I walked back to the kitchen and looked at the screen, my hand resting on the back of the chair.
The status changed to delivered.
The water in the sink was still warm, but the bubbles had died down to a thin layer of gray scum around the drain. I reached for the sponge, my mind still tracking the digital path of that invitation across town to Jordan’s new brick townhouse.
The gray screen of my phone lit up against the black granite counter, vibrating twice.
The text was short, written in the rapid, clipped style Jordan used when he wanted to settle a matter before anyone else could speak.
“Percy is part of my life now, and I will not attend without her.”
My hand stayed wet as I reached for the screen. I read the twelve words twice, my thumb hovering over the glass. I cleared my throat, the sound loud and scratchy in the empty kitchen. My silver wedding band clicked against the countertop as I set the phone face down.
I picked up a heavy white stoneware plate from the drying rack to rinse it again. My fingers were slick with soap, and the plate slipped, striking the center divider of the cast iron sink with a sharp, dry crack.
A clean crescent of white ceramic broke away from the edge and sank into the soapy water.
I left the chipped plate in the basin and walked down the short hallway to the study, my sneakers squeaking on the hardwood. The room still smelled of old ledger paper and the lemon wax I used on the desk twice a year.
The bottom drawer of the oak filing cabinet was where I kept the personal records. The green folder was supposed to be third from the front, right behind the house deed and the appraisal for the silver.
I pulled the drawer open until it hit the metal stop. My fingers went to the green tab, but there was only a gap between the yellow insurance files and the blue tax documents.
