contract and breach of his fiduciary responsibilities to the firm.

That night, I got a call from Margaret's sister, June. The hospital had called and Margaret had been admitted. June said she had a concussion and had been beat up pretty bad. She told me that Margaret was crying and was calling for me. She told me that that hospital staff had Potter escorted off the premises once it had become clear that Margaret had been beaten by Potter and had not fallen down the stairs as Potter insisted.

June asked if I could come over. I said, "be right there" and rushed over.

June met me outside of Margaret's room. She told me that she was asleep and then walked me over to her bedside.

Margaret was a mess. She was badly bruised all over her face and her exposed arms. June whispered that she had been admitted for observation because of the concussion. June then told me the cops had not interviewed her yet because of her concussion, but they had taken pictures of the bruises and other injuries.

No bones were broken, June told me, but she did have several cracked ribs. After talking to June about Margaret injuries, I asked how much she knew as to what was going on. She told me she only learned of the affair early last week when Margaret told her that she was going to ask for a divorce, and that she had found a charming fellow who had plenty of money and who adored her. She was going to move in with him once she told me.

"I guess this fellow wasn't so charming after all?" I said to June.

"I guess not." She responded.

I asked her if she had been updated with what happened last week. She hadn't. I filled her in, including the fact her boyfriend was my boss and that she and her boyfriend were going to have me fired so that it wouldn't be awkward for them. June said she wasn't told that, and that was horrible. I then explained their plan backfired on them, and when the board found out about it, the board fired Potter.

"So that explains his sudden change of disposition."

"Yeah, it kind of does."

After a bit more conversation, I told June to go home, that I would sit with Margaret.

"Really? Considering what she has done to you?" June asked.

"Yeah, well she is a shitty wife, but she is still the mother of my kids."

June leaned forward, kissed me on the cheek, and said, "You're a far better man than you know, Patrick Murphy." And with that she left.

I went back into the room, sat down in a chair in a far corner of her room, and after a while I fell asleep sitting there. I was woken several times by nurses checking on Margaret, but she never noticed me in the darken corner.

As the morning began to shine outside the window, a female voice calling my name woke me.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

Shaking the sleep out of my head, I opened my eyes and saw my bruised wife looking at me with a small smile.

"Good morning, Margaret." I replied.

"Not so good, but a lot better than last night. So what are you doing here?"

I thought June should go home, so I promised to stay with you. If you want, I will call her and get out of your hair. I'll just wait in the hall until she arrives."

"No. I don't want that. Can we talk? Please stay."

"I can stay, but I don't think I can handle another talking to."

"No, no, not like that. I am sorry about that. That was Henry."

"Let's not talk about this now. Let's breathe a little and figure out what the next few days will look like."

"Yeah, okay. Maybe that's better."

Changing the subject, I asked, "so what are you plans now, are you going back to Potter?"

"No. Yesterday was just horrible. I... I am afraid of that man. I thought he was going to kill me."

Then after a pause, she continued, "I don't know where I am going." She looked at me for a moment and asked, "would you consider letting me come home? At least for a while."

"Well, that's a whole different conversation. What happened last week was devastating. You betrayed me. I have loved for you for the past 25 years and I now have nothing to show for, except my two children. I am no longer in love with you. You annihilated that when you stood with your boyfriend as he humiliated me. So understand your asking to stay even for only a few nights is a big ask."

Then I added, "look, I have to call the office, and I promised your sister a call. I also need something to eat. Let me run to the hospital cafeteria, make my calls and take a minute to think. I'll be back in half an hour or so."

I didn't really have an appetite, I just wanted to make my calls out of her earshot. I went to the hospital cafeteria, got a cup of coffee and called the office and told them what was up. I then called Goodbody, told him about the brutal assault by Potter on my soon to be ex-wife and my guess being that he did that out of rage that his attempt to destroy me had backfired on him. Goodbody listened carefully and expressed deep concern. He then told Bert that Potter should not be allowed in the building and if he tries to come in, the cops should be called, adding that Potter may be violent.

Then I called Margaret's sister. I needed insight from someone who knew Margaret intimately and who might explain from a female perspective what was going on in her head. Or maybe I just needed to talk.

I told June that Margaret needed some place to stay, and I was unsure if I was the right person for her to stay with, even temporarily. I told her I was dealing with a lot of anger. Her reaction surprised me. She told me not to be a fool, that Margaret had made her choices and now she had to live with them. She then preempted the main topic I wanted to discuss. She told me there was no way after she could allow Margaret to stay with her and her children. June's ex-husband had cheated on her, and Margaret knew how devastated June had been. So, Margaret's betrayal of our own marriage triggered June's own trauma.

She had also talked to her mom about Margaret and her mom was also very angry.

As I sat trying to resolve what to do with Margaret, I was taken back to my days in Catholic School and my religious education. I remembered that the nuns loved to focus on miracles and the purity of the saints and of Mary. None of that made an impression on me. But they also taught the Gospel, albeit without the focus they put on their many plaster saints. The central theme of the Gospel seemed to me to be about love, forgiveness and redemption. Sin and temptation were part of it too, but not nearly as much as love, forgiveness and redemption. At first, I thought that such things were grossly unfair. How is it that someone could commit murder, and then be forgiven? How was that fair to the dead person. But in time, I came to understand (with no help from the nuns), that forgiveness was as much for the victim as the sinner. But forgiveness requires an acknowledgment of wrongs. The nuns called it confession. Then action to right those wrongs: penance. And finally, a change in behavior. So, while staring into my coffee I made my decision.

When I returned to Margaret's room, she told me that the doctor had just left, and that she would be cleared to leave in just a bit, after everyone had finished her paperwork. At that moment, the police arrived. They wanted to interview her on reports that her boyfriend had assaulted her. She looked at me and asked if she should. I gave a slight nod.

I asked Margaret if she wanted me to step out of the room.

She asked me to stay, and told the cops she would make a statement.

She told how after the meetings Potter returned to his condominium that morning in a foul mood and refused to talk about the meeting or his dark mood.

He started to drink. He drank his whiskey quickly, then turned to her and started venting on her. First, he complained that it was her damned husband's fault. Then he said it was her fault. She asked why, and he slapped her, telling her that she had seduced him, fucked up his marriage and fucked up his career.

He then fixed himself another drink, sat down and brooded. She sat nearby, quietly, hoping to be supportive, but not knowing how. After a while, she asked him what had happened. He responded angrily that he had been fired on the recommendation of the directors and will be investigated by outside counsel as to whether or not to sue him for damages to the firm.

After he said that, he got up, jerked her from her chair, slapped her again and again, saying over and over again that this is all your fault. When he finally stopped, he got up and fixed himself another drink. Margaret asked him if we could talk. He told her to just shut up. Then, a moment later, he got up and slapped her so hard it knocked her to the floor, he then got on top of her and began pounding her head against the floor. At that, she lost consciousness.

"When I came to, I was in his car heading for the hospital, with him explaining to me that I had fallen down the stairs."

When Margaret finished her statement, the officers then asked a few questions, then told her how to get a restraining order, and told her they would be in touch later.

I still had not given Margaret an answer as to where she would be going next, nor had she asked. As we left the hospital, she finally spoke up. "Where are you taking me."

"Lunch" I said.

"After that?" she asked.

"Well, I have decided what I should do. I haven't quite yet figured out what I can do."

With that, I drove her to what had been our home. I told Margaret she probably needs a shower after her overnight in the hospital. I know we don't have any clothes for you to wear here, since you cleared everything out on Friday, but it you want to put on a pair of my sweets that might do until we can figure out your clothing situation.

She nodded, and I sensed that she may have been a little embarrassed about being reminded of her recent clandestine departure from the marital home. As she headed up the stairs, I called out that I would make us a couple of sandwiches when she returned.

Shower taken, changed to sweets, sandwiches made and eaten, all that was left was to talk about the immediate future.

"Margaret, of course for the next few days you can stay here, in our guest room. Just for the record, I asked your sister, and you have a lot of begging to do before she will put you up. Probably the same with your mom. But, for the time being, you can stay here.

"After a few days, though... well, we have a lot of work to do. I am still in a lot of pain. Those theatrics in Potter's office nearly killed me. I mean that.

"Potter and you revealed over a year of betrayal of everything I loved in the world: my beautiful wife, my wonderful family. It is all now shot to hell by the contempt you showed for all that I thought was precious.

"So as we try to discuss any future we might have, it will be a very different future than what I envisioned only a week ago. We will never be the same again.

"But for the kids sake, we need to have something. I'm willing to give it a shot."

She was looked me in the eye and she finally said, "I want to try."

"Sure" I responded.

That night, Margaret wanted to know when we would start. I told her not yet. When we do, first you need to describe in detail the how, why and what of what happened to our marriage and her betrayal of it. It must be brutally honest. You need to prepare for that. I need to know what to forgive. After that, we will start counseling.

I set Saturday evening as the date when she would be asked to fully acknowledge her betrayal. Until then, we lived as zombies in the same space. She had moved into the guest room. She told me she had quit the gym and had asked for time off from her part time job at the library. Another emergency meeting of the partners resulted in a series of changes designed to right the wrongs that had taken place. I was made a partner in an emergency meeting. I was directed to reassign the smaller cases to more junior associates. I was also directed to hire two more associates for our litigation section. I would be expected to spend more time with clients and associates and less time in court. It looked like my horrible hours would soon be easing up, and my income would soon be increasing.

And despite all this activity, I was still able to find the time to conduct a small inquiry into my marital situation.

Then Saturday evening arrived.

We ate out, a quiet restaurant. Our talk was amiable enough, but it was not without a sense of anxiety for both of us.

Arriving home, I suggested we both sit at the dining room table, opposite each other. I turned off all of the lights save for the one light above the table, forcing both of us to focus on the other. I reminded her that she needed this to be totally truthful and painfully honest. Nothing else will work. She nodded agreement and we began.

Margaret blamed it all on severe loneliness, boredom, and a loss of direction. Liam had left for college and Colleen was now in High School. Colleen was very popular and had plenty of after-school activities that kept her busy and out of the home. Margaret had been a full-time Mom, but that job took less and less of her time, so she took a part-time job at the city library. But even that left her with spare time which she filled with going to the gym. Meanwhile, I was working late every night and on the weekends.

One morning at the gym, she noticed my boss, Henry Potter. He was walking slowly on a tread mill. He also noticed her, and after a short walk came over and struck up a conversation, remembering that she was the wife of one of his associates. He was charming and friendly. After that, he came over and talked each day and after a week asked her out for coffee. He told Margaret of his troubles with his marriage, which was a lack of intimacy, and Margaret told him of her troubles with her family, her loneliness, her boredom, her sense of abandonment with me working so many hours. The next day, more coffee, more talk. This continued for five or six more gym sessions, until one morning he asked if she would do lunch with him. She agreed, and they met at a posh hotel with an exclusive restaurant. During lunch he told her he had a room and asked if she would join him. And so, it began.

After a while, Potter discontinued the gym. He really wasn't all that into fitness anyway, and it was better that way since Margaret had a couple of friends she would exercise with at the gym, and they had begun noticing the time she was spending with her new male friend. But they still met in expensive restaurants and spent more and more afternoons in posh hotels.

Margaret told me it wasn't the sex, the sex was mediocre at best, it was the male attention she thrived on. And then she told me that the week of her short holiday with her girl friends, while Colleen spending on a Senior Trip to New York City and I was in trial out of town in Jacksonville, Potter and her escaped to a very expensive club in Jamaca. Potter treated her to the finest money could buy, to include gifts of expensive jewelry.

A week after their return, Potters wife accused him of cheating and began divorce proceedings. Margaret had no idea of how she found out, or even if she knew Margaret was the mistress. Potter was glad that she found out, called it his freedom from her tyranny, and consented to a quick divorce. He did regret the distance it created with his own children, but as it freed him to marry Margaret it was more than an acceptable balance. The divorce would not cost him significantly of his wealth, since both his wife and him came from old, inherited wealth that would not be involved in any division of assets. As they began to plot their new future, Margaret decided that she would leave me after September, when our youngest daughter would leave for college. Less stress for Colleen, and for her.

Once the date was set, Potter told her he would handle everything, the matter was delicate because she was the wife of an associate he supervised. He told her he needed me to resign otherwise, he would have an enemy in the office and that was especially concerning if I obtained partner status I was so greedily working for. I noted her use of 'greed' in my desire for partner.

The idea of dumping small cases on me was Potter's, Margaret explained. It was hoped that would put a dent in my revenue numbers which made denying me a partnership position difficult. Also, working longer hours for me would allow more time for them and would sour me on the firm, which would drive me to look for work elsewhere. But it didn't work out that way. While my revenue numbers did take a hit, my numbers were still impressive, and other partners were aware that I was carrying a larger case load of lesser cases and had begun to question Potter and his case assignments. Another aspect of all this was that Potter's position in the firm was solidly anchored in his role as rainmaker, his high social status allowed him to move in circles of owners and executives of businesses, which he used to attract clients for the firm. But my reputation as a hard-working litigator had been noticed by the business community, and I was becoming a rain maker in my own right. This was making Potter's blackballing me harder for other partners to accept. So, my resignation became all the more important.

That's when he came up with the idea of a final confrontation. It had three elements. The surprise confrontation with Margaret as his mistress, the offer of a generous severance package and the offer of very favorable terms for divorce. The fact that I had demanded a meeting after the second blackball fit Potter's plans perfectly.

He knew he could sell this to the partnership because even though they might be upset with his stealing the wife of an associate, between Potter and me, Potter was the more valuable because he was the firm's principal rainmaker and it was obvious the firm would be harmed if I remained.

Potter only told Margaret that she needed to leave it in his hands, he never let him in on his plans. All she knew was that the financial terms would be generous. She assumed the confrontation would be as kind as possible.

That it was deliberately humiliating came as a shock. Potter would later explain that was designed to crush my hope, rendering my decision to capitulate more certain, and quash any desire to fight for my wife.

Margaret said she would never had agreed to this humiliation had she known before hand.

She added that Potter was shocked that Bert had turned on him, causing such a fuss that Goodbody intervened. Then, at the directors meeting he was surprised to learn that I had been the lead rainmaker for the past six months, with more new clients drawn by my litigation success than by Potters social skills. At that point Potter realized he had gravely miscalculated.

The week after Potter and Margaret confronted me was extremely tense for Potter. Potter was on the phone begging every director, every partner for leniency, and getting only vague and noncommittal responses. By the end of the week, he was a tinderbox waiting for a match. It came from Goodbody, his old friend, who told him he would seek his removal and explore the possibility of a lawsuit. Potter felt betrayed.

I found that the last bit to have a ring of karma to it. Unfortunately for Margaret, this part was what set Potter off on his violent episode.

As she finished, I gave a weak smile and told her I recognized I had a fair amount of responsibility in her description of events. I added that I never meant to abandon her. Then I added, "I am glad I gave you a chance to tell me the truth." I paused for a few seconds, then added, "unfortunately, you didn't take advantage of that chance. You again choose the path of deceit."

Her jaw dropped. I waited a few more seconds to let what I said sink in.

"I talked to Bert" I started. "He was present with you guys for a good 20 minutes before I showed up. Potter was giving him instructions, but you were there and he described you as 'giddy as a school girl" about what was about to happen. When Potter told Bert that he expected that what he had to tell me was going to 'rip away all semblance of his arrogant pride,' he told me that you giggled and said, 'go hard or go home, lover.' You also threw in that I deserved everything I had coming.

"And I talked to Molly, Potters administrative assistant. She recalled dozens of phone calls in her presence where Potter and you planned this meeting, which she found despicable, and from what she could hear from Potters end of the conversation, it was you, not Potter who was working out the details."

"And I talked to Potter's ex-wife, which turned me on as to why she divorced old man Potter. Seems someone sent her pictures of you and Potter together in a romantic settings. The pictures were obviously selfies, with you holding the camera.

"That got me to talk to old man Potter, who was surprisingly agreeable. Seems you told Potter that it was I who sent Mrs. Potter the photos. Of course, it wasn't and even Potter figured that out once he saw how utterly shocked I was when you stood behind him as he was cutting my nuts off. Potter now knows it was you who sent the pictures. That he ever believed otherwise since all the pictures were selfies taken by you was only because you told him what he wanted to hear. He knows that you set up his divorce. He also told me it was you, not him that approached him at the gym. It was you, not him that suggested coffee, it was you, not him who suggested lunch at the posh hotel, and you, not him, that suggested a visit to the hotel room."

Margaret saw that I had done my homework. "Well, shit, after ten years, you finally took time off work to focus on me. Good for you. A little late, but what the hell."

Her change of demeanor suggested that honesty was next. "Ah, the truth. Please, my love, you have the floor."

"I was bored, tired, lonely, but mostly bored. One kid out of the house, the other nearly so. I have no worth to anyone anymore. So I saw the old rich guy on the treadmill. I didn't have a plan at first, I just went over to say hi. But they way the geezer looked at me, I thought, 'what the hell,' and I went for it. I was angry at you. I wanted to hurt you. You were the reason I was bored. You were the reason I was lonely. And this was the man I could get back at you.

"The why? Mostly, I just wanted you to fail with your mistress. You know who I mean, your goddam job! I figured at little roll in the hay with the fat fuck and I'd have him eating out of my hand. It worked like a charm. So twice a week, a nice meal and a half an hour in a fancy hotel room, and he started piling the shitty cases on you. We were already talking marriage. The guy was 70, overweight, couldn't walk a half a mile at a two mile-an-hour pace without getting winded and he was worth a fortune. How long would I have to wait? But he began to worry about divorcing his wife. What would the kids think? That was part easy. Pictures anonymously mailed to her house. I told Potter you must have found the pictures on my phone, that you were acting strange and that must be it. You were just too much of a coward to confront me. You had figured it out, and this was your pathetic attempt to get me back.

"After his divorce was granted, and after giving his wife a small part of his wealth, he was still rich as fuck. I helped him pick out his new condominium apartment. It was a fantasy of luxury. Now all we had to do was figure out my divorce.

"I was worried about Colleen, how it would affect her. She of course would want to stay with me, but I was going to move into the condo, and she wouldn't want that. So, the plan was to move out and get divorce after Colleen left for college.

"As for the divorce, I wanted to gut you, but Potter didn't want that. He was the one that wanted to give you an easy divorce. He wanted to get married quickly, and that was the easiest route. He also knew you were well liked in the firm, and we might as well give you a great severance package, or you might not leave peacefully. He wasn't even into the humiliation bit, but on that point, I insisted. And I thought he did a good job, although it turned out it wasn't needed. You didn't pay any attention to Potter, you just looked at me the whole time, with an enormous hurt on your face. Turns out, that was all I really needed to get my pound of flesh.

"But then it all blew up in our face. Goodbody destroyed our plan. That, and the fact that Potter was so focused on me that he didn't even see he had lost his place as rainmaker. And by Friday, with him losing his place in the firm, he finally saw that it was me who destroyed his marriage, and that is when he blew up. That is when he beat me up.

"So, now you know the whole truth. That's why I lied, there was no way you'd agree to let me stay if I told you this."

There was a pause. Both of us had something to absorb after that, then I said, "you know, I already knew the worse parts of all of this. Yes, part of all this was my fault. You might not believe this, but had you told me the truth from the beginning, there was enough here for me to try to save this marriage. But lie upon lie upon lie, that makes working this out impossible."

Then I asked, "so what is your plan now?"

"I don't know. Hire a good divorce lawyer, take my half of all this, find another old fat fuck and live happily ever after."

"Well, you are going to need a better plan than that. The Settlement Agreement you signed is still binding and filed with the court. You are going to walk away with virtually nothing."

"No, everything has changed, no one is going to hold me to that now, I suffered for this, no judge is going to just throw me out."

"Tell you what, take your story and the Settlement Agreement to your own lawyer, any lawyer, this town or even out of town. I'll give you the money to pay for it and see what he can do."

Her face, which had turned hard during her explanation of what happened, slowly dissolved into something of fear and panic. "You mean after all that has happened that piece of paper is still good?"

"Well, yeah, of course. But don't take my word for, find a good lawyer and ask him. In the meantime, you are welcomed to stay in the guestroom for a little longer."

A week later, having come home by six every evening that week now that I had dumped the crappy cases, Margaret wanted to talk. We'd barely exchanged but a few hellos in the week passed. I would come home and fix a meal and head upstairs to read. She'd already have eaten and was fixed in front of the TV. I'd look in on her, but she would pretend not to notice, so I'd just move on to something else. But tonight was different.

"What's up?" I asked in as informal a voice I could manage. There was anger in my feelings towards her, but there was something else, something larger, deeper... grief.

We sat at the dinner table. "I am fucked" she said. "I probably deserve it, but it really is sinking in and I'm scared."

I said nothing.

"I saw two different lawyers this week. Three, if you include the one that threw me out of his office. They both reviewed the agreement, asked some questions, and gave me the same opinion. The agreement was written by my lawyer at my direction. It explicitly described what I was giving up and it was signed by me in the presence of my lawyer and another witness. It will be very difficult to break the agreement and both lawyers told me they wouldn't take my case if the point was to break the agreement. Both said they knew of you but didn't know you, and that made no difference to them at all. I also went to the lawyer that drew up the agreement, and he also refused to help, and unlike the other two, he wouldn't even take my money. He ended up telling me to leave."

"And that isn't the worse part. I have been trying to call the kids all week. Colleen hasn't returned a single call, and Liam called me back once, but only to tell me how angry he was at me because of what I did to you."

I finally spoke. "I'll talk to the kids. When all this broke, we talked, and, well, they heard me cry about losing you. I only told them that you had a lover, but I told them nothing more than that. I also told them that you were a good mother and that this had nothing to do with them. I am afraid I wasn't very convincing. I've talked to them some this week, and they are both still angry, but I am sure they will get over it in time. I promise Margaret, I will work on them. You were always a wonderful mom, even if you were a shitty wife."

She was a bit taken aback by the last bit, but she gave a soft smile as she realized I really did want to help her with the kids.

Then she returned to her first problem. "I don't know what I can do know. I have no money, I only have a part time job, I'm middle aged with no career prospects. I only have my mom and my sister and neither one of them are talking to me. Patrick, can you help me?"

"I don't think so." I said slowly. "You betrayed me, you humiliated me, you tried to destroy my career. It's all I can do to have you stay in the same house even for a short time. I will help you with the kids, but that is for the kid's sake, they need their mother." Again, I spoke softly trying to erase any sound of malice toward her.

At that she started to cry. "You're right. I shouldn't be asking you for help, but I don't know who else to go to."

I got up from the table and started to walk away. Margaret just sat there, her head down on the table, quietly crying.

I stopped, turned around and said to her, "you know what gets me the worst? Ten years ago, when we bought this house, I told you we couldn't afford it. You begged me to buy it; you told me you loved it and had to have it. So, I bought this monstrosity, and to pay for it, I worked later every night. And we made it. You had this house you had to have. Then with the extra hours I was putting in, we had to start putting money aside for the kids to go to college. I had to work more hours. When Colleen started to go into high school and you had some spare time, you took that part-time job at the library, but all that money was yours, you never even thought to put anything into the household budget, or to the kids' savings, or even your own savings. You earned it and you spent it on you. And when all this blew up in my face, you blamed me for working too hard. You told me that I had abandoned you. Damn it, all those extra hours were for you and the kids. They were for our family. Now my family is broken. Except for my kids, I feel I have just wasted my life."

She looked up, tears streaming down her face. She said nothing.

After a minute, I finally added, "The divorce will go through. You will get nothing on paper. But I will not leave you destitute. We will work something out. I don't know what yet. It won't be much. But if you ever complain, if you ever speak badly about me to anyone, if you ever say an unkind word to either of our children, it will all just go *poof* and disappear. Understand?"

She nodded. I wondered if the waterworks were just another ploy to manipulate me. So, what if it was? She was still the mother of my children.

We never really settled on a specific arrangement. I opened a joint account and deposited money based on whatever the balance was on the day I checked. She kept the house clean, kept the refrigerator stocked, and often cooked an evening meal for me. We would eat together, often in silence. Later, she would watch television, and I'd go up to my room to read. I asked her only one thing, and in asking it, I knew I was being unfair, and I told her so. I asked her not to date so long as she was under this roof. I told her I had no right to ask that, especially after our divorce. She gave a small smile and nodded her head.

The divorce itself was completed in just three months. Counseling was a prerequisite in our jurisdiction. Our counselor asked us what happened. We both gave about the same stories, both of us agreed with what the other said.

At the conclusion of the sessions, our counselor said she knew there was still a spark between the two of us, but that she was going to let us decide if we wanted to try again. I spoke first, saying "I am afraid that spark is dead. What you are seeing is its ghost." Margaret nodded. She recommended that the divorce proceed and the court forwarded the signed decree a couple of weeks later. I brought it home, gave a copy to Margaret, she looked at it, nodded, and then went into the kitchen to serve my meal.

It had been five months since she moved back into the house and she was living as a maid.

The next week, after we were finishing our meal, Margaret caught me just staring at her.

What? She asked.

"Sorry." I was just thinking." She was still so beautiful. We had such a good life until somehow we both got lost. If only the past ten years hadn't happen.

"What do you want?" She asked. I hadn't stopped staring.

"I'm not sure."

She started to get up and take our dishes to the kitchen.

"Do you like science fiction, or was that something you just pretended to enjoy when we were young to please me?"

She turned back and looked at me with a tilted head. This was the first light remark either of us had ventured since she had returned to the house.

"Well, in the beginning, I pretended, but after a while, I did become a fan. Why do you ask?"

"Well, there is a new science fiction movie out that the critics seem to like. Would you like to see it with me?"

She looked at me strangely and after a moment said, "As in a date?"

I held my breath for a second, then responded, "would you want it to be a date?"

After what seemed an eternity, she answered, "yes, I think I would." A smile slowly emerged.

"When would you want to go."

"The next show is in 45 minutes."

We never did see the damn movie. We went upstairs to change, as I was beginning to put on something casual, she came into my room, naked, and said only "I don't deserve you." We fucked like college kids.

Epilogue

This all happened twenty years ago. We never did remarry. She stayed in the house, but we never moved back into one bedroom. But we were happy and would have overnight visits with each other frequently. That we never returned to the same bedroom served as a reminder of the times we lost our way.

Henry Potter was charged with Aggravated Assault, a felony, but since a felony would cost him his law license, a plea deal was struck for him to plead to a misdemeanor with a 30 day sentence. He kept his law license, but never stepped into a law office again, and the firm his grandfather founded struck the Potter name from the firm's title.