Page 60 of Not Yet Yours

I’m glad of her hand in mine because my other hand holds something I never wanted to set eyes on again let alone hold. But I was told to bring it with me today and so I have.

The morning after Harriet found the marriage certificate was the morning I called Alan Turner, my lawyer, and asked him what he knew about divorce and that it might be a bit more complicated than the average divorce. He made me this appointment and told me to bring my marriage certificate and if he couldn’t help, he would recommend a divorce specialist who would know more than him about it all. I am hoping that Alan can help me because I know and trust him, but if he can’t, I’m sure anyone he recommends will be good at what they do.

Harriet and I leave the parking lot, walk to the next block, and go inside of the building where my lawyer’s office is. It’s in a shared building and my lawyer’s floors are seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen. Alan is one of the managing partners and therefore, he is in an office on the nineteenth floor.

I lead Harriet to the elevators and press the button to call the car down.

“Don’t we have to sign in or something?” Harriet says, glancing over her shoulder at the reception desk.

“No,” I say. “That’s just if you’re not sure where your appointment is. Kind of like an information desk.”

Harriet nods in understanding and then the elevator pings and the doors open. I gesture for Harriet to get in and then I follow her. A few other people have been waiting too and they get in. I press the button for the nineteenth floor.

“Fourteen, please,” a man says as he gets in the elevator.

I should probably tell him I don’t work here, but I’m literally standing at the control panel, and it won’t hurt me to press his floor too. Of course, once I do, everyone whose floor isn’t already selected shouts up. Finally, all the floors required are selected and I hit the close doors button, and we start to go up.

We stop on at least seven floors before we get to the nineteenth floor and Harriet and I get out. The elevator car closes its doors behind us and keeps on going up as we step into the lobby of my lawyer’s offices. A large reception desk with four secretaries sitting behind it involved in various tasks awaits us and we walk over to it. The nearest secretary, a redhead wearing a white blouse, smiles up at us.

“Hi. Can I help you?” she says.

“Liam Monroe to see Alan Turner. I have an appointment,” I say.

The secretary taps on the keys of a computer and then she looks up at me and smiles.

“If you’d like to take a seat, I’ll let him know you’re here Mr. Monroe,” she says.

I thank her and Harriet and I go and sit down in the seats she gestured toward. We’ve barely gotten seated when a tall, black-haired woman in a tight black dress approaches us.

“Mr. Monroe?” she says, looking at me questioningly. I nod and she smiles at me. “I’m Lara, Mr. Turner’s personal assistant. He is ready to see you now if you’d like to follow me.”

Harriet and I stand back up and we follow Lara down a long corridor. One side is a series of glass-walled conference rooms, some in use, some not. The other side is a series of offices for the more high-up partners and their personal assistants. It seems that the more important you are at a law firm, the further away from the main door of the building you have to be because Alan Turner's office is the very last one in the corridor.

Lara taps on the door, opens it, and tells Alan we’re here. She stands back and opens the door wider and gestures for us to enter. Harriet and I both thank her and step into the office. Instantly I can see why Alan wanted this office. It’s not just about the power play of being miles from the entrance. It’s because it’s a corner office, meaning two walls are pretty much made fully of glass offering amazing views over the city.

The office is tasteful and understated. A large desk takes center stage, Alan sits behind it in his desk chair, and there are two chairs in front of it. There is a seating area with a table and four chairs around it, where I assume he holds small meetings with individual team members for cases, and there is a more comfortable looking seating area underneath one of the windows, presumably for a more relaxed chat or maybe for schmoozing clients. The third wall, the one with the entrance door, is painted cream and it perfectly complements the hardwood floor and the plush cream rug in the center of it. The final wall is lined with shelves stuffed with law-themed books.

Lara asks if we would like any refreshments and both Harriet and I say no thank you and Alan follows suit. Lara excuses herself and pulls the door closed behind her. Alan stands up and comes toward us. Harriet and I meet him in the middle of the room, and he shakes hands with us.

“Good to see you Liam,” he says.

“Likewise,” I agree. I nod toward Harriet. “This is Harriet.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Alan says and Harriet smiles at him. “Take a seat.”

Alan gestures toward the chairs at this side of his desk and as Harriet and I sit down, he walks back around his desk and retakes his own seat.

“I understand you’re looking for some advice on a divorce?” he says.

I nod.

“Yes, but it’s kind of a weird one. A bit embarrassing too, to be honest,” I tell him.

“I have children. I get embarrassed on an almost daily basis so don’t worry about that,” Alan says, and we all laugh.

“Tell me what’s odd about this particular divorce then,” Alan says.

“Well, the wedding was fifteen years ago, and the bride and I haven’t seen each other since, for starters,” I say. Alan raises a questioning eyebrow, but he doesn’t interrupt, and I go on. “We were young and stupid, drunk and in Las Vegas.”

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