Moonlight Turned Hollow

Chapter 3: The Space Between Answers

The next two days were full of small, practical demands. Payroll needed approval. A supplier wanted a deposit. A client called about a cracked window in a house we'd finished the previous spring. I answered the calls, sent the payment, and took Owen's measurements for a new set of office shelves because the old ones had started to pull away from the wall.

We didn't talk about the wipe.

On Wednesday night, I found a hotel receipt in Owen's jacket. It was folded into a square and tucked behind a parking ticket. Harborlight Inn. Same date as the company charge. The receipt listed one room, one night, paid with his personal card.

I stood in our bedroom with the paper in my hand. Owen was downstairs, on a call. His voice reached me through the open stairwell.

"Not tonight," he said. "I told you, I can't have this conversation here."

I stopped moving.

"Tomorrow," he said. "I'll call you tomorrow."

The call ended. I heard a chair scrape across the kitchen floor. I put the receipt on the dresser and went downstairs.

"Who were you talking to?"

"Work."

"Who?"

He looked at the glass of water in his hand. "Mara."

I glanced at the receipt. He followed my eyes and set down the glass.

"Were you at the Harborlight on September 14?"

He didn't answer immediately.

"Was that a work night?"

His mouth opened, then closed. "It was after the site dinner."

"There was no site dinner."

"Not with the owners."

"Then who was there?"

He walked to the sink. The light over it caught the silver at his temples, which I used to touch when we were in bed. "Mara."

I waited.

"We've been seeing each other."

The words were quieter than I expected. They didn't c***k. They didn't tremble. He sounded as if he were identifying an item on a list.

"How long?"

"Since late spring."

"Late spring." I repeated it because the season didn't fit in my mind with the things we'd done then. The weekend we'd spent painting the porch. My sister's birthday. The night we signed the Alder House contract. "You've been sleeping with her since late spring?"

"Yes."

"Have you brought her to our house?"

"No."

"Have you brought her into our bed?"

"No."

"Have you charged our clients for her dinners?"

He lowered his head. "I didn't intend to."

"Did you?"

"The charges were for work."

"That isn't what I asked."

He looked up. "Some of them were personal. I was going to reimburse the company."

"When?"

"I don't know."

"Did you take money from the Alder House account?"

"Not exactly."

"Then explain exactly."

He rubbed both hands over his face. "I've been using the project card for expenses I should have paid myself. It's not a lot."

"How much?"

"I don't know the total."

I felt my fingers tighten around the receipt. "You're the person who approved these reports."

"We're both responsible."

"I'm responsible for processing them. You signed them. You named the project. You told me the meetings were legitimate."

"I didn't want you to find out this way."

"You didn't want me to find out."

He flinched at that, or seemed to. I couldn't know what he felt. I knew only that he looked away.

"I'm not leaving," he said.

I placed the receipt on the counter between us. "You don't get to decide that alone."

"I want to fix this."

"You want to keep the marriage and keep the affair?"

"No."

"Have you ended it?"

He paused. It was brief, but it was there.

I nodded. "That's what I thought."

"I'm trying to handle it."

"You've had months."

"I know."

I walked to the study and shut the door. I didn't lock it. That would have been theatrical, and I had no appetite for theater.

I opened my laptop and copied the receipts, card statements, and the version of the project budget we'd filed with the owners. I made one folder for the company records, one for the household records, and one for the material that belonged only to me.

Then I opened the operating agreement for Vale & Hart.

Owen and I owned the company equally. We'd written the agreement when our biggest worry was whether we'd be able to afford our first printer. Either partner could request an independent financial review. Neither could use company funds for personal expenses. If one partner breached the agreement, the other could require the breach to be cured before taking certain actions.

That night, I read the whole thing twice.

In the morning, I would call a lawyer. I wouldn't use the company account to pay for it.