“My Wife Handles the Paperwork, I Handle the Assets,” He Told the Contractor. He Never Read What He’d Signed

“No,” I said.

Just that.

One syllable.

I don’t think I had ever once told Camden no about money, and the word seemed to hang in the kitchen air like something visible.

He stared at me.

At the island, Lorraine set her phone down for the first time all morning.

And then the argument started, and ran its short ugly course, and ended with the tea across my face and Camden standing in the middle of his mother’s audience with his arm flung out toward the front door.

“You heard me,” he said.