Chapter 3: What a Husband Does in the Dark
I picked Lily up off the floor.
She pressed her face into my neck and said nothing.
Her arms were tight around me, tighter than a five-year-old should need to hold on.
"We're leaving," I said.
"Emma." Daniel's voice was low.
Controlled.
The voice he used when he wanted me to believe he was calm.
"If you walk out that door right now, you will regret it."
"Is that a threat?"
He didn't answer.
Richard had moved to the far end of the room.
He was watching us the way a man watches something he believes he already owns.
His wife, Carol, sat rigid in her chair with her hands folded in her lap.
She hadn't moved since the table went over.
She hadn't looked at Lily once.
I carried Lily to the hallway and set her down beside her coat.
"Arms in," I said softly.
She put her arms in.
Daniel followed me.
He pulled the hallway door almost shut behind him so the others couldn't hear.
"You don't understand what you're doing," he said.
"Tell me about the deed, Daniel."
He exhaled through his nose.
"It's complicated."
"Where is it?"
"Emma—"
"Where.
Is.
It."
He looked at the floor.
"Richard needed it.
Temporarily.
There were debts.
I told you things were difficult last year.
You know that."
"You told me we were fine."
"We were.
We are.
It was only supposed to be collateral.
A short-term arrangement."
"You used my mother's house as collateral for your brother's debts."
He said nothing.
Lily tugged my sleeve.
"Mommy, are we going home?"
"Yes, baby."
I buttoned her top button and straightened her collar.
My hands were steady.
I was surprised by that.
"How long?" I asked Daniel, without looking up.
"Six months."
"How long ago?"
A pause.
"Fourteen months."
I stood up.
"So for fourteen months," I said quietly, "Richard has held the deed to my mother's house.
The house she left to me.
And you said nothing."
"I was going to fix it."
"And tonight, when he pulled that chair out from under our daughter and told us to leave — was that part of fixing it?"
Daniel's jaw worked.
"Richard has been under a lot of pressure."
Something passed through me then.
Not anger.
Something quieter than anger and much more final.
"I want that deed back," I said.
"Every page.
Every signature.
I want it in my hand within forty-eight hours."
"It's not that simple.
There's a lien—"
"I don't care what there is.
That is my mother's house.
She is buried four miles from here and she left it to me and you handed it to your brother without telling me." I kept my voice low for Lily's sake.
"Forty-eight hours, Daniel."
I opened the front door.
The cold came in immediately.
Lily reached up and took my hand.
From inside the sitting room, I heard Richard's voice, easy and unbothered, resuming some other conversation as though nothing had happened.
Then I heard Carol's voice, barely above a murmur.
"Richard.
May you like
The deed isn't the only thing she doesn't know about."
The door closed before I heard his answer.
