Chapter Four
JILL WAKES ANDlooks across the bed at her husband, still asleep. It’s Saturday, but even so, it’s unusual. She wonders if he was awake half the night. She slips quietly out of the room and down the stairs.
She uneasily replays the dinner at the Odeon the night before in her mind. Ted, usually so engaged, hadn’t seemed to be paying attention, had been drinking more than usual. And it was disturbing, what Greg said– and Ted admitted– about losing heavily on an investment. He hadn’t told her. Greg might be an arrogant prick, but he’s smart and very successful, and he has his ear to the ground. Are things worse than Ted has led her to believe? Is that what’s been bothering him these last few weeks? She now realizes that of course it is– what else could it be? For a moment she can hardly breathe.
She makes herself a coffee and recalls how Ted had suggested she cut down on some of her expenditure, but he hadn’t insisted, and she hadn’t given it another thought. Is there moregoing on here than she knows? She carries her coffee down the hall to the front room, remembering Greg’s words,Are you sure you can afford to lose money hand over fist like that?
She tells herself they must be okay. They still have the brownstone, and it’s worth a fortune. It only has a small mortgage on it. Nothing is going to happen to it.
She loves this house; she loves everything about it. She remembers the first time she laid eyes on it, how she and Ted stood outside on the sidewalk with the real estate agent, looking up the high, wide steps that rose to the arched front doors. A classic mid-nineteenth-century Italianate brownstone, with a basement partly above ground, and three more storeys above. The agent explained how the high, wide stoop was meant to give a feeling of ascendency over those on the street and had the added advantage of setting the house farther back from the street as well. There was a cast-iron fence in front, and elaborate stone railings up the stairs. Jill took in the soft, rich brown of the stone, the fine details of the row of houses on the tree-lined street, and fell in love.
The impressive doorway was framed with ornamental carved stone, with a projecting hood overhead, a feature echoed above each of the tall windows. High above, beneath the flat roof, was a decorative cornice.
Once inside the entrance hall, having passed through a foyer between the two sets of arched double doors– it was all Jill could do not to swoon. She saw right away that the entire house was in rough shape, but a gracefully curved mahogany stairway led upward, while similar doors on the left of the hall led into the large front room, the original parlour. The tall windowsdropped all the way to the floor, flooding the room with light, the original wood shutters open. In the centre of the long wall across from the hall doors was a white marble fireplace with a rounded Italianate mantel, carved with a motif of leaves and flowers. The ceilings were twelve feet high, framed by decorative moulding. In the centre of the ceiling was an elaborate plaster rosette. More doors led into a second parlour, or dining room, behind the front room. It also had a fireplace and similar ornamentation. This room led into a dingy kitchen that needed to be replaced, but Jill could see the potential. There was a large, private backyard that could be turned into a restful garden. They moved back down the hall to the stairs, where Jill, looking up, noticed there was even a round skylight to help brighten the stairwell. Upstairs on the first floor, the ceilings were not quite as high, and the ornamentation not so pronounced. But there were three large bedrooms and two baths, and three more large rooms on the top floor.
Jill knew she had to have it. And it was the best decision she ever made. The house had needed a lot of work, but they had enjoyed every bit of it. Of course, they hadn’t done much of it themselves– they’d hired the best they could find. They’d spared no expense restoring the house to its original grandeur, and it had been shockingly expensive.
They have been so happy here.
Now, she enters the front room, crosses the herringbone floor, and sits down on the deep sofa facing the tall windows. She has always found this room serene, but she’s not feeling serene now. Her uneasiness is impossible to ignore. She has never really paid attention to their financial situation, but maybe she should. Tedhandles the banking, the bills, the investments. After all, it’s his money, he inherited it. Investments are his business, and she trusts he knows what he’s doing. But Greg has planted the seed of doubt: Does he, really?DoesTed know what he’s doing? She has her own money, in her own account, from her job, but she considers it pin money. Ted has always been generous and pays for everything– the house, the extensive renovations, furnishings, clothes, their trips. She’s never had to think about money since she met him, except how lovely it is to have it. They have millions in the bank, don’t they?
Her heart begins to beat faster as she considers the possibility that they don’t. She realizes she doesn’t even know how to get into the accounts to check. Ted does everything online, and she doesn’t know his passwords. She has been a fool for not paying attention, but all the women she knows with wealthy husbands leave the finances to them. She thought she could trust him. Now she remembers how evasive he’s been whenever she mentions the possibility of starting her own gallery. How will he react if she confronts him? She doesn’t want to cause a deep rift. She doesn’t want their comfortable life upset. Surely things can’t be that bad, she thinks, her stomach turning over. But she can’t stand uncertainty; it makes her anxious. She must know the truth.
She puts her empty cup down on the coffee table and climbs the stairs to the master bedroom at the front of the house, wrapping her robe more tightly around her.
Ted is still lying in bed, and she feels a twinge of annoyance. He should be up. She pulls the curtains open, a little more noisily than necessary. She watches Ted blink and, bare chested, sit up against the headboard.
‘What time is it?’ he asks, as if confused.
‘It’s almost ten,’ she says.
‘That late?’ he answers, surprised. ‘I must have had more to drink last night than I realized.’
‘About that,’ she says, coming over to the bed now and sitting at the foot of it to face him. She’s been awake for a while, has had coffee. He’s still blinking away sleep. It makes her feel as if she’s at an advantage.
‘What?’ he says.
She gives him a serious look. ‘Ted, we need to talk.’ He regards her warily but doesn’t answer. She continues. ‘You know you haven’t been yourself lately. And last night– what was your brother getting at? He seemed to be insinuating that you couldn’t afford to lose that money.’
‘I told you, he was just being an asshole, as usual.’ But he doesn’t meet her eyes.
‘Ted, I know something’s been bothering you, even though you’ve been trying to hide it. I’m not stupid. I know you’ve been getting up in the night. You haven’t been yourself for weeks. Why not try telling me the truth? I’m not going to break.’ She sounds braver than she feels.
He looks at her then and the expression on his face frightens her. She has an odd sensation of falling. She wishes she hadn’t asked. He has something awful to tell her and now that he’s about to tell her, she’s not ready.
He stares at her for a moment without speaking. She wants to scream at him,What is it? What are you keeping from me?But instead, she takes a breath and says, ‘What is it, Ted? How can I help?’
‘You can’t help,’ he says.
‘Of course I can,’ she replies, although she has no idea if it’s true. ‘Just tell me what’s wrong.’
‘I didn’t want to worry you.’
‘Well, I’m worried now, so just tell me.’
He says, ‘We’re almost out of money.’
She sits completely still as his words take hold of her. There’s an awful silence as the news settles. She enunciates carefully. ‘How is that possible?’
