If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(51)

My right leg bounced beneath the desk as I switched over to our checking account to make the payment. Ohmygod! A sharp inhale burned my lungs while I switched to look at the savings balance next. Less than eight thousand dollars remained there—down from almost forty thousand from when I’d last checked. That plus only two grand in checking didn’t leave me enough to cover the two outstanding loan payments and the next one due, let alone the other costs of homeownership or those associated with childbirth. I logged on to our investment account to find it similarly depleted with the exception of my pathetic 401(k).

Tears blurred my vision as the screw in my gut tightened further.

A noise from the kitchen reminded me that I wasn’t alone. I quietly closed the office door before dialing Lyle. Voice mail. In a terse whisper, I said, “Lyle, I got the late notice on our mortgage, and money is missing from our savings. You had no right to take all that. Call me back!”

Immediately afterward I dialed Stan, only to be met by another voice mail. My throat inflamed. “Hi, Stan, it’s Amanda Foster. Please call me back as soon as you get this message. Lyle’s now depleted most of our joint accounts and didn’t pay our mortgage. I need an update on the deed and everything else.”

That deed had to be a fake . . . a ruse to put me off a little longer.

With long, slow breaths, I forced air in and out of my lungs. I should’ve protected myself as soon as Lyle said he’d fallen in love with Ebba instead of worrying that taking action would push him further away. Idiot! Now I’d have to channel Meryl Streep to pull off hosting my mom and sister for dinner tonight without letting on about this crisis. My money, my home, my entire future—vanished like my husband.

I pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes. This evening had been about the three of us enjoying an hour of peace together. Now, Lyle had stolen that from me, too.

I’d handed him my entire heart. How could he use me, lie, and walk away without a single regret? He’d polluted our love—and all my happy memories. My chest tightened before a worthless surge of hatred drowned me in self-pity. I couldn’t catch my breath. More evidence that I wasn’t ready to hack it as a single mom.

I wouldn’t have believed Lyle could be this selfish—this cruel—or that he could hurt his own child this way. What had Ebba offered to make him willing to transfer everything—his affection, our money, our future—from me to her?

I snatched some tissues and blew my nose.

My sister would come looking for me soon, and my mom would arrive any minute. I decided to wait for Stan’s update before sharing this new information with her. My poor mother deserved one nice meal in blissful ignorance before the world came crashing down around her. Her episodes were sure to get worse with that stress. After pinching my cheeks, I pasted a pleasant smile on my face before leaving the privacy of the office.

Erin’s butt greeted me when I rounded the corner to the family room.

“Shouldn’t Mom be here by now?” she asked from her downward-dog position.

As if she had ESP, the doorbell rang. Thank God, because another Mom misadventure would’ve sent me over the edge. “I’ll get it.”

“Great, I’m starving.” Erin jumped up and headed to the kitchen while I went to the door, dabbing my sweaty face with my shirt on the way.

“Hi, Mom.” My voice might’ve trembled. I kissed her hello, but she brushed past quickly. It occurred to me that the last time she’d been here was the day our lives had started to fall apart. Our new normal consisted of stiff upper lips and foolish hope that everything would eventually be made right.

“It smells delicious.” Mom walked ahead of me, and we both arrived in the kitchen to find Erin setting the table. Without saying a word, Mom went behind her, fixing the placement of the silverware to move the spoons and knives from the napkins on the left over to the right side of the plate.

Erin shot me her “I’m annoyed” look but thankfully kept her mouth shut.

Only then did the psychic medium cross my mind. I believed in spirits and the afterlife but was less certain that some people could talk to the dead. Something about taking money from the most vulnerable, grieving hopefuls didn’t sit well with me, either. Then again, talking to Dad would be an amazing gift.

“You look a little tired, Mom. Still not sleeping well?” After salting the boiling water, I dumped a pound of bucatini into the pot, keeping myself in motion so that they didn’t notice my own puffy face.

“I’m getting only four hours a night.”

“Stop eating cookies late at night. Sugar before bed messes with sleep big-time.” Erin drummed her hands on the counter. For all her bravery, our mom intimidated her.

“More likely it’s the nonstop music into the wee hours.” Mom flashed a mocking smile, and even I heard a little bite in her tone. That had to hurt my sister. But given all that I was losing, I wasn’t unhappy to remain Mom’s favorite. Not a proud admission, and in my heart, I did want them to be closer.

Erin appeared to swallow whatever retort she might’ve spat if they weren’t living together. In a complete switch, she smiled at me. “Let’s talk about something fun, like what you’re naming my niece. I’m dying to know so I can get started on my gift.”

Willa. The name danced on the tip of my tongue. Not Penelope or Penny or any other nickname. She fluttered in my belly as if hearing my thoughts. My precious child, whom I loved with every breath in my body. How could her own father rip away her security, her home, her future? During the years I’d blamed his parents for hurting him, I never once suspected he could become them.