A new house.

Expensive things.

I’d assumed he wanted to improve our lives.

Now I wondered whether he was promising those things because he’d already decided to sell the only substantial asset we owned.

When I reached the driveway, he was on the porch painting one of our wooden kitchen chairs white.

He looked up.

“There you are, darling.”

I stepped out of the Buick.

He held up the brush.

“Thought I’d freshen these up for the breakfast nook.”