« Fifty years together, and I get emergency money? Wow. »
His jaw tightened. « Don’t make this ugly, Sylvie. »
I looked at the suitcases, then at his coat, then at the driveway, where Marcy’s red car waited.
« There’s $2,000 in there, Sylvie. »
Marcy was the woman from the book club Walter had suddenly started attending every Thursday.
« No, Walter, » I said. « You already did that. »
« I don’t want you struggling, hon. »
I laughed once. It sounded older and sadder than I felt.
« You should have thought of that before you traded me in for her. »
At the door, he patted his pockets, searching.
Continue on the next page:
