Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(37)
We were more or less the same age, but Hannah calling me Momma didn’t bother me. I took being maternal as a compliment in all situations and contexts. “Now, come help me carry this big fancy fruit platter into the dressing room. I have strawberries and three kinds of dip in the fridge, and one is Nutella. There’s nothing wrong that can’t be made better with a little strawberry and Nutella magic.”
Smiling finally, Hannah stood. “That does sound good. I’ll grab the tray, you get the strawberries and Nutella.”
Hank and I also stood, but he stopped me from following after Hannah with a hand around my wrist, drawing my attention to his. The man’s grumpy expression had disappeared and his eyes gazed at me, their weight feeling warm and friendly. “Go on, Hannah. Charlotte will be there in a minute.”
“This looks amazing, Charlotte,” Hannah called over her shoulder as she left, her shoulders no longer hunched.
Hank waited until the sound of Hannah’s steps had faded before speaking. “I want to thank you for your cool-headed approach just now.” He lifted his chin toward the door to the hall. “My solution for Hannah had included taking out an ad in the newspaper and publishing John Wilson’s pink pony along with a photo I have of him that he’d not want his mother to see. So, thank you. I appreciate you lending us all your expertise.”
“You’re welcome.” I couldn’t help but feel both proud and self-conscious in the face of his show of gratitude and kind praise, nor could I ignore the admiration I felt for him in the moment and how protective he was of Hannah, how much consideration he gave his employees and contractors.
Warmth rushed through me as we stared at each other before I realized a few seconds had ticked by and we were still staring at each other.
Crossing my arms abruptly, I worked to rearrange my expression from one of moony admiration to hopefully something resembling simple curiosity. “Uh, John Wilson? Who is that?”
“The regular who got Hannah fired.” He released my wrist. “Still might put the photo in the newspaper, though. Or make him pay me not to.”
I laughed at his rhetorical threat. But then, when he didn’t crack a smile, I reared back. “You’re serious?”
“Why not? He shames Hannah out of a job she earned, he should get a taste of his own medicine.”
I gaped at him, my mouth moving but with no sound coming out.
“Think of me as the fairness fairy.” He smirked; it looked mean with intent, anticipation of deeds not yet done. “People always get what’s coming to them, sooner or later. And I’ve never minded being the person who delivers it.”
CHAPTER 10
HANK
“Respect was invented to cover the empty place where love should be.”
LEO TOLSTOY, ANNA KARENINA
Upon leaving the Winston homestead last Tuesday after dinner, I’d immediately texted my lawyer to find and send me Charlotte’s divorce settlement. I also wanted any depositions and all related court filings in public record.
Those two kids of hers had figuratively charmed my pants off. But when Charlotte had appeared and unceremoniously took them away, I’d felt oddly bereft and embarrassed, a modicum uncomfortable, and a bit more than a tad concerned about Charlotte’s money problems. If she needed money, then the money was likely for her kids, which meant her ex’s family wasn’t contributing their fair share to Joshua and Sonya (and Kimmy and Frankie). The unfairness infuriated me. Someone needed to do something.
Friday morning, the day after Charlotte brought in that fruit tray and improved Hannah’s outlook on life, I received the whole packet via email. After printing out the hefty load of documents, I headed over to Genie’s Country Western Bar for a sandwich and beer, wanting to avoid being interrupted by club business or have Charlotte stumble across me reading through her divorce settlement. She might’ve considered it an invasion of privacy.
I did not.
The documents were public record. If she didn’t want folks reading them, she should’ve asked they be sealed. I needed to understand why this woman—who clearly should’ve been heading up her own company or working as a CFO for a giant corporation—wanted to strip at The Pony for money. Something didn’t add up.
Despite Kevin’s extensive real-estate portfolio, Charlotte only got their big house in Green Valley and a three-bedroom, 1700-square-foot vacation beach cottage on the coast in North Carolina. Both properties were fully paid off. She’d also received a relatively modest—given who the Buckleys were and how much money Kevin made, according to his tax returns—amount of child support for each kid that paid until they were eighteen and increased at the same rate as inflation year over year. No matter if she got married or won the lottery, the child support was guaranteed.
Additionally, Kevin (meaning, Kevin’s daddy) had agreed to set up a trust fund for each of the kids to help fund college, or to give them a start in life if they didn’t go to college, or whatever. Charlotte didn’t have any access to those accounts; they were controlled by Buckley Sr. until the child came of age, but a minimum amount had been guaranteed. The Buckleys also paid into a health savings account for each of the kids. But not for Charlotte.
According to the records, the only thing Charlotte had been adamant about was that Kevin and his family be denied unsupervised access to her kids or be allowed to dictate where they went to school. The Buckleys had wanted all the kids to go to Belmont and had noted the preference in the final settlement, going so far as to offer to pay for tuition and give Charlotte a stipend for every kid who graduated from the school. It was the same boarding school I’d been forced to attend.