Free Finding Mr. Right by Gwynne Forster Page B

going, Tyra? Any more problems with Fuller?”
    “He hasn’t learned to keep his hands to himself, but I corrected him. If he needs further instructions as to where his hands belong, I’ll let the legal system educate him.”
    “Something’s wrong with that guy. He’s the last person who should be working in a place like this. I imagine he’s been fired from more than one job. He’s capable of nastiness, so be careful, Tyra, and watch your back.”
    “Thanks, Matt. I’ll try to. See you later. I have a three forty-five appointment.”
    Minutes after she sat down, Erica Saunders walked into her office. “You Miss Cunningham?”
    Tyra stood. “Yes. Have a seat. How may I help you?”
    Erica Saunders gazed around, taking in everything before she sat on the edge of the chair. “I never heard of anybody black being named Cunningham. Where you from?”
    “We have half an hour, Ms. Saunders. Why do you need to see a counselor so urgently?”
    “If you gon’ be my counselor, you gon’ have to be patient, ’cause nobody rushes me, and nobody bullies me. You got a file on me big as from here to New York, so you know what my problem is.”
    “Ms. Saunders, I was given your case because no one else is prepared to take it. You have a reputation for being uncooperative. If I can help you right now, tell me what the problem is. Otherwise, don’t come here and waste my time.” She looked at her watch. “You’re the one with the problem. Not me.”
    “That’s why I always like men for counselors,” Erica said under her breath. “My husband closed his checking accounts, so I can’t get any money, and I’m broke.”
    “Then the best thing for you to do is agree to reasonable divorce terms. You’ll have some money then. Why don’t you find a job?”
    “You’re supposed to be helping me, not him.”
    Tyra leaned back in her chair and glared at the woman. “In the twenty years of your marriage, you didn’t work one day. You had an elegant home and a housekeeper. You and your husband have no children. According to these files—” she tapped the thick manila folder with her finger “—you have access to your husband’s checkbook. Am I right?”
    “I did have, but I just told you he closed the checking account, and I’m flat broke.”
    “I’m giving you a voucher to take to this agency—” Tyra handed her a card “—where you can get food and shelter. This is all I can do for you.”
    The woman stared at her. “You sending me to beg for food and a place to stay? My husband’s rich.”
    “And so were you until you got caught sleeping with other men. You made your choice, Ms. Saunders. I’m closing your file. Good day.” She hadn’t expected Erica Saunders to give in so easily, but after two years and five months it was time to drop her case.
    After Erica Saunders left, Tyra phoned Lyle. “Lyle, this is Tyra. I’ve closed the Saunders file.”
    “Good! I’ve thought that for some time, but I just couldn’t make myself do it.”
    “I’m leaving now. See you tomorrow.”
    Matt Cowan walked out of the building along with Tyra. As they stepped through the door, he removed his jacket. “This heat’s not for me. Say, Tyra, did I see you in Gambrill at the concert with Byron Whitley last Friday night?”
    She couldn’t have been more surprised by his question. But why should she have been? They were both lawyers. “Yes. You know him?”
    “Only professionally, but I gather he’s a helluva lawyer. Way to go,” he said, giving her the thumbs-up sign. “See you Wednesday.” She hailed a taxi, sank into its air-conditioned comfort and headed home. She would have been happier if Byron had been waiting for her.
     
    Byron was speaking by cell phone with his father. “…then arrange something. Invite me to dinner or something.”
    “You don’t need a special invitation to have dinner at my house. You can come any time you please.”
    “Come on, Dad. I know that, but I want you to ask Jewel to