A Change of Heart by Nancy Frederick

lawyer.   Hugh is a lawyer.   We're surrounded by lawyers in this family."
    Laurel was right.   Why should she give up so easily?   R.J. always said he was going to do things that he never managed to do.   She could talk to her father, could fight back.   This was her home.   "You're right, of course.   I'll call your grandfather."   Annabeth squeezed her daughters' hands.   "We'll fight back."
    Annabeth walked upstairs so she could talk privately.   On a hunch, she dialed the bank's number, where an electronic voice revealed to her that there was a three-dollar balance in the checking account she shared with R.J. and that the savings account had been closed.   Annabeth held her hands to her head.   She didn't have a cent.
    She dialed her father's number.   "Dad!   I need your help."   She told her father the whole story, glancing at the clock now and then, hoping she wasn't taking up too much of his time.
    "All right, dear, calm down.   Everything you own is joint assets, including poker winnings."   His voice was so strained, so scornful, that Annabeth hated to continue, but she had to know.
    "So R.J. can't make me move out of my house?"
    "Can you afford to buy his half from him?"
    "Of course not.   You know I don't have any money of my own.   And R.J. won't give me any; he expected me to sign those papers just like that."
    "If you sell the house, you'll split the proceeds.   That should give you a nice nest egg.   And there's his business.   You're entitled to half its worth as well."
    "So I might really have to move?"
    "Let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet, okay? Come into the office tomorrow.   Quentin will file a petition for temporary support and begin process of disclosure.   R.J.'s lawyer will have to hand in a financial affidavit."  
    "Quentin?"
    "Yes, I'm retired you know.   Quentin is good though, so don't worry.   You come on over here and I'll give you some cash."
    The tears streamed from Annabeth's eyes.   "Oh, Dad," was all she could say.
    "And you ought to change the lock on your front door, just in case.   You have that handyman, right?"
    "Yes, I could get him to do it."
    "Okay, dear, the cash'll be waiting.   I need to run now, but I'll brief Quentin.   You just do what he says."   Will spoke worriedly into the phone.   "And dear?   Will you be needing to come home to live, you think?"  
    "Oh, Dad, no, of course not."
    The following day, in Sally's car, Annabeth dropped off her daughter at work, then she met with Quentin at her father's office.   After attending to the legal matters that the young attorney deemed necessary, she drove toward the Ford dealer.
    Doug Hawkins smiled as she looked in the door of his office.   "Annabeth.   Come on in."   He rose and walked around his desk, touching her shoulder, then indicating that she should be seated.   "I have your estimate right here."
    Annabeth glanced at the sheet of paper detailing the various things wrong with her car and the dollar amounts it would take to repair them.   While she reviewed the list, she noticed Doug looking at her.   His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be deep in thought, as though he were remembering something painful from the past.   He looked off into the distance, out the window of his office, toward where his brother stood talking to a customer, then back toward Annabeth, then outside yet again.   He cocked his head ever so slightly to one side, started to speak, but remained silent.
    Annabeth replaced the estimate on the desk.   It was a huge amount of money.   She had been hoping that the money she'd borrowed from her father would cover the repairs, but it wasn't nearly enough.   She shook her head.   What was she going to do?
    "It's a lot of money, I know," volunteered Doug.   "I would suggest you think about replacing that vehicle rather than repairing it."
    Annabeth bit her lip nervously, looking first down at the repair estimate then into Doug's eyes.   There was something