“Come in,” I said, calm as still water.
Rachel walked in first, eyes sweeping the foyer as if she were already choosing curtains.
Tyler followed with his head lowered.
Margaret was waiting at the kitchen table.
“Oh,” Rachel said, stopping. “I didn’t realize this was going to be a group thing.”
“Sit,” Margaret said.
They sat.
Tyler cleared his throat three times before he found words. “Deb, I never wanted it to happen this way. But Rachel and I, we have to think about the baby now. And the house, it makes sense for us to.”
“To what?” I asked.
“To stay here,” Rachel cut in. “You can find something smaller. Honestly, for the baby’s sake, you should be reasonable.”
I watched her face. There was no shame there, only impatience, like I was a slow cashier holding up her line.
“How long have you known Tyler?” I asked her.
“Long enough.”
“Rachel works in my office,” Tyler said weakly.
“For how long?”
Rachel waved a hand. “A while. I started right after they hired the new VP, so.”
“That was over a year ago,” I said.
Something flickered in her eyes.
“And when did you find out about my father’s inheritance?”
The flicker cracked. “I don’t know what you’re.”
“You mentioned the house specifically,” I said.
“So what?”
“Not Tyler’s salary. Not the cars. The house. You knew it was paid for. You knew where the money came from. Tyler complained about that inheritance to anyone who’d listen at the office holiday party. I heard him do it myself. Whining into his bourbon about money that wasn’t his to touch. You were there, weren’t you, Rachel? Taking notes.”
Her shoulders flinched once.
It was enough.
I leaned forward, my voice low enough that everyone in the kitchen had to lean closer.
“You didn’t fall in love with my husband, Rachel. You picked him out like a melon at the store. You squeezed him, you checked the price tag, and you carried him to the register.”
Tyler slowly turned his head toward her. “Rachel?”
She recovered quickly, but not quickly enough. “I just heard things around the office, Tyler. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Margaret reached into her tote and slid one folder across the table.
“Then perhaps you can explain this,” she said.
Rachel went still.
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