Brenda Janowitz - Jack With a Twist

As the door shuts with barely a sound, I sit back down and take out some work that I brought with me to do while I wait for Vanessa. I look at my research on dissolution of partnership. My initial research revealed that this was a fairly straightforward case, and I realized why Noah must have assumed that I could take the matter on by myself. Monique’s partnership agreement is well-written and clear—its elegant language should make this matter go smoothly and easily. This research shouldn’t really take very long at all.

Which really frees me up to do some more thinking about my bridal party: Vanessa will lead the charge as my matron/maid of honor, with the rest of the party rounded out with Jack’s three older sisters. Even though I haven’t met Jack’s older sisters yet, I just know that when our families meet, they are all going to love each other immediately and Jack’s sisters will be my new best friends.

I walk to the other side of the reception area to get myself a cup of coffee—after all, in one short afternoon, I’ve figured out my entire case and planned out my wedding party. Surely I deserve a snack.

“It will be easier to start getting over him once you take that ring off,” a strange voice whispers to me as I’m pouring my coffee. I turn around to see the epitome of tall, dark and handsome leaning over my shoulder. As I melt into his hazel-green eyes, it takes me a second to realize that I’m still pouring the coffee. And that I’m engaged. I look down to see that I’ve spilled my coffee all over the countertop.

What is it with me and coffee lately? I just got this skirt back from the dry cleaners after my last run-in with an errant cup of joe.

“Me? Oh, no, I’m not getting a divorce,” I say, “I haven’t even gotten married yet! I’m just here to support my friend who’s going through a divorce.”

“Oh,” he says, already turning to walk away from me, his broad shoulders sinking just the tiniest bit, “sorry about that.”

That guy was really hot! I think. I guess I’ve still got it! Off the market and still a little heartbreaker….

I immediately e-mail Jack a message from my BlackBerry to tell him how I get hit on left and right when he’s not around. He e-mails back a very detailed message that explains all of the things he plans to do to me later to ensure that I never ever ever stray from him, not even for one minute.

I put my BlackBerry away with a smile and scan the room. (What can I say? Some single girl habits die hard….) The guy who approached me isn’t the only hot guy in the room. Everyone in this office is pretty hot, including Vanessa’s divorce lawyer herself, Stephanie Cohen. This would be a great place to meet someone, I think to myself, looking around the room at all of the good-looking eligible men. Not one is wearing a wedding ring, so they are all clearly single! Or about to be, any minute! What a great place to meet men—I wish I’d known about places like this back when I was single. And now that I’ve discovered this hot spot, I’m already engaged. Life can be so unfair sometimes.

I wonder if Stephanie ever dates her hot clients after their divorces are final and they are free and single again. What? I mean once they aren’t her clients anymore, I’m not trying to insinuate she’d do anything unethical. Geez!

As I stir my coffee, I notice the tray of mini cupcakes sitting next to the coffee set-up. Now, I know that I should be on a wedding diet, but now that Monique’s not designing my dress, maybe it would be okay to have just one cupcake. It suddenly dawns on me that now that Monique isn’t designing my dress anymore, I don’t have a dress. I’m back at square one. And I don’t even know where to go and look for a dress, since my mother made me have a nervous breakdown at nearly every bridal designer’s showroom in town!

Don’t panic, you will find another dress. I take the napkin wrapped around my cup of coffee and tear it into halves. After all, finding a wedding dress is easy! People find wedding dresses every day of the week—how hard could it possibly be? Why, I’ll probably find one in the next store that I go to!

Okay, I didn’t even convince myself on that one.

I have no wedding dress! I’ve got the guy, but no dress. What am I going to wear down the aisle? Okay, be cool, be confident. You’ll find another dress. Maybe I should just take a tiny peek at a bridal magazine to start getting some ideas. Get those creative juices flowing again.

The New York Law Journal, the National Law Journal, the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal…. Nary a Vogue or a Glamour or a Marie Claire to be found. Which is really odd, seeing as Stephanie is so put together and well-dressed. Just because it’s a lawyer’s office, that doesn’t mean that they can’t have any fun magazines? Don’t they know that there are people here who need wedding dresses? Would it kill them to have a Bride magazine?

Okay, maybe that’s pushing it, since I’m at a divorce attorney’s office. Must focus my energy on more important things. Like mini cupcakes.

“Brooke, is that you?” a voice from behind me asks just as I’ve popped an entire mini-cupcake into my mouth. I turn around to see Monique deVouvray standing right behind me.

“Oh,” I say, trying to swallow quickly, “Monique.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks in her thick French accent. She’s dressed impeccably, just as she was on the other occasions when I’d seen her, but I notice that she’s got a large scarf wrapped around her head like she’s Bridget Bardot and is wearing enormous Chanel sunglasses that hide half of her face.

“I’m just here with a friend,” I say, stirring my coffee. I don’t want to tell her that it’s Vanessa, since the last thing Vanessa needs right now is for her mother’s acquaintances to know about her divorce and how quickly it’s moving forward.

“Well, I’m just here to talk to a lawyer so that I know my rights,” she says in a hushed voice. “Just talk. I’m not filing for divorce or anything.” She looks around the room furtively before looking back to me.

“I won’t tell a soul,” I say as Monique pours herself a coffee—black. I marvel at the fact that she doesn’t even give a second look at the mini cupcakes. Or the hot guy with the hazel-green eyes. French women have so much self-control.

“My prenuptial agreement is very complicated,” she says. “As a lawyer, I’m sure you understand that.”

“Of course,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

“Robin Kaplan is supposed to be very discreet,” she says, evoking the name of the most famous divorce attorney to the stars in New York City. “And I’ll count on you to be the same.”

“Of course,” I say as an assistant comes over to us and tells Monique in a whisper that Robin Kaplan is ready to see her. Monique bows her head as she follows the assistant back to Ms. Kaplan’s office.

First the dissolution of partnership and now a divorce. The tabloids will have a field day with this. Monique and her husband are a New York City institution, and have been since they first got together back in the seventies. I consider, for a moment, telling Vanessa about seeing Monique. Maybe it would make her feel better. After all, if a couple like Monique and Jean Luc can’t make it, who can? But then I consider that perhaps this conversation would fall under the attorney-client privilege that Monique enjoys with me, since I am representing her in her dissolution of partnership from said perfect husband. Who, after all these years, can’t seem to make it work. What if Jack and I can’t make it work?