Chapter 7: The Meeting Dorothy Thought She Was Running
Dorothy chose the restaurant.
Of course she did.
It was the kind of place she always chose — white tablecloths, low lighting, the sort of ambient quiet that made raised voices feel obscene.
A place where a woman like Dorothy could be perfectly composed and make anyone who wasn't feel like the problem.
I arrived seven minutes early.
I chose the seat facing the door.
Daniel came in first.
He looked like he hadn't slept.
He sat down across from me and opened his mouth.
"Christine, before she gets here—"
"Don't," I said.
He closed his mouth.
Dorothy arrived exactly on time.
She was wearing the grey cashmere she always wore to things she considered important, and she smiled at me the way she always smiled — warm on the surface, measuring underneath.
"Christine." She sat down.
Folded her hands on the table.
"I'm glad you came."
"I almost didn't," I said.
"I understand you're upset." She said it the way you'd say it to a child who'd skinned a knee.
"What happened wasn't meant to hurt you.
I want you to understand that."
"What was it meant to do?"
"Protect my son." She said it without hesitation.
"Daniel has made poor choices before.
I needed to know that you were who you said you were."
"So you put a listening device in my home."
"I took precautions."
"For fourteen months."
"Until I was satisfied."
I looked at her.
"And were you?
Satisfied?"
She tilted her head slightly.
"Mostly."
"What does that mean?"
"It means there were some concerns." She glanced at Daniel.
"The hidden money.
The complaints to your sister.
The conversation in March."
My throat tightened.
She had heard that call.
She had heard me crying in my own home, afraid and alone, and she had filed it away as evidence against me.
"Those concerns," I said carefully.
"Did you share them with Daniel?"
"When relevant."
"And the money that went missing from my emergency fund.
Was that relevant?"
Something shifted in her expression.
Almost nothing.
A fraction of a degree.
"I don't know what you're referring to," she said.
"The shoebox in our closet," I said.
"The cash I kept there.
It started disappearing after the clock arrived.
Twenty dollars here.
Forty dollars there." I paused.
"The device would have picked up exactly where I kept it.
Exactly how much was there."
"Christine." Her voice was patient.
"I think you're looking for connections that aren't there."
"I have the recording of our phone call yesterday," I said.
The table went very quiet.
Daniel looked up.
Dorothy's hands, folded neatly on the white tablecloth, did not move.
But something behind her eyes did.
"You recorded our conversation," she said.
"You confirmed you placed the device.
You confirmed you did it intentionally.
You confirmed the duration." I kept my voice level.
"All of that is on record."
"That was a private conversation."
"So were fourteen months of mine."
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then she looked at Daniel.
"Daniel," she said.
Her voice had changed.
The warmth was gone.
"You need to handle this."
"Mom—"
"Tell her what she stands to lose," Dorothy said.
"Tell her what happens if she takes this further.
Tell her about the prenuptial agreement and what it covers."
I looked at Daniel.
"There is no prenuptial agreement."
He looked at the table.
"Daniel," I said quietly.
"Is there a prenuptial agreement?"
He didn't answer.
Dorothy reached into her bag and set a document on the table between us.
"You signed this," she said, "six days before the wedding."
I looked at the document.
My name was at the bottom.
My signature — or something very close to it.
"I didn't sign that," I said.
"You did," Dorothy said.
"You may not remember it clearly.
There was a great deal happening that week.
But your signature is there."
I looked at the document for another moment.
Then I looked up at Dorothy.
"I'd like to keep this," I said.
"That's a copy," she said smoothly.
"You're welcome to it."
She thought she had just won something.
I could see it in the way she sat back slightly, the way her shoulders settled.
I picked up the document and folded it once and put it in my bag.
"Thank you," I said.
I stood up.
"Christine." Dorothy's voice had an edge now.
"Sit down.
We're not finished."
"I am," I said.
I walked out of the restaurant into the cold air and called Rachel before I reached the car.
"She produced a prenuptial agreement," I said.
"Claims I signed it six days before the wedding.
I've never seen it before in my life."
A short silence.
"Bring it in," Rachel said.
"Today if you can."
"I'm on my way now."
"Christine." Rachel's voice was measured but I could hear something underneath it.
"If that signature is forged, she just made this significantly worse for herself."
I looked back through the restaurant window.
Dorothy was still at the table.
She was speaking to Daniel in a low, controlled voice, and Daniel was nodding, and she looked exactly like a woman who believed she had just handled something.
May you like
"I know," I said.
"I'm counting on it."
