“I had written a check for three hundred dollars,” I continue when he doesn’t seem to be commenting. “And the checkbounced.”
“Oh.” He sucks in a breath. “So what happened?”
“Suzette lent me the money,” I say.
“Well, that is good.”
“So I called the bank to figure out where the money went,” I go on, “and they told me that you withdrew a thousand dollars.”
More silence. He’s not planning on making this easy for me.
“So,” I say, “did you?”
There’s another long silence. “I did,” he says eventually.
“Okay. That seems like an awful lot of cash to withdraw from our joint bank account without telling me.”
“Yes…” He’s silent for a few more beats, and I can’t help but think to myself that it sounds like he’s stalling while he makes up a lie. “I am so sorry. We were short this month, and I needed the money to replace some equipment that broke. I thought I wouldhave it back in the account before you noticed. I’ll have it back tomorrow.”
“Some equipment that broke?” I repeat.
“Yes, I need new lawn aerator and rototiller. Is expensive.”
I swear, sometimes I think he’s just making up these words. But I guess it sounds like a reasonable excuse, so I choose to believe him. It makes sense that if his equipment broke, he’d need to replace it immediately.
It’s better than the alternative, which is that my husband is lying to me.
THIRTY-FIVE
Nico is sneaking out.
Or at least that’s what it seems like when I hear the back door opening on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Thank God we never bothered to oil the hinges, because I can hear that door opening and closing all the way across town. I toss aside my book and reach the back door just in time to catch Nico before he takes off.
“Excuse me, mister.” I clear my throat. “Where do you think you’re going?”
He looks up at me without a trace of guilt on his face. “Spencer’s house. You said I could go whenever I want.”
I did say that. But I thought he had been banished from Janice’s home.
“Spencer’s mom is okay with that?” I ask.
“She said it’s okay as long as we stay in the backyard.”
I’m relieved. I hated it when Janice said Nico couldn’t play with her son, so I’m glad he’s back in her good graces. Apparently, he’s not allowed inside her immaculate house, but that’s understandable.
“Fine,” I say. “Just be home by dinner.”
Nico nods, then hurries off in the direction of his friend’s house. I was so focused on my son’s imminent escape that Ihadn’t noticed my husband in the corner of the backyard. Not that it’s unusual to see Enzo in the backyard—it’s his favorite place—but he isn’t working out there. Instead, he’s talking quietly on his phone, a smile playing on his lips.
Who is he talking to?
I wave at him to get his attention. He blinks a few times when he notices me, and the smile momentarily drops off his face, but he recovers quickly and waves back. He murmurs a few more unintelligible words into the phone, then shoves it into the pocket of his worn blue jeans.
“Millie.” He jogs across the lawn to talk to me. “I have very good news.”
“Oh?”
“Yes! There’s a potential client with two large estates that need services. Very big job. This is very good.”
