The Shattered Mirror: A Million Shards of Glass

By Sharon Yvonne

Imagine a world where every wish was granted, love and laughter filled every day and lavish gifts were poured upon you. Then imagine everything that you thought was true never existed. This is a story of a non-fiction "Alice In Wonderland". Journey through a labyrinthine trail of joy, unbounded generosity, wonder, deceit, manipulation, mental and emotional contortions, and desperate love. Discover the fanatical obsession of a brilliant criminal who understood no boundaries and the family that survived it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781626758650

Book preview

ONE

The Date

The Devil went down to Georgia, he was looking for a soul to steal. He was in a bind cause he was way behind and he was willing to make a deal.

The Devil Went Down to Georgia

Charlie Daniels Band, 1979

"Cindy, I will not, positively not, go out on a blind date." Wrapped in my bathrobe, I was curled on the cold linoleum kitchen floor, hugging the telephone to my ear, arguing with my older sister.

But Sharon, he is rich--he lives at the Landings and drives a Lexus. You've got to go! Her strident voice was beginning to rise in decibels.

I don't care if he is a Rockefeller, I am not interested in going out. Having very recently gotten out of a very difficult seven year marriage, my wounds were simply too fresh. I was absolutely not ready to date.

Sharon, he is a diamond dealer from New York. And he has a house at the Landings! It's not like you have to marry him or anything, he just wants a date with you.

But why? He doesn't even know me, never seen me--he must be desperate for a date. Is he gross or ugly or something? I pictured this little rich troll, fat and sweaty, licking his lips as he tried to slip his hand under my dress. Ugh. I would rather die than subject myself to that situation.

No, he is not ugly. He is in his early fifties, true, but that shouldn't matter to you, you have always gotten along better with mature people. It won't kill you to go to dinner. Anyway, I have already set up the dinner reservations at First City Club--you have to go. And don't worry, Phil and I will be there along with Kasey and Cathy. She rattled off about mutual friends attending, trying to soothe me, cajole me into acceptance.

I considered it. Okay, so the First City Club was the up and coming elegant exclusive restaurant in Historic Savannah. Yes, I would be with friends. If he could fit into this group, which Cindy assured he did, he must be relatively okay.

I will tell you what. If he calls me before 8:00 p.m. on Thursday to speak with me directly, if I like his voice, if he appears to be a nice guy, I will go. But remember, if is the biggest word in the English language. It would not kill me to get out. The boys would be with their father that weekend. It would be the first time they would have visitation with him since our separation almost a year before and I really did not relish sitting home alone, staring at the T.V., reminding myself how lonely and demanding the life of a single mother could be.

Great, goodbye. She hung up promptly, her voice reduced by several octaves and decibels. My sister has a knack, developed for as long as I could remember, of getting what she wants by simply altering the quality of her voice. That and her Southern charm usually worked wonders for her.

Oh, shit. I have agreed to go out with a rich, old man, I thought, replacing the phone on the hook. I must be desperate or crazy. But there was still an out. Maybe he wouldn't call. Maybe I wouldn't like his voice and I could plead illness. Maybe a relative would die. Perhaps Maybe is as big a word as If.

I put the conversation out of my mind and prepared to give my baby his bath.

At 7:55 on Thursday night, the phone rang. Hello, I said, reluctantly answering.

Hello, is Sharon there? A resonant, powerful voice pleasantly inquired.

Yes, this is she. I was surprised by how pleased I was by the sound of his voice. It sounded sonorous and jovial like a politician who had been coached, polished to please the public ear.

This is David, David McDavid. I hope I have not interrupted anything. I was instructed to call before 8:00 tonight and I just arrived back in town from out of state. I was afraid that I would not make the time limit.

Suddenly, I felt like a cautious spinster, an ass, for setting such a silly rule. After all, this was 1990, the beginning of a new decade. The dating rules were different and I should embrace the freedom. Bullshit, I thought. I should not feel stupid for taking care of myself. A mental battle was going on between a 29 year old woman of the nineties and an old fashioned old maid whose virtues were instilled by my Southern Baptist upbringing. The 29 year old won.

No problem. I just wanted to see how sincere the invitation was, I found myself saying coyly, verbally flirting with a man almost twice my age. Get a grip, Sharon. Times are not that bad with you. It's just a dinner with a group of friends, after all. I thought to myself.

Well, dinner reservations are at 7:30 tomorrow night. The entire group is planning to meet for drinks beforehand. May I pick you up at 7:00? He inquired politely. I am really looking forward to meeting you. I have heard a good bit about you.

All nonsense, I am quite sure, coming from my sister. I laughed sarcastically into the phone. My sister could be quite blunt sometimes, revealing more about me to strangers than I care to have known. After all, I was a pretty mischievous and sometimes downright ornery individual when we were growing up.

Interesting enough for me to feel that I could enjoy a dinner in your company. 7:00 then?

I would prefer to meet you there. It is quite a long drive from your house to here, then to downtown. And I don't know you. I would like, since this is a blind date, to have my own car. That way, if we decide we don't like each other's company, we can split with little or no difficulty and you can finish the evening with the rest of the party.

I insist on picking you up. I am old fashioned that way and could not face myself if I allowed you to walk around downtown unescorted after dark. If we don't like each other, I promise, you can either allow me to take you home immediately, or I will call you a limousine. No strings, okay? His voice remained polite and jovial throughout the sparring.

Okay, 7:00 it is. Acquiescing more easily than usual, I gave him directions and hung up the phone, wanting to kick myself for not insisting on driving separate cars. But, if he was as considerate as he appeared we would have no problems. I picked up the phone to call my sister and let her know the dinner was on. My next major decision would have to be what to wear.

At 6:00 the next evening, after sending the children off with their father, I was tearing through the dresses in my closet, trying to decide what was appropriate for the First City Club. I had been there a couple of times since my ex and I divorced, meeting colleagues for drinks and an occasional dinner. It was definitely a semi-formal dress occasion, but I was not in the mood for overkill. I wasn’t sure how far to draw the line...should I dress to impress, dress like the other women, or just be myself? I decided to dress like my sister would, which was a bit more flashy than my usual style, but with less jewelry than she would wear. She always was perfectly accessorized.

I finally settled on a tropical print dress that was cut just slightly above my cleavage. It was floor length in back, trailing elegantly behind a wrapped front, which would part when I sat to reveal my legs just above my knees. The color was turquoise and emerald, which would emphasize the green in my eyes and set off my platinum blonde hair perfectly. The cut was just right to show off my figure without being too revealing. I wanted my jewelry to be very simple and almost non-existent. It was a look that was a little bit more elegant than my normal visage, but not so much that I felt like a peacock.

At 6:45 p.m., the phone rang. It was he.

Sharon, I am in my car and just wanted to confirm that you were ready. I am a couple of blocks away and if you need an additional few minutes, I can circle the area a few times until 7:00. His manner was consistently considerate, as with his first call to me.

No, I am ready. I will see you in a couple of minutes. May as well be prepared, the time is nigh. I ran to the bathroom to check my hair and lipstick one last time. My palms were sweaty and I pressed a tissue to my upper lip to dab the perspiration. It was my first date after seven years of marriage and a blind one with a man whom I could not fathom having anything in common. Here goes nothing, I thought.

The doorbell rang. I grabbed my purse and darted to the door to open it. A very well dressed, distinguished and beaming freckle faced red headed man of small stature was standing on my doorstep. Oh Shit was the first response that ran through my mind. Concentrating on composing a poker face, I hoped my amusement did not register. I had spent days worrying about how the date would be. But he exuded a radiant happiness and confidence that was contagious. My nervousness melted away instantly in his presence. He was spritely and his expression warm. He also looked vaguely familiar. Where had I seen him before and why did Lucky Charms come to mind?

He offered his hand in greeting. Hi, I'm David. Shall we go? There was a delighted expression in his eyes as I shook his hand. He wore glasses and had a red beard and mustache that was streaked in a very distinguished way with gray. He had an aura of liveliness and waves of energy radiated from him. His eyes were blue and kind and smile lines crinkled the corners. Freckles peppered his small, beaming face. It was very easy to picture him in a top hat with large buckles and green knickers.

"This is going to be a trip," I thought, as I took the arm he offered and walked with him to his car. It was a brand new Lexus, and he opened the heavy door to let me in the passenger side. I had never been in one before and was not prepared for such luxuriance and comfort. Lexus had just begun production in becoming a luxury line of vehicles. I was used to American made family sedans.

As we drove away, I felt as if I was riding on a magic carpet through the air. He pulled over in front of one of the houses in the neighborhood. Oh great, here it comes, he will try to kiss me. I still could not dispel the thoughts of his being a lecher, even though he appeared to be a perfect gentleman. In my mind, any older man dating a much younger woman would possibly have an agenda. Instead, he whipped out a small notebook. If you don't mind, Sharon, could you please write this address and phone number down for me? He pointed to the house we were parked in front of. It had a for sale sign in front of it. I am looking for some investment properties and this is a nice neighborhood. This could be a potential buy for me.

Do I look like a secretary to you? I teased and laughed, although I was insulted that he should take for granted I would take his dictation. Sure, I will do it. I wrote down the address and phone number, making a mental note that if he asked me to be his secretary again, the date would be curtains. I felt he was perfectly capable of writing the information down, since he was parked and not driving. It didn’t cross my mind that perhaps his vision may be limited. Compassion was not one of my strong points when nervous. I’ve been told that the more nervous I am, the more obnoxious I become to cover it.

We proceeded our drive to downtown, the trip taking at least 30 minutes. During that time, we discussed insignificant things, like how he met my sister and our friends. He had only been in the area for six months, he said, and had commissioned Kasey, an architect, to design a house exclusively for him. He had purchased a waterfront lot in Forest Cove, just down from my house, and was looking to build on it a very individually designed house. While Kasey was working on the design, David had come across a house which suited his needs which was worth $550,000 at the Landings, a modest price for the luxurious neighborhood of millionaires. He made an offer of cash for $475,000, which the owner did not refuse. He had spent the past several months renovating and redecorating the house and after finishing that project, had decided to expand his social circle. With Kasey being the only person he really knew in the community, he asked Kasey to take him out on the town. He, Kasey, and Kasey's wife, Cathy went to an intimate jazz nightclub called Hannah's, in the City Market district of Savannah. There, he met my sister, Cindy. She was the prettiest woman in the place, so I asked Kasey if she was available. Kasey wasn’t sure what the circumstances were with her boyfriend. Apparently, she and her boyfriend Phil were arguing that night, because she came over to the table and was complaining to Cathy and Kasey about Phil's being at the bar doing tequila shooters with another woman. She seemed to be in no pain, either, and was cussing like a sailor. Your sister has some fire, that's for sure. He laughed. I don't even think she noticed I was there.

Well, how do I fit into this? I was curious how I had gotten the 'honors' of this date.

Your sister told Kasey the next day that she and Phil had made up and that she wasn't available. She offered the information that she had a blonde sister who had just moved to the area, was recently divorced and needed to start dating again. That's how you and I got together. He relayed this information proudly as if he had carefully orchestrated the entire scenario.

Oh, I see. I was not sure if I should be miffed or just laugh it off. Being so recently divorced, I felt that maybe my sister should have asked me before she offered my availability. I had indeed just moved to Savannah and was not used to the fast, complicated circle in which my sister socialized. Usually I am basically shy, although it isn’t apparent to outsiders, so I really wasn't sure how to react. My natural tendency is to gravitate toward the quieter, intellectual crowd, not the glittery eclectic people that make up most of Savannah’s Society. My older beautiful sister always seemed to take life by the mouthfuls and I had been feeling a slight pull toward stepping out a little to taste her lifestyle. Many people say that is normal after a divorce, but I was afraid of getting caught up by it. After all, I did have two small babies, one three years old and one less than one and a half. I had too many responsibilities and not enough time for play in those flashy circles.

We pulled up to the front of the building beside Johnson Square. The majestic live oak trees were waving their ghostly beards of Spanish moss in the moonlight and the azaleas were still brilliantly blooming all around the cobblestoned historic squares of downtown Savannah. Moonbeams danced in the large fountain, reflecting gleaming gems, droplets of light in the mist of water. It made a perfectly beautiful, romantic picture. I decided to relax and enjoy myself for once. I had earned it and it was the first time I had the chance to be pampered in years.

The valet opened the door for me and took my hand as I stepped out of the car. David practically ran around the car to take my arm. With me at his side, he strutted proudly through the large glass doors, opened by doormen. Hello Mr. McDavid. Hello, Ma'am. They obviously knew him very well and were incredibly solicitous to him. As we walked to the elevator in the ornate entrance way, the elevator door opened and several impeccably dressed local celebrities stepped out and greeted David warmly. As we entered the exclusive restaurant at the top of building, the Maitre d' hustled to greet us. Mr. McDavid, your party has not arrived yet, but I have your table prepared as requested. Would you like to await the arrival of the rest of your party in the bar? I have a table reserved for you there, also.

Perfect, Randy. He slipped some money into Randy's palm. Everyone in the restaurant had, by then, paused to stare at us. Any time that I had been there with my colleagues, even with Cindy's high society friends, the attendants had never been this efficient and servile. Who WAS this little man, this huge personality I was with? It was incredibly intriguing.

As we sat, the waiter brought David a drink, an Absolute vodka and tonic with lime. David had not ordered it, but thanked the waiter anyway. And what would the lady prefer? The waiter bent over to light my cigarette.

Chevas on the rocks with a twist, please. I decided to take the plunge. The obsequious service and scrutiny by the crowd had unnerved me to some extent and the visibility was a bit intimidating. The scotch arrived posthaste and I took a grateful gulp, carefully trying to disguise it as a delicate sip. The strong taste insulted my palate and, abashedly, my face twisted into a grimace. The first sip always takes me by storm, I tried to gracefully explain my facial contortion.

I know exactly what you mean. But I like a woman who can hold a man's drink. It shows you have determination and strength. Tell me a little bit about yourself. His voice and eyes were kind and he genuinely seemed interested in me.

Well, there's not much to tell. I just, as you know, have completed a divorce from a district attorney. The experience was horrible. Not only is a divorce in itself a bad experience, but trying to get representation in a Georgia district where your husband controls six counties is a very difficult and costly task. I looked for a year before I could find an attorney that was willing to even file papers for me. He cost me a mint. I found myself telling this man things that I had not yet discussed with my family. His polite, quiet interest, and the fact that the