Read Wanted: Wife for Free Online Page B

“Don’t you even have the guts to talk to me? Call me! Now!” I delivered the same message every ten minutes for the next two hours, calling and texting. Then I finally gave up all my scruples and sent him a Tweet:
    I thought you loved me. Even worse I thought you LIKED me.
    I was sinking fast.
    The next morning, exhausted and nursing a ’tini head, I stopped at the bank first thing, asking to see customer service. Instead, I was taken directly to the branch manager’s office. My account information was already on her screen when I entered.
    “Have a seat, Ms. Knott,” she said, bursting with politeness.
    Without preamble, I said, “Why can’t I get at my money?”
    She folded her hands atop her desk and looked me square in the eyes. “Whenever there’s a dissolution of a joint account, as your fiancé has requested, it’s always frozen until the depositors can settle how the funds are to be distributed. For that, we’ll need both parties present, and if one of them can’t be, then the absent party has to sign this form and get it notarized.” She slid it to me. “After that, we can close up the account.”
    I stared at her, aghast. “But all my money’s in that account! You must already have Richard’s permission if he’s asked you to close it.”
    She tapped at her keyboard. “It says here Richard Sayles had to go out of town on a family emergency, and he would settle the account when he returns.”
    “Family emergency?” I thumbed my chest. “ Here’s your family emergency.” I leaned in, sotto voce . “He’s left me high and dry!”
    She smiled sympathetically. “If you like, I can set up a separate account for your direct deposit, and arrange so you can withdraw the equivalent of one pay period. Outside of that . . .” she shrugged. “I’m really sorry. Can’t you contact him?”
    I swiped my hands on my skirt. “He’s in Seattle, and we really didn’t part on the best terms.”
    Her eyes sparkled. “Really?”
    What did I just say? I could see my name in Dan Gross’ gossip blog before the sun set. “Nothing we won’t work out. In the meantime, about that new account . . .”
    I filled out what I had to, withdrew $500, and by the time I hit the sidewalk my head was spinning. It was the day after one of the worst disasters of my life, and there were a million things I should be doing, but all I could think of was retreating to the haven of Channel 8. Since I was a kid, the printed or spoken word had always been my sanctuary: from the library, to the school newspaper and the city desk, to the radio and TV stations that had become my second home. On a Saturday morning, Channel 8 was manned by the second string, and most were surprised to see me. All except Gil, the odious station manager. He seemed downright delighted.
    “Julie! Look at you, here on a Saturday morning!” He pushed a bit of paunch back under his belt and waved me over to his office. “Come on in and chat a sec.”
    “Can’t it wait, Gil?” I was wearing the same skirt and blouse I’d worn the day before, a bit wrinkled and slightly gin-soaked, but until I could get into my apartment, I’d have to settle for the extra clothes I kept in my desk. ‘”I’m in a bit of a hurry and—”
    “Only take a sec,” he said. “Come on.”
    It was more of an order than a request. I took a seat in front of his desk.
    He leaned back in his chair, the statue of Billy Penn rising from the skyline behind him. “Glad you stopped in, Julie. Saturdays are quiet, so it’s better.”
    “Better for what?”
    “For this chat.” His chair squeaked. “About your contract renewal.”
    A prickle crawled up the back of my neck. “I thought we had that all settled. Richard said the only thing you had to do was sign.”
    “Richard. Ah.” He pursed his lips, his fingertips steepling. “I saw his tweet about your breaking up. That’s tough.”
    “You saw his—” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Jesus—you follow