Later that afternoon, I had to leave. The timing couldn’t have been much worse, but there wouldn’t have been any good time for this. I’d been asked to attend a preliminary meeting with Christine Johnson’s lawyers at the Blake Building in the Dupont Circle area. Christine was coming after Little Alex.

I arrived at a little before five and had to fight the tide of office workers streaming from the unusual twelve-story structure, which actually rounded the corner where Connecticut Avenue met L. I checked the downstairs registry and saw that the tenants in the building included Mazda, Barron’s, the National Safety Council, and several law offices, including Mark, Haranzo, and Denyeau, which represented Christine.

I trudged to the elevator bank and pushed a button. Christine wanted custody of Alex Jr. Her attorney had arranged for this meeting in hopes of resolving things without going to court or resorting to alternative dispute resolution. I had talked to my attorney in the morning and decided not to have him present, since this was an “informal” meeting. I tried to have only one thought as I rode the elevator to the seventh floor: Do what is best for Little Alex. No matter what, or how it might make me feel.

I got off at seven and was met by Gilda Haranzo, who was slim and attractive, dressed in a charcoal suit with a white silk blouse knotted at the throat. My lawyer had competed against Ms. Haranzo and told me she was good, and also “on a mission.” She was divorced from her physician husband and had custody of their two children. Her fees were high, but she and Christine had gone to Villanova together and were friends from back then.

“Christine is already in the conference room, Alex,” she said after introducing herself. Then she added, “I’m sorry it’s come to this. This case is difficult. There are no bad people involved. Will you please follow me?”

“I’m sorry it’s come to this too,” I said. I wasn’t so sure that there weren’t any bad guys, though. We’d see soon enough.

Ms. Haranzo led me to a midsize room with gray carpeting and light blue fabric walls. There was a glass table with six tony black leather chairs in the center of the room. The only things on the table were a pitcher of ice water, some glasses, and a laptop computer.

A row of tall windows looked out on Dupont Circle. Christine was standing near the windows, and she didn’t speak as I entered. Then she walked over to the table and sat in one of the leather chairs.

“Hello, Alex,” she finally said.

Chapter 69

Chapter 69