"What? It's true! Isn't it?"

"Listen," I said. "They're right. We all need someone in our lives, impartial observers as well as friends who demand and deserve some accountability. Let's figure out what you're going to say and let's return these phone calls."

"Abigail?" Rebecca said. "What if the judge doesn't rule in our favor? What if I don't get my children back? Or my house? Won't I look like a fool?"

"You can't be serious, Rebecca," I said, taking a spring roll from Byron, dipping it and getting the sticky sauce all over my arm. Rebecca handed me a wet wipe from her purse. "Judge Shelby tore them to bits in her chambers and then kicked them out! So the question is not whether or not you win-you've already won-the question is how large is your settlement going to be."

"I can't say with authority," Julian said, "but I can tell you that I've known Judge Shelby for a long time and she's not going to reward Nat's shenanigans. No, sir."

Everyone agreed with Julian and me. The cell phones came out, the phone calls were made and Rebecca would grant interviews after the judge read the decision.

Later on in the evening after a dinner of continuous hors d'oeuvres from Byron and a huge platter of cheese, fruit and bread, which arrived as a gift from the hotel's management just in case we might be somebody important, Julian and I sat on the porch with Huey. We listened to the lessening drone of traffic and felt the approach of midnight.

"Frances DuBose said she'd be here at seven-thirty. She's a wizard. Rebecca's going to look like Holly Hunter in the flesh-all that translucent complexion is so wasted. If I had skin like Rebecca and Ms. Hunter I'd..."

"You'd what? Be a movie star? Come on, darling," I said to Julian, "time for all the old coots to call it a day."

We told Huey good night and went to sleep thinking we were well prepared for what the morning would bring.

My hotel phone rang at six o'clock. It was Huey.

"Get up and come quickly, Abigail. I've already ordered coffee for all of us. It's the morning papers-and not just the local ones-listen to this! An Eye for an Eye, Okay. But a Breast for a Breast? This is some trash, sugar."

"Give me ten minutes."

"Who was that?" Julian said, half asleep.

"You sleep, sweetheart, I'll be right back." I washed my face, deciding I could apply some makeup later. Maybe Frances DuBose would take pity on me. Maybe she could spackle my wrinkles. I showered, dressed for court and slipped out, leaving Julian a note, telling him where to find me.

By the time I arrived, Huey's suite was abuzz. Everyone had a copy of the newspapers. The headline that Huey read to me was in various font sizes in every single edition.

"What am I going to do?" Rebecca said. She was dressed, but her wet hair was in a towel.

"You're going to get your hair blown out," Huey said, "and remain dignified."

"Well, this is some fine mess we've got here, Ollie," I said to no one in particular. "Laurel and Hardy," I said to Rebecca's puzzled expression.

"I knew that," Huey said. "More coffee?"

"I know you knew that. We're almost as old as Methuselah, Huey baby, and yes, I'll have some coffee."

"I think it's pretty funny," Claudia said. "I mean, come on, who's going to take this seriously?"

"Taking it seriously is going to be Rebecca's gig," I said. "She's the one who has to talk to these jokers after the judge passes her ruling. What time is it?"

"Seven-thirty," Huey said. "I'd better go wake up Mother."

We watched him go and I turned to Rebecca. "Well? Have you thought about what you're going to say to the press?"

"Yep. Don't worry about it. I'm going to have my say. I decided to make it a press conference and then I can get it all over with in one fell swoop."

"Great idea. Did you arrange it?"

"All done. That precious little bald man from yesterday was thrilled out of his mind to make the phone calls and set it all up. And Claudia?"

"Yeah, hon?"

"No quips, okay? If they happen to ask you anything, please be serious."

"Good Lord, Rebecca! I will! I was just kidding yesterday and so was Judge Shelby! There's not going to be any reverse surgery! Come on! I think all of this press coverage speaks to the depths of Nat Simms's depravity! Don't you? Come on! This isn't about you!"

Claudia was right. Except for this. The spotlight was on Rebecca, not Nat. Howard Stern could glamorize Nat's Svengali number that he did on Charlene, but the real players wanted to know how a nice gal like Rebecca felt about it.

Frances DuBose knocked on the open door, coming in on Huey's arm, showing her the headlines, and introduced her to Rebecca. "Gracious!" she said and shook her head. "Don't you worry, Rebecca. I'll have your hair looking beautiful in no time. Is there a spot where I can plug in my straightener? And blow dryer?"

"Right here. Can I get you some coffee?" Byron said.

"Oh, thank you. That would be great."

"Now, let's see about your face," she said to Rebecca. "I brought just the right..."

"Wait a minute! I don't want too much makeup. I sure don't want to wind up looking like Charlene, okay?"

"Right," Ms. DuBose said. "But we have to bring out those eyes of yours!"

"Listen to Frances, Rebecca. Where's Miss Olivia?"

"Performing her morning toilette," Huey said. "She's going to meet us at nine."

The morning was under way and rolling. It seemed like when I thought five minutes had passed, I would check my watch to see that thirty minutes had gone by. Before I knew it, we were back in the courtroom. Nat and Albright were at their table; it was standing room only and the media was there in full force.

Judge Shelby was somber. She repeated her warning from yesterday's hearing. She opened her folder and put on her reading glasses. Then she stopped, removed them and looked across the crowd, sighing. Shelby looked tired.

"I have given this much thought," she said. "I have read the financial declarations, the appraisals of personal property and the valuation of Mr. Simms's percentage in his family's business. I have reviewed and considered all the testimony and evidence. I am clear on all aspects of this proceeding except one. I would like to swear in Rebecca Simms and ask her a few questions myself."

Well, that was a surprise, but what could Rebecca do except take the stand and swear to tell the truth-not that anyone needed a Bible to encourage Rebecca to be honest.

Shelby smiled at Rebecca as she took the oath, and when she was finished she said, "Please be seated."

From the quizzical expression on Shelby's face, I knew she was looking for the right words to use to get the answers that she wanted from Rebecca.

"Mrs. Simms, your husband is suing you for divorce on the grounds of habitual drunkenness including the use of narcotics. It was mentioned in Mr. Albright's opening statement and alluded to by the children's high school counselor. We've never heard from you on these accusations. So I want to ask you to explain them."

Rebecca was very nervous. Everyone could see her hands shaking. But she was not to be underestimated in her courage to let the truth be known.

"Judge Shelby, thank you. Thank you for this opportunity to tell a little bit about my side of things. May I have a glass of water please?"

I poured it and brought it to her. "The truth will set you free," I whispered.

Shelby heard me and smiled.

"My family was so happy until about a year and a half ago. I knew something was wrong with Nat. It was obvious that he wanted me out of our home, and I may have suspected that he had another woman-in fact, I did suspect it but I never had any evidence of it. I couldn't prove it. But his whole attitude toward me changed, and he worked very hard to change the feelings of our children toward me as well. It got very ugly around our house. The uglier it became, the more depressed I got. Every time I would go online on the computer and I kept getting these pop-up ads to buy medicine online, so I thought I would. I would try taking something to see if it would help my depression. I thought that maybe my own sadness was sort of feeding his discontent. If I could get happy again...well, you understand, right? If a pill could improve my relationship with him, I was willing to give it a try."

"And how long did you take them?"

"For about a week. They made me very out of it in the head and very forgetful."

"Like remembering to pick up the children from school?"

"That only happened once during that time, but after that I just quit taking them. Actually, they made things worse because I was so ditzy that Nat screamed at me even louder and more often."

"I see. And what about the alcohol?"

"Judge Shelby, you can ask anyone. I'm not a big drinker. I might have two or three glasses of wine at a party, and that's only a couple of times a year. No one would ever accuse me of being drunk all the time. That's just, well, it's ridiculous."

"Fine, Mrs. Simms. I have what I need. You may step down."

Rebecca returned to her seat beside me. She was trembling. I squeezed her hand and said, "Good job."

Shelby cleared her throat.

"All right then. This court awards full custody of the children and the house to Rebecca Simms, with the proviso that they begin family counseling immediately for a period of one year, the frequency of those visits to be determined by the family counselor. As to visitation, that is to be worked out between Mr. and Mrs. Simms to something that is reasonable rights of visitation-such as every other weekend, one month to Mr. Simms each summer, rotating annual holidays, etc.

"Mr. Simms has forty-eight hours to vacate the family home. He is to take with him only his personal possessions-clothes, toilet articles-and further division of household property will take place in thirty days to allow a time period for the children to adjust to the changes.

"Now, about money..."

Judge Shelby awarded alimony and child support to Rebecca and one half of the interest in Nat's business. Nat would also have the pleasure of the legal expenses. At the end of it all, Rebecca came away with almost sixty percent of their assets, which well covered the costs of Charlene's Medical Mystery Tour. It was a generous settlement and we were thrilled.

When Shelby was finished reading her decision, she stood to leave the courtroom, reminding everyone that interviews were to be conducted outside the building and to kindly vacate the room as there was another case on the docket in thirty minutes. People began filing out. It was hard to believe it was all over.

I looked over at Nat and Albright. Nat was slouched in his chair, but Albright was on his feet packing his briefcase. I caught his eye and he came over to shake my hand.

"Congratulations," he said.

His face was so sincere that I worked to disguise the pleasure I felt in the win.

"Thanks."

Nat stood and came to Albright's side. He looked down at Rebecca and snarled.

"Well, I hope you're happy, Rebecca. You've all but wrecked my life."

"I didn't wreck your life, Nat. You wrecked it yourself."

Nat made a guttural sound of disgust and they walked away. I turned to her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I just want to call Sami and Evan and tell them what happened."

"I can help you with that if you'd like."

"No, I'll be okay. They are my children, after all. I just have to make them mine again. Hey, Abigail, thanks for everything. I could never see my way through this, but you did."

"You are entirely welcome. It's nice when things work out every now and then."

Huey, Claudia and Jeff Mahoney were waiting for us, smiling and anxious to congratulate us. I assumed Byron had taken Miss Olivia back to the hotel.

"What a grand day this is!" Huey said. "Your hair looks fierce, Rebecca."

"Oh, Huey!"

"Let's get out of here," I said.

Mahoney took Rebecca's arm, and Claudia and I took Huey's.

The steps were mobbed with television cameras and reporters. We worked our way through them as politely as we could, declining comments. The press conference was next.

The hotel had cleared the furniture from the parlor and set up a table and chairs at the far end. By the time we arrived, the room was full. Rebecca told me that she had prepared a statement and when I asked her if she wanted me to go over it with her, she said, "No, I'm not sure I'm even going to use it. But thank you, Abigail."

Rebecca was shaky as she made her way to the microphone. I sat beside her at the table and waited for her to begin. Rebecca put her notes in front of her and took a long drink of water.

"Should I just start?"

"I guess so," I said. "Whenever you're ready."

"This is a little sick to me, you know."

"Don't throw away your chance, Rebecca."

Rebecca cleared her throat, turned her notes over and said, "Good morning. You have to wonder what the world has come to when something like this becomes national news. It's a little bit bizarre to me, anyway."

She paused and I looked around at the crowd of camera crews and reporters nodding their heads in agreement. But we all knew that they were just doing their jobs, churning the water so that Rebecca could ride the wave.

"I know everyone has come here to talk about what I think about my ex-husband's girlfriend and do I wish the judge had ordered half of her plastic surgery reversed. My life, her life and in fact, your life is not a reality show for the amusement of others. Think about it. What Charlene Johnson did was just another demonstration of what extraordinary things women do in the name of love. And that's what we had in common-we loved the same man. And we can both do better than to settle for the kind of manipulation and embarrassment we have endured. Do I feel vindicated? No, I do not. I feel sad. I'm not opposed to plastic surgery, but I don't believe any responsible doctor should dramatically change someone's appearance unless their patient requests it because they want it-not because their boyfriend wishes they had a bigger bra size or their husband wishes they had a fuller backside. This whole country has gone a little crazy desperately seeking youth and beauty because eventually we all grow old. That's life. And let me tell you something, I'd rather spend the rest of my life alone than one night with a man who thought that changing me would make him happy."

Rebecca reached in her purse and pulled out a foil-wrapped wet wipe. She choked up as she opened it, and sobbing, she began to scrub her face, removing every trace of makeup. There was a heavy silence as the cameras flashed.

"Look," she said. "This is me. This is who I am. Not the makeup. It's inner makeup that matters."

Rebecca, her emotions now gone completely out of control, got up and ran from the room.

It's inner makeup that matters!

Not bad, Rebecca, I thought as I picked up her purse.

"You're her attorney, aren't you?"