Chapter 2: The Husband Who Chose His Mother
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The dining room clock ticked above the fireplace. Somewhere near the front door, a child began crying.
I could feel the heat spreading across my cheek.
Charlene stood directly in front of me, her fingers curled around the gold bracelet on her wrist.
"Don't you ever embarrass me in front of my family again," she said.
I stared at her.
"Embarrass you?""
"Yes! You heard me.""
Vanessa appeared beside her mother.
"Honestly, Opal, you made this into a whole thing over some beef.""
I slowly turned toward her.
"You took fourteen pounds of meat from my refrigerator.""
"Mom said I could.""
"Your mother doesn't own my refrigerator.""
Vanessa laughed.
"You're being ridiculous.""
I looked past her.
Spencer still hadn't moved.
"Are you going to say something?""
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Can we not do this right now?""
I almost laughed.
"Your mother just slapped me.""
"I know.""
"And that's all you have to say?""
"Opal, please. There are twenty people here.""
"Exactly. Twenty people who just watched your mother hit your wife.""
Charlene threw her hands up.
"I barely touched her!""
One of Spencer's uncles, Raymond, shifted uncomfortably near the dining table.
"Charlene, I think you owe her an apology.""
She turned on him.
"Nobody asked you, Ray.""
He raised his glass and said nothing else.
I looked at Spencer again.
"Tell her to apologize.""
He lowered his voice.
"Mom was upset. You know how she gets.""
I felt something cold settle in my stomach.
"How she gets?""
"She didn't mean it.""
"She raised her hand and hit me.""
"You're making it sound worse than it was.""
For a moment, I couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth.
Then I remembered every other time he'd used that same sentence.
When Charlene had criticized my clothes at Thanksgiving.
When Vanessa had borrowed my car without permission and returned it with an empty gas tank.
When his mother had announced that she needed a spare key to our house because she didn't like waiting outside.
Every time, Spencer had smiled and told me not to make things difficult.
I had spent three years confusing his avoidance with kindness.
I wasn't going to do it anymore.
"Fine," I said.
Charlene smiled triumphantly.
"Good. Now let's eat.""
I walked toward the dining room.
Not to serve the food.
I picked up my purse from the sideboard.
Spencer followed me.
"Where are you going?""
"Home.""
He looked around.
"Opal, this is your house.""
"Exactly.""
I took my phone out and opened the banking application.
"What's that supposed to mean?""
I didn't answer.
Instead, I called my bank.
The first person to answer was a woman named Melissa.
"Thank you for calling. How can I help you today?""
"I need to review the authorized users and recurring payments on my accounts.""
"Certainly. Can I verify your identity?""
I stepped into the small study and closed the door.
Behind me, the voices in the dining room grew louder.
I verified my information and waited.
Melissa returned.
"I can see three recurring transfers associated with your checking account, along with two authorized payment arrangements. What would you like to change?""
"First, I'd like to cancel the monthly transfer of twelve hundred dollars to an account ending in 4491.""
"Certainly. May I ask whether you want that canceled immediately?""
"Yes.""
"Done. What else?""
I opened my notes.
"Cancel the automatic payment for the vehicle insurance policy ending in 8126. Also, remove the recurring household allowance transfer of eight hundred dollars.""
There was a pause.
"Understood. Are you sure you want to discontinue both?""
"Absolutely.""
Melissa processed the requests.
I thanked her and ended the call.
My hands weren't shaking anymore.
For three years, I'd been paying for things Spencer described as temporary arrangements.
His car payment.
His personal credit card.
His mother's monthly grocery allowance.
The money he sent to Charlene every month because, according to him, she had struggled financially after his father's death.
I had never objected to helping family.
But I had recently discovered that Charlene's situation was considerably more comfortable than Spencer had described.
Two weeks earlier, I'd received a package from our insurance company containing a policy renewal.
It included an address I'd never seen before.
A lakefront property in Litchfield County.
The policy was under Charlene's name.
And the payment was coming from my account.
When I'd asked Spencer about it, he'd told me it was a temporary arrangement.
He promised to explain everything later.
Later never came.
I opened my email and found the original message from the insurance company.
The policy number was still there.
So was the payment history.
I took a screenshot.
Then another.
The study door opened.
Spencer walked inside and shut it behind him.
"What are you doing?""
"Taking care of my finances.""
He glanced at my phone.
"Did you just cancel my transfers?""
"Yes.""
His expression changed immediately.
"Opal, what the hell?""
"I've been wondering the same thing.""
"Those payments are important.""
"Then you can pay them yourself.""
He stared at me.
"You're overreacting because Mom lost her temper.""
"No, Spencer. I'm reacting because you watched her hit me and defended her.""
"I didn't defend her.""
"You said she didn't mean it.""
"Because I was trying to calm things down!""
I held his gaze.
"Did you know Vanessa was taking the meat?""
He hesitated.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
"Spencer?""
He sighed.
"Mom asked me if there was enough food to take some home.""
"How much?""
"I don't know.""
"Did you tell her she could take fourteen pounds?""
"She was just trying to make sure everyone had something.""
"Everyone? Or herself?""
He rubbed his forehead.
"Why do you always have to make everything about money?""
I looked at him.
"Because I'm the one paying for everything.""
His face reddened.
"That's not true.""
"Then show me the mortgage payments you've made this year.""
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
I continued.
"Show me the insurance payments. The utility bills. The property taxes. Show me anything.""
"You're humiliating me.""
"No. I'm asking you to participate in your own marriage.""
He stepped closer.
"You're not going to ruin my promotion over this.""
I almost smiled.
There it was.
Not the slap.
Not the theft.
Not even the fact that his mother had treated me like a servant in my own home.
His promotion.
That was what mattered.
I put my phone into my purse.
"Your promotion is safe, Spencer.""
He looked relieved.
"Good. Then let's go back out there and act like adults.""
I opened the study door.
"But your financial arrangements are changing.""
His expression hardened.
"You're not serious.""
I walked past him.
In the dining room, Charlene had already taken my place at the head of the table.
She was pouring herself a glass of expensive red wine I'd purchased.
When she saw me, she lifted her glass.
"Finally. I was beginning to think you'd run away.""
I picked up my coat.
"Enjoy dinner.""
"Where are you going?""
"Somewhere I don't have to serve people who steal from me.""
Vanessa laughed.
"You're seriously leaving your own party?""
I turned toward her.
"Enjoy the short ribs you stole.""
Her smile disappeared.
Spencer followed me to the front door.
"Opal, don't do this.""
I reached for the handle.
He grabbed my wrist.
Not hard enough to hurt.
Hard enough to make me stop.
"You're making me look like an idiot.""
I looked down at his hand.
He released me.
"Don't touch me again.""
His face changed.
For the first time that evening, he seemed unsure of himself.
I walked outside.
The October air was cold, and the porch light flickered above my head.
I sat in my car and started the engine.
Before pulling away, I opened my banking application one more time.
There was a payment scheduled for Monday morning.
$2,400.
Recipient: Charlene Mercer.
Description: Property expenses.
I stared at the screen.
Then I opened the transaction history.
The same payment had been going out every month for twenty-six months.
Sixty-two thousand four hundred dollars.
I had paid Charlene more than sixty thousand dollars without realizing it.
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unfamiliar number.
I opened it.
"Opal, this is Raymond. I think you need to know what your husband told his mother about the house. Please call me before you make any decisions.""
I read it twice.
May you like
Then a second message appeared.
"There's something in the property records you haven't seen.""
