Chapter 1: Two Hundred Dollars for a Mother and Her Baby
“You have two hundred dollars, Nora. Take it, find a cheap room, and leave my house.””
My husband said those words three days after I gave birth to our daughter.
He stood beside the kitchen table, wearing the expensive navy suit I'd bought him for our seventh wedding anniversary. His mother, Brenda, stood at his shoulder, smiling as if she were watching a problem finally disappear.
I was still wearing my loose hospital clothes. My abdomen ached whenever I moved too quickly, and my newborn daughter, Harper, slept against my chest in a pink blanket.
Christopher didn't ask how I was feeling.
He didn't ask whether I'd managed to sleep.
He didn't even look at the tiny face tucked beneath my chin.
Instead, he pushed an envelope across the table.
“There's two hundred dollars in there,” he said.
“It's enough to get you started somewhere else. The house has been sold, so we need to stop pretending you have a choice.””
For several seconds, I simply stared at him.
The kitchen was exactly as I'd left it before going into labor. The cream-colored cabinets still held my mother's old china. The refrigerator hummed beside the pantry. Sunlight spilled across the wooden table where my father used to help me with my homework.
This was the house where I had learned to ride a bicycle in the driveway.
The house where my father had carried me upstairs when I fell asleep during thunderstorms.
The house he had left exclusively to me when he died.
And now my husband was telling me to leave it with two hundred dollars in my pocket.
“I'm sorry,” I whispered.
“What did you just say?””
Christopher exhaled impatiently.
“Don't make me repeat myself. I sold the property. The paperwork is handled. The new owners will expect possession, and I refuse to let this become some humiliating scene.””
Beside him, Brenda adjusted the pearl necklace resting against her blouse.
She had always dressed as though she were attending a charity luncheon, even when she came to my house simply to criticize my cooking.
“Nora, darling,” she said, putting a hand on Christopher's arm, “you need to think practically. A woman with a newborn doesn't need a three-million-dollar house. There are inexpensive rooms outside Scranton. You could manage perfectly well in one of those until you find work.””
I looked at her.
Then I looked at the baby in my arms.
Harper made a tiny sound in her sleep, opening her mouth before settling against me again.
Something about that small movement made the situation suddenly clear.
These two people had planned to throw me and their three-day-old daughter into an uncertain future.
And they were so confident in their own cruelty that neither of them seemed embarrassed.
“Where exactly am I supposed to go?”” I asked.
Christopher shrugged.
“That's no longer my problem.””
“Christopher, I gave birth three days ago.””
“And I have responsibilities, too.””
“What responsibilities?””
His jaw tightened.
“Don't start.””
“I'm asking you a question.””
He struck the table with his palm.
“My business is struggling. I've spent years trying to keep everything together while you sit in this house acting as though you're better than everyone because your father left you some property. I finally made a decision, and now you're going to accept it.””
Brenda nodded approvingly.
“Your husband has been under tremendous pressure. The least you could do is stop making things difficult.””
I almost laughed then.
Almost.
For seven years, I had paid household bills without keeping score. When Christopher's contracting company lost two major clients, I covered expenses he couldn't afford. When he needed money to keep employees on payroll, I transferred funds from my savings.
I had never demanded repayment.
I had never reminded him that the roof over his head belonged to me.
I believed that marriage meant building a life together.
Apparently, Christopher believed it meant waiting until I was vulnerable enough to take everything.
I reached for the envelope.
My fingers were still swollen from childbirth, and the paper felt oddly heavy in my hand. I opened the flap and pulled out two crisp hundred-dollar bills.
That was it.
Seven years of marriage, a newborn daughter, and a house worth three million dollars.
Two hundred dollars.
Brenda watched me count the money.
“There,” she said.
“At least Christopher is giving you something.””
I stared at the bills.
Then I started laughing.
At first, it was a quiet, disbelieving sound. I pressed my free hand against the table as another laugh escaped me.
My abdomen hurt. I was exhausted. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes, but for the first time since returning home, they weren't tears of sadness.
Christopher's expression changed.
“What the hell is so funny?””
I couldn't answer immediately.
Brenda stepped closer, her smile disappearing.
“Have you lost your mind?””
I held up the two hundred dollars.
“No,” I managed.
“For the first time in seven years, I think I've finally found it.””
Christopher snatched at the envelope, but I moved it beyond his reach.
“You need to listen carefully,” he said.
“The property belongs to someone else now. Whatever emotional attachment you have to this place is irrelevant.””
“Really?””
“Yes.””
“And you're absolutely certain the sale is complete?””
His confidence returned.
“Absolutely.””
I looked directly at him.
“Then tell me something, Christopher. Did you happen to check the date on the deed before you decided to throw me out?””
His face twitched.
For the first time, Brenda looked uncertain.
“What is that supposed to mean?”” she demanded.
I placed the two bills on the table beside Harper's hospital discharge papers.
“It means you should have asked a few more questions before celebrating.””
Christopher leaned forward.
“Nora, I'm warning you.””
“No. You've spent the last seven years warning me whenever I ask something you don't want to answer. We're going to do this differently.””
I shifted Harper carefully into the crook of my arm.
Then I reached into my hospital bag and withdrew a thick folder I had packed before leaving for the hospital.
Christopher recognized the blue cover.
His face lost a little color.
Brenda's hands dropped to her sides.
“What is that?”” she asked.
“The paperwork for the house.””
He forced a laugh.
“You can't possibly think some old paperwork changes anything.””
I opened the folder.
The first page bore a date from two weeks earlier.
Beneath it were the official records of a transaction Christopher knew nothing about.
I watched his eyes move across the page.
Then I turned it toward him.
“Christopher, you're right about one thing. This house isn't mine anymore.””
He blinked.
I smiled without warmth.
“Because I already sold it two weeks ago.””
The silence was immediate.
Brenda's mouth fell open.
Christopher grabbed the folder, nearly knocking over a glass of water as he examined the first page.
“That isn't possible,” he whispered.
I leaned back against the kitchen counter, careful not to disturb Harper.
“That's what I thought when I heard you planning to sell it while I was giving birth.””
He stopped moving.
Brenda turned toward him so quickly that her necklace struck the buttons of her blouse.
“What is she talking about, Christopher?””
He ignored her.
His eyes were fixed on a document near the back of the folder.
A document bearing my signature.
Or, more accurately, a signature someone had attempted to copy.
I watched the recognition dawn on his face.
He knew exactly what he was looking at.
Because the signature didn't belong to the legitimate sale I had completed.
It belonged to the second transaction he had arranged behind my back.
I took Harper's tiny hand in mine.
“Now,” I said softly, “perhaps you can explain whose property you've actually been trying to sell, and whose name you forged to do it.””
Christopher looked at his mother.
May you like
For the first time that morning, neither of them had anything to say.
And then the doorbell rang.
