“You’re telling me that my husband used our jointly earned money to buy a house and now that he’s dead I get nothing?”
Since Ali’s death I’d felt mostly shock, followed by a numbness. I’d experienced the sensation of feeling disconnected from myself, all my emotions muted. But now, anger and frustration hammered through me. If there was any question whether I could still feel anything, learning my husband left a secret house that we paid for to someone else answered that question.
“Again, I am very sorry,” Fred Perkins said. “All I can tell you is that another member of the LLC gets the house. There are provisions in the operating agreement that upon the death of one of the members, the other member would get the house.”
The other member.“Does that mean there were only two members in the LLC? My husband and one other person?”
“It would not be appropriate for me to disclose anything further. Again, please accept my most sincere condolences for your loss.”
My phone buzzed right after I hung up with Fred Perkins. I jumped, startled. I’d been on edge since the break-in. Especially whenever I was home alone.
My daughter’s name popped up on the screen. Relief moved through me. I took the call. “Hi, honey.”
“Hey, Mom.”
“How’s school?”
“It’s a lot of work, as usual. What are you up to?”
“Nothing much,” I lied. “Just working.”
“How was that house you went to see in North Carolina?”
I stumbled. “How ... was what?”
“The house you went to see in North Carolina?”
I swallowed. My throat felt like sandpaper. “How did you know about that house?”
“Mom?” Impatience tinged her words. “Are you OK? You told me you and Auntie Lulu were going to see the biggest house in the United States.”
“Oh, you mean the Biltmore Estate.” The tightness between my shoulder blades eased. “Yeah, it was fine.”
“What else would I be talking about?”
“Sorry, I was in the middle of researching a new exhibit project,” I lied. “I was distracted.”
“Are you busy?” she asked. “Should I let you go?”
“No, no.” I wanted to speak to my baby girl. Hearing her voice in the midst of all this chaos made my heart happy. “I can work on that later. How are you doing?”
“OK.”
I doubted that, so I decided to be honest. “I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine.”
“You keep saying that, but you don’t seem fine. You’ve lost weight. You’re not yourself.”
“Are any of us the same?” The words were sharp. “How can we be?”
“You’re right. We can’t.” Tears stung my eyes. We’d lost so much, including the sense of safety that Ali provided. And my absolute belief in him as a faithful husband.
I fought to keep it together. The kids didn’t need to know that my world was falling apart for a second time. As I spoke to my daughter, a crystal-clear thought formed in my mind, possibly the first completely lucid one since my husband’s accident: I had to protect my kids at any cost. The last thing they needed was to share my confusion and growing doubts about their father. Once I figured out what was going on with the secret house, I’d explain everything to them.
Even if he left a house to his mistress?a voice inside me asked. I prayed I’d never have to cross that bridge. For now, at least, it had to be mentally healthier for our children to continue to believe in their dad.
Even if I wasn’t sure how much I still did.
