Chapter 24

Laura

September

Theo's idea is simple but brilliant. Overbilling customers is the world's easiest way to skim a tiny bit of money off the top of a very full pot, he said. Nobody would ever notice.

I said no. Obviously.

The thought of scamming my brother made me very uncomfortable. He can be an asshole, but he's still my brother.

Still, I can't stop thinking about Cody. I feel terrible. Sick with guilt and regret and shame because I got to walk away from it all, go on with my life, fall in love, have two beautiful children, and Cody got to do none of that. I am ashamed.

And now, Theo tells me, Cody's needs are becoming too much for his sister. She's been saving for a good care home, but it's slow going with all the health bills. I want to help, but how?

I think about it for a few days, and then I have the solution. I'll ask Jack for a raise. I figure any extra money I earn, I can send to Cody's sister.

But Jack says no.

"Laura, Laura, Laura." He tuts and gives me that look, that one he so often has, like he's so tired. Of me, of the mess I've made of my life, of rescuing me. "I've tried to help you, really I have. But there's only so much I can do. We all have to work for things in this life."

"You don't think I work?" Angry tears burn in my eyes. "You patronizing fuck, I worked my ass off on my art studio and it still failed."

"It didn't fail, you gave up. That was a choice. You can't be mad about that."

Gave up? Is that what he thinks? Everything I did was for my family, so we could have more money, more security, a better future.

"I tried, Jack. I tried! You have so much, and you can't even give me a raise?" I've started crying, and that makes me even angrier. "Don't think I won't tell Mel you've been cheating on her with that little dish down at the reception desk."

Jack's mouth twists into an ugly sneer. "You're such an idiot, Laura. I know things about you, too. And anyway, Mel already knows. She wants the same thing as me. To raise a healthy, happy child with two parents. Finn's only little. The last thing he needs is his parents going through a messy divorce the way hers did. Mel isn't going anywhere."

He turns and storms out of the office, leaving me alone with my fury and resentment and humiliation. I wonder what exactly he thinks he knows about me. And then I remember the texts. Has Jack been sending them?

I consider the idea but can't think of a single reason why he would. Except power. Jack always has to have power over people. He always has some agenda. Nobody makes me feel as small as my big, strong, successful brother. He sweeps everyone and everything up in his path.

He has so much. So much! What's a tiny extra little 10 percent?

But Jack has worked hard to build his business. He's been more than generous giving me a job. What right do I have to steal from him?

I argue with myself, my internal voices clamoring to be heard. All day I listen to these voices, thinking. Thinking. And as the day goes by, I hear one voice dominating the others.

I've failed at a lot of things lately, my art studio, not being able to paint anymore, Pete and I feel like balloons drifting farther and farther away from each other, my daughters are growing up, forging their own lives. They don't even need me anymore.

But at least I can make one thing right. I can help Cody. Jack will never miss such a tiny amount. And I'll be doing it for a good reason.

I take a deep, steadying breath and text Theo.

I'm in.

Pete and I are sitting down for date night at our favorite Italian restaurant when the text message pings onto my phone.

Nobody listens to lying bitches. Sometimes they get their tongue cut out.

It's been nearly a week since the last text. Maybe that's why this one shocks me so much. Or maybe it's the explicit threat it contains.

"You okay?" Pete asks.

He's shed his corduroy blazer and is wearing a light-blue button-down with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He looks handsome and smart and safe, and I want to lean into him, to let him hold me and tell me everything's going to be okay.

I block the number and delete the text, forcing a smile. "It's Nancy," I lie. "She's been stressed since this business with Maya."

Nancy is Alice's friend Maya's mom. She's my closest friend, besides Mel. The two are very different, Mel poised and calm and contained while Nancy is loud and lovable, all movement and motion with a huge, colorful laugh like a rose bursting into bloom. They don't always get along. Nancy has no filter, and Mel can be overly touchy. Especially lately.

"What happened with Maya?" Pete asks.

"She got fired from her job at the sports store. There was a break-in, a bunch of stuff was stolen. Expensive jerseys, tennis shoes, guns ."

"Guns? Jesus."

"Yeah. They questioned everybody, but it looks like it might've been one of the managers. In the end, the store fired a bunch of them, including Maya. For a while Nancy was worried they were going to press charges, but it looks like they didn't, thank goodness. No evidence."

"Poor Nancy."

"I'm glad Alice and Ella haven't gotten involved in anything like that."

Pete smiles. "Our kids are pretty great."

He leans across the table and kisses my lips. The kiss isn't rushed, and I find myself letting it go on. I've missed this. We get so caught up with juggling parenting, work, bills, all the life admin that comes with middle age and having a family, that sometimes we forget to take a moment for each other.

"What was that for?" I say, smiling.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." I slip my phone into my purse, determined not to let those texts ruin our night.

Except . . .

I can't stop thinking about them. For the first time ever, I feel like date night drags on a little too long. I'm distracted, my mind whirling from Jack to Mel to Theo to Cody.

"What's wrong?" Pete asks. Again.

His lips are stained a dark ruby from the three glasses of wine he's already drunk. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't concerned with the amount of alcohol he's started consuming. Pete isn't an angry drunk or anything; it's just so much lately.

I stare at my husband's face, the man I've loved my entire adult life, and I want so much to explain. I'm a failure. A wreck. But I'm going to make it right. You'll be proud of me, I swear.

"Nothing. In fact, everything's perfectly right."

Later, when he suggests a drink at Sammy's after dinner, I claim a headache and ask to go home.

"I'm worried about the girls," I say, and it isn't a lie.

They begged to stay on their own tonight, and we agreed, although Mrs. McCormack said she'd pop in to check on them. It's a compromise I'm not entirely comfortable with, but mothers have to start releasing their children at some stage, as Pete likes to remind me.

I take a slice of tiramisu to-go for Mrs. McCormack, and we head home, walking the long way along the lake. I half listen as Pete tells me about some drama among the teachers about how classrooms should be run. It sounds stressful, like the teachers are about to break out into a war over it, and I wonder if that's why Pete's been drinking more.

Mrs. McCormack's lights are still on when we get home. "I'm going to run this tiramisu over," I tell Pete.

He kisses me and heads inside. He'll probably just grab a bottle of wine and pass out on the couch watching TV.

Mrs. McCormack opens her door, peering at me from behind large-framed glasses, a bottle of bug spray in a gloved hand. "Hello, dear. Come in, come in."

She waves me inside, and I follow her into a small conservatory at the back of the house. The room is glorious, filled with colorful orchids bursting into bloom, firecracker red and sunset orange, twilight blue and jewel pink. A small water fountain tinkles peacefully in the corner.

I hand her the tiramisu. "I wanted to thank you for checking on the girls tonight."

Her face brightens as she takes it. "Thank you! And it's no trouble. If my daughter were still around, I'd check on her, too."

"I never knew you had a daughter. Where does she live?"

"Oh." Her smile is sad, heavy with memories. She turns away, delicately spraying an orchid's petals. "She passed away a long time ago."

"I'm sorry. That must've been hard."

"It was. But of course, time is a cruel lieutenant." She spritzes another orchid. "We sometimes can't choose what happens to us. All we can do is choose what we do with it. That, and avoid toxic forces in our lives."

She lifts her eyes to mine. "My daughter, she wasn't good at that. She was a tender girl, my Bethany. Got herself a cruel man who crushed her and then killed her. Sometimes people aren't who they say they are." She gently thumbs a purple petal and sprays it. "I always think we must be cautious of the company we keep. The world is hard on soft things. Don't you agree?"

I think of Alice, my desire to protect my sensitive girl. "Yes. I do."

She plucks a shriveled leaf from a stem and hands it to me. It takes me a minute to see a tiny green bug blending into the leaf.

"Some of the most poisonous things," she says, "come in the most clever disguises."

When I get home, Pete's dozing in front of the TV, empty wineglass tipping against his chest. I'm about to wake him when my phone vibrates. It's a text from Jack reminding me to get milk for work on Monday.

Whole milk this time! None of that 2% nonsense.

"Fucking milk!" I hiss under my breath.

I turn on my heel and go straight upstairs to my art studio, grab my laptop, and google how to set up a business .

It's a fairly straightforward process and within a few minutes, I've registered a business with the Secretary of the Commonwealth in the state of Massachusetts. I call it DIY Building Supply Ltd., nice and generic. Nobody at Jack's property development company will ever think to investigate who actually owns it. Then I design a logo and invoices that I'll send to Jack's company. I open a free Dropbox account, upload the files to the cloud, and delete everything I've just done, including my browser history.

I regularly send out customer contracts, so it'll be easy to email those customers fake invoices requesting payment for fake admin and local tax fees. They'll pay the fees directly into Jack's company account. I'll invoice Jack's company that exact amount from DIY Building Supply Ltd. And Jack's company will pay into a bank account I'll open tomorrow for myself. Every month Jack's company books will balance. A company as big as Jack's, with money constantly moving around, nobody will ever find out. At least not for a while. And I'm not planning on doing it for long.

I think of Jack's face when he refused to give me a raise. Laura, Laura, Laura ... you're such an idiot.

I've always been a quick learner. It's one thing my teachers always told my mom when I was a kid. I'm creative and proactive and productive. One thing I am not is an idiot.

I want that money, and I'm going to get it. Jack can go fuck himself.