Excerpt of Ex's and Oh's by Sandra Steffen

If one more person asked Caroline Moore if she was all
right, she was going to explode. And Caroline never
exploded. She breathed deeply. She meditated. She looked
beyond any given situation, considering every possible
angle. But she didn't explode.

Today was different. Today, she'd buried her grandfather.
And no, she wasn't all right. All right wasn't even close.

Seeing the last of the neighbors to the door, she closed
her eyes, her hand going automatically to her throat. The
collar of her silk blouse was open, her necklace a fine
gold chain from which hung a delicate charm that had been
her mother's. There was nothing physically restrictive,
yet she felt a constraint so tight it was difficult to
breathe.

"Are you all right, Caroline?" Steven Phillips asked. She
forced a deep breath, tamped down an inner explosion and
did her best to pull herself together. A fellow attorney,
Steven was widely known for his litigation expertise.
She'd been seeing him since his divorce became final a
year ago. He'd been preoccupied lately. But then, so had
she.

She joined him at the French doors, their shoulders close
but not quite touching. Neither seemed to have any desire
to move closer.

"It's been a long few days for you," he said.

Forty-two years old, Steven was of average height and
build. The silver in his hair gave him a wizened look
clients trusted. Looking at him, it occurred to her that
he had something on his mind. That made two of
them. "There's something I need to talk to you about,
Steven."

One of the reasons he won so many lawsuits for his clients
was that he was good at bluffing. He wasn't just good at
it; he was stupendous at it, which made whatever she
glimpsed in his eyes more alarming. Instinctively, she
proceeded with caution. "Can you come to dinner at my
apartment downtown tomorrow evening?"

"I can't make it tomorrow night, Caroline." Normally, he
was a talker. She found it strange that he didn't
elaborate. Fighting a bout of queasiness, she said,

"Perhaps this shouldn't wait until tomorrow anyway."

He glanced sharply at her. "I was going to tell you." He
was going to tell her? What was he talking about?

Luckily, she was good at bluffing, too. "When?" she
asked. "When were you planning to tell me?"

A muscle worked in his jaw, and something clicked in her
brain. She'd handled enough divorce cases to recognize
someone guilty of cheating. "God, Steven."

"It's not like that." There was nothing quite like a
lawyer jumping to his own defense. "Brenda and I have been
talking, and we've come to realize the divorce was a
mistake."

A mistake? That was a good one. "The woman you're seeing
behind my back is your ex-wife?"

"She's the mother of my children. Believe me, this is not
sordid."

The floor pitched. Regaining her equilibrium, she
said, "Then you haven't been sleeping with both of us?"

His mouth thinned and his expression hardened. "I know
this is a shock, but frankly, I'm a little surprised
you're upset."

Trying to think, Caroline fingered the charm on her
necklace. Her life was falling apart around her, but this
wasn't the surprise she'd had in mind.

"I'm sorry," Steven said. "I know this is a difficult time
for you. That's why we didn't want to tell you until you'd
had a chance to —"

We? "Brenda knows about me? About us?"

"I didn't want to begin our trial reconciliation with a
lie between us. I've never seen my boys this happy. Think
about them."

He wanted her to think about his children. That was
priceless.

"They've been in counseling since the divorce. Brenda and
I have been worried about them. You and I have talked
about that."

A few months earlier, Caroline had spent an afternoon at
the aquarium with Steven's sons. The outing had been
awkward and difficult. Caroline didn't pretend to know
much about children, but the boys' dislike for her had
been painfully obvious.

"I'm sorry about your grandfather. I know how you felt
about Henry. In fact, I've always gotten the impression he
was the only man you needed in your life."

She felt hollow, empty and bereft. She wanted to tell him
she had needs, too, but her pride kept her still. "I think
you should go, Steven."

She hated him for looking relieved.

At the door he said, "It's not as if you've ever mentioned
the future, let alone one that included marriage or a
family."

It was difficult to know whether to laugh or cry.

He was watching her, his head turned at an unnatural
angle, accentuating his long neck and prominent Adam's
apple. "I've fallen in love with my ex-wife all over
again. Haven't you ever been in love?"

He let himself out without waiting for her answer.
Caroline couldn't seem to stop shaking. She closed the
French doors, then stared through the wavy glass,
shivering. Her grandfather's favorite mesh patio furniture
faced Lake Michigan, which today was as gray as the May
sky. How many times had she found him sitting there,
quietly looking out across the vast water?

He'd been her only family since her parents' deaths when
she was eight. It couldn't have been easy for him, and yet
he'd taken her in and made a home for her. He'd devoted
his life to raising her.

She shivered again. For some reason, Steven's question
about being in love really bothered her. She'd thought she
was in love once or twice a long time ago, but the
sentiment had faded. It was a well-known fact that women
had to work twice as hard as men in this field. She'd
worked three times as hard. She'd set goals and
systematically met each one. In doing so, she'd made
sacrifices along the way. And no, she'd never been truly
in love. Until recently, that hadn't felt like a tragedy.
But Caroline had bigger problems. One big problem, to be
exact. ***

Maria Gonzales, her grandfather's housekeeper, was washing
dishes when Caroline entered the kitchen a few minutes
later.

"Could you use some help?" Caroline asked.

"I could use some company," Maria answered. "Sit. I don't
know how you walk in those shoes."

Caroline didn't trust herself to smile, so she did as
Maria said, lowering to the chair where she'd eaten
breakfast every morning during her formative years.
Leaning back, she slid her feet out of her Manolo
Blahniks. The shoes had been a gift to herself after she
won the Hiller-Dalton case last month. Once, a reporter
had called her penchant for buying expensive, imported
shoes a fetish. Caroline hadn't addressed the reporter's
statement, for doing so would have lent it credence, which
would have been stupid. And Caroline had never been stupid.

Until recently, that is. "Try not to think," Maria said,
drying a platter. "It will all work out. You'll see. I
told my Carmen the same thing this morning. She's eighteen
now, and a worrier like her father."

Caroline looked at the family photograph Maria kept on the
windowsill. Maria and her husband Miguel had three
children: Carmen, Dominic and the baby. He must be four
now. His name escaped Caroline. Maria had come to work for
Henry O'Shaughnessy the same year Caroline left to study
law at Columbia University in New York. She'd always
treated Caroline well, and vice versa, and yet in all the
years they'd known each other and all the times they'd
spoken, most of their conversations had been about
Caroline's grandfather or the weather or the news. Now she
regretted that they'd never shared more personal
information.

"Am I coldhearted, Maria?"

Maria took so long considering the question that Caroline
braced herself for an unpleasant truth.

Finally, Maria said, "You're busy, but you're not cold.
You're like your shoes. Beautiful, supple, exquisitely
crafted, but out of the average person's league."

The description made Caroline sigh.

In so many ways, Caroline and Maria were opposites. Their
common link had been their mutual love for Henry
O'Shaughnessy. Caroline's grandfather had been stubborn
and well-spoken, kind and opinionated until he'd died
suddenly of a heart attack four days ago. There was no
question that he'd loved them, too. His last will and
testament had already been read, Maria's dedication
rewarded handsomely. She'd agreed to stay on until
Caroline decided what to do with the beautiful old house.
Although not a decadent amount, the inheritance gave Maria
options she hadn't expected. Caroline knew the other woman
would have managed without the monetary gift, for she was
one of those women who knew how to be happy regardless of
her situation.

Caroline envied her that. "How old are you, Maria?"

Looking surprised by the question, she said, "I'm thirty-
eight. Antonio thinks his mother is old."

Antonio. The baby's name was Antonio. But Maria wasn't
old. She was five years younger than Caroline. "Look at
all you have."

Laying a hand over Caroline's, Maria said, "You're just a
late bloomer. Now you will catch up. There's nothing like
having a baby. You'll see."

Caroline's mouth dropped open. She hadn't told a soul
about this. She'd thrown the home pregnancy kit in the
trash downtown. Until this week, she'd had no morning
sickness, and that she'd attributed to shock and sadness.
According to her calculations, she was only two-and-a-half
months along. "How did you know?"

"When you've been there three times," Maria said
sagely, "you recognize the signs. Plus, it's been several
months since anything has been moved on the middle shelf
in the bathroom you use when you stay here. Are you hoping
for a boy or a girl?"