Tuesday.
I knew exactly where I had been Tuesday.
At my obstetrician’s office in the morning.
Home afterward.
Luca had arrived with a folder of documents just before dinner.
I remembered because my ankles had been swollen and I had been irritated with him for putting paperwork on the kitchen counter.
“What are these?” I had asked.
“Insurance updates,” he said.
“I thought we finished those.”
“Couple signatures missing.”
I had signed where yellow tabs marked the pages.
Without reading every word.
Because he was my husband.
Because I trusted him.
Because dinner was getting cold.
My mouth went dry.
“I signed something Tuesday.”
Phoebe leaned forward.
“Do you remember this document?”
“No.”
“Do you remember signing anything from this bank?”
“No.”
“Did Luca explain anything about an appraisal?”
“No.”
Nobody moved.
Lily began stirring.
A tiny sound escaped her, pulling me back into the room.
I handed the laptop to Phoebe.
“Find out exactly what that signature authorized.”
“I will.”
“And stop the appraisal.”
“Already done.”
I looked at her.
“When?”
“Seven minutes before I walked through the door.”
For the first time that morning, I smiled.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
My phone buzzed.
A message from Luca.
Flight changed. Landing 5:40. We need to talk before your attorney turns this into something it isn’t.
I showed Phoebe.
She read it without expression.
“What do I say?”
“Nothing yet.”
I looked toward Anika.
“Can the sale still proceed?”
“Yes,” Phoebe answered. “But I want twenty-four hours before you sign anything final.”
Yesterday, I would have resisted.
Today, I understood why.
Selling the house would solve one problem.
It would not explain what had happened inside my marriage.
“I’ll wait.”
Evelyn looked surprised.
“So you’re not selling?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What changed?”
I looked down at Lily.
