Can text but not talk, Ash says.Can you tell me what happened? I’m worried now.
Okay, but call when you can, Kelly says.Really sorry to drop this on you on your vacation. But I went to pay the fees to reserve the caterer for the Second Bloom Gala and the funds aren’t there.
Wait, Ash texts.What do you mean the funds aren’t there?
The account only has $500 in it, Kelly texts.I don’t see any withdrawals I don’t recognize, but nothing has come in in months.
Only three people have access to the nonprofit’s account. Ash, Kelly, and Wade. Wade is the treasurer for the charity. He has been since the beginning, when Ash came up with the idea as a way to spend more time together.
Ash pulls up the bank account info on her phone. She hasn’t looked at the account for Second Bloom for ages, because Wade and Kelly are in charge. The finances for the gala have always run very smoothly. Wade submits the invoices to the companies, who agree to have part of their purchase earmarked for the charity, they send him the money and he deposits it, and when Kelly needs it for the annual gala, she withdraws it. The gala helps get word out, both about Second Bloom and the facilities they serve. Second Bloom is a shoestring operation, and they keep their costs very, very low. But they need the gala. And there should be enough money for it.
Kelly’s right. The money’s not there. Nothing’s been withdrawn, nothing shady, but there have been no deposits in the first place.
“Hey, Wade.” Ash turns to look at him. “Kelly texted. She can’t make the payment for the Second Bloom Gala.”
Wade doesn’t look up. “Huh,” he says. “We’ll have to look into that when we get back.”
“She needs to make the deposit for the caterer today,” Ash says. “I think we have to look into it now.” She has a horrible sick feeling in her stomach. She doesn’t want to push him. But she has to know what happened.
And now Wade does look up. “Are you serious?” His eyes are very blue above his blue T-shirt. She loves him. She hates the way he looks at hernow. He didn’t used to treat her like she was stupid. He used to think she was his equal. “Is this really what you want to do right this second?”
“I’m wondering if you remembered to invoice the businesses this year.” There is a tiny tremor in Ash’s voice. She hopes he didn’t hear it. She loves Second Bloom so much. Even more than the Three Sisters business at this point, she realizes. And yes, maybe she loves the charity because it makes her feel like a good person (Wade has accused her of this before), but she also loves it because she loves thepeople. She loves the nurses and the patients and the women.
“I’m not going to do this right now,” Wade says.
Her heart sinks. He didn’t remember. Or—and she feels horribly disloyal even thinking this—did he not invoiceon purpose? A sin of omission, not commission, but devastating nonetheless in its results? Because will they even be able to recoup the money, after so much time has passed? And what will the businesses think? Will they still trust the charity?
She thought he still supported Second Bloom. She thought they still hadthat, at least.
“Wade—” she begins, but he holds up his hand.
“No,” he says. “We’re not going to talk about this, Ash. Not when you still haven’t apologized.”
“Wait.” She’s missed something. “Apologized for what?”
Wade’s full attention is on her. “You’re kidding me.”
“I’m not,” Ash says.
“You’re really going to pretend like you don’t know?”
“Idon’tknow,” Ash says. For the trip? Is she supposed to apologize for the trip? But he said she should go. She tries that anyway. “I’m sorry about coming on this trip,” she says. “I know the timing wasn’t ideal, and that I’ve been traveling a lot for work lately.” She’s holding her breath. Did she get it right?
But Wade sighs, like he’s disappointed. He folds his arms. She focuses on them. He’s tan from hiking and strong from the gym—he’s been goingmore lately, now that he’s pushing forty. “The trip is the tip of the iceberg, Ash.”
“I don’t know what I’ve done.” Ash hears tears in her voice, and she knows that’s only going to make things worse. Wade hates it when she cries. He says it’s manipulative. “Can you just tell me?”
“You’re missing the whole point,” Wade says. “I shouldn’thaveto tell you.”
“But I’ve tried.” Ash is so tired, so exhausted. “I’ve tried so many things.” Couples counseling (she’d found the counselor; she’d begged him to go). Finally losing the ten pounds she gained with the kids (getting up at 4 a.m. to work out before the workday started and the kids needed help getting ready for school). Offering to give up the flower farm (but he likes the extra money it brings in, likes the lifestyle it helps provide even though he won’t say those words out loud). She’s doing her best to turn herself into a person that he will love again.
“They haven’t been the right things,” Wade says.
“Then whatarethe right things?” Ash asks.
Wade exhales in frustration. “You really don’t get it. If I have to tell you, Ash, then it doesn’tmeananything.”
Ash’s tears threaten to overflow. And standing here with her husband in the tiny, tight quarters of the Airstream, she realizes.
