That night at home, David poured himself a scotch and leaned against the kitchen counter.
“I made us a reservation for Saturday,” he said. “That place by the lake you like. I thought we could use a night out.”
“I made us a reservation for Saturday,”
The lake.
The address Marcus was waiting for.
Of course.
Twenty minutes from the cabin.
I smiled.
“That sounds perfect.”
The address Marcus was waiting for.
I waited until he had gone upstairs before I texted Karen one word.
Saturday.
***
Saturday evening arrived with a strange calm.
David pulled out my chair at the restaurant, and ordered me a glass of wine.
I never touched it.
“You’ve seemed tired lately, Rach. I’ve been worried about you.”
I texted Karen one word.
“I’ve been worried, too,” I said.
Then I slid a folder across the tablecloth.
He opened it with a frown.
Then his face went white.
Inside were copies of his notebook.
The Venmo records.
I slid a folder across the tablecloth.
The attorney’s letters.
“I know about Marcus,” I said quietly. “I know about the incapacity filing. I know you’re trying to declare me incompetent so you can sell the cabin.”
“Rachel, whatever you think you found, you’re misreading it.”
“Am I forgetting that too, David?”
He shifted tactics like flipping pages.
“I know about Marcus,”
His voice hardened.
“You went through my office. Anything you took from that drawer is inadmissible.”
“I didn’t need the drawer. Marcus gave a sworn statement this morning, and the Venmo records are in his account, not yours. The attorney’s letters were filed with the court. None of that came from your office, David.”
His face dropped.
“You went through my office.”
“Karen has the originals. Emma and Ben will hear this from me tonight, not from you.”
I placed the divorce papers on top of the folder.
“You don’t have to sign here. But you will.”
He opened his mouth and closed it.
