Miz Sarah Enlists a New Assistant

"Well, it was pretty obvious that she was in no position to pay me anything just now." Then I winked at Marcy. "When you go to see Cora, if you find she's doing much better than I thought, maybe I'll ask her for one then."

Marcy just looked at me thoughtfully. I think she didn't know how to take me.

The next day, Marcy contacted Cora to set up a time to help her with her financial situation. While she was doing that, I called Cora's husband's attorney to discuss the settlement. John Baxter was a good attorney and a decent man; I'd worked with him before on several cases and had found him to be a person of integrity.

After we exchanged pleasantries, we got down to business. "John, I'm calling about Hopewell vs. Hopewell. I'm representing Cora Hopewell in the matter. Candidly, my client doesn't really want a divorce, but it appears that Mr. Hopewell is set on it, so I would like to discuss the settlement with you."

"Yes," he replied, "he's given me no reason to believe he has any interest in reconciliation, so I've asked him for a statement of his finances. I assume you'll do the same with Mrs. Hopewell?"

"There's nothing to provide," I told him. "This was one of those marriages where the husband handled all the finances. Cora simply turned her paycheck over to Jerrold every two weeks and he took care of everything. She has no funds of her own. We can obtain copies of her paystubs if you need them, but Mr. Hopewell should have all that information already."

I could almost see John nodding on the other end of the line.

"That's a pretty common situation with my clients, Miz Sara. Well, Mr. Hopewell promised to have the information to me by tomorrow. As soon as it comes in, I'll email it to you. Once we have that, I expect we can wrap things up pretty quickly."

"That will be fine, John. I'll get back to you shortly after I get his statement."

"A nice man," I thought, after we'd hung up. "I like dealing with people who don't play games."

I was working at me desk the next afternoon when Marcy returned from seeing Cora Hopewell. She didn't look too perky when I asked her how it had gone.

"It's worse than I thought," Marcy fumed as she recounted her visit. "Cora is very sweet, but she doesn't have a clue about their finances. She doesn't know how much money they have in the bank, she doesn't know how much Jerrold earns, and she has no idea about their household budget. All she has is a stack of bills that have come in since Jerrold left. How can a woman let herself be put in a situation like that?"

"Well, there are a lot of men out there who feel it's their responsibility to handle the family's finances," I said.

"It's more like a way to keep their wives under their thumbs!" she snorted.

"Yes," I agreed, "I've seen it happen that way too."

"Well," she went on, "I won't know how bad things really are until we get some notion of how much they have in the bank. But I'm already pretty sure that Cora can't afford their apartment. It's most likely she's going to have to move back in with her folks and get a second job until she can get things straightened out.

"I would never allow myself to be put in that situation," she huffed, "never!"

I had already witnessed Marcy's independent streak, so I wasn't surprised at her reaction. But I didn't want her to intimidate poor Cora, so I cautioned her: "Just remember that Cora needs you to be her instructor, not her drill sergeant."

My comment caught Marcy off guard, but she quickly recovered. She drew herself to attention, gave me a perfect military salute and said, "Ma'am, yes ma'am." But I noticed she smiled just a little when she did so, and I felt like she understood what I was trying to say.

The next day, when the financial statement came in from Jerrold Hopewell's attorney, Marcy was understandably eager to see it so she could help Cora with her budget. Both of us looked at each other in dismay as we saw the stark details. Jerrold's weekly earnings were about the same as Cora's. The Hopewells had no savings account and a negligible balance in Jerrold's checking account. It was obvious that they were living paycheck to paycheck; there appeared to be no easy answers for Cora's money problems.

"How can two people live like that?" Marcy asked irritably. "I know neither one of them earns a lot, but this is ridiculous! I've seen the bills Cora received -- what were they spending their money on?"

I'd already noted that Marcy was a disciplined person, and she seemed to me to be quite impatient with those who were not. Marcy was already scheduled to see Cora again; I feared their next meeting might not be a very pleasant session.

But when she returned from their second get-together, Marcy was in a thoughtful mood. I asked her how it had gone.

"Okay," she said, "but something very interesting happened after I left. I stopped by an ATM machine to get a little cash, and guess who was ahead of me: Jerrold Hopewell. I recognized him from all the pictures Cora has around their apartment."

"Well," I said, "that's an interesting coincidence, but I don't see why it's significant."

"May I see their financial statement again, Miz Sara?" she asked.

When I handed it to her, she scanned it quickly and then looked up with her eyes flashing. "I was right! Look, Miz Sara, this says they have an account at SunTrust. But Jerrold was making a transaction at Citizen's and Southern!"

"How very interesting," I said. "There's no mention here of a second account. I think I need to give John Baxter a call."

When I reached him, John was as cordial as ever. "Good morning, Miz Sara. Did you receive the Hopewell's financial statement?"

"I did, John," I replied, "but I have a problem with it. We have reason to believe that it's incomplete. Your client was observed conducting a transaction at a Citizen's and Southern ATM, but there's no listing here for any account with C&S. I could get a subpoena to force the bank to disclose any accounts Mr. Hopewell might have there, but that would be time-consuming and expensive. And if such an account were to be revealed, that would be prima facie evidence of attempted fraud. So I thought I'd see if you could persuade Mr. Hopewell to resubmit his financial statement, this time reflecting all of his accounts."

"Miz Sara, this is very embarrassing. I accepted Mr. Hopewell's statement at face value; I had no idea he might be trying to conceal assets. I can assure you I'll speak with him as soon as we hang up, and I'll make clear to him the potential consequences if he attempts to perpetrate a fraud. You'll have a revised statement very shortly. I apologize for this; it's not the way I do business, Miz Sara."

"No need to eat crow, John," I reassured him. "I know you're not that kind. If we can get an honest statement out of Mr. Hopewell, we can get all this wrapped up in short order."

Sure enough, by that afternoon I had received a revised statement from John, and he followed up with a phone call. "When I confronted Jerrold about the 'missing' account, he readily admitted it. His attitude was 'if you don't try for it, you won't get it.' I made it clear to him that that sort of attitude might very well land him in prison. I can't promise you he's reformed, but I do believe what you have in your hands is an accurate account of their finances."

I thanked John for his prompt response, and went to show Marcy the revised statement. She was relieved to learn that Cora would be in better financial shape than Marcy had originally feared. "She's still going to have to scrimp and save, but at least there's enough money for her to get current on all her bills."

She was so pleased that she reached over and gave me a little hug, and that pleased me as well. "Maybe we're making a little progress after all," I thought.

A few days later when Cora was scheduled to come in to sign some papers, she was clearly grateful to Marcy for all her help. After she had signed the papers, she made a special point of thanking Marcy.

I was pleased to see that Lucius Rayford had again accompanied her. He too was effusive in his praise. "Thank you, Miz Sara, thank you. I sure do appreciate you taking care of Cora," he said fervently. "She was so down in the mouth about everything, but you've got her about back to normal."

"You're very welcome, Lucius," I replied, "but all we did was make sure Cora got the legal protection she deserved. Besides, the real work was done by Marcy here. She helped Cora straighten out her finances, and she was the one who figured out that Jerrold had a hidden bank account."

Marcy turned her head away modestly, but I could see that she was pleased by what I had said.

"And thank you too, Miz Marcy," Lucius added. "Cora's been like another daughter to Mabel and me. What you did for her is gonna make a difference in her life."

As the older gentleman and the young woman prepared to leave, Cora went up to Marcy and embraced her, much to Marcy's pleased surprise. "You've been like a big sister to me," she told Marcy earnestly. Then the young woman left with Lucius.

After they were gone, Marcy came over to me. "Miz Sara, you didn't have to say that to Mr. Rayford. I really didn't do all that much."

"Nonsense," I replied. "You were observant, you remembered key details, and you drew good conclusions based on facts. Those are important qualities in the practice of the law."

"Thank you, ma'am," she said. "I really appreciate that."

I began to think that I hadn't made such a bad selection after all.

After Cora Hopewell's case had been settled, I had expected that things in the office would be quiet for a while, but I was shortly to be reminded how unpredictable life can be. It was late one morning a week later when the front door flew open and Marilyn Hart burst in, tears streaming down her face. Marcy and I both hurried to her side, for it looked as though she might collapse at any moment. We ushered her into my office and settled her on the settee.

"Marilyn, Marilyn, what is it? What's happened?" I asked her urgently.

Unable to speak, she pushed a large envelope into my hands. When I opened it, I immediately recognized it as a petition for divorce. Scanning the contents, I was shocked to see that her new husband, General Marshall, was suing Marilyn for divorce. Even more astounding was the fact that his petition was based on the grounds of infidelity!

Marcy had already fetched Marilyn a glass of sweet tea, and after a few sips Marilyn managed to get control of herself. "Oh, Miz Sara, you've got to help me. I don't know who else I can turn to."

I patted her hand. "Tell me what happened, Marilyn."

"I was out shopping today," she told us, "and when I got home, I noticed a car parked in front of my house. Before I could close the front gate, the car pulled into the driveway behind me. A strange man came up and asked if I was General Marshall's wife. When I said I was, he handed me these papers and told me I'd been served. I didn't know what he was talking about, but he had already turned around and was driving away."

She paused to catch her breath. "When I opened the envelope and read the papers, I couldn't believe it. I knew there had to be a mistake, so I tried to call Harm on his cellphone, but the call just went to voicemail. I didn't know what to do, so I drove down to your office. This is all like some horrible nightmare, Miz Sara. Please help me."

"Of course I will, Marilyn," I told her reassuringly. "But first, let me ask you a few questions. Were you and your husband having any problems?"

"No, of course not," she said, beginning to weep again. "We've only been married a couple of months; we're still on our honeymoon."

"Has there been any time when you and Harm were not together?" I asked.

She thought about that. "Yes, the week before last I went out of town," Marilyn told us. "Emma Wolfolk and I had driven down to Macon to visit my mother. Harm had something to do at the Pentagon, so he couldn't come."

"While you were in Macon, where did you stay?"

"With my mother. She lives alone down there; my Papa passed away about seven years ago."

"And while you were down there, did you see anyone else besides your mother?"

"Yes, my sister lives there and I also have several cousins in the area, so Emma and I went to visit them."

"And did you spend time with anyone other than your family?"

"Well, one night my sister had a party, and there were a bunch of people there, including a number of old high school friends. But other than that, I just stayed with my family."

I sighed. "Marilyn, please forgive me for asking, but I need to know: have you had relations with anyone other than your husband since your marriage?"

"Oh, Miz Sara, how can you think that? Of course not!"

"I'm sorry, Marilyn, but you must understand that others will ask the same question, and they won't be nearly as sympathetic as I am."

At this Marilyn resumed her sobbing. "What is happening to me? First my husband wants to divorce me and now my reputation is to be ruined!"

I squeezed her hand and said in as confident a voice as I could muster, "You've got to be strong, Marilyn. Let me handle the legal side of things. You need to go home and get some rest. My strong recommendation is that you stay at home and avoid talking to anyone else except your family until we can find out what's going on."

After we'd gotten her into her car and seen her off towards her home in Buckhead, Marcy and I reconvened inside. She was shaking her head. "I never saw that coming," she remarked wryly. "For a marriage to end only three months after it's begun, and with the husband claiming adultery -- the rich folks sure do live different lives!"

I smiled at her comment, but said nothing. I'd seen a lot stranger things than that happen in my years of practice. Instead, I wanted Marcy to focus on the case itself. "What was your opinion of Mrs. Hart?" I asked her.

Marcy got a serious look on her face. "Well, she certainly seemed genuinely distraught. My only question is whether she was upset at the end to her marriage or at getting caught cheating."

"Oh," I said in surprise, "do you really think she was having an affair?"

"No, not really," she admitted, "but I think if we're going to represent her we have to be prepared in case she really was cheating on the general."

"That's good," I thought. "Marcy isn't jumping to conclusions. She's trying to examine the problem from both sides."

I decided to play devil's advocate with her. "Very well, let's assume for a minute Marilyn did have an affair. If so, why would she have done it that soon after her marriage?"

Marcy pondered for a minute, then answered, "Suppose she had an old high school sweetheart. What if she ran into him down in Macon and sparks started flying? She thought her husband would never find out and just let herself go."

"But don't forget that she signed a prenuptial agreement with her husband that would cost her millions if she were caught being unfaithful," I reminded her.

Marcy thought for a minute. "Well, with both her and her husband being out of town, she probably never thought she'd get caught." Marcy paused, "Or, maybe her brain wasn't the organ that was guiding her at the time," she said, giving me a wink.

"All those are possibilities," I agreed, "but none of them seem very likely. Marilyn certainly seemed like a woman in love when she and General Marshall first came in to discuss the agreement, and she seemed like a woman in real pain today. It's always possible that she's a great actress able to turn her emotions on and off, but I somehow doubt it."

"So," I went on, "let's look at this from the other side. If I'm General Marshall, what reason would I have to want to divorce Marilyn Hart?"

"Well," Marcy suggested, "with the prenuptial agreement they signed, he stands to get a lot of money in the property settlement."

"That's true," I said, "but if he stays with her, he has twice as much. From a monetary perspective, it makes far more sense for the two of them to stay married."

"That's true," Marcy agreed. "So maybe it does come back to the issue of infidelity. Maybe she did fool around on him and he found out. I just don't know what to believe."

"It certainly is confusing right now," I agreed. "About the only thing we can do for the moment is to get in touch with General Marshall's counsel and try to find out more about their case."

I picked up the divorce petition again and turned to the back to see whom the General had retained as counsel. "Well, this is interesting," I said when I saw the name.

"Who is it, Miz Sarah?" Marcy asked.

"The General is represented by Mr. Forrest Howell, Esq. with the law firm of Mason, Towson and Donovan," I told her. When she looked at me uncertainly, I went on. "That's the big New York law firm that's just opened a branch here in Atlanta. It looks like the General has brought out the big artillery."

Since Mr. Howell had kindly included his phone number with the filing, I was able to reach his office that afternoon and set up an initial appointment the following day. "At least they're prompt," I thought.

When I came downstairs the next morning to start the day in the office, Marcy was already there. "You'd better have a look at this, Miz Sara," she said grimly. She led me to her computer and showed me a website called "Atlanta's Gossip Girl."

"What am I looking at?" I asked her.

"It's a daily blog that dishes the dirt on people in Atlanta. Usually it focuses on sports and entertainment figures, but have a look at the lead item today," she said, directing my attention to the lede story:

An Affair of the Hart?

Atlanta's Gossip Girl has learned that General "Harm" Marshall and socialite Marilyn Hart, who were joined in matrimony only three months ago in one of the biggest weddings this city has ever seen, are about to be splitsville. Rumor has it that the lady in question may have been caught in some extra-marital activity, and now the General's "hart" is broken. Naughty, naughty!

The story was followed by photos of General Marshall and Marilyn Hart Marshall.

"Oh, dear," I said. "Is this widely read?"

"Oh, yes," Marcy assured me. "You can bet an item like this will be the talk of the town."

"We need to get to Marilyn's home right away," I said quickly.

The two of us got into my car and began the drive up to West Paces Ferry Road, where Marilyn lived not far from the Governor's Mansion. As we drove along the tree-shaded road past the stately homes that lined the street, Marcy could not refrain from a low whistle.

In the meantime, I was trying to reach Marilyn on my cellphone, but every time I was connected and said "Hello," she would hang up. Finally, as we neared her section of the neighborhood, I got through again and quickly hollered, "Don't hang up, Marilyn, it's Sarah Cannon."

"Oh, Miz Sarah, thank heavens! I've been going crazy here."

"Marilyn, Marcy and I are almost to your home now. Just buzz us in the gate when we get there."

"Oh, no, Miz Sarah," she said urgently," you can't come that way. There are reporters and news cameras and I don't know what all outside the main gate. You'll have to go around back to the delivery entrance. You can get to it off of Tuxedo Road."

As we drove past the main entrance to Marilyn's home, I could see that she had not been exaggerating. A number of cars had pulled off the side of the road in front of her home, and there was a small crowd of people milling about as well.

When we pulled up to the back of her rather palatial home, Marilyn quickly opened a back door for us and just as quickly closed and locked it behind us. When we were settled in her drawing room, Marilyn offered us coffee and began to relate the events of the morning. But before she could get far, the phone began to ring. At the sound of it, she began moaning. "They won't leave me alone. They just keep calling and pestering me with questions. I don't know what to tell them."