Hidden Summit

bad—it’s Greg who looks like an idiot and jerk. And second, you’re an amazing woman who has the respect of the company and the whole community.”
    “That’s nice of you to say,” she replied. “But our divorce and his remarriage really took its toll. I see them everywhere! Did you know that she’s now pregnant with the baby he told me he didn’t want to have? Have with me, I guess.”
    Paul leaned his forehead against hers. “Les, I’m sorry.”
    She pulled back and lifted her chin. “I have to find a way to rebuild my self-esteem. I sure couldn’t do it in Grants Pass where Greg seems to think we can remain friends.”
    “We’ll work on that. You’ll feel better about yourself in no time. Leslie, this isn’t about your failure. It’s about his.”
    “Intellectually I know that,” she said. “But you have to understand, I have a lot more to overcome than you realize. I mean, I wasn’t even asked to the prom.”
    Paul had laughed at that comment about the prom, as if she was kidding. She had worked with the Haggerty men for ten years, and they all thought she had a great sense of humor. And she knew they were absolutely on her side. Paul’s dad, Stan, the founder and president of Haggerty Construction, had been determined never to work with Greg again, but his sons had all stood up to him and pointed out that refusing to do business with a successful developer was shortsighted in business. And also some sort of discrimination. “Yeah,” Stan had stormed. “I discriminate against stupid assholes!”
    Leslie had adored him for that!
    She had been twenty-three when she married Greg Adams. He was a young developer who was becoming successful and well-known, though he was only just thirty. He was in all the fraternal and networking groups from Rotary to the Chamber of Commerce; he’d been president of each at one time or another. He’d had aspirations to run for city council, maybe mayor eventually. He was also incredibly handsome and very sexy, and she had always had a hard time believing he chose her. And even though she’d worked full-time for Haggerty Construction, she’d also joined the Junior League, library volunteers—anything she thought might help Greg’s plans. Of course, Greg had encouraged her to do so.
    Then, after eight years of marriage, she’d caught Greg in an affair with a twenty-seven year old attorney. He had been thirty-eight. He’d come clean immediately and confessed he was sorry she had been hurt, but he was moving on. His life had changed in ways he had never anticipated. He’d moved out of their lovely three-bedroom home the day after she’d confronted him, filing for divorce while she was still in shock.
    She’d gotten the house and the mortgage, which she couldn’t carry alone. He’d gotten fifty percent of the equity. She’d gotten no alimony because it seemed this successful developer had no money.
    “Hah!” Stan Haggerty had roared. “That’s bullshit! He has plenty of money, unless he’s hidden it!”
    Apparently he had, because after the divorce and sale of the home and division of the proceeds, he’d managed to buy a very large custom home in a better neighborhood, a new car and take his new lady on a lavish vacation to Aruba. A year after the divorce, he’d had a flashy wedding and invited half the town, including Leslie and her parents. They’d passed, sending regrets. A year and four months after the divorce, the new Mrs. Adams was showing.
    Through all of this, Greg had phoned or stopped by regularly; it was very important to him that she know he would always love her and respect her. He wanted them to remember the good years they had together and remain the best of friends. If she hadn’t been so broken down with humiliation, demoralization and envy she might’ve found the strength to gouge his eyes out with a dull spoon.
    When he’d broken it to her that Allison was pregnant and that he hoped she would be happy for them, she’d found her bottom. She’d taken all she could take. That’s when she’d gone to Stan and said she was terribly sorry, but she was giving notice.
    “Where will you go?” Stan had asked.
    “I don’t know,” she had answered. “I just have to get away from here. I know people are on my side, that they think I was wronged, but that doesn’t keep them from looking at me with pity and wondering what role I played in driving my husband away. This is Greg’s town. And admit it, even on my side, they