Free Lawyer for the Dog by Lee Robinson Page B

decided we were having too much fun out there. He likes to chase shorebirds. Never catches anything, of course, but a man’s gotta have hope, know what I mean?”
    â€œHow long have you been retired, Mr. Hart?”
    â€œFour, no … five years. Good time to get out of the banking business.”
    â€œYou were president of First National, right?”
    â€œWhat does this have to do with the dog?” He flicks an insect off his trousers.”Sorry, don’t mean to be rude. Yeah, I was president of Palmetto State Bank when we got taken over by First American out of Charlotte, which got taken over by First National. The usual corporate gobbling—eat or be eaten. When I started out in banking, I knew every customer by name, knew their mammas and their daddies. If a young couple came in for a mortgage, I’d take care of them, tell them how much house they could afford. If they couldn’t afford the house they’d set their hearts on, I’d level with them. I didn’t want them getting in over their heads.” He smacks his leg, but a fast fly evades him. “You see these mansions all around us? Lots of these people are up to their eyeballs in debt. They borrowed way more than the damn house is worth, and the bank didn’t care because, guess what, it knew it was going to sell the note to some outfit, who’d then bundle it with a bunch of other notes, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Pretty soon nobody even remembers the idiots who’ve gotten in over their heads. But then the whole house of cards collapsed.”
    I nod. “So, you’re glad to be out of the business.”
    â€œDamn right. Sorry for the rant, but I’m getting around to something: You got any idea what it costs to maintain one of these things? A house like this?”
    â€œI can imagine.”
    â€œThat’s what Maryann does. She imagines. Listen, I tell her, here’s the deal. You want a divorce, fine, but even if you end up with half our assets, you can’t keep this house. It’s paid for, but you can’t afford to maintain it. Costs close to thirty thousand just to paint it, never mind the taxes, insurance, gardener, pool man, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. She’s asking for alimony, of course, but there’s only one pot of money. We were talking about selling it anyway, before all this … this nonsense. The judge will understand that, right?”
    â€œMr. Hart—”
    â€œI’m telling you, even if she gets more than half, it won’t be enough for her. Jesus, half the queen’s treasury wouldn’t be enough to keep her in the style to which … She hasn’t figured that out yet, because she’s never had to worry about money, thinks I’m just a damn bank, but let me tell you, this particular old piggy bank—” he taps his chest—“is going to need a bailout soon, and I don’t think the government is going to step in to help old Rusty Hart, do you?” He’s sweating. “Sure you don’t want some lemonade?”
    â€œNo, thanks.”
    â€œWell, if you want to know the truth, I’d give her most of the money, I’d go live in a damn single-wide, if she’d let me keep Sherman … No way she’s going to get Sherman.”
    â€œThat’s for the judge to decide, Mr. Hart.”
    â€œBut you and I both know he’s passed the buck, right? You’re the one who’s going to make a recommendation, and whatever you say, he’ll do.”
    â€œI’m not allowed to make a recommendation, exactly, just a report on my investigation.”
    â€œOkay, a report, but he probably won’t have to do too much reading between the lines. He knows how you think. Must have a lot of respect for you, even after you divorced him.”
    So Mr. Hart knows the history. Of course he does.
    I change the subject. “Do you think your wife loves Sherman as much