Chapter 2

The house on Maple Street was dark when Sam and I got home.

I sent Sam upstairs to get ready for bed, listening to the floorboards creak above me as he brushed his teeth. I walked straight into Luke's home office, turned on the desk lamp, and sat down at his computer.

I laid my mother's apron on the corner of Luke's desk so I could use the keyboard.

I opened the payroll file.

For the first two years of our marriage, I worked mornings at the county library to help pay down our initial equipment loan. After Chloe was born, Luke asked me to come into Sunday Table full-time.

Fourteen years of four-in-the-morning shifts, menu development, vendor orders, and bookkeeping.

Marisol had an employee number. The dishwasher hired last Tuesday had an employee number. Even Megan had one.

I searched my own name.

Nothing.

I opened the banking portal. Two days ago, sixteen thousand dollars had been transferred out of our liquid savings into a new account under the name Creek & Stone Hospitality.

In Luke's downloads folder, I found paperwork for a new company. Megan owned one fifth of it. My name appeared nowhere.

The front door opened.

Footsteps came down the hall. Luke walked into the office, loosening his silk tie. He didn't look angry; he looked like a man dealing with an inconvenient employee.

"You made an absolute fool of yourself tonight, Ava," Luke said, leaning against the doorframe. "And you embarrassed Chloe in front of her friends."

"You put my mother's apron on Megan," I said, looking up from the monitor. "And you took sixteen thousand dollars out of our savings."

Luke exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "That transfer is for a new catering line. I'm protecting our investment. Your mother's recipes were sitting in an old wooden box until I built a brand that could sell them."

"You built it on fourteen years of my unpaid labor."

"You drive a truck the business pays for, Ava. You live in this house, and your kids have everything they need. That is your compensation." He stepped closer, his voice dropping into the calm tone he used with difficult suppliers. "We can fix this. You stay in the kitchen and run production. Megan handles the public side and the social media. You're still my wife. Don't blow up our life over your pride."

"My pride isn't what's on the line, Luke."

"Without Sunday Table, what are you going to do?" he asked quietly. "You don't have business credit in your name. You don't have separate savings. You think people are going to buy pies out of your truck when they can come to my cafe?"

The front door clicked shut again.

Chloe stood in the hallway, holding her backpack, her eyes red.

"Chloe, pack a bag," I said, standing up. "We're going to stay at your great-grandmother's cabin for a couple of days."

Chloe looked at the floor. "I'm not going to that shack, Mom."

"Honey, it's just until we get things sorted out--"

"Sorted out how?" Chloe's voice cracked. When she looked up, her eyes were wet, but she wasn't crying. "You're mad at Dad, so you're wrecking everything. You spend all day at that cafe. You missed my debate finals last winter because you were proofing sourdough. You don't get to act like you're the only one he ignored. You never saw me either."

The words landed heavily. I couldn't find a breath.

Luke stepped in, placing a hand on Chloe's shoulder. "Go upstairs, sweetheart. You're staying in your own room."

Chloe didn't look at me again. She turned and walked up the stairs.

A moment later, Megan came through the front door carrying Chloe's winter coat. She saw my duffel bag and opened her mouth as if she might apologize.

Then Luke took the coat from her, and she looked away and went into the kitchen.

I didn't say anything to either of them.

I went to the butcher block, picked up my mother's oak recipe box, and packed our warm clothes. Then I went upstairs, woke up Sam, and carried him down to the truck.

At 1:45 AM, I backed my 2011 Ford F-150 out of the gravel driveway.

In the rearview mirror, Chloe was standing in the living room window. Luke stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder, while Megan poured water at the stove.

I shifted into drive and headed out toward Route 11.

Halfway to the cabin, I realized my mother's apron was still lying on Luke's desk. I didn't turn back.