Chapter 2

Evan invited Clara home with us before asking me.

By the time we pulled into our driveway, her gray sedan was already turning off the street. Its headlights cut across our garage door.

"Clara is coming over," Evan said in the dark car after he turned off the ignition. "We need to clear this up tonight."

He didn't wait for an answer.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, pushed his door open, and walked out into the rain before I could speak.

Our kitchen felt blindingly bright after the drive.

Evan had left the overhead light on—the one above the old wooden table we had refinished together when Callie was a toddler.

Evan pulled out my chair.

Before I could cross the room from the doorway, he turned to Clara.

She was standing awkwardly by the hall closet with her hands tucked inside her sleeves.

"Sit," he told her.

His voice dropped into that low tone he used when things were falling apart. "You don't have to carry this alone."

Clara sat down in the chair he had opened for me.

It was a small thing, but Evan had used that voice.

The voice he used when Callie was sick. The voice he used when my mother died and I couldn't get through the grocery store without breaking down.

I put my phone flat on the table between them, the screen still showing the completed transfer notice.

"What exactly did Evan tell you I said, Clara?" I asked.

Clara went pale.

Her eyes moved nervously to Evan before returning to me.

"He... he said you wanted to help. He said you both agreed on Monday."

I turned directly to Evan.

"Tell her when I agreed."

Evan rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Margo, please. Clara's rent was overdue. The landlord was changing the locks on Friday—"

"Tell her when I agreed, Evan," I repeated, stepping closer to the table.

"Was it before breakfast on Monday, when you asked me about Callie’s first tuition payment? Or was it after dinner, when you told me everything was taken care of?"

Evan kept his eyes fixed on the tabletop.

The refrigerator clicked off.

Silence stretched through the kitchen.

"Did he tell you the money was meant for Callie?" I asked Clara.

Clara looked at Evan, her voice dropping. "He said it was family savings you had set aside for an emergency."

"Did he tell you her tuition payment was due Friday?"

Clara’s silence answered before Evan could.

She pushed her chair back an inch, looking between us.

"Evan? You told me your wife wanted to support the studio."

"I knew Margo would understand once she saw what was at stake!" Evan snapped, his composure cracking.

"Clara was about to lose the place she built from nothing! You have a steady job, Margo. You have options!"

"You didn't misunderstand me, Evan," I said. "You used my name because you knew Clara wouldn't take the money without it."

Clara pulled her hands back from the table.

"I wired that money to my landlord three hours ago when the notification posted," she whispered.

"I thought this was a family decision. I cannot repay $30,000 on short notice."

"It's a temporary contribution," Evan insisted, reaching out to grasp Clara's arm. "We are handling it."

"Callie’s first tuition payment is due by five on Friday," I told him, refusing to let him soften his choice. "If the school doesn't receive it, she loses her fall place."

"Callie has choices," Evan said, turning his frustration on me.

"She could start local for a term. She could defer. It is not as if we took something from her forever."

Upstairs, a floorboard creaked in the hallway.

Callie stood on the bottom step in her dinner shoes, her paper playhouse tucked under her arm like a bundle of books.

One of the tiny cardboard steps on her model bent beneath her thumb as her grip tightened.

She didn't seem to notice.

"Wait..." she whispered, her eyes wide as she stared at Evan. "Dad… you knew before tonight?"

Evan opened his mouth to deliver his familiar speech.

I stayed quiet and let him face his daughter alone.

Callie took one step back toward the stairs, her chin trembling.

She looked at him for a long moment, waiting for a denial that never came.