"John forged your name and took out a new note on the house. It's mortgaged to the max. If you sell it now you can pay the bank. As it is you have a payment of a little over six thousand dollars due in seven days. You don't have enough money to stay there more than two months."
Hannah shook her head. "John wouldn't do that. He wouldn't do that with the house. Not the house."
Howard must have seen too many war movies with shellshock victims as he slapped Hannah with his words. "Hannah, John's gone. He left you and stole everything that wasn't nailed down. And what was nailed down he sold out from under you."
Hannah held up a thin, manicured hand. "But that's illegal." It was beginning to sink in. "What about the cars?"
"Both leased," John said. He glanced in the deadly folder. "The Volvo is five hundred and forty. The BMW is eight-twenty, both payable the first of the month."
Howard cleared his throat. Could there be more? Hannah wondered.
There was. "I also received mail from John yesterday." Howard was holding several legal sized pieces of paper. "It's a marital dissolution agreement."
"You're joking," Hannah sputtered. "John wants to divorce me after stealing everything?"
Howard looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Apparently so."
"But…" Hannah shook her head. "I don't…"
"It's an unusual situation," Howard said.
The understatement of the year, Hannah thought. She found it strange that the only thing that resounded in her mind was that she hadn’t seen it coming. She didn’t really care about the cars or the money — the house, of course, was a different matter, for a different reason — but she hadn’t seen this coming.
Howard's voice took on his professional lilt. "You have to realize that some of what John did is illegal and not just toward you. The bank he took the new mortgage out from will not be very happy either. You’re probably going to have to divorce him to keep the bank and others he defrauded from coming after you, Hannah."
"Coming after me?" she repeated. "I didn't do anything."
"Divorcing him, and a thorough check of your lack of assets, will help convince them of that," Howard said. "But as it looks now, you're a party to everything he did. Divorcing him will be the best thing you could do."
"Divorcing John is a good thing?" Hannah pressed her hands against her temples. "I don't understand. Until a week ago I thought I had a good marriage. John seemed as happy as ever. Something's wrong with this picture, Howard. Either something awful happened to John or my entire adult life has been a sham. After all these years for him to do this now means I'm an idiot."
Howard's voice softened. "No. You're a lovely, lovely woman who married a snake. But now's not the time for pity. Now's the time for action. You have to rise above this, Hannah. We have to take care of the dirt John left you. Then you can start a new life."
Hannah stared. A new life? She didn't even know how she'd lost the old one yet.
Howard kept the words coming. "Hannah, you're a beautiful woman with lots of talents. You can get a job or another husband in no time."
Even through the numbness, that struck a painful chord. "I can't believe you said that, Howard."
He held up both hands, defensively. "I didn't mean it like that."
"How else could you possibly have meant it?"
"Hannah, please!" Howard was standing. He had an envelope in his hands that he was running one thumb along the edge of. “Do you need help?”
Hannah was puzzled by the inane question.
“Haven’t you been seeing someone? A professional?” Realizing he wasn’t getting through, Howard cut to the chase. “A psychiatrist?”
How did he know about Dr. Jenkins, Hannah wondered. John must have told him, she immediately realized. Hannah gave a bitter laugh. "How can I pay for a psychiatrist now?"
"You're still covered by John's health plan; for a while at least. I think you really should go see him. Get some help."
Hannah stood. "I have to go."
Howard started coming around his massive desk. "I'm sorry, Hannah. Please don't leave like this. With everything you have to worry about I'd hate it if I were the cause of any more trouble. I was just trying to help."
Hannah didn't say anything. She walked quickly out the door. As the elevator doors shut Howard was still calling after her, telling her they had to take care of this now. Clear it up before it was too late.
Hannah leaned against the brass wall letting the cool surface soothe her forehead. She was still willing herself not to faint when the doors slid open. The man in front of her shot an appreciative glance as he entered the elevator.
"Nice day."
She stared at him as she pushed by him into the lobby, awed by the fact that the world was going to go on.
Hannah fumbled her way out of the office building and stood in a daze on the sidewalk. All around her office workers were hitting the streets of St. Louis for lunch. After she was bumped a few times she realized it was time to move on. She couldn't quite remember where the car was parked and it didn't seem to matter. The car John had brought home one day. She hadn't even asked if he'd bought it or leased it. Those were questions that simply had never occurred to her after so many years of allowing John to take care of everything.
Hannah wondered if anything was ever going to matter again. This morning her main concern had been John and his safety. Clutching her purse to her chest, she now knew that John was never coming back. Beyond that was dangerous territory for her mind to go.
The Adam's Mark was just ahead. Two weeks ago she might have wandered into the hotel bar and waited for her successful husband to join her for lunch. Today she didn't know if she had enough money for a sandwich and a coke. She fumbled with her purse and checked. She had a couple of dollars in cash. She had no idea what the status of the credit cards was.
The bar was cool and dark and occupied by a lone female bartender. Hannah took a seat at the bar and waited. She noted that the bartender was about her age but looked it. Hannah's carefully tended thirty-one years had been shielded from the direct hit of aging, until this week of course.
"Are you OK?"
Hannah was startled by the bartender's sudden question. She nodded.
"How about a cup of coffee?"
Hannah indicated in the affirmative, thankful that she would have a moment to compose herself before the woman returned. Hannah noticed that the woman's nametag pronounced her Marty. She was eyeing Hannah suspiciously from the end of the bar as she poured the coffee. She carried the cup the length of the bar and set it carefully in front of Hannah.
"Let me see if I can guess: man trouble."
Hannah tried to smile and failed. "Yes. He left me."
Hannah surprised herself. Even though John had been gone a week, this was the first time she had uttered those words aloud. It was as if by refusing to say them she had been able to negate the fact that he was no longer there. She had simply refused to consider the possibility. Even the post card's intent had been ignored.
"He left you?" Marty emphasized the latter pronoun as the look on her face passed from sympathy to incredulity. "I don't mean to be funny but if you got left, I don't figure any of us are safe."
Hannah took a sip of her coffee. The scalding liquid bit at her lips and she put the cup back on the polished surface of the bar. "Maybe nobody is safe."
Marty was leaning on the bar. "Was this guy your husband?"
"Yes. Next month would have been our tenth anniversary."
"He just up and left? Took his stuff and split?"
"Not really. He didn't even take a change of clothes. He just never came back home. For the past week I was afraid something terrible had happened to him and then yesterday I received a post card with palm trees all over it saying he wasn't coming back. I went to our lawyer and he had the divorce papers all ready."