My daughter-in-law hit me for daring to drink a glass of milk from the refrigerator, but she had no idea my son had witnessed everything 015

Daniel and I sat in the guest room afterward.

"I should have believed you," he said.

"You shouldn't have had to."

"She told me you left the stove on."

"I didn't."

"I know."

"Do you?"

The question hurt him. I didn't take it back.

"She sent me pictures. Burners. Doors left open."

"Were they mine?"

"I thought they were."

"Were they?"

"I don't know."

I set my medication bottle on the dresser and forgot, for one frightening second, whether I'd already packed it. For forty years I'd remembered everything without a list.

"I went once," Daniel admitted. "Toured the facility. Put down a deposit."

"How much?"

"Five thousand."

"You will cancel it."

"I already told them not to process anything."

"You will cancel it. And you will not make another decision about where I live without me in the room. Not with Vanessa. Not with a doctor. Not with an attorney."

"I understand."

"No," I said. "You understand now."

I slid my wedding ring from my right hand and placed it in my purse.

"I want to make you an offer," Daniel said. "Stay somewhere else tonight. Give me forty-eight hours."

"You still think you can sort this out."

"I have to try. She's my wife."

There it was. The fact neither of us could erase.

"If she tells you the full truth before tomorrow evening," I said, "I will agree to meet both of you with an attorney present. I will listen. But I will not bargain with her after that."

My phone rang. Margaret, my neighbor, waiting outside.

Daniel carried my suitcase down. Vanessa's car was already gone.

So was the folder from the locked drawer in Daniel's office.

He noticed immediately. Crossed to the desk. The drawer sat unlocked. Inside, a single white envelope.

Three lines, in Vanessa's handwriting.