Chapter 1 - The Woman at the Door
Clare Bennett looked tired.
That was the first thing Susan noticed after the shock had settled into something colder and clearer. Clare’s coat was wet at the shoulders, her overnight bag rested beside her feet, and one hand remained over the curve of her stomach.
Franklin stood between them, trying to appear calm.
“Susan,” he began, “this is not how I wanted you to find out.”
Susan almost laughed.
“You invited her to our house.”
“I invited her because we need to talk.”
“We?”
Franklin’s face tightened.
Clare lowered her eyes.
“I did not know tonight was important,” she said quietly.
Susan looked at the candle burning on the dining-room table.
The anniversary of their last miscarriage.
The night they usually remembered the children they had lost together.
Franklin had chosen that night to introduce the child he made with someone else.
“You knew,” Susan told him.
“I was going to explain.”
“You had six weeks.”
“I was scared.”
Susan nodded once.
“So you used her baby to make me forgive you.”
Franklin’s expression hardened.
“That is not fair.”
“No,” Susan said. “Fair would have been telling me before you brought another pregnant woman into my home.”
Clare looked as though she might cry.
Susan felt no satisfaction in that.
Clare was not the person who had promised Susan forever. Franklin was.
Susan reached beneath the table and lifted the sealed envelope.
“This is for you.”
Franklin stared at it.
“What is it?”
“Divorce papers.”
The room became still.
Clare stepped backward.
Franklin did not touch the envelope.
“You are serious?”
“I have never been more serious.”
He looked toward the candle, then at the catered food, the wine, the careful table setting.
“You cannot end our marriage tonight.”
Susan stood.
“I did not end it tonight, Franklin. You ended it every time you lied to me and came home expecting me not to notice.”
May you like
Then she picked up her coat.
“You can explain your future to Clare,” Susan said. “I am done explaining why I deserved better.”
