She walked to her desk and sat in her office chair. "You said you have a list of demands for me, Kevin," Maggie prompted.
"I do," Kevin answered, settling into the chair opposite Maggie's desk and laying the folder he had in his hand on the desk before sliding it toward her. "I think you will find these very reasonable, Maggie. I have tried to be fair."
Maggie opened it. She didn’t let her expression give anything away. She didn’t let her face change. Maggie hadn’t expected fair. She’d expected the kind of greedy nonsense Kevin had been spinning for two years, and what she was now looking at was a glossier, better-tailored version of exactly that. Thirty percent of Maggie's Bridal and Couture as a going concern. The Sanibel building at fifty percent on title. Spousal support back-calculated to the start of the separation. What nearly made the mask slip was a clause about Toby's visitation that didn’t match the guardianship he had already signed away.
Maggie didn’t blink, sigh, or look up. "Mm-hm," she murmured, turning the page.
"What are you working on now, Maggie?" Vanessa asked sweetly, drifting closer to the drafting table. "Something fabulous, I bet."
"A bridesmaid sketch," Maggie answered, pretending to be distracted by the garbage she was reading.
Right on schedule, there was another knock on the door.
"Come in," Maggie called.
The door opened, and Michael walked in. Maggie's heart flipped as she looked up and closed the folder.
“Michael," Maggie greeted him warmly, glancing at her wristwatch. "You’re early.”
"My meeting ended early, so I thought I’d collect you and we could stop off to get some more coffee for the house before going on to lunch," Michael answered, stepping inside. He glanced at Kevin and gave him the small cool nod. “Hello, Kevin."
"Hello, Michael," Kevin returned stiffly, standing to shake Michael’s hand when he drew closer.
"Hello again, Michael,” Vanessa’s smile spread slowly and sultrily across her lips, making Maggie’s eyes narrow dangerously at the woman as she stood beside Michael. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
She stepped up toward him, and before Michael could avoid her, she kissed both his cheeks like she was French. Maggie watched it happen with the strangest unwelcome heat rising in her chest. It was small. It was instant. It was completely irrational. It was also, she noted with a thin private flicker of horror at herself, very real. She pushed it down before she could name the emotion.
To give Michael credit, he did not move. He let Vanessa hug him with the loose, stiff arms and even let her stain his cheeks with her bright red lipstick.
"Hello, Vanessa," Michael said politely. Then he untangled himself and stepped closer to Maggie’s side of the desk. "I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d have visitors. I hope I’m not interrupting?" He turned toward Maggie, giving her an encouraging smile.
"No, not at all," Maggie answered, then caught herself. "Actually, wait. You’re an attorney. Could I ask you a favor? Could you take a quick look at this for me?"
She held out Kevin's folder.
Kevin sat forward. "Maggie," he protested. "This is between us. We agreed. No attorneys."
"It is between us, Kevin," Maggie answered smoothly. "I just want a second set of eyes on it before I agree to anything. I want to make sure you are getting what you deserve." She glanced at Michael. “Besides, Michael is family.”
She gave Kevin the small, sweet smile she’d perfected over the years of being married to him for situations exactly like this one. Vanity, she had learned a long time ago, was the easiest lock to pick where Kevin was concerned.
Kevin's chest puffed out like a peacock. "Fine," he conceded. "Go ahead. I am sure even Michael will agree the terms are more than fair."
"Thank you, Kevin," Maggie said sweetly.
Michael pulled a chair around to sit beside Maggie. He took the folder, opened it, and began to read. His face didn’t change. Maggie watched his eyes move down the first page, and the small, careful tightening around his jaw was the only sign that he had registered exactly what Kevin had put in writing.
A sharp clatter of voices broke out beyond the design room door.
Maggie's head came up.
On the security monitor, the front of the boutique had suddenly filled with a flurry of movement. Three figures in dark suitssurrounded a woman in sunglasses. Brianna had rushed to the front door to open it for the woman and greeted her with the respect she always showed their clients.
"Oh, no," Maggie said, with the perfect pitch of shocked panic. "She’s early."
"Who?" Vanessa asked, her head snapping toward the monitor.
"My client," Maggie answered, standing. "I am so sorry. But I’m going to need all three of you to give me a few minutes? I need to get my client to sign off on this new design. She was only supposed to come here later this afternoon. It shouldn’t take too long."
