“Rachel—”
“When?”
“Maybe six weeks ago.”
I thought back.
Six weeks ago, Daniel had suddenly become very interested in the value of houses on our street.
He had shown me an article about the Chicago market.
He had asked whether we still had the appraisal from our refinance.
At the time, I assumed he was curious.
Now I wasn’t sure.
“Did he say why I wanted to sell?”
Eleanor’s expression tightened.
“He said your job might relocate you.”
“That’s not true.”
“He said you were considering Atlanta.”
“My company never offered me Atlanta.”
“I only know what my son told me.”
I looked at her carefully.
For the first time, Eleanor seemed uncertain.
Not guilty.
Not defensive.
Uncertain.
“Did Daniel ask you for money?” I said.
She blinked.
“What?”
“Recently.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“He’s my husband.”
Her face closed.
There it was.
A boundary.
