Chương 7
Instead, the hydrangeas needed water.
The doormat was crooked.
A package sat near the garage.
Samuel went to the kitchen and made tea without asking.
He found the mugs after opening three wrong cabinets.
“You moved the mugs.”
“This isn’t my apartment.”
He looked around.
“Right.”
I sat at the table.
“Where will they go?”
“Hotel.”
“What if they can’t afford one?”
Samuel put a mug in front of me.
“They just returned from a resort.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“No.”
I rubbed my thumb along the handle.
“Bernice has medication inside.”
“We’ll arrange retrieval.”
“Her clothes are there.”
“Yes.”
“Paisley has boxes in the guest room.”
“Also retrievable.”
I looked up at him.
“You think I’m weakening.”
“I think you’re discovering that consequences look different when you can see people standing inside them.”
That irritated me because it was accurate.
“They were going to take my house.”
“Gavin was planning to pressure you about the house.”
“Paisley knew.”
“Yes.”
“Bernice knew enough to say I’d be too tired to fight.”
“Yes.”
“So why do I feel guilty?”
Samuel sipped his tea.
“Because guilt is not a verdict.”
My phone rang.
Gavin.
Samuel looked at the screen.
“Your decision.”
I answered.
He did not say hello.
“Where are we supposed to go?”
His voice was low and controlled.
“Samuel will arrange access for your belongings.”
“I didn’t ask about my belongings.”
I waited.
“Mom is sitting in a hotel lobby crying.”
“I saw her crying at the house.”
“So you watched.”
“Yes.”
He breathed through his nose.
“You enjoyed that?”
The question landed where he intended it to.
“No.”
He went quiet.
For a second, I could hear Paisley talking somewhere near him.
Then a door shut.
“You embarrassed us in front of the whole neighborhood.”
“You came to a house after your access ended and tried every door.”
“It’s my home.”
“It’s my property.”
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make everything sound like a contract.”
I laughed once.
“You were trying to put your name on the deed.”
Silence.
He recovered quickly.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t.”
“I’m asking.”
“I read the messages.”
Nothing.
This silence was longer.
When he spoke again, his voice had changed.
“Which messages?”
“The ones between you and Paisley.”
“Maddie.”
“After the baby, she won’t have the energy to fight.”
His breath caught.
I had never heard Gavin afraid of me before.
“Those were jokes.”
“Were they?”
“Yes.”
“You joke about transferring company money too?”
“That is not what happened.”
“What happened?”
“I was protecting the business.”
“From me?”
“From instability.”
The word was so absurd I almost missed its cruelty.
“Instability.”
“You’ve been stressed for months.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Exactly.”
I stood.
The chair scraped hard against the floor.
“So you decided pregnancy made me incompetent?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You decided I was too unstable to know where company money was going.”
“You were barely sleeping.”
“Because your son is inside my body.”
“Lower your voice.”
I stopped.
The old reflex twitched.
Then died.
“No.”
Gavin exhaled.
“We need to discuss this in person.”
“No.”
“You can’t keep hiding behind Samuel.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“Then meet me.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m your husband.”
“You remembered that at an interesting time.”
“See, this is exactly what I mean.”
“What?”
“You get angry and turn everything into some courtroom line.”
I stared at the wall.
He had done this before.
Not the fraud.
The narrowing.
Take the issue, make it about my tone, then make my reaction the larger offense.
Normally, I would start defending myself.
This time, I let the silence hang.
Gavin filled it.
“I made decisions you didn’t like.”
“You forged my approval.”
“I did not forge anything.”
“You used my credentials.”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
I heard it.
So did he.
He added, “I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“There was a forty-thousand-dollar transfer.”
“We’ve had hundreds of transfers.”
“From reserves to Stonebridge.”
He stopped speaking.
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Tell me what Stonebridge is.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Companies that are nothing don’t get ninety-four thousand dollars.”
“Who told you that?”
There it was again.
Who told you.
Not that isn’t true.
I sat back down.
“Why was Paisley in Chicago?”
Another silence.
Across the table, Samuel became very still.
Gavin said, “What?”
“Three months ago.”
“How should I know?”
“Her hotel was paid through Northline.”
“I don’t manage her travel.”
“Northline did.”
“Maddie, you are taking accounting records and building some insane conspiracy because you’re mad at my mother.”
That hurt.
Not because I believed it.
Because it sounded practiced.
He had already found a version of me to blame.
“Who is Lauren Pike?”
The line went dead quiet.
I could hear my own pulse.
Then Gavin said, “Where did you get that name?”
Samuel met my eyes.
Something moved through his expression.
Not triumph.
Recognition.
We had found the nerve.
“Who is she?”
“An interior designer.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“Why did our company pay her forty-two thousand dollars?”
“She did work for us.”
“On which project?”
“I don’t have project files in front of me.”
“You don’t need files to name one.”
“I’m done with this.”
“No, you aren’t.”
His voice rose.
“Stop treating me like I’m on trial.”
“Then answer me.”
“I said we’ll talk when you calm down.”
“I am calm.”
“That’s worse.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re doing that cold thing.”
“What cold thing?”
“The thing where you decide somebody is dead to you and start making lists.”
I froze.
He had never said that before.
A memory came, triggered not by any object but by the exact contempt in his voice.
My father leaving my mother when I was sixteen.
Me sitting at the dining room table making a list of bills because my mother had spent three days crying and somebody needed to call the electric company.
Gavin knew that story.
May you like
He knew I made lists when I was frightened.
He was using it now as evidence against me.
