“You’ve let us live here for seven years. Why didn’t you make that clear?”
“I did explain the arrangement to Darren when he moved in.”
She turned toward her husband.
“Is that true?”
He nodded.
“Dad went through it with me. Mom was there.”
“Then why didn’t you explain it to me when we married?”
Darren looked genuinely ashamed.
“I thought you’d feel more secure if you believed the house was ours.”
She stared at him.
“You lied to make me feel secure?”
“I thought I’d inherit it someday.”
“You thought.”
His shoulders sagged.
For years, he’d presented himself to Thalia as a man who owned a beautiful house and could comfortably support a family.
He had a stable job and paid his own living expenses, but the foundation of the life he’d described was not what she’d believed.
I had made it possible for him to live in a house without a mortgage or rent.
He’d turned that arrangement into a story about his own financial accomplishments.
Then he’d apparently told his wife he was supporting me to reinforce the image.
Thalia looked toward me.
“And you’ve known this whole time?”
“I knew the house belonged to the trust. I didn’t know Darren had been telling you he supported me.”
She studied my cardigan.
“And all these years, you’ve been dressing like you can’t afford decent clothes.”
“I buy what I like.”
“You don’t even own a car.”
“I sold my car after Harold died.”
“Because you needed money?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
