Green - On your case : a comprehensive, compassionate (and only slightly bossy) legal guide for every stage of a womans life

For Claire and Andrew

V oid where prohibited. Your mileage may vary. Professional driver on closed course.

Lawyers love conditions. So here are some, from me to you.

I am a lawyer, but I am not your lawyer.

After all, even if I could be your lawyer, youd still need a lawyer.

Why? Lets start with where you live. The answers to so many legal questions that matter to us, including those related to marriage, divorce, and estate planning, are going to depend on very specific, and sometimes puzzlingly quirky, state laws. Before you talk to a local lawyer, read the relevant chapter of this book, then consult the resource section for more specific information; armed with that knowledge, your meeting will be more cost-efficient and productive.

Even if you read this book and then decide to engage in some do-it-yourself legal work, youll probably want a lawyer to review your handiwork. Laws are seldom imprecise, so even an innocent mistake on a prenup or will could render the entire document useless. Fixing that mistake could cost you multiples of any lawyers fee.

Whats more, while law may seem set in stone, that stone is time-soluble. In other words, laws change in response to societal and political shifts, and that means no book about legal advice can be permanently up to date. A perfect example of a time-sensitive legal issue is our nations dramatic embrace of same-sex marriage, with related state and federal law shifting as I type. (For updates on this and other fast-developing legal issues, I invite you to visit my companion website, lisagreenlaw.com.)

For all those reasons, think of this book not as legal advice, but as a startI would say, the head startto identifying and coping with legal issues that come your way.

Before we proceed, one more note. This book features a lot of disputes. In some instances the combatants names have been changed; their cases were never well publicized and theres no need to start now. In all instances, the stories are true.

I know weve just met, but I recognize you. Like me, you are an expert.

Please, no need to feign humility on my account. Youre at home, half watching that awards show and second-guessing that starlet. Her gown: what was she thinking? Shes too thin, the width of a pipe cleaner. Or maybe a paper clip. Who told her pixie cuts look good?

Youre at the coffee shop. I see you there every weekday, holding court with the moms in the back, pontificating (and not quietly) about the presidents budget speech, the mayors education decision, that appalling reality show catfight you all admit you watched, squealing with the collective pleasure of indulging in cable instead of reading or paying attention to your husbands. Or you are ahead of me in the supermarket checkout line, extolling the superiority of that particular brand of yogurt.

Admit it. You hold unimpeachable opinions about just about everything: hemlines, tutors, men. So what if you arent an expert? Who needs to be formally trained to be right? You know how to read advice books and websites, and you know how to pick up the phone and ask for help. Your friends insist on your two cents before they act, and they consider calling you before dialing 911 in an emergency. Even your kids occasionally admit you have a point. Thats why for almost any matterwhat to wear, what to see, whom to hireyou usually sit pretty. When you have a problem, you just consult yourself (with the occasional call to treasured gal pals, Mom for big-ticket items, or your cousin the psychologist in case a decision could hurt a family members feelings, heaven forbid) and then steer the big ship of needy friends and relatives to the correct result.

But I bet theres a big exception to your expertise.

Its the law.

Women and the law have long had a rocky relationship. Sure, today women are Supreme Court justices, partners at prestigious law firms, chairwomen of major law enforcement agencies. Then again, a woman wasnt named partner at a United States law firm until 1937, when the intriguingly named Soia Mentschikoff got the nod at the intimidatingly titled Spence, Hotchkiss, Parker & Duryee. Not a single woman graduated from Harvard Law School until 1953. Recent strides aside, we are still catching up professionally from a very late start.

While you may be only vaguely aware of the status of women in the legal profession, I guarantee you are an avid consumer of law stories. Who can resist that idle flip through an afternoons cable offerings until you hear the familiar da-dum and settle into the guilty pleasure of some Law & Order reruns? Did you watch any coverage of the lurid Casey Anthony murder trial? Read a legal thriller? Thought so.

So heres what I dont understand: if some of us are advancing professionally as lawyers, and all of us are enthralled by the law, why are women reliably dumbfounded when they have a legal problem?

It pains me to bring it up, but its true: legal problems are as predictable as bad weather, and somehow, though we are otherwise often immaculately attired, we never carry appropriate umbrellas.

Consider three dire emergencies I heard about in a recent two-week stretch. Each happened to a friend of mine who told me her story, unsolicited.

1. A registered nurse and mother of two wonderful children, happily married and enjoying an idyllic, outdoorsy life, learns that her husband has spent sixteen of their twenty-three married years in a secret relationship with another woman.

2. Another mom, a successful film industry professional, encourages her son (enrolled in a leading liberal arts college) to go outside and take some fresh air, advice he understands to mean walk outdoors, and bring a joint. The New York City police come calling soon after.

3. Still another successful working mother with affluent parents who live, independently and well, in another state discovers they have lost a substantial chunk of their savings to a fraudulent financial adviser. He gained her parents trust after he was able to impress them with his knowledge of family information he had gleaned from a rudimentary Google search.

Smart women? Yes. Generally clued in to the best approach to professional and personal problems? Absolutely. Clueless about how to respond to these life-altering problems? Utterly.

Have these types of unnerving emergencies happened to you? There are only two possible answers: no, and not yet.

If you are still skeptical, lets try this pop quiz. Its pass-fail, and just between us, so be honest.

Question 1: If you are married, are you maintaining separate credit accounts, and do you understand that you are fully liable for debt your spouse rings up in any joint accounts, even if you eventually were to divorce?

Question 2: If you have children, have you designated a guardian in case something happens to you?

Question 3: Whether or not you have children, or even a spouse or partner, have you signed an advance medical directive and identified someone you trust to look after your finances in case you take ill?

If you answered no to any of these questions, welcome to one of Americas largest, unheralded demographics: women who think laws related to child care, money, illness, and death somehow dont apply to them.

Im going to try not to raise my voice, but theres something I want you to understand: You dont get to decide when your luck will run out or your fortunes take a turn for the worse. Nor do you get a vote about whether your contractor will abandon your job, whether your boss will hit on you, or whether your doctor will commit malpractice.