The cold feeling that moved through me then was not fear. It was fury.
“Who?”
He opened his mouth.
Before he could answer, I heard the first car pull into my driveway.
Then a second.
Then a third.
I went straight to the front window.
In my little cul-de-sac, you do not need binoculars to understand humiliation. Neighbors notice when extra cars line a curb on a Tuesday afternoon. They notice when a family crisis arrives in waves.
Marissa stepped out of the first vehicle in a linen dress and sunglasses, looking like she was attending a charity board meeting. Behind her came Toby and Rebecca. From the second car emerged Marissa’s parents. I recognized her sister Paige from one Christmas five years ago and a brother-in-law I had met exactly twice. From the third car came her brother Curtis and his wife, plus two older family friends whose names I could not remember.
I turned slowly and looked at Garrett.
“What is this?”
He had the decency to look ashamed.
“She thinks,” he said weakly, “that since the situation affects everyone—”
“The situation?”
He looked away.
“The finances.”
I laughed once, so sharply it startled even me.
“Your wife brought an audience.”