Chapter 1
I was married to Daniel Johnson for sixty years.
In all those years, the thing he'd said most often was, "I've been a good man my whole life."
Everyone in the neighborhood agreed. They called him kind, dependable, always ready to help. When neighbors argued, he was the first to step in and play peacemaker. When someone was in trouble, he showed up before anyone else.
People used to tell me how lucky I was to have married such a good man.
Only I knew what that so-called good man was like behind closed doors. If I added a little too much salt to dinner, he'd guilt-trip me for half an hour.
When I was too tired to cook, he'd sigh and say, "I work myself to the bone for this family, and you won't make a proper meal. Don't you feel ashamed?"
When I tried to set aside 15 thousand dollars for emergencies, he donated it in front of everyone and then pointed at me, saying, "Don't be so selfish."
Our daughter told him to stop, but he slammed his hand on the table. "You're as selfish as your mother is."
It had been sixty years, and I didn't argue with him anymore, not because I couldn't win, but because I was too tired to care.
I thought we would go on living like that. Then a fifty-five-year-old widow moved in next door.
From that day on, Daniel began the greatest performance of his life.
*****
Within a week of Hailey Clayton moving in, the whole building knew her name.
It wasn't because she was anything special, but because Daniel kept talking about her to anyone who would listen.
He'd say, "Hailey has had such a hard time. Her husband passed away last year, and her son works out of town and barely checks in on her. She's all by herself.
"As neighbors, we ought to lend a hand when we can. I've already helped her twice.
"You simply can't turn a blind eye, right?"
I kept quiet while he said all that.
I'd been keeping a close eye on Hailey for a whole week.
The first day, she was out in the hallway, crying about how moving had worn her out and left her with a sore back.
Daniel rushed over to help her with those heavy boxes.
However, I noticed there weren't any real tears; she kept wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
Her voice, though, was loud enough for everyone on the floor to hear.
On the third day, she came over to get some pepper. She was wearing a faded blouse, looking simple enough, but when she lowered her head, I noticed a pair of diamond earrings in her ears.
They were authentic.
I had run a tailor shop my entire life. I could tell the real deal from the imitation at a glance.
How could a woman who couldn't afford pepper have diamond earrings?
On the fifth day, Daniel brought her over for dinner. He said Hailey had been feeling lonely living by herself, so he thought it would be nice to have her join us.
As soon as she walked in, she grabbed my hand and acted as if we were close.
She said, "Louise, Daniel is such a good man. If it weren't for him helping me these past few days, I don't know how I would have managed."
I smiled. "He has a habit of sticking his nose into other people's business."
Hailey shook her head quickly. "Not at all. Daniel is a kind person. These days, you don't see many good men like him."
Daniel grinned widely when he heard that.
That was exactly the words he loved to hear. The more people flattered him, the more carried away he became.
During dinner, Hailey started sharing her story.
She said her husband passed away from cancer last year, and every dollar they had saved had gone toward his treatment, leaving her with nothing.
Her only son worked in Velmora, and she said he was no help at all. Sometimes he didn't call for half a year.
She said she was on her own now, scraping by on the survivor benefits she received after her husband died.
As she talked, she started crying again. This time, there were real tears.
Daniel quickly handed her a tissue and held her hand to comfort her.
I kept eating while a thought formed in my mind.
She said all their money was gone on hospital bills, so how did she end up with those designer earrings?
She said she lived off survivor benefits and barely had enough to get by, but I remembered those shoes she wore last week. A bit worn, sure, but I knew the brand. They would have cost at least 200 dollars.
And then there were her nails. I noticed them on the very first day.
They were neatly done in a trendy pink style. A manicure like that would cost well over 30 dollars.
Would a woman broke enough to ask her neighbor for pepper pay to get her nails done?
I gave her a quick look, keeping my face neutral.
She was focused on her food, but the way she held her fork and knife didn't look like someone who'd done heavy work. Her fingers were soft, smooth, no calluses at all.
"Hailey, what did you do back home?" I asked casually.
She looked up and panicked for a second. Then she smiled and said, "Nothing steady. I stayed home taking care of my child, and later helped at a farmers' market."
"Okay." I nodded, not asking any more.
People working at the market didn't have hands that soft.
*****
After dinner, Daniel walked her back to her place next door.
When he came back, he looked all compassionate. "Louise, don't you feel sorry for Hailey? She's alone and has nothing. I've been thinking about it, and I'm planning to set aside 150 dollars from my pension each month to help her out."
I put down the dishes and looked at him. "150 dollars?"
"Yeah, it's not much. Don't tell me you're going to stop me," he said.
There it was. The guilt-tripping.
If I said no, he'd start a lecture that could last half an hour, all about how I was petty and selfish.
I didn't want to hear it. "Whatever."
He looked pleased. "Good. You need to be kinder."
*****
From then on, Daniel was always hanging around Hailey's place every single day.
He'd go over in the morning to help her shop for groceries. Around noon, he'd stop by to see if she needed anything. Some nights, he wouldn't come back until late, saying she wasn't feeling well and he stayed to comfort her.
I let it happen and didn't say a word.
That 150 dollars a month slowly turned into 200 dollars, then 300 dollars.
One day, I caught him at the door on his way next door, holding a big bag of groceries.
"Daniel, did you buy all that with your own money?" I asked.
He paused for a second, then shot back, "What kind of question is that? Of course, it's my money. She's alone. What's wrong with helping her out? Why are you always so petty?"
I didn't say anything else. I glanced down at the grocery receipt peeking out of his pocket. It was 130 dollars.
Some fruit, grains, plus a bottle of wine, and it cost that much.
Seriously? The wine? For a poor widow who lived by herself?
That night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. A question wouldn't leave my head.
Who exactly was Hailey?