"I try to tell him. He doesn't want to hear it."
"I know." Daniel took a deep breath, stretching his arms out in front of him. "My father was from the same generation as yours. They have a different perspective on raising children, I think. They wanted to mold us to their idea of what a person should be, rather than taking any kind of cues from who we might seem to want to be. They want to control our lives because they feel we're not capable. My dad…I mean, before he went on that fishing trip that he never came back from, my dad was always giving me unsolicited advice.
“It didn't matter that I was obviously doing just fine on my own. It didn't matter how successful I was being. It was always just pure dumb luck. There was always some better way I could be doing it, if only I put a little more thought into it. If only I could be more like him. Never mind that he was an intermittently employed heating and air conditioning specialist, and I'm….well, who I am. He always thought it was all just ridiculous nonsense that didn't mean anything. He was convinced it would come falling down around my ears at any moment, if I didn't follow his advice."
"Well," I said. "I guess I'm glad mine's not the only one. But I wish he'd been easier to get along with."
Daniel shrugged. "It was what it was," he said. "I've done just fine without him. But if you expect me to tell you that because my father's gone now you should make more of an effort to get along with yours, don't worry. I know how impossible it is. Looking back, of course I wish things could have been different, but I also realize there's absolutely nothing I could have done to change the way he was. Nobody wants to listen to their own kid tell them how they should conduct themselves, no matter who that kid might be in the grand scheme of things."
I smiled. "You were always still the baby in diapers who used to spit up all over him."
"Exactly."
"I guess it makes sense," I said, "but would it be so hard for him to just say something nice?"
"He doesn't want to be too soft on you," said Daniel. "As ridiculous as that sounds."
"It does," I said. "It does sound pretty ridiculous."
"Are you all right?" He reached over and pushed my hair back from my forehead, letting his fingers drift through my hair. I smiled at him.
"I am now," I said. "Thanks."
"I'm sorry about the other day," he said. "I was mad at the blog, not at you."
"I know." I looked down at the counter. What was I supposed to say? It's okay? It wasn't okay. Nothing was okay, but that wasn't necessarily his fault.
He started talking again after a few moments of silence. "It just…it's infuriating, how little control you have over your image. I was just starting to learn - I was just starting to get a handle on it. I thought I'd figured it out, you know - and then something like this happens and suddenly they're saying things about me - about you - and it has absolutely nothing to do with you. This is exactly the kind of thing I didn't want happening to someone like you."
"Someone like me?" I shifted in my seat. I was almost afraid to say too much, like I'd somehow break whatever spell had suddenly inspired him to actually start talking to me.
"You know." He gestured vaguely. "Just…separate from all of this, somebody who never would have found themselves stalked by paparazzi if it hadn't been for me."
I laughed. "You don't know that," I said, feigning offense. "I'll have you know I could have been a famous socialite someday without your help, if I wanted to."
"Sure," said Daniel. "And who wouldn't want all that?"
"I won't be happy until I'm featured on the cover of a Celebrities Without Their Makeup exposé, I'll have you know."
He chuckled, standing up and pulling me against him in a tight hug.
"I've missed talking to you," I said, muffled against his chest.
"I know," he said.
I wanted to say: if you know, why don't you just make more of an effort to talk to me?
But instead I just sat there in silence, with Daniel's arms around me, trying to pretend that it made everything better. And after a while, it almost did - I almost felt like things were okay between us. That we were a real couple. A normal couple. That we ever had been.
CHAPTER NINE
The morning of the hearing was a flurry of activity. Daniel changed his suit three times, each time asking me which one looked the most "responsible." They all looked identical to me. Lindsey suggested the middle one. I didn't really know what to expect, but I wasn't really nervous. I knew I was only making an appearance to sit next to him and look young and innocent, so it wasn't exactly a high-pressure situation. I wore a pastel skirt suit and my hair down, putting on just enough makeup to make it seem like I wasn't trying.
"The water bill is due," said Daniel at one point, out of the blue.
I stopped in the middle of the living room. "All right?" I said.
"I can't pay it from my bank account. I have the cash, but…what do I do with it? Can I wire them the money?"
"You just take it to the office. Have you seriously never paid a bill in person before?"
"No. Why would I?"
I sighed. "Give me the money, I'll do it tomorrow."
He looked at me for a moment. "All right," he said. "Later on, I'll give it to you."
"What do you mean, 'later on?' You're going to forget. There's too much going on. Just get it now. Or tell me where it is, I'll get it." I'd never before concerned myself with the location of his emergency cash reserves, but now that he was acting cagey about it, I was suddenly very curious.
"No, I'll get it," he said. "Just - not right now."
I rolled my eyes. "Really? Do you want me to stand in the corner with my eyes covered?"
"Maddy, it's nothing personal. I just…I've never told anyone where it is."
"Sure, and we've only been married for…how long now?"
He shot me a look. "Relax," he said. "I'll get you the money."
"Fine, you're the one who wanted the f**king bill paid."
We left for the hearing shortly afterwards, sitting in the backseat of the town car in a stormy silence. Lindsey sat awkwardly between us, saying nothing, and John, the driver, stayed tight-lipped, only nodding at us when we got in and out. He'd been looking awfully wan and baggy-eyed lately. I wondered if Daniel had told him more about the situation than he'd told me. It didn't seem out of the realm of possibility.
We convened in a small courtroom. The judge was a stern-looking middle-aged man, sitting down behind his bench with a sigh that said he'd rather be anywhere than here. Lindsey reached out and patted my hand, giving me an encouraging smile.
"We will now proceed with the initial hearing of Daniel Emmett Thorne's petition for his assets to be unfrozen, pending the investigation of an alleged violation of sections 16(b) and 10(b) of the Securities Exchange Act of 1934. I granted the Securities and Exchange Commission's request to freeze Mr. Thorne's assets due to concern that he might be a flight risk." The judge seemed like he was stifling a yawn. "Ms. Greenlee, do you have anything you'd like to say to start us off?"
"Yes, your honor." Daniel's lawyer stood up, clearing her throat. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us today. I appreciate that you're very busy, so I'll keep this brief. My client needs to be able to conduct his daily business, and all of his personal affairs. He cannot do this with a freeze order in place. I understand the flight risk concern, but my client not only has no intention of leaving the country, I highly doubt he would be able to without being recognized. My client is featured on the covers of magazines on a regular basis, your honor. I'm sure that you've seen them yourself."
The judge made a slight noise of assent.
"Your honor," she went on. "I'm not trying to drum up sympathy for my client. But he is living off a small amount of cash reserves, and the generosity of family and friends. No matter how rich he is, you can't expect him to live on nothing while this issue drags on and on."
"I had planned to lift the freeze once he is arraigned in court," said the judge.
"But that could be months from now," Ms. Greenlee insisted.
"I'm aware," said the judge, drily. "I'm also aware, Mr. Thorne, that you have family and friends helping you out. You're not in any immediate danger of being thrown out on the street, are you?"
Daniel stood up. "No, your honor," he said.
"Well, in that case, I don't see why I need to hurry things along." The judge shuffled some papers on his bench. "Mr. Thorne, you're a resourceful man. I am absolutely certain that you will find a way to survive for the next few weeks. As Ms. Greenlee pointed out earlier, I am a busy man, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't waste my time any further."
Daniel took a deep breath. "I apologize, your honor. That certainly wasn't my intention."
The judge adjusted his glasses. "I'd hate to see any suspicions rise about your sister in connection with all the assistance she's been giving you. She's not immune to this either, you know."
"Your honor," Ms. Greenlee cut in. "Please - this is ridiculous. There is no need to intimidate my client. He's done nothing wrong."
"My apologies, Mr. Thorne," the judge intoned. "I certainly never meant to cross any lines. I'll see you at the trial." And with that, he was standing up and gathering his papers. I sat there on the hard wooden chair, completely stunned at what had just transpired. Ms. Greenlee looked like she'd been sucking on a lemon, even more so than usual. She rushed up to the judge, calling after him as he headed for one of the side doors - "Robert - ROBERT! Wait! I want to talk to you!" But he brushed her off with a gesture.
She came back to us, dejected.
"I'm sorry, Daniel," she said. "I've never known him to be so hostile. I never would have suggested this hearing if I thought…"
"It's all right," said Daniel, his face very grim. "I didn't really expect anything different."
But I could tell he was upset. He'd been hoping for a better outcome, of course - we all had. But the judge obviously had strong personal feelings about the case, for whatever reason, and we certainly weren't going to change his mind.
I could have sworn there was an actual cloud hovering over our group as we walked out onto the sidewalk and headed towards the street corner where John was going to pick us up, minus Ms. Greenlee, who broke off at the parking garage with a polite little wave.
"Well, it's nice to know he'll be the one conducting the trial," said Daniel with a hollow smile.
"Can't you petition the court for someone different, if you think he's biased?" Lindsey looked over her shoulder. "Shit, I should have asked what’s-her-name."
"Oh, no doubt," said Daniel. "But how will that look? 'I don't like this judge, please send me another.' Everyone already thinks I'm a rich spoiled brat who just gets whatever he wants. If I get a new judge, too, on top of everything?"
"But you're entitled to a fair trial," I said, as we climbed into the car. "Everyone is. It doesn't matter."