Been In Love Before: A Novel Read online

  “He tried the Internet, family connections, old bosses, and the newspapers, and even called all of his old friends.” She dabbed her eyes with the tissue.

  “Take your time. Would you like some more coffee?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “What does Phil do?” she asked, looking over the information sheet her new client had completed and handed her.

  “He was a salesman, working over the road for a glass company, and he was real good at it. After they closed the office here, the company wanted us to move back to the New Jersey home office, but we just love it here in Florida and hated the winters back home. My mom begged me to come back to Parsippany and move in with them. Just until we got settled, but Phil had too much pride to do that, said he wasn’t going to take any handouts from anybody. Well, then I got pregnant, and he took a job with a builder to pay the bills and a night job with a car dealer. He had a misunderstanding with his boss and got fired . . . he started drinking and then taking drugs. He was a different man, not the man I married.” She paused to stifle a tear and hold back her emotions.

  “At first he just drank on the weekends, and then he began to drink nights, when he came home from the dealership. Soon it was nonstop. He had an accident with our car and borrowed one from the dealer to use; he told me it was a ‘loaner.’ The police came to our house and arrested him. The dealership didn’t press charges, but only on the condition he quit his job.” She stopped and looked away, putting her hand to her mouth.

  “Then it began. He didn’t mean it, really, he didn’t. He was drunk and depressed when he first hit me. He apologized and felt bad, bought me flowers, but then a few days later he had a couple of drinks and got mad when the television broke—then he hit me again. I went to go to the other room, and he grabbed me and . . . broke my arm. I was in pretty bad shape for a while, and three weeks later . . . I lost the baby.”

  Mary Kate moved to sit with her on the sofa and put an arm around her to comfort her. “That will never happen again,” she whispered to the distraught woman sobbing next to her.

  They talked for more than an hour in the young attorney’s office. Her newest client poured out her heart about her dreams and aspirations—now all gone as she struggled in her abusive relationship. Calley had clearly been trying to be brave and hold back the tears, but soon a steady stream began to roll down her cheeks. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “Calley, listen to me . . . ,” Mary Kate said, handing her another tissue.

  The young woman paused for a moment, making a valiant effort to stop crying. “I don’t even know how I’m going to pay you. Or where I’m going to stay or . . .”

  Mary Kate looked at her and said in a comforting voice, “There’s no charge for this service. Our firm believes in giving back to the community. But first things first. Where are you staying?”

  “Home . . . he doesn’t know I’m here.”

  “Hmm. Do you have any friends you can stay with for a few days until we get the paperwork processed?”

  “My girlfriend Heather and her family live down the street from us, but she is out of town until Wednesday. Her husband took her and the kids to the theme parks in Orlando.”

  “Well, you can stay with me if you like, with me and my cat.”

  “Oh, that would be great, except I’m hyperallergic to cats.”

  “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Wait here.” She walked back to her desk and opened a lower drawer. Pulling out a large legal folder, she retrieved the cash envelope and withdrew some money, then handed it to her newest client. “Here, this should help out for the next few days until your friend gets home.”

  “Miss Macgregor . . . Mary Kate, I can’t take your money.”

  “I insist, please. That’s what this is here for, just in situations to help people like you get back on their feet. Use it for whatever you need to get situated, check in to a hotel, or buy an airline ticket and visit with family. I would strongly urge you not to go back home until we get things sorted out. My limited experience with situations like this show it can sometimes be very dangerous. Okay?”

  Calley sobbed before whispering, “Okay, but I was thinking if I could find a temporary hotel room, or maybe if I could just talk to Phil with somebody there in the room with me, then maybe we . . .”

  “Calley, that’s taking a big chance. But we’ll see. Okay? First we get you situated in a hotel. Try the Delray Dunes about six blocks from here. Ask for Robin. If she’s not there, tell them your name is ‘Julie Rush,’ then mention my name, and they’ll take good care of you. It’s a very small place, modest but clean. Go there and we’ll talk soon. Do you have transportation?”

  “Yeah, a neighbor lent me her truck to use for a few days.”

  “Good. Get something to eat, take a long hot shower, have a glass of wine, and get a good night’s sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She handed her a business card. “It will all work out, okay?”

  “Sure, Mary Kate. Thanks for everything.” She walked onto the elevator, and Mary Kate watched her face disappear behind the closing doors. She had an eerie feeling as she watched the elevator doors close on the frightened woman. Calley’s timid wave gave Mary Kate shivers down her spine. Could this be the last time I see her? Alive?

  She had spent the whole morning doing paperwork, and in a rare Sunday meeting with the firm’s senior law partners. Then she had met with her uncles and father, and last, with Calley. Four hours later, she was done for the day, and her Sunday was almost gone. It had been a long day.

  When she left the deserted high-rise office building, she walked down the stairs since the elevator was off after hours. It was dark until the motion detectors switched on the lights, and she finally opened the door to the garage and went to her car. Then she made herself comfortable, turned on her music, and was ready to head home.

  Graw removed her suit jacket, laid it carefully on the car seat next to her, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse. She pressed the release lever on the dashboard of her red sports car and the convertible top dropped quickly into the rear compartment.

  She shook her hair in the warm evening air and was off. She still had paperwork to review at home and then countless wedding details, all of which demanded her attention. At a stoplight she could feel eyes wandering over her body. Looking up, she caught sight of a truck driver ogling her long, lean, athletic legs, now revealed by her skirt, which was hiked high up her thighs. That was the only problem with a convertible, she mused. She hit the gas, and the pounding engine surged as she pulled away from the stoplight in her powerful red machine, leaving him in the dust. Creep.

  Looking at her bulging briefcase sitting on the passenger seat, she figured she had at least three hours’ worth of work left to do that evening. But she didn’t mind; she loved her job.

  She had graduated at the top of her class in her Ivy League law school, and she had fielded many job offers nationwide before she finally took a position with the respected Delray Beach law firm of Block & Sawyer. It was run by one of the most respected attorneys in South Florida, Irwin “Sonny” Block. She knew she could make more money in New York, but she wanted to stay in Florida, near her family. Then her mom died, and she wanted to be close by her dad. He seemed so lost.

  The law firm was involved in divorce and corporate law; it was tough, and the firm was relentless in pursuit of justice on its clients’ behalf. Graw fit right in with the rest of the firm. Clients loved the firm and referred their friends. The business grew by word of mouth when clients told others about the good work it did and, more important, that it could be trusted. Threats and unsigned notes came with the territory. “Don’t worry about the threats, but don’t ignore them either,” said the senior partner, Sonny, on her first day of work.

  Graw pulled into the garage at her apartment complex and took the elevator up to the fourth floor. She threw her briefcase into her darkened home office, kicked off her shoes, and untucked her blouse from her skirt.<
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  God, it’s good to be home. Now she had to look over all her texts and e-mails about the wedding, the rehearsal dinner, and the hundreds of other details that needed to be handled. She still didn’t know if Mickey’s parents were coming to the wedding. Is there something else going on? Could it be they don’t approve? How could that be? Yet try as she might, she had never met his parents. Strange, very strange. She needed to talk to Mickey; there was not much time left.

  Chapter Nine

  Early Monday morning Robert Macgregor sat slumped over his desk in his office at the secondhand shop as his employees began to show up for work. Word had spread quickly about the fire and the total destruction of his home, and genuine offers of help had poured in.

  “Good morning, Mac,” said Madge, his eighty-one-year-old front-desk person, who had worked for him for the last twelve years. “I was so sorry to hear about the fire at your place. Were you able to salvage anything, anything at all?”

  “No, nothing . . . other than my wedding album. That’s the only thing left. Fate, I guess, had a hand in that. Tess had put it in a steel container under the bed, and it wasn’t incinerated like everything else. Quirky, if you ask me. But thanks for asking,” he said, managing a weak smile.

  “You let me know if there is anything I can do to help. Do you need a place to stay? Some clothes? How about a good meal? Join us for dinner tonight?”

  “Thanks, but I’m staying at Ryan’s house along with my brother Eian for the time being. I had some of my clothes already at my brother’s place, and they should work until I get back on my feet. I’m going to look through our clothes rack we have here and see if we have anything I can use. I’m sure that . . .”

  “Ahh . . . umm . . . ,” Madge started to object.

  He looked at her, looking at his clothes. She never approved of the clothes he wore, so he changed the subject. “I may take you up on the meal offer, though. My brother mainly eats out at restaurants, and I’ll be either broke or fatter than a pig ready for butchering if I do that every night.”

  Her face brightened. “Sure, anytime, Mac. Just let me know.”

  “Thanks, Madge, I really appreciate it.”

  He spent the entire morning on the phone with the insurance company and the insurance adjustors, trying to sort things out, when the phone rang. It was Bobby.

  “Hey, Bobby, how are you? How’s Patti?”

  “We’re okay, Dad; we’re just worried about you. Howya doing?”

  “Okay, I guess. The insurance company is going to give me some money for clothes and a hotel, but it’s not a lot of money since I didn’t have it insured for a lot. That old place had a lot of sentimental value. Ryan wants me to stay with him until I find a new place. He wouldn’t hear of it any other way. Shouldn’t take long for me to find a place.”

  “Hey, Dad, he’s your brother. Want to come over tonight for dinner? Patti said she would take you clothes shopping, if you like.”

  “Thanks, Bobby, I may just do that. Let me get back to you.” I have plenty of clothes here at the store. Why go shopping and spend hard-earned money for new clothes? Then he remembered what Ryan had said to him as he left for work that morning: “Stay here as long as you want, but just buy some new clothes.”

  “Okay, Dad. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Oh, Bobby, I called that lady at the counseling program and left her a message. Her secretary called me back, and I scheduled a meeting with her tomorrow.”

  “You did? With everything else you have going on in your life? You’re something else. Love ya. Gotta go, Dad.”

  Customers began to dribble into Robert’s eclectic secondhand store just off West Atlantic Avenue, in downtown Delray Beach. Whatever you needed, you could find it at the Frugal Scotsman. The store was jammed full of items, including stoves, tools, books, barbecue grills, guitars, pots, pans, and racks of clothing for men, women, and children. Three kayaks hung from the rafters, along with tents and bicycles. The aisles were so full you could walk down them only sideways. Around two o’clock the crowd began to thin.

  “Mr. Macgregor,” a voice rang out over the store’s loudspeaker, “you have a phone call, line one.”

  He walked past his secretary with an inquisitive look on his face and asked, “Who is it?”

  “Coleen Callahan, line one,” she said with a smirk, since the company had only one phone line. “We only need one line. I can only talk on one phone at a time,” Robert would always say.

  He picked up the phone as he settled into his desk chair. “Ms. Callahan? Hi, this is Robert Macgregor.”

  “Hello.”

  “Thanks so much for returning my call. I don’t really know where to start.”

  “Well, I see we are scheduled to meet tomorrow. How did you get my name?”

  “I was given your name by my daughter-in-law, Patti Macgregor. Her uncle had been in one of your groups. She seemed to think you might be able to help me. You see . . . I lost my wife two years ago . . . to cancer. I’ve been to counseling groups before and stopped. They just didn’t seem to help.”

  “Mr. Macgregor, as a volunteer, I hear that a lot in my role with this program. Most of the people we have in our groups have been through other meetings and not found them to be helpful, until they come to us.” Her voice sounded so pleasant, even captivating. “We are different in what we do and how we do it. We first meet with you and then talk about your interests, your background, as well as your loved one, and what you would like to get out of our program. We also offer bereavement sessions, which you may find helpful; however, we prefer to stress activities to get you out meeting other people in the same situation that you are in. How does that sound, Mr. Macgregor?”

  “It all sounds good, except the ‘Mr. Macgregor’ part. Please call me Robert.”

  “Okay . . . Robert. I’m a volunteer and usually do my volunteer work out of my business office. The program has a real small budget. I would like to have you come in and sit with me for an initial meeting and evaluation here at my office. It should take no more than thirty or forty minutes.”

  “Sure.”

  “I know my administrative assistant set a meeting for us at ten o’clock, but could we do it later tomorrow afternoon, say four o’clock?”

  “Can we make it earlier than four? I have a dance lesson at five o’clock.”

  “You dance?”

  “Ah . . . yes, of course. Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Wonderful. Okay, how about two o’clock tomorrow?”

  “That works great. I do have one question for you, though.”

  “Yes . . . ?”

  “I remember . . . years ago, I went to school at Saint Mary’s with a Coleen McGrath. Your voice sounds vaguely familiar. That doesn’t happen to be you, does it?”

  “Yes, it is. My legal name is Coleen McGrath Callahan. You said your first name was Robert? Robert Macgregor? And you went to Saint Mary’s?”

  “Yes. Do you remember me?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I can’t say that I do.” A twinge of guilt went through her body. “But it was a very big class with a lot of students. I only went there for three years before my parents moved and I transferred to a different school.”

  “Oh well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, two o’clock. Bye for now.”

  Coleen hung up the phone but continued to look at it in a strange sort of way, daydreaming back to her school days.

  Robert Macgregor? Wow! She had lied; of course she remembered him—she remembered him so very well. Tall, dark hair, broad shoulders, with an easy smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He drove the girls wild at school. She had the biggest crush on him all through school but never had the nerve to approach him. Good girls just didn’t do that back then. He asked her out to the movies a few times; she was always shy around him. He was so persistent and kept asking until she finally started going out with him.

  She smiled as she thought about what she was going to wear the next day for their meeting. Yes, it was
going to be a very special day. And he dances! I wonder how much he’s changed? Time will tell, she thought, as she hummed an old tune and left her office.

  As Robert hung up the phone, he could not get her out of his mind. How would she look after all these years? Would she remember him? She had said she was widowed. Was she . . .

  “Hi, Pop!”

  He looked up to see his irreverent and very pregnant daughter-in-law standing before his desk. Patti looked as if she was going to have the baby right there in his office as she asked, “You ready?” Then she plopped down heavily into a nearby chair.

  “For what?” he asked.

  “Clothes shopping. Didn’t Bobby tell you?”

  “Well, he mentioned something about you wanting to take me shopping, but, Patti, I have so many clothes right here at the store. And I can just use them if . . .”

  “Nope. No fights and no arguments. Get your car keys; we’re going to the mall. Now.”

  He looked at the old and worn clothes he had gotten from his brother’s house, and his gaze went from the picture on his desk of him and Tess at the cabin fishing, to the telephone. He recalled his conversation with Coleen. “Okay, let’s go.”

  Patti was shocked, as she had fully expected to have a long, drawn-out discussion with him about spending money on clothes, then they would negotiate which stores, which clothes, and an overall budget, and after two hours he would finally agree to go. She had never expected that he would capitulate so easily.

  He walked from his desk and helped her from her chair. Then he hugged her and whispered, “Thanks, Patti. I love you as one of my own.”

  Her eyes began to fill with tears from her father-in-law’s sudden display of affection; then she looked at him. “I love you too, Pop, but you’re still going shopping with me.” She kissed his cheek and put her arm in his and said, “Come on, let’s go before we both break down in tears.”