Paying three hundred thousand dollars of debt before being ordered out of the house
“I am trying to trace ninety thousand dollars of missing corporate funds, Evelyn,” I said. “It is a standard audit.”
She smiled, though her eyes remained perfectly still under her thin eyebrows. “A good wife does not audit her husband, Clare. She supports him when the wind is against him.”
“Support does not mean closing my eyes to insolvency,” I said.
“Marcus has always had a brilliant mind for business,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He merely needs room to breathe. When you poke at every transaction, you only invite disaster.”
“The bank is threatening foreclosure on Elmwood Avenue, Evelyn,” I said. “I have to look at the transactions.”
She patted my arm, her glove dry and cold against my bare wrist. “Let the men handle the banking, dear. Your job is to keep the home peaceful. If you pressure him too much, he might begin to look elsewhere for support.”
She turned and walked toward the street before I could answer.
The house on Elmwood Avenue was dark when I got home, save for the single bulb over the stove.
