As it turned out, there was more to Evan’s concern for me that evening than I’d ever begun to imagine.
At around eight o’clock, the doorbell rang. Everyone paused in the mellow after-dinner conversation, looking blank at the banal interruption. Evan was the only one who reacted as if he had expected it. He stood and caught my attention with a tilt of his chin, then held out his hand.
“Anna? There’s someone I want you to meet. Please everyone, go on without us. There’s more cake and coffee,” Evan said.
I gave Jessica a big, reassuring smile and followed him inside.
There was a man standing at the front door, a briefcase dangling from his fist.
“Anna, I’d like you to meet Jerome Hathaway. He’s an old friend. Jerome, this is Anna Solas.”
I shook hands with him. “I’m glad to meet another one of Evan’s friends. Will you be able to attend the wedding tomorrow?”
“I’m not that type of friend,” Hathaway said, his tone clipped.
That sour-stomach feeling amplified briefly into full-fledged nausea, but I couldn’t have said why, exactly. Bewildered, I followed Evan along with this friend-who-wasn’t-a-friend into a large study. Hathaway pulled some documents out of his briefcase and set them on a big desk, all brisk and business-like. Evan sat down next to me and grasped my hand.
“I’m sorry to leave this until the final moment,” he said, speaking directly to me in a low voice. “But there hasn’t been much opportunity beforehand. I want to make sure certain matters are put into place before we marry. Certain legal things.”
“Oh,” I said, glancing over at Hathaway uneasily. “Uh… what legal things?”
“I want to make it clear what you’ll inherit in the event of my death. I know to someone who’s so young, it must seem uncomfortable to speak of it. But it’s important that things like this are set into place now.”
“Not just in the case of Evan’s death. In the case of divorce, as well,” Hathaway added.
I strained to keep my expression neutral. This was part of the grownup world I was entering. I had to deal with it.
“You mean a prenuptial agreement, don’t you?” I asked Evan.
Evan gave Hathaway a sharp glance. Hathaway looked down at Evan’s silent reproach. I understood Evan was angry at his lawyer’s insensitive introduction of the topic. His tone sounded level enough when he spoke to me, though.
“Yes. Jerome has prepared a will and a prenuptial agreement for us to sign.” He sighed and closed his eyes briefly. “I can tell from the look on your face that you think this is cruel of me, Anna. But—”
“I don’t think it’s cruel,” I interrupted. “I realize that you’re a very successful man. You have homes and cars and boats. You have investments and savings, and God knows what else.” God knows, because I certainly don’t. But I met his stare squarely. “None of that has anything to do with me. I don’t own much of anything of value. If, God forbid, our marriage doesn’t work out—”
“This isn’t a matter of me being cynical. It’s a matter of practicality,” Evan interrupted.
“I’d walk away with what I brought into the marriage,” I continued, unfazed. “Please don’t think that I have a problem with that.”
“Evan has provided you with much, much more than the clothes on your back, even in the case of divorce. You’re a very fortunate young woman, Ms. Solas,” Hathaway said with a bitter, sly little smile that I didn’t like. I didn’t like him.
Hathaway handed me a packet of papers. I stared at it without comprehending much until Hathaway flipped a page and pointed at a paragraph. My eyes widened when I saw the number and the amount of zeroes that followed it.
“Is this the will or the prenuptial agreement?” I asked hollowly.
“The prenup,” Hathaway said as he walked behind the desk. From the tone of his voice, I understood that Hathaway had drawn up the agreement to Evan’s specifications, but didn’t agree with the wisdom of it. In fact, I had the impression he’d probably argued heatedly with Evan over the topic.
I was stunned. It was more money than I’d ever imagined in my life.
I looked at Evan, confused. He planned to give me that much money, even if I divorced him on a whim? He gave me a small smile.
“Your father has a legal background. We’ll have him take a look at these, as well. But they’re pretty cut and dried. I don’t want you to have to worry, in any circumstance.”
I turned my head, so that Hathaway couldn’t hear or read my lips, and whispered to Evan.
“It’s too much. I don’t expect it. Any of it.”
His smile struck me as a little bitter and very sad.