Chapter 2: The Family Dinner From Hell
The first thing Spencer did was reach for my phone.
I stepped back.
"Don't touch me.""
He stopped, more surprised by my tone than by the words themselves.
"Opal, you're making a scene.""
Behind him, Charlene was already shouting toward the living room.
"Everyone! Come here! You need to see what your sister-in-law just did!""
The guests began filtering into the kitchen.
His aunt Denise arrived first, holding a half-eaten dinner roll. His cousin Mark followed with a beer. Two of Vanessa's friends stood near the doorway, exchanging glances as if they had stumbled into a show they hadn't paid to watch.
Charlene pressed a hand against her chest.
"She threw away four pounds of perfectly good short ribs because she was angry with me.""
Denise frowned at the trash can.
"Opal, why would you do that?""
"Because Charlene stole the other fourteen pounds.""
A murmur passed through the room.
Charlene let out a theatrical laugh.
"Stole? Listen to her. I took some food for my daughter. Is that a crime now?""
"Fourteen pounds," I repeated.
"Without asking.""
"Don't be ridiculous. You have plenty of other food.""
I pointed toward the counter.
"The food I bought for twenty-four people. The food I spent fourteen hours cooking. The food that was supposed to be served at this dinner.""
Charlene turned toward the guests.
"Do you hear how she talks to me? After everything I've done for this family?""
I almost laughed.
Everything she'd done for this family.
I remembered the electricity bill I'd paid when she'd fallen behind. The $1,800 I'd transferred to Spencer after he said his mother needed emergency dental work. The winter coat I'd purchased for her when she complained that her old one was too thin.
I remembered the weekend I'd spent helping her clean her apartment after she told me she was too overwhelmed to manage it alone.
Not once had she thanked me without adding a request.
"Tell them what you've done for me, Charlene," I said.
"Please. Be specific.""
Her cheeks flushed.
"How dare you?""
"That's what I thought.""
Spencer moved between us.
"Enough. Both of you.""
I looked at him.
"Both of us?""
"Yes, both of you. This is a family celebration.""
"Your mother slapped me.""
His jaw tightened.
"She was upset.""
The room went quiet.
I heard the refrigerator humming behind me.
"She was upset," I repeated.
Spencer lowered his voice.
"Don't twist my words.""
"I'm not twisting anything. I'm repeating them.""
Charlene seized the opportunity.
"See? This is exactly what I deal with. She's always trying to make me look like a terrible person.""
Denise placed her roll on the counter.
"Charlene, did you actually hit her?""
For the first time, my mother-in-law looked uncertain.
"It was a little slap.""
I stared at her.
"A little slap?""
"You were disrespectful.""
"So that makes it acceptable?""
Charlene lifted her chin.
"When you marry into a family, you learn to respect your elders.""
I felt my cheek throbbing.
"Respect isn't something you can demand after hitting someone.""
Mark shifted uncomfortably.
Spencer grabbed my elbow.
"Come upstairs. Now.""
I pulled free.
"Don't give me orders in my own house.""
His expression changed.
It was subtle, but I saw it: the flash of anger that appeared whenever I refused to make his life convenient.
"Your own house?"" he repeated.
"We're married, Opal.""
"Then why am I the only one paying for it?""
Someone behind Denise whispered, "Oh, my God.""
Spencer's face darkened.
"This is not the time.""
"When is the time? After your mother empties my refrigerator? After your sister carries my dinner out to her car? After I get slapped for objecting?""
Vanessa appeared at the edge of the crowd.
She had returned without the SUV.
Her sunglasses were gone, and she was holding a paper plate piled with mashed potatoes.
"Can everyone calm down?"" she said.
"It's just food.""
I turned toward her.
"Where are the short ribs?""
She blinked.
"At home.""
"Bring them back.""
"I can't. Mum already took some to Aunt Linda's.""
I stared at her.
"You distributed my food to other people?""
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
"Why are you acting like we robbed a bank? Spencer got promoted. We wanted to celebrate.""
"With money you didn't earn?""
She looked at her brother.
"Are you going to let her talk to me like that?""
Spencer rubbed his forehead.
"Opal, please. Just apologize to Mom so we can finish dinner.""
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
He wasn't asking his mother to apologize for striking me.
He wasn't asking Vanessa to return what she'd taken.
He was asking me to apologize.
To make the evening easier for everyone who had hurt me.
I looked around the kitchen. Twenty-four place settings waited in the dining room. The candles were burning.
The potatoes were cooling. A pot of sauce sat on the stove, its surface trembling from the heat.
I had built this evening with my hands, my money, and my time.
They had treated it as though I were the hired help.
"Fine," I said.
Spencer's shoulders relaxed.
"Good. Thank you.""
I looked directly at Charlene.
"I'm sorry.""
She smiled smugly.
"That's better.""
"I'm sorry I ever mistook your greed for a family obligation.""
Her smile vanished.
"And I'm sorry I married a man who thinks watching his wife get hit is a reasonable price for keeping his mother happy.""
Spencer's mouth fell open.
"Opal!""
I walked past him into the dining room.
The guests followed, drawn by the tension.
I picked up my glass and tapped it gently with a spoon.
The room fell silent.
"I'd like to thank everyone for coming," I began.
"I know you've all heard that I threw away four pounds of short ribs. What you haven't heard is that fourteen pounds were taken from my refrigerator without my permission.""
Charlene rose from her chair.
"Sit down. You're embarrassing yourself.""
I continued.
"I paid $386.42 for the meat. I paid for every ingredient, every side dish, every bottle of wine, and every bill associated with this house.""
I looked at Spencer.
"And since my husband seems to have forgotten who pays for our life, I think it's time we cleared something up.""
He stood abruptly.
"Don't you dare.""
I opened the banking app on my phone.
"Don't I dare what? Tell the truth?""
His face had gone pale.
I turned the screen toward Denise, who was standing beside the table.
"Would you like to know where the money goes?""
Denise glanced at the screen.
Her eyebrows rose.
"Charlene?""
My mother-in-law stepped forward.
"Give me that phone.""
"No.""
"Opal, I said—"
"You've said enough.""
I swiped to the transfer history.
There were dozens of payments from my account to Spencer's. Rent, utilities, car insurance, credit card payments, and cash transfers labeled with explanations he'd supplied at the time.
Some had gone to Charlene.
Others had gone to Vanessa.
And one transfer, dated six months earlier, had caught my attention when I was checking our finances the previous week.
It was a payment of $12,500.
The recipient wasn't Spencer.
It was a company I had never heard of.
I hadn't questioned it at the time because Spencer had told me he was handling a business investment with a colleague.
Now, standing in front of his family, I realized I had never seen a single document confirming that investment.
I looked at him.
"What exactly is Mercer Family Holdings?""
The blood drained from his face.
Vanessa stopped chewing.
Charlene's wineglass slipped from her fingers and shattered against the floor.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Spencer stepped toward me.
"Where did you see that name?""
I held the phone tighter.
"In my bank statements.""
"Give me the phone.""
"No.""
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Opal, you don't understand what you're looking at.""
"Then explain it.""
He glanced at his mother.
She shook her head once.
It was quick, almost invisible.
But I saw it.
And so did Denise.
"Oh, my God," she whispered.
"You knew about this?""
Charlene turned on her.
"Stay out of it, Denise.""
Denise didn't move.
"How long has this been going on?""
Spencer reached for my arm again.
"Upstairs. We need to talk privately.""
I stepped away.
"No more private conversations. Not tonight.""
I opened the transaction details and read the account information aloud.
"Mercer Family Holdings. Twelve thousand five hundred dollars. And here's another payment.
Eight thousand. And another one for five thousand.""
The room erupted.
Mark demanded to know what was happening. Denise asked Charlene whether she'd been receiving money. Vanessa dropped her plate onto the table and started backing toward the hallway.
Spencer raised his voice.
"Everyone, calm down! These are family finances!""
I laughed once, without humor.
"Family finances? You told me you were broke. You told me you couldn't afford your half of the mortgage. You told me your mother was struggling to pay her bills.""
"That's not what happened.""
"Then tell us what happened.""
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
I looked at the people around the table.
"There's something else you should know. My name is the only name on the mortgage. The house was purchased before our marriage, and I have the records to prove it.""
Charlene stared at me.
"You never told us that.""
"Why would I need to tell you? You don't pay the mortgage.""
Spencer's face hardened.
"You're making a huge mistake.""
"No. I think I've been making the same mistake for three years.""
I set my glass down.
Then I turned to Charlene.
"You wanted to know what you were supposed to eat?""
I pointed toward the kitchen.
"Whatever you can afford to buy yourself.""
Her lips trembled with fury.
"You cannot speak to me this way!""
"I just did.""
I took my phone and walked toward the stairs.
Spencer followed.
"Opal, stop!""
I kept walking.
"Opal!""
I turned at the landing.
He was standing below me, his hands clenched at his sides.
"If you leave this conversation," he said, "you may not like what happens next.""
I studied his face.
For three years, that voice had been enough to make me pause. He didn't need to shout. He simply had to suggest that refusing him would cost me something.
But tonight, his threat sounded different.
It sounded like fear.
"Then I suppose we'd better find out," I said.
I went into the bedroom and locked the door.
My hands shook as I opened my laptop.
I searched for Mercer Family Holdings.
The company had been registered eighteen months earlier.
Its mailing address was a private mailbox in Hartford.
Its registered agent was an attorney I had never met.
And its listed manager was Spencer Mercer.
I clicked through the public business records until I found the filing history.
The original registration was ordinary enough.
The second document made my stomach turn.
It was an amended operating agreement, filed four months earlier.
Attached to it was a scanned signature page.
My name appeared at the bottom.
Opal Mercer.
The signature looked almost exactly like mine.
Almost.
I zoomed in.
Then I opened the drawer where I kept our household documents and pulled out my passport application.
I placed the two signatures side by side.
The forged signature was missing the small upward stroke I always added to the final letter of my first name.
Someone had copied my signature from an older document.
Someone had used it to make me appear involved in a company I had never heard of.
And someone had done it while I was paying the mortgage, the groceries, and the bills.
A soft knock came from the bedroom door.
"Opal?"" Spencer called.
I didn't answer.
"Please open the door. We need to talk.""
I looked at the forged signature again.
Then I heard him say something that made my blood run cold.
"Mom says you found the wrong document.""
I stared at the door.
"What does that mean?""
Silence.
May you like
Then, in a voice so quiet I almost missed it, Spencer answered.
"It means there's another document with your name on it.""
