“I understand,” Simon said on the other side. “You have to be patient. I promise...”
When his voice dipped, she leaned toward the door. What exactly was Simon promising?
His voice strengthened again. “We’ll both be swimming in cash,” he told the caller. “It won’t be long before I can cut loose from this rathole.”
Rathole? Was Simon talking about this house he’d inherited or wherever he stayed in Cleveland?
“I’ll have the money to you by Friday,” he promised.
Two days from now.
Izzy clenched her fists. Why didn’t Simon tell this man and the others to stop calling? She didn’t want Louie or anyone else getting their hands on what little he managed to bring home.
Her ear pressed against the door, all she heard was silence. She returned quickly to their room and tucked herself under the covers.
“Don’t answer the telephone again,” he said, standing in their doorway, holding a freshly poured glass of whiskey.
Izzy pulled her arms around her chest, protecting the bruise. “Someone has to answer it.”
“If the professor and I aren’t here, let the housekeeper do her job.”
“She doesn’t work at one in the morning.”
“Then wake me up.” He circled around the bed and stretched his long legs out on the comforter like he might need to rush back to the office for another call. “And for all Pete’s sake, stop calling yourself Mrs. Farrow. It’s not fashionable at our age to refer to ourselves as Mr. and Mrs.”
“It seems like the proper thing to do.”
“When we’re fifty, maybe. Which of your starlets goes by Mrs.?”
She thought for a moment about the women in her magazines before conceding. “None of them, I suppose.”
“Then grow up, please. You’re embarrassing us both.”
And she felt so small, like an insect on the wall, something he wouldn’t even notice if she wasn’t buzzing in his face.
“Simon?”
He grunted in response.
“Will Theodore be coming to visit us soon?”
“Who?”
“Your brother.” The man he’d called Clarence when she’d asked if he would join them for Christmas.
“Last time we talked, Theo said he was never returning home.”
So there was no brother. Clarence or Theodore or any other name. Why did he keep lying to her? And then telling her that the professor was losing his mind.
One day, maybe, he would care for her again like he’d done in the early months, but in the meantime, she thought it best to have some time apart.
She didn’t try to tease him again, her voice quiet but strong. “Greta and I are going to Elms for a few weeks.”
She’d gladly work nights now in the paper mill to support them.
Simon elbowed his way back up on the pillow. “You’re leaving me here alone?”
In the rathole,she thought, that he was trying to break free from. But she didn’t dare let him know she’d heard his conversation. She already knew so little, and he’d be even more cautious with his words.
