Every Night at Six Thirty, Bob Drove Away, Until His Other Wife Said My Name

“The quarterly property tax bill comes to twelve hundred dollars.

For thirty-six months, Bob paid those taxes with direct deposits pulled out of your shop’s business account.”

Ruth quit smoothing her apron.

Her hands went motionless against the cloth.

“He told me that money was going to our joint business loan for the greenhouse addition,” Ruth said.

“He used your shop’s earnings to keep my house out of tax foreclosure,” I said.

“And he used forty-two thousand dollars stolen out of my mother’s inheritance account to pay down the main mortgage on your cottage on Willow Lane.”