The phone rang. Not a text, not a reminder. My actual ringtone, the one that sounded like an old rotary phone mixed with a tornado siren. Only my best friend Gerty would set her contact to something that obnoxious.
I answered without checking. "Hey," I said, sidestepping a box full of coffee mugs I'd been meaning to unpack.
Instant chaos. Beth's voice cut through, already wound tight. "He's at it again. He wants a million dollars, Tash. He's not even pretending to be reasonable anymore."
I stopped cold. "Please tell me you're not talking about the world's worst husband."
On cue, Gerty's laugh joined the call, dry as vermouth. "Has Beth ever had another husband? Or is this the same walking embodiment of toxic waste in designer loafers?"
Beth made a strangled sound. "He's threatening to drag out the divorce for years unless I pay. Like I have that kind of money lying around."
I put the call on speaker and set it on the nearest box. "Wait, what happened? I thought his lawyer ghosted yours last month."
"He came back." Beth's words tumbled over each other. "He called this morning, all fake nice, and said he'd sign away parental rights, for one million dollars." She stifled a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "He might as well ask for the cure for cancer."
I could picture her. Hunched on the edge of her bed, worrying the crescent moon necklace we'd bought her after graduation. Beth never called unless things were truly off the rails. She preferred texting.
I reached for the envelope with the twins' photos and shuffled through it, just to give my hands something to do. Pacing usually calmed me, but today it only churned that heat sitting low in my stomach. Every few steps, my mind flashed back to the creek, to the exact moment I'd looked up and seen him, eyes locked on me like I'd never left his memory. "He's a snake, Beth. Didn't he get that stockbroker job last year? Isn't he living in a two-story rental with a pool?"
Gerty snorted. "Oh, he's got money. He just can't stand Beth being happy without him. Or anybody else, for that matter."
Beth let her silence answer. I tried to refocus on her words, but I kept feeling that ghost of a hand at my waist, steady and warm, pulling me upright before I hit the water. The memory wasn't welcome. I shoved it back down, hard.
Gerty, as always, couldn't let the moment breathe. "If it comes down to it, we could always find a nice deep hole in the mountains in the eastern part of the state where no one would ever find him. I hear there's a thriving ecosystem of black bears and bad decisions up there."
I nearly choked on a laugh. "That might be illegal."
Gerty cackled. "Only if you get caught."
Beth tried to laugh, too. "Even if I pay, what are the odds he stays gone? He threatened to take the kids if I went to court."
Gerty pounced. "Of course, he won't disappear. Cockroaches always find their way back."
I pressed my palm to my forehead, pinching at the headache that was already forming. "Beth, he doesn't have a case. You have documentation. Years of it."
Beth's energy was all panic and static. "My lawyer says it's impossible to force him out unless he wants to go. The buyout's the only leverage. It's a million or nothing."
I bit my lip, staring at the mess around me. The twins' baby photo landed on top of the stack. Fifi had her whole fist in her mouth, and Mere looked like she was plotting my assassination. "This is insane. Does he even care about the kids?"
Beth let out a sound like her chest was collapsing. "No. He never did. He just likes control."
Gerty's sarcasm went from simmer to boil. "Typical. All power, no substance. He probably sits in his kitchen, sipping bottom-shelf whiskey, telling himself he's the hero."
I shifted, pacing a slow circle around the boxes. I didn't want the girls to hear this, even though I knew they were lost in homework or music. Thank goodness. They adored Aunt Beth and her kids.
Then Gerty got practical. "Just give me the account number. I'll wire the money, and he can ride off into the sunset with his cheap cologne and last-season loafers."
Beth's answer was immediate. "Absolutely not. No. I didn't call to beg for money."
Gerty snorted. "Who said anything about begging? You don't need the stress. Think of it as a business write-off."
Beth made a little desperate noise. "No, Gerty, I'm serious. If you go behind my back?—"
Gerty's tone softened, but only by a millimeter. "I wouldn't. Promise."
I knew her too well. She said it so quickly, I'd bet my last dollar it was a lie.
The way she let Beth's refusal stand withzero fight back was another big hint. Gerty only did that when she had a plan. "Gerty, seriously," Beth said in her best mom voice.
