He loosened his collar again, his eyes avoiding mine as he stared at the exit doors.
“I have spent six months setting up this trip with the corporate office,” he said. “If I back out now, they will give the regional position to Miller. We need that salary, Helen. Especially now.”
“We need you here,” I said. “What if I go into labor while you are in the middle of the Atlantic?”
“You are only twenty-four weeks,” he said. “We have time. I will talk to the travel coordinator tomorrow and see what the options are.”
The receptionist called my name to hand over the paperwork, and Daniel stood up quickly, using the interruption to end the conversation.
The house was quiet by eight o’clock that evening. I lay on the living room sofa with three pillows under my hips, watching the shadows of the maple trees move across the wall. The hum of our old refrigerator was the only sound in the kitchen.
In the den at the end of the hall, I heard the sharp metallic slide of a desk drawer. Daniel had been in there for an hour, supposedly sorting through his sales reports before his scheduled departure.
