"Tell me," she said.
I started with the easiest part.
"Ryan had a project," I said. "A development project. He didn't tell me about it." I gestured at the house around us. "This is it."
Ruth looked around slowly. "He built this?"
"He designed it. He and—" I stopped. Started again. "He had a business partner—a real estate developer. They were going to build it and sell it for a profit."
"Why didn't he tell you?"
"Because he knew I'd worry about the money." The lie came out smoothly, and I let it sit for a second before I kept going. "He took out a construction loan. A big one."
Ruth frowned. "How big?"
"Big enough that when he died, the bank was going to come after our house." I watched her face as that landed. "He'd used it as collateral. Without telling me."
The color drained from Ruth's face. "He wouldn't?—"
"He forged my signature on the loan documents."
Silence.
Ruth sat down on the edge of the window ledge, slowly, like her legs had made the decision without consulting her. She stared at the floor.
"The developer," she said carefully. "This business partner." She looked up at me. "Who was it?"
I held her gaze.
"A woman named Lucia Vance."
Ruth went very still.
She wasn't stupid. She'd never been stupid. I watched her put it together in real time—the road, the project, the secret, the woman—watched the understanding move across her face like weather.
"Oh," she said softly.
Just that. Just oh.
"Her name was Lucia. They'd been together for about a year." I paused. "He was on his way here when he crashed."
Ruth's hands were in her lap, fingers interlaced so tightly the knuckles had gone white.
"Did you know?" she asked. "Before he died?"
"No."
"When did you find out?"
"The night after I picked up his phone from the police."
Ruth closed her eyes.
We sat in the quiet house, the evening light fading around us, and I let her have the silence. She'd earned it. I owed her that much—the space to feel it without me filling it with words.
After a long moment, she opened her eyes and looked around the house again. The fireplace, still and dark. The windows catching the last of the light.
"And Ben?" she asked quietly. "Why is Ben here?"
