Chapter 5

“I did,” Mark said.

The driver checked his tablet.

“Mark Harper. Co-owner and authorized property representative.”

“He is my husband,” I said. “He is not a co-owner.”

The driver looked back at Mark. “You selected co-owner on the authorization form.”

“It was the closest option,” Mark said. “I’m her husband. I’ve handled repairs and maintenance here for years.”

“You told them you owned this house?”

“I told them I was authorized to arrange the event.”

“You weren’t.”

“Claire, it was a box on a form.”

“You checked a box saying you owned something that belongs to me. The difference is the truth.”

The driver raised one hand.

“Hold the unload.”

The workers stopped. A cart stacked with chairs remained beside the truck. The bar equipment sat at the edge of the driveway, and the two jet skis stayed strapped to their trailer.

“Until ownership and authorization are confirmed,” the driver said, “nothing else comes off the truck.”

Brooke’s confident expression finally slipped.

“Are you really going to stand here and call your own husband a liar in front of strangers?”

“I didn’t fill out the form.”

“He planned this for his mother. Do you understand how humiliating this is for him?”

I looked at Mark.

Apparently, being contradicted in front of three delivery workers was humiliating.

Having my bedroom, money, and house assigned to other people was family.

“We’re married,” Mark said quietly. “I didn’t think I needed to prove to a delivery company that my wife trusts me.”

“You knew I wouldn’t agree. Trust had nothing to do with it.”

“I’ve paid for repairs here. I replaced the water heater. I helped rebuild the dock.”

“And none of that gave you permission to claim you owned the house.”

The driver tapped his screen. “I need to call the office.”

A few minutes later, a woman from the event company joined us on speakerphone. The driver explained the ownership dispute while everyone stood in the driveway listening.

“We can suspend delivery,” she said. “That does not automatically cancel the booking.”

“Then cancel it,” I said.

“There are separate agreements for the furniture rental, bar service, catering, and watercraft. Some deposits became nonrefundable forty-eight hours ago. There would also be return transportation and late-cancellation fees.”

Mark stepped closer to me.

“You’ve made your point. Let them finish before we lose the money.”

“What money?”

He went still.

Brooke answered for him. “Mark handled the deposits.”

“I asked which money.”

“It’s already paid,” Mark said. “Canceling now won’t bring it all back.”

I took out my phone and opened our banking app.

Four charges had cleared from our joint emergency account. Another was still pending.

Event rentals.

Alcohol service.

Catering.

Photography.

A security authorization for the jet skis.

The total was $6,800.

That account was supposed to cover emergencies and the new roof the lake house would need before winter.

“You took sixty-eight hundred dollars from our emergency account?”

“I didn’t take it.”

“You spent it without telling me.”

“It was for the family.”

“Your family.”

“They’re supposed to be yours too.”

Brooke folded her arms. “Do you hear yourself? You’re talking like Mark stole from you.”

“He hid a forty-person event because he knew I would say no. Then he used our emergency fund to pay for it. What would you call that?”

Mark’s face tightened.

“I was going to replace the money.”

“With what?”

“My next bonus.”

The bonus he had already promised would go toward the roof.

The woman on the phone cleared her throat.

“Mrs. Morgan, I need written confirmation before canceling all services. I also need to make sure you understand that the $6,800 is only what has already been processed.”

“How much will it cost to cancel everything?”

The driver turned the tablet toward me.

The number on the screen was almost twice what Mark had already taken.