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soon-to-be ex-wife of yours is a real bitch, but I’m guessing you know that, or you wouldn’t be divorcing her.”
    “That’s right. What’s she doing now?”
    “Well, I got a call from Didi earlier today. It was a pleasant conversation about scheduling around vacations. Then, she dropped the bomb. They’re unhappy with the settlement offer. Stacy believes that you’ve hidden assets from her. They want to look into the rest of your family’s finances–especially your father’s and even your sister’s restaurants.”
    “Great.” I scowled, as I turned my chair to look out the window onto the Capitol building.
    “I called Mark. We’ll take care of this, but you know the investigation isn’t the issue. This is a sign that they’re playing hardball.”
    “I know. And the longer they play that way, the more likely it is that the divorce gets fought in the press. I don’t want that.”
    Pinching the bridge of my nose, I thought back to some of my fights with Stacy over the years. Without the unconditional love necessary for a good marriage, our arguments were often ugly. Yet, no one ever had caught word of them. Even when we announced our divorce, there was scant information in the press as to why we were splitting up.
    I’d never doubted Stacy’s pledge for privacy. She’d convinced me that she wouldn’t want her life splattered across the pages of the Chicago Sun-Times . But maybe the lure of money and desire for retribution had changed Stacy’s attitude towards bad publicity.
    Janice tried to ease my mind. “Don’t worry right now. Mark and I will keep them at bay. It’s not in their interest to go public.”
    “Yet. It’s not in their interest to go to the press yet…”
    “Well, yes. Of course, they still may, but let us handle it for now.”
    “I should call my father.”
    “Mark already has.”       
    “That’s probably for the best,” I said as I watched the light snow fall onto the bare trees lining Independence Avenue. I didn’t want to ruin my day any more than I already had.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Jessie
    The following morning, I hobbled from my office sofa to the closest electrical outlet because my laptop was about to die. Juggling the crutches and tangled cord wasn’t easy. My broken ankle was a pain in so many ways, and I was continually finding new reasons to kick myself for it.
    Plus, there was the lingering embarrassment from humiliating myself in front of Michael and that crazy right-winger, Cathy Mathers. I’d always hated her on TV. Now I had another reason. As for Michael, even if he had apologized for laughing at me, he’d definitely lost a lot of his shine for hanging out with her. Were they friends? Or, God forbid, dating? If he was seeing her, even his blue eyes couldn’t redeem him for me. As for Trish, between laughing at me and being with Cathy, she flat out despised Michael now.
    Just as I leaned down, about as awkward as possible, from my crutches, there was a knock at my door. “Come in.” I called.
    Trish entered and closed the door behind her. “Hey. Alan Young is here for you.”
    “That’s nice of him to check in on me.” I smiled.
    “He has flowers…” Trish smirked before she exited.
    Flowers? That seemed a little odd to give a colleague, but I dismissed it. He was a farm boy from Iowa. Those nice Midwesterners did crazy things like that. As I went back to fiddling with the cord and outlet, I heard him enter the room.
    “Hi Jessie.” I looked up to see him holding a small bouquet of tulips and wearing an alarmed expression. “What are you doing?” he asked. “You need to get back on the couch with your leg elevated.”
    “Well, I was sitting there, but my laptop ran out of juice.”
    He rushed over and plugged in the cord. “There you go. Now stay off that ankle.”
    “I’m trying to.” I laughed. “But it’s kind of hard to work around here like that. It’s not like I have a desk job.”
    “No, you don’t, but for the next six