Chapter 5

Rosa was stuffing her folded bakery apron into her tote when I walked into the apartment at ten to one.

Willa sat on the living room rug, lining up her plastic zoo animals in front of the heater vent.

"Right on time," Rosa said, lifting her jacket off the hook. "Willa had macaroni for lunch. She asked for Grant twice, but I told her he was working."

"Thank you, Rosa," I said.

I handed Rosa forty dollars from my pocket.

Rosa looked at the bills, then at my face. "Are you okay?"

"Long morning."

Rosa waited, giving me a chance to say more. When I didn't, she slid the cash into her purse.

"Call me if you need another set of hands this week," she said, pulling the door shut behind her.

I locked the deadbolt.

Willa looked up, a plastic giraffe still in her hand.

"Is Daddy coming home today?" she asked.

"Tomorrow," I said. "After breakfast."

I spent Saturday afternoon cleaning our apartment. I scrubbed the grease from the stove, washed the bathroom floor on my knees, and sorted Willa's clothes because every time I stopped moving, I saw Grant standing shin-deep in the Kauai surf.

I washed Willa's yellow rain boots in the kitchen sink, rinsing the playground mud from the rubber seams. The split along the right heel had opened wider since Friday. Water would seep straight through to her socks if she stepped into a single puddle on Monday morning.

Beside the faucet lay the folded twenty-dollar bill Audrey had left on her island.

Get your little girl something nice.

I left the cash on the dry counter beside the sink.

Sunday morning brought steady rain against our bedroom window.

At nine-thirty, a key turned in the front lock.

Grant walked in, shaking wet drops from his umbrella. He set a brown paper bakery bag on the kitchen counter and hung his coat by the door.

He wore a dark blue sweater and clean jeans. He looked rested. Nothing about him suggested a night spent dealing with an emergency client meeting in Salem.

"Morning, bug," he called toward the hallway.

Willa ran out in her socks, sliding across the worn floorboards to wrap her arms around his knees.

Grant laughed, lifting her into a hug and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I missed you," Willa murmured into his shoulder.

"I missed you more," Grant said, setting her down gently. "Daddy brought cinnamon bagels. Go get your coloring markers."

Willa hurried back down the hall.

Grant turned to the sink, reaching for the metal kettle. He smiled at me over his shoulder, calm and unbothered.

"How was the cleaning job?" he asked. "Did the client pay you?"

"She did."

"Good. Then the activity fee is handled."

I pulled my phone from my pocket and unlocked the screen.

I opened the photo I had taken twenty-four hours earlier in the office on Aldercrest Drive.

I walked across the kitchen and laid the phone flat on the counter beside the bag of bagels.

The screen stayed lit.

Grant stood in the Kauai surf with Tobin on his shoulders, Audrey's hand resting flat against his bare chest.

Printed right below his smiling face was the date: Kauai, July 18, 2020.

Grant looked down at the screen.

Water reached the rim of the kettle and spilled into the sink.

Grant shut off the faucet.

"You went through her office," he said, his voice flat.

"Willa was born on July 18," I said, keeping my voice low so it wouldn't carry down the hall. "You told me you were stranded at a gate in Phoenix."

Grant reached for my phone.

I picked it up before he could touch the glass and slipped it into my back pocket.

"Don't," I said.

"I found my mother's bracelet on Audrey's vanity," I said.

Grant glanced toward the hallway. "Keep your voice down."

"You watched me search on my hands and knees until midnight," I said. "You told me I threw it away with the packing paper."

"This isn't the place to do this, Maren."

"This is my home. Where else are we supposed to do it?"

He didn't answer.

"How long?" I asked.

Grant wiped his wet hand down the side of his jeans.

"Audrey thinks our marriage ended before Tobin was born."

"That isn't what I asked."

"She doesn't know Willa is mine."

I looked toward the hallway. "What did you tell her?"

"That you had a child after we separated."

"How long, Grant?"

His eyes returned to the counter. "Long enough."

"I'm telling Audrey," I said.

Grant folded his arms and kept his voice low.

"Before you do that," he said, "you should know who pays for Willa's schooling."

"What does Audrey have to do with Willa's school?"

"Cedarwick costs twenty-two thousand a year," Grant said. "You pay four hundred a month. Where do you think the rest comes from?"

"The school gave us aid."

"Audrey's father helped build that fund. I handled the application."

"Her father can't throw out one child because she embarrassed his daughter."

Grant leaned back against the counter and glanced toward Willa's closed bedroom door.

"Go ahead, Maren. Tell Audrey everything."

He paused.

"Then tomorrow morning, you can tell Willa it's her last day at Cedarwick."