Page 64 of The Art Of Starting Over

“Do they still bring food to people in need?”

“They do. They’re good people and great for the community, as long as you don’t have anything personal going on in your life.”

“Like me.”

Laila smiled softly at Devy. “Screw Chad. He was never one of us anyway.”

She was right. Knowing that should’ve been Devorah’s first of what seemed to be a long list of red flags.

The bar started to fill with the crews from the piers. Laila told Devy she’d stop by Crow’s in the next couple of days, but if she needed anything, she could find her down the street at the travel agency she owned. Dev watched her former best friend leave and marveled at how successful she’d become in their little hometown. Something Chad had said he could never be.

He was right. No one really liked him in Oyster Bay, and they probably would’ve made sure he knew it.

Colt relieved Devorah in time for her to get Maren from school. She could probably walk home, especially with all the other kids in the area, but Dev wasn’t there yet mentally. She needed to know her daughter was safe.

Devy headed toward the school and paused when she saw a sign forTheo Sherman, Attorney-at-Law. She studied the gray house where Theo had set up shop many moons ago, while a voice in the back of her mind nagged at her conscience. She wasn’t going to take Chad back, and she had yet to hear from him despite him calling to talk to Maren. At least he hadn’t forgotten about his daughter.

“Nope, just the vows you promised each other,” Dev mumbled to herself. She pulled out her phone and called her father.

“Something wrong?” he asked gruffly when he picked up. Not a “hello” or even a “hey.”

“Not necessarily. Are you able to pick Maren up from school?”

“Something happen?”

“No, I’d like to stop and talk to Theo,” she told him. “See what my options are.”

“I’ll get her.”

“Thank you ... Dad,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll be home shortly.” Devy hung up, saving them from the awkwardness of saying goodbye.

She climbed the steps and opened the door to Theo’s office. It smelled stale, like a mixture of paper and coffee, and it reminded her of a library.

“Hello?” a male voice called out from another room.

“Theo? It’s Devorah Crowley.” Her maiden name slipped easily out of her mouth.

Theo came down the hallway, dressed in a white button-up, brown slacks, and suspenders. Other than his age, he hadn’t changed since the last time she’d seen him. “Bea said you’d be coming by. Come on in and let’s chat.”

Dev followed him into his office. He sat behind a large, deep oak desk with stacks of folders piled on top of each other and a monitor in the corner with a layer of dust resting on top of it. She looked around at the shelves full of books and wondered if he had ever opened one.

“I heard about everything,” he said with a wave of his hand. “We don’t need to recount everything.”

“I appreciate that.”

Theo asked her the basics: When did she get married? Have Maren? Buy her house? How many cars did they own? The questions went on and on, each one stabbing her in the heart.

“You’re staying at Crow’s?”

“Yes,” she told him. “How much is this going to cost me?”

“Won’t cost you a thing, sweetie. Chad will pay.” Theo sat back. “Now, I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to think about how you want to proceed.”

“Okay.”

“Illinois law forbids stepping out on your spouse. Due to what we’ve all seen and heard, and you unfortunately witnessed, we can call the police and have him arrested. It’s a misdemeanor, but he’d be booked, fingerprinted, and have a mug shot taken.”

Devorah absorbed those words. She wasn’t vindictive, at least she didn’t think she was. “I ... I don’t really know.”

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