“As time passed, I think the iron wasn’t hot enough. There was no urgent reason to get married. And he told me a million times that we shared everything, work, home, love. We had nothing to gain from making it legal.”

“You mentioned a ceremony?”

“We just kneeled in a church together, and promised to love and cherish each other forever. To share our lives.”

“No priest or pastor?”

“No.”

“But you have the same last name.”

“I started using the name Markov within a few months of moving in with Mike. We were trying to start the business in Texas and dealing with all these bankers. Everyone thought we were… you know. People still do.”

“Did he introduce you to other people as his wife?”

“Of course he does. I am his wife.”

“Lindy. Listen closely. This is important.”

“I’m listening.” Lindy’s fingers tightened on the desk.

“Forget what I said before. Your situation is a very difficult one.”

“He’s not himself at the moment. He’s acting crazy. This will all blow over,” Lindy said.

“Listen to me. Mike’s left you. He’s fired you, and he’s about to throw you out of your home. Do you honestly think it’s going to blow over?”

“He won’t do that. He can’t.”

“I think he can,” Nina said. “Unless you have a letter, a contract, something in writing, or some very credible witnesses who will swear that Mike told you half of everything was yours.” She waited, crossing her fingers mentally.

In vain. Lindy coughed, then adjusted herself in the chair, looking troubled. “I don’t have anything like that. But he always called me his wife. We were married in the eyes of-”

“Not in the eyes of the State of California. California doesn’t recognize common-law marriages. You have to go through the process and get a marriage certificate.”

Something must have penetrated the fog of Lindy’s denial. Every jittery line of her body registered alarm. “Do you mean-could I really lose everything?”

“The burden would be on you to prove that you and Mike had such an agreement. It’s difficult, because there’s a presumption that the assets in his name are his property.”

“But Mike wouldn’t let that happen.”

“I imagine he’ll offer you something,” Nina said. “What we have here is often called a palimony case, though you won’t find that word in any statute. It’s not unusual in this country for a woman to live with a man without being married, and it isn’t even so unusual anymore for her to go after some assets after termination of the relationship.

“But I can think of a long list of people who have sued the rich and famous and come out of the litigation feeling like Titanic survivors, only poorer. In general, they lose. I happen to have done some work on a similar case a while back and I still remember some of the defendants in other cases.” She named a few of the many that came immediately to mind: Lee Marvin, Rod Stewart, Merv Griffin, Martina Navratilova, Clint Eastwood, William Hurt, Joan Collins, Bob Dylan, Alfred Bloomingdale and Van Cliburn. “Jerry Garcia’s estate was sued after he died.”

“Do they always lose?”

“Not directly. Most cases end up settling out of court, being dropped, or lost on appeal,” said Nina. “The problem is that often the case boils down to her word against his, and that’s not enough to meet the burden of proof.”

“I’ve slept with him all these years! I was his wife in every way. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“I hate to sound so blunt, but an agreement to provide money in return for sexual services is not compensable. A relationship like that is called a meretricious relationship.”

“But he promised we would share everything. He promised he would marry me someday. I always operated based on that idea. It’s a breach of promise!”

“Actually, if you sue Mike, you can’t sue for breach of promise.”

“But that’s exactly what he did. He made promises and broke them.”

“Unfortunately, California doesn’t permit a lawsuit to be based on a breach of promise of the type you’re talking about,” Nina said. The last series of questions and answers between her and Lindy had been rapid-fire, as Lindy’s distress grew more intense.

“I don’t believe any of this is happening,” Lindy said. “We have always been so close. To quote John Lennon, which he used to do all the time, ’I am he.’ We’re practically one person. Anything that separates us is temporary,” she said stubbornly.

“What you need to look at,” Nina said gently, “is what is happening right now. You may be right about Mike. People do change their minds. Meanwhile, you have to decide what you want to do, if anything.”

“I can’t just sit back. If that means I have to fight him, I will,” she said. “I’ll fight for what’s right.” She looked at Nina. “There’s something else I should probably tell you. When I got in to work this morning, one of my friends there took me aside just long enough to tell me he suspects Mike’s moving company assets. I didn’t believe him, but if you’re right about him preparing for a lawsuit…”

“That’s more evidence that he probably is.”

Lindy seemed to make a decision. “Listen. I’ve got some money. I want you to get going on this. Get an associate. Get whatever you need.” She took a checkbook out of her pocket. “How’s a hundred grand as a retainer? I know you’ll need more as you hire people. Write up an agreement with a schedule of payments, and I’ll sign it.”

Nina examined the check. A hundred thousand dollars. So much money. “Lindy, I…”

“Please, Nina. To tell you the truth, I don’t think this thing will go very far before he comes back to me. He needs me. Once he comes to his senses, he’ll remember that. But I can’t sit back and let his momentary insanity ruin my life. It’s not right for him to take everything. It’s not right for me to have to beg for crumbs. And remember, this is not just about me. I’ll bet there are a lot of women in this boat.”

“I’m sorry, Lindy,” Nina said as gently as she could. “But this kind of case costs a fortune. And unfortunately, you can’t use your old business accounts.” She handed the check back.

Lindy’s face turned gray. She couldn’t just throw her checkbook at Nina and get what she wanted. Everything in her life had changed in an instant.

“Where will you find that kind of money?” Nina asked.

“Hold on,” Lindy said, pulling out another checkbook. “I have about twenty thousand in my personal account. Take that.”

“I can’t do that. You’ll need it to live on.”

“Please.”

“I have to do some research,” Nina said, “and some thinking before I can give you a decision.” She couldn’t take the case, but Lindy needed some time to adjust herself to her new situation. “I realize you have to respond to these papers right away. I’ll call you tonight or at latest tomorrow morning.” She stood up, averting her eyes.

Lindy sat there, as deflated as the red party balloons back on the boat must be now. “Okay. If you have to,” she said. Reluctant to end an argument she had not entirely won, she took a long time to gather her things and leave. Sandy, who had been hovering at the door, showed her out.

Then Sandy came into Nina’s office and sat down in the chair just vacated by Lindy, turning two dark pebble eyes on Nina, her broad face smooth and unwrinkled as Truckee River rock. Today, her single long braid of black hair was laced with a strip of leather. In the outer office the phone rang but she gave no sign of hearing it.

“Well?” she said. “Good party? Does she have some work for us?”

“I knew that party was a mistake,” Nina said. “And don’t pretend you weren’t listening.”

A minute stiffening of Sandy’s shoulders signaled Nina that she had guessed correctly. “I missed a lot, although I caught the shattering climax,” Sandy said. “What happens now? You can’t exactly divorce a man you never married.”

“Eight letters,” said Nina. “Starts with a p.”