“Steven and I agreed that you being there would upset everyone.”
“I didn’t leave your father, Hanna.”
“I’m not having this argument again.”
The line went dead.
***
I spent the day of Robert’s funeral alone.
I cleaned until three in the afternoon, when I took Robert’s mug from the cupboard.
“I didn’t leave your father, Hanna.”
I almost threw it away.
Instead, I washed it and set it on the drying rack.
***
The next morning, Claire came to my door.
I let her into the kitchen but didn’t offer coffee.
“You have five minutes,” I said.
She placed the blue tie on the table.
I almost threw it away.
Then she removed three papers from her purse.
The first was a letter.
The second showed that the rest of Robert’s business money had been assigned to me.
The third was an old bank statement.
I picked it up.
My mother’s name appeared near the top.
I picked it up.
***
My mother had left me a small inheritance when she died. Robert told me the account had performed badly, then said he had moved what remained into our joint savings.
I believed him for 30 years.
Now the old statement shook in my hand.
“This account was closed,” I said. “Robert showed me the paperwork.”
Claire pulled out the chair across from me but didn’t sit.
I believed him.
“He showed you what he wanted you to see.”
I looked at the amount on the page.
“What happened to the money?”
“He used it when the business was close to failing.”
I gripped the chair.
“He took my inheritance?”
I gripped the chair.
“Yes.”
“Without asking me?”
“Yes.”
“That was the last thing my mother left me.”
Claire’s voice dropped. “I know.”
“No, you know the number on a page. You don’t know what it meant, Claire.”
“Without asking me?”
“You’re right.”
Her answer stopped me.
She wasn’t defending him.
“He meant to replace it, but the business recovered slowly. By the time he could repay you, the lie had grown too large.”
“So he kept lying.”
“Yes.”
“You’re right.”
I pushed the statement toward her.
“And this transfer?”
“Money from his remaining share. He wanted every dollar returned to you.”
“After 30 years, he decided honesty was urgent?”
“After the diagnosis, he realized he might run out of time.”
I touched Robert’s letter but didn’t open it.
“Is that why he divorced me?”
“He realized he might run out of time.”
“Partly.”
Claire moved the blue tie away from the papers.
“He knew you’d spend the savings on treatment. He thought you’d borrow against the house if someone offered you another month with him.”
“That would’ve been my decision.”
“I told him that.”
“But you still helped.”
“I told him that.”
“I did.”
“Why marry him?”
“I cared for my late husband through a long illness. Robert knew I could handle what was coming, and he mattered to me.”
“You could’ve helped without becoming his wife.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
She met my eyes.
“Why marry him?”
“He thought the marriage would make you stop fighting to come back.”
“So you both decided what I could survive.”
“Yes.”
“And my children?”
