“Everything is fine, Caroline,” I said, my fingers finding my wedding band again. “We are just going through a quiet patch.”
“A quiet patch is when people do not talk,” Caroline said, her eyes scanning the hallway. “This feels like someone is holding a match near a dry curtain.”
“He is just worried about the finances,” I said.
“Then why did I see his car parked near the toy shop on Oak Lane last Thursday?” she asked.
I looked at her, my hand pausing on the handle of the silver coffee pot.
“He was probably picking up something for a client’s child,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.
“He does not even look at our own son’s drawings,” Caroline said. “Why would he buy toys for a client?”
“It is just business,” I said, turning away to fetch the teacups from the sideboard.
“You are going to keep quiet until there is nothing left of you,” she said, her voice dropping but losing none of its speed.
