Chapter 2: What Happened While I Was Gone
I looked at my mother.
She went pale.
Rebecca noticed.
Her smile widened.
“There,” she said.
“Ask her.””
“Rebecca,” Mom whispered.
“No, Margaret. Daniel wants the truth.””
I turned to Mom.
“What is she talking about?””
Mom's eyes moved toward the floor.
“Nothing you need to worry about.””
Rebecca laughed once.
“Of course she'd say that.””
I faced my wife.
“Enough games. Tell me.””
Rebecca picked up her wine glass.
“She's been going through our things.””
My mother looked up sharply.
“That isn't true.””
“You were in my bedroom Tuesday.””
“I was putting away towels.””
“In my dresser?””
“I wasn't in your dresser.””
Rebecca turned to her friends.
“You see what I've been dealing with?””
Nobody responded.
Melissa stared at her glass.
Another woman, Sarah, reached quietly for her purse.
I said, “What does any of that have to do with making her clean your party?””
“Because I'm tired of her acting like she owns this house!””
Mom flinched.
Rebecca continued.
“She comments on the groceries. She rearranges the kitchen. She asks where you're going. She watches everything I do.””
“I asked if you wanted me to pick up milk,” Mom said softly.
Rebecca rolled her eyes.
“There. That tone.””
“What tone?”” I asked.
“The innocent one.””
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
“Rebecca, she offered to buy milk.””
“You aren't here all day!””
Her voice cracked through the room.
“You don't see it, Daniel. You leave at seven every morning and come home after seven every night. I'm the one stuck here with her.””
Stuck.
My mother's mouth tightened.
She turned away.
That word hurt her.
I saw it.
“Mom,” I said.
“I'm fine.””
“No, you're not.””
“I said I'm fine.””
She walked toward the stairs.
Her limp was more obvious now.
I moved to follow her, but Rebecca grabbed my arm.
“Don't.””
I looked down at her hand.
She released me.
“You always do this,” she said.
“Do what?””
“Choose her.””
The room went silent again.
I almost laughed because the accusation was so absurd.
“My seventy-eight-year-old mother is upstairs crying because you treated her like a servant, and somehow you're the victim?””
“I didn't make her cry.””
“You told her to finish the kitchen before she could sit down.””
“I was frustrated.””
“You humiliated her.””
“She humiliates me every day!””
Sarah stood.
“Rebecca, I think we're going to leave.””
This time Rebecca didn't stop her.
Within two minutes, the party disappeared.
Quick hugs.
Avoided eye contact.
Coats pulled from the hallway.
Quiet goodbyes.
Melissa was the last one out.
She stopped beside me.
“Daniel?””
I looked at her.
She glanced toward Rebecca.
Then she lowered her voice.
“Check on your mom.””
Something about the way she said it made my stomach tighten.
“What do you mean?””
Melissa hesitated.
“Just check on her.””
Rebecca appeared behind me.
“Goodnight, Melissa.””
Melissa left.
The door closed.
Rebecca immediately turned on me.
“Unbelievable.””
“What did Melissa mean?””
“I have no idea.””
“She seemed to.””
“She's dramatic.””
I walked toward the stairs.
Rebecca followed.
“Daniel, we're not finished.””
“No, we're definitely not.””
I found Mom sitting on the edge of the guest-room bed.
A small suitcase lay open beside her.
She was folding a sweater.
“What are you doing?””
“I'm going home.””
“No.””
“Danny.””
“Your condo isn't ready.””
“I'll get a hotel.””
“You're not getting a hotel.””
“I don't want to cause problems.””
“You didn't.””
She stopped folding.
For a moment, she just stared at the sweater in her lap.
Then she whispered, “I should've left three days ago.””
I sat beside her.
“Why three days ago?””
She didn't answer.
“Mom.””
Her eyes filled.
“Rebecca doesn't want me here.””
“I know that now.””
“No. You don't.””
A chill ran through me.
“What happened?””
Mom pressed her lips together.
“Tuesday afternoon, she had someone over.””
I waited.
“A man.””
My heart gave one hard beat.
“What man?””
“I don't know.””
“Friend? Contractor?””
“I don't know.””
“Did you see him?””
“No. I heard them.””
Rebecca's footsteps suddenly sounded in the hallway.
Mom stopped talking.
My wife appeared in the doorway.
“What are you telling him?””
Mom stood.
“Nothing.””
Rebecca's face changed.
Not anger.
Fear.
It was brief, but I saw it.
I stood too.
“Who was here Tuesday?””
Rebecca blinked.
“What?””
“Mom says a man was here.””
Rebecca stared at her.
Then at me.
“The plumber.””
“What plumber?””
“The upstairs sink was draining slowly.””
“It drains fine.””
“He fixed it.””
“What's his name?””
Rebecca's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
“Company?””
“Daniel, seriously?””
“Yes. Seriously.””
She crossed her arms.
“I don't memorize the names of every contractor who enters the house.””
“Did you pay him?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
“Cash.””
My mother whispered, “He wasn't a plumber.””
Rebecca's eyes snapped toward her.
“Margaret.””
I stepped between them.
“How do you know?””
Mom's hands trembled.
“Because plumbers don't usually tell your wife they miss waking up beside her.””
The room seemed to tilt.
Rebecca's face drained of color.
I couldn't speak.
Neither could she.
Then she recovered.
“She's lying.””
Mom looked devastated.
“I wish I were.””
Rebecca turned to me.
“You're actually going to believe this?””
I studied her face.
Eight years of marriage.
Eight years of knowing how Rebecca looked when she was angry, tired, embarrassed, excited.
And how she looked when she lied.
Her left hand always went to her necklace.
She was touching it now.
“Who was he?””
“Nobody.””
“Who?””
“I told you. A plumber.””
Mom walked toward her suitcase.
Rebecca suddenly stepped forward.
“Ask her why she was listening outside our bedroom.””
Mom froze.
“Our bedroom?”” I said.
Rebecca realized her mistake.
I saw it immediately.
So did Mom.
I stood very still.
“You said he was fixing the upstairs sink.””
“He was.””
“The upstairs sink is across the hall.””
Rebecca swallowed.
I took one step toward her.
“Why was he in our bedroom?””
“Daniel—”
“Who was in our bedroom?””
Her phone buzzed downstairs.
Once.
Then again.
Rebecca glanced toward the hallway.
That glance was enough.
I walked out.
“Daniel!””
I went downstairs with Rebecca following behind me.
Her phone lay on the coffee table beside an abandoned wine glass.
The screen lit again.
I wasn't trying to read it.
I didn't have to.
The caller's name was visible from three feet away.
*Nathan Cole.*
I knew that name.
Rebecca stopped behind me.
My blood turned cold.
Nathan wasn't a plumber.
May you like
Nathan had been the best man at our wedding.
And he was my younger brother.
