She felt so foolish. The long, lonesome days without Simon had fueledher imagination, her story world distracting the worry, but while she was busy working, it seemed he’d been scheming to take what she’d earned.
She had been planning to deposit her next royalty check that afternoon, a sizeable sum sinceLavender Ridgecontinued to sell. Instead she would open an account elsewhere. In Lititz perhaps, under the name of Olivia Ashe. And Simon would never know.
“I’d like to close my account.”
“Now, Mrs. Farrow—”
“On second thought...” If she closed it, Simon would search for another account. “Leave it be, but, please, Dr. Farrow is not permitted to withdraw any more funds or take a loan in my name.”
“I’ll inform my clerks,” Mr. McLean said. “Again, I apologize...”
“It’s not your fault.” It was hers alone for marrying the man.
Home was a mere ten-minute drive, but she opted to meander the back roads. If she hadn’t confronted Simon this past April, she might have thought the withdrawals were an oversight. They’d talked again of keeping their finances separate. Agreed to it, in fact. He’d looked straight at her like... like that night at Antoine’s Eatery two years ago when she’d teased him about lying. Back then, he had placed his hand over his heart like he was pledging allegiance and swore he would never lie to her.
And she had believed him, dismissing Hattie’s concerns and ignoring the questions and counsel from friends like Reverend Donahue. She’d snubbed all of them because she wanted to believe Simon cared for her as she had cared for him.
Had he been lying to her all along?
They’d seemed to connect over so many things from their shared grief to their mutual love of the written word. She’d enjoyed his company immensely, especially in the first months, but what if the foundation of their relationship was deception? The reason he’d readily agreed to separate lives.
Had he proposed marriage to steal her income?
Between the loans from Clinton and her drained savings account, he had taken almost ten thousand dollars. And they couldn’t even discuss it now that he was in Europe, doing whatever the government required of him.
She wanted to be proud of his service, his willing response when their country called him to arms, but how could she be pleased with a man who’d been winding his way like a snake through her garden? Then played her for a fool.
No wonder his visits dwindled after they married. The moment she’d signed her name on that marriage license, she gave him access to her reputation and money. Then he moved on to bilking her funds through Clinton and Mr. McLean. Even the hundred dollars in her kitchen envelope—did he take that too?
Her husband, the one who’d vowed to cherish and protect her, was a thief.
As she followed the roads between farmland and forest, she thought back over the past two years, from the invitation on behalf of his students for the Winfield panel to the evening they first met. Then all the months that Simon had devotedly pursued and finally married her, to the moment they’d said goodbye in the draft office.
During the college panel, Dr. Kinsley had toted her tremendous sales. Is that why Simon had invited her out for a meal before visiting her at Haven House?
Her stomach churned. She’d thought he cared for her—truly—but the absurdity now. Had it been nothing but a game? And when he returned from war, was he planning to steal everything she had?
Her sedan rattled across the covered bridge that the Ashe family built long ago. She parked beside the creek, not quite ready to return home. All the sweet memories in Haven House, of Graham and Hattie and their many guests, had been tainted by Simon’s deceit. Over the past year, she’dgranted him complete access to her body, heart, mind, and perhaps even a bit of her soul. In the end, it seemed, money was what he’d wanted most.
Did the people in Winfield—Mrs. Vane and Izzy and the others—know Simon’s character? Or had he reserved his betrayal for her? She wanted to drive across the state line this afternoon and tell them the truth, but what would that accomplish? Mrs. Vane didn’t even believe they were married nor would she. While their union was bound by the state of Pennsylvania, Simon didn’t treat her like his wife.
Mr. McLean said that Simon had started inquiring after her money before they married. While she was in California. Had he visited Haven House last February while she was gone? Perhaps that’s when he took money from the envelope. Perhaps...
No. He would never harm Hattie. Her imagination was spiraling again in all the wrong directions.
Then again, she’d thought she imagined seeing Eli in the trees two years past, and it turned out that he was quite real.
She wouldn’t return home until she had a conversation with Jillian Lamb.
Five minutes later, as she stepped onto the Lamb family porch, Jillian called for Olivia through an open window, inviting her inside.
“How are you?” Jillian asked, her hands buried in a lump of dough.
Flour covered a wooden counter, and the entire kitchen smelled like peanut butter and sugar, a dozen cookies cooling on a rack. While the walls were a sage green, Jillian displayed the boldest colors above her cabinets—glass jars filled with peaches, beets, pumpkin cubes, tomatoes, asparagus, carrots, and her famed pepper jam. The woman was a marvel. All Olivia had stored in her house were manuscript pages and jars of moonflower seeds, waiting to be planted in the spring.
“It’s not been my best day,” Olivia replied. “How can I help?”
“You willing to knead some dough?”
