Breach Of Promise

“So that morning, what happened?”

“He studied himself in the mirror like he hated what he saw. Then he said, ’I’m not happy.’ “

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. You know how, even in a warm room, a draft can hit you? I was blown over by the cold air coming off him. But I thought, this will pass. We had been through so much together. We had everything you could want. How could he be unhappy? Was I ever wrong about that.” She inhaled deeply, as if pulling her feelings back inside herself.

“I’m glad you came Friday night,” she said finally. “The only lawyers I know handle business for the corporation, and then there’s Mike’s lawyer. I never needed a personal attorney before.” She took a sip of coffee and smiled tentatively. “You can help me, can’t you?”

Sandy knocked and entered at this suspiciously propitious moment, carrying a retainer agreement that she placed ceremoniously on Nina’s desk. “Forgot to bring this in earlier,” she said.

“My secretary, Sandy Whitefeather,” Nina said.

“Hi,” Lindy said.

“A pleasure,” Sandy replied. “I see you have your coffee.” She glided out as if on rollerblades.

“Is that the same Sandra Whitefeather who organized the Casino Night for the women’s shelter this summer?” Lindy asked, looking after her. “And that protest against logging in the National Forest this spring?”

“The very same.”

“That’s right. I remember reading about her. She was with the group who met with the vice president about returning Washoe ancestral lands along the lake last July.”

“The vice president?”

“That’s right.”

“She was?” Sandy had never mentioned it.

“It’s the first hopeful thing that’s happened in a long time for the native people. You’re so lucky to have her. She’s being considered for one of the boards I sit on.”

“No doubt.” No doubt Sandy would retake all of Lake Tahoe for the Washoe in a decade, but in the meantime Nina forged on. “Before I know what I can do, I have to ask you a few questions, Lindy. First of all, tell me a little more about your relationship with Mike.”

“Well, we met in Nevada at a club called the Charley Horse-that would be twenty years ago in December. Mike was a bouncer. I booked talent, or what we called talent back then. Dancers and comedians, mostly.

“I was pretty good at my work. We even got Paul Anka for a weekend engagement, and a one-nighter with Wayne Newton. I had some money socked away, but I was lonely. Mike was lonely, too. Next thing we knew, we were living together. We both wanted out of Ely so after thinking about it for a while, we decided to start up our own business.

“Mike is an ex-boxer. All he knew was boxing. The exercise craze was just starting then. I got the idea of building a boxing ring as part of an exercise studio, to get the guys in. After a short time living in a trailer outside of town, we moved to Texas and rented a warehouse in downtown Lubbock, did a lot of renovating, and then I went around and put up flyers everywhere. Like that,” she snapped her fingers, “we were in business. The boxing studio worked so well we opened up another one and then another one.”

“Who put up the money to move you and get you started?”

“I did. We used my savings. Plus, a little business loan from the bank.”

“Did Mike contribute?”

“No, he was broke. But he sure knew how to box. He could slug a guy down in a knockout, first round, until some problems with injuries forced him to retire from competition. Seven years later, we got crowded out there so we moved our operations to Sacramento. Politicians would leave the State Capitol Building at lunchtime and come down the street to spar a little. They loved it. That was about the time, thirteen years ago, that I thought up the Solo Spa idea.”

“What’s that?” Nina said.

“A combination hot tub and swimming pool. Shaped like a big tin can, big enough to stand a person up in and let them move around a little, small enough to install inside your house, in the bathroom or the den or the garage. You can soak in it, but the main purpose is for water aerobics and exercises at home.”

As she spoke about the business, Lindy became more animated. She obviously loved her work. “Mike built a prototype and applied for the patent, and we took out a big loan. I modeled for the first brochure. Mike made me hang myself all around the spas in a bikini.” She laughed a little at the memory. “Pretty old-fashioned, huh? But that was a long time ago, remember.”

“Do you still model?” asked Nina.

“I did workout videos to demonstrate the product, but I haven’t done that for years. No, I did a lot of the pla

“Hmmm,” said Nina. Maybe that explained the scarcity of big checks awaiting deposit in her own office.

“At first nobody seemed that interested, but then some of the hospitals started recommending it for their patients who couldn’t go to public pools for a lot of reasons. The Solo Spas turned out to be great for relieving arthritis, helping with osteoporosis, oh, all kinds of conditions. Clinics all over the world started buying the spas for physical therapy. That’s when I dreamed up phase two. We designed the smaller, less heavy-duty model and marketed it to the public.

“That same year, we bought the house. We’ve been there ever since. Mike renovated the basement to be his workshop and we called it the corporate headquarters. Money started coming in so fast we couldn’t count it.” She shook her head in disbelief. “We hardly had time to spend it. We both were working so hard to keep up with the demand.”

“Mike was the president of the corporation and you were the secretary of the board.”

“Right. And Mike was the CEO and I was the executive vice president. Several years ago we formed the two subsidiaries, one for the spa business and one for the exercise studios.”

Nina picked up the stock certificate attached to Lindy’s removal notice and asked the question that was bothering her. “Why is all the stock in Mike’s name? Why don’t you have half?”

“Mike hates red tape. He said it would be easier.”

“The California Community Property law will protect you on that,” Nina said. “Right down the middle, I would think. Now, along the same lines, I don’t understand why the house is in Mike’s name, too.”

“Everything’s in his name,” Lindy said, wavering in her control. “The apartment in Manhattan, the house in St. Tropez. The only thing I have is my car, which is a Jaguar-very extravagant, leather interior, two phones…” She blushed faintly. “My biggest indulgence. Then there’s this worthless mining claim my father left me, and my personal bank account, where I put my salary checks-my fun money-”

“Ah. You’re paid a salary?”

“Well-up to today I was. Seventy-five thousand a year. Mike took the same amount for himself. Our accountants said we were employees of the corporation.”

“Have you lived together all this time?”

“Yes.”

“No separations?”

“No. Mike has always been a good man. Faithful. And I’ve been loyal to him. We love each other. We promised to stand by each other through thick and thin in the eyes of God. And we did. This Rachel thing… it’s so unlike him.”

“You obviously know her.”

“Rachel Pembroke. She’s our vice president in charge of financial services. She’s been sucking up to him for months but it didn’t scare me because Mike and I were so tight. This has to be just a crush. Male menopause, like the women’s magazines call it.” Lindy studied Nina’s desk, concentrating hard. “I have to get him back. He’s like bread to me. Like air.”

“Yes,” said Nina.

“I don’t like to analyze things too much. My way of dealing with problems is to act. I can’t just sit on my hands and do nothing. That’s why I need to talk to Mike, Nina. Then he’ll come back.”