Moonlight Road (Virgin River #11)(74)

Erin felt a very creepy chill run through her, but she wasn’t sure where it came from. The perfect little beauty who claimed to want another chance with her soon-to-be ex-husband? Or Aiden, who she thought she knew so intimately but perhaps didn’t really know that well. Aiden, who a couple of days ago grabbed her harshly in anger.

She’d prefer to think this young woman was lying. The problem was, she had no real way of disputing any of their claims. Either one’s.

In the practice of tax and estate law, people could tell horrendous lies with all the innocence of a sweet baby. Money was at stake, sometimes huge amounts of money. Finger-pointing and swearing on a stack of bibles didn’t cut any grass with the law—everything had to be documented and proven.

How did you prove your boyfriend wasn’t calling his ex-wife? Maybe seeing her from time to time? Who did you believe when the stories were so disparate?

Erin called Ron Preston. “Did your new client, Aiden Riordan, happen to mention where his referral came from?”

“Yes, and thank you very much, Erin.”

“Did he happen to mention why I gave the referral?”

“He met you at that vacation spot where you have the cabin?” he replied by way of a question.

“Hmm. Yes, that’s correct. Met me, became a friend, dated me and now the ex-wife has appeared to state that she’s not an ex-wife. He says they parted company after three months of marriage and haven’t seen each other in eight years. She says they were together three years, filled out divorce papers more than once and have remained in touch.” Physically in touch?

“Erin, I can’t discuss this with you….”

“I understand that, Ron. The problem is, there is no way for me to check either story and I don’t want to be…” She couldn’t finish. Used? Abused? Lied to? Manipulated?

“I understand completely,” Ron said. “You’re emotionally involved, so I’m going to tell you something you already know. When I have a client whose story differs remarkably from the person they oppose in the process, I listen very carefully, check the facts, do everything I can to represent my client, but I don’t necessarily believe them. That doesn’t mean he or she is lying, it means that there are many assertions that are simply impossible to clarify. This is just about process, Erin. May the better man win.”

“And if one of the by-products is that I’m emotionally decimated in the process?” she asked sarcastically.

“There’s no law that says you have to believe everything you hear. Slow down. Don’t leave yourself open.”

She sighed deeply. “Thanks,” she said. “Really, thanks. I needed to hear that. I hate it, but I needed to hear it.”

“I suspect this will be resolved soon enough. Guard your flanks. And your fanny.”

“Oh! That’s crude!” she snapped at him.

“Do it anyway,” he said. “Gotta run. Marriages are falling apart everywhere I look.”

She hung up. That was why she hated him—because he was cold and went in for the kill. And that was why she had a grudging respect for him, because he didn’t get emotionally involved. And where did that leave her? Aching for a man she was just a little afraid to believe in.

Thirteen

Mel Sheridan had a very busy week, beginning with being awake most of Wednesday night with Shelby Riordan. It was getting harder, she noticed, to pull those all-nighters and bounce right back. A lot of that could have to do with having two little kids, at least one of whom should be completely potty trained. Emma was two, David three, and when Mel had a sitter, a teenage girl was having more success than she was.

Of course Mel was busy. She had always been busy. The day after Shelby and Luke’s baby arrived, she tried sleeping late, but that didn’t work out. She went to the clinic and saw a few patients. There was a callout from a rancher who was having chest pains—she and Cameron left the clinic to attend to him. They transported him to the hospital and the whole emergency took a long time; Mel was late getting home. She was due a real deep sleep, but Emma didn’t feel well. She and Jack were up during the night changing pajamas, diapers, sheets, and Jack said, “I hope to hell whatever this is doesn’t go through the whole family.”

It was the weekend before things seemed to calm down. Mel indulged herself a little with some catch-up—she got her house in order, called Leslie Carpenter to babysit so she could visit Shelby and the new baby, then took a long soak in the tub and joined the kids during nap time, resting up.

She needed a little quality time with her husband.

She fed her children, got them settled in bed early and Jack escaped from the bar, bringing their dinner. Since the kids were asleep, she went to some trouble; she put place mats and candles on the table. When Jack had dished up their dinner and they sat down together in a clean, quiet house, she said, “Lord, what a crazy week!”

“I agree. You feel okay? Because whatever had Emma all upside down and not feeling well, no one else seems to be sick.”

“I feel fine,” she said. “David’s fine. I felt it was safe to go out to the Riordans’ to see them because forty-eight hours had passed with no symptoms of any kind.”

“And the Riordans are okay?”

“They’re on a honeymoon with little Brett. He hasn’t really found his voice yet. Any second he’s going to let them know he has truly arrived.”