Chapter 7 - The Deposition of Tessa Montgomery
Three weeks later, the deposition room at Mercer & Vance smelled of fresh toner, lukewarm coffee, and absolute terror.
Tessa Montgomery sat across the long glass table from Maya and me.
She looked small, pale, and entirely devoid of the effortless charm she usually projected when leaning over our garden fence to chat about hydrangeas. She was wearing a simple black cardigan, her blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun, her hands tightly clutched around a paper cup of water.
Beside her sat her personal divorce attorney, a harassed-looking man named Richard Cole, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else on earth.
"This deposition of Miss Tessa Montgomery is being conducted in the matter of Holloway v. Holloway," Maya announced to the court reporter sitting at the end of the table with her stenography machine. "Witness has been sworn."
Maya turned her sharp dark eyes toward Tessa.
"State your full name for the record."
"Tessa Marie Montgomery," she whispered.
"Speak up for the reporter, please," Maya said firmly.
"Tessa Marie Montgomery," she repeated, her voice cracking slightly.
Maya pulled a thick manila folder from her briefcase and opened it on the glass table.
"Miss Montgomery, what is your current residential address?"
Tessa glanced at her lawyer. "214 Marlborough Street, Apartment 3B, Boston."
"And who pays the four-thousand-eight-hundred-dollar monthly rent for that apartment?" Maya asked smoothly.
Tessa swallowed hard. "Caleb... Caleb pays it."
"And when did Mr. Holloway begin paying the rent on that luxury brownstone?"
"Last... last January."
"So, for eleven months, Mr. Holloway has been funding your residence in Back Bay using funds drawn from his personal and marital accounts?"
"Objection," Richard Cole interrupted mildly. "Calls for a legal conclusion regarding marital funds."
"Overruled by the facts, Mr. Cole," Maya snapped back without looking at him. "We have the bank statements."
Maya leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, locking her gaze onto Tessa’s trembling face.
"Miss Montgomery, during these eleven months, did you accompany Mr. Holloway on trips to Nantucket, Montreal, and New York City?"
"Yes," Tessa whispered.
"Did Mr. Holloway purchase a diamond tennis bracelet for you from Tiffany & Co. on December 15th of last year, valued at eight thousand four hundred dollars?"
Tessa lowered her head, tears spilling over her eyelashes onto her dark cardigan. "Yes."
"And on the night of November 12th," Maya continued, her voice dropping into a register of quiet, lethal precision, "when you were present at 42 Elm Street... did you consume wine purchased with marital funds, lay beneath a blanket belonging to Mrs. Holloway’s deceased mother, and engage in physical intimacy with Mr. Holloway?"
"We were just talking at first!" Tessa suddenly sobbed, wiping her eyes with a tissue. "I was upset! I was having a terrible time with my ex-husband! Caleb was comforting me! It just... it just happened!"
"It 'just happened' for eleven months?" Maya asked, her voice dripping with cold sarcasm. "Did the brownstone in Back Bay 'just happen'? Did the eight-thousand-dollar bracelet 'just happen'?"
"He told me he was leaving her!" Tessa cried out, looking directly at me for the first time, her eyes filled with frantic desperation. "Claire, I’m sorry! He told me your marriage was dead! He said you slept in separate rooms! He said you were staying together only for financial reasons! He promised me he was filing for divorce in January!"
I sat back in my chair, looking at her with a mixture of sadness and profound disgust.
"Tessa," I said, my voice calm and clear.
Maya raised a hand to stop me—clients aren't supposed to speak during depositions—but I raised my hand back, silencing my own lawyer.
"Tessa," I repeated. "Three weeks ago, you sat at my kitchen table. You drank my tea. You cried about your custody battle. I gave you the name of my daughter’s former pediatrician to help your child. And the entire time, you were sleeping in an apartment my husband paid for with my money."
Tessa sobbed harder, covering her face with her hands. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
"You aren't sorry you did it, Tessa," I said quietly. "You're sorry you got caught. You thought Caleb was going to save you. You thought he was going to give you a luxury life in Back Bay."
I leaned forward, looking her straight in the tear-stained face.
"Do you know where Caleb is living right now?"
Tessa blinked, looking up through her tears.
"He’s staying in a two-star extended-stay motel near the highway," I told her. "His bank accounts are frozen. His partners are forcing him out of his firm. He has no money, no home, and no reputation left. So if you were waiting for him to save you... you might want to look for another rescue plan."
Tessa stared at me, her mouth open in horror as the full, brutal reality of her situation settled into her mind.
May you like
Maya tapped her pen against the glass table. "Let the record reflect that the witness has identified the expenditures. We will be filing an amended complaint adding Miss Montgomery as a third-party defendant for conversion of marital assets. We are done here."
Maya stood up and closed her binder. I stood beside her, pulled on my gloves, and walked out of the room, leaving Tessa weeping into her paper cup of cold water.
