He stared at the floorboards. “By Thanksgiving, I couldn’t bear hearing you say no.”
He had come to my table rehearsing a request he could not admit was a request. He had demanded my house instead. When I refused, he had thrown our dinner at me.
I felt the old ache rise in my chest.
“You hurt me to avoid being embarrassed,” I said.
He looked up. His eyes were wet.
“Yes.”
Jennifer made a sound of disgust. “That’s a convenient way to put it. You knew exactly why we needed the money.”
“I knew why we needed help,” Stuart said. “I didn’t know why you were asking about Mom’s investments.”
Jennifer’s expression changed.
I reached into my purse and took out the note I had written after the bank called.
“They told me you contacted them,” I said.
“I wanted to know what resources she had before we discussed care.”
“You called after I refused Cedar Grove.”
She looked at Stuart. “I was trying to find a way out.”
“A way out of what?” he asked.
For a moment she seemed close to telling him. Then she went silent and pushed past him into the study.
I followed her. The drawers of Robert’s desk were gone, packed with the furniture. She looked at the empty space beneath the window, then at the shelves.
“What are you looking for?” Stuart asked from the doorway.
“Nothing.”
She tried to move past him. He held his ground.
“Jennifer.”
She stopped. Her face had gone pale.
“There’s another notice,” she said.
“What notice?”
“From the lender.”
He closed his eyes. “How long?”
“Two weeks.”
“Why didn’t you show me?”
“Because I knew what you’d say.”
I stepped back. Their marriage had entered a part of the story I did not know, and I could not mend it for them.
Jennifer pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.
“When your contracts fell through, I thought the next ones would come,” she said. “I kept paying the bills. I kept saying we were fine. Then I borrowed more.”
“You told me we could cover it,” Stuart said.
“We could, until we couldn’t.”
“And the vacation?”
Jennifer looked at him with sudden anger. “I said that because I wanted something to look forward to. I haven’t booked a trip.”
I remembered her voice in the study, cheerful as she spent the proceeds of a house that was not hers. Now I could hear the strain beneath it. Her fear had been real. So had what she had been willing to do to me.
Stuart leaned against the doorframe. Neither of them spoke.
I thought of the silver spoon.
