Chapter 2 - Thursdays at Seven.
Michael followed Emily into the kitchen while Evelyn remained in the dining room, blotting orange juice from her dress with furious little motions.
Emily set Michael's phone on the counter but kept one hand over it.
"You have thirty seconds before I call Lauren back."
"Don't do that."
"Twenty-nine."
Michael rubbed both hands over his face.
"I've been meeting her on Thursdays."
Emily almost laughed because the admission sounded too simple for the fear surrounding it.
"I know that now."
"It isn't an affair."
"Then why hide her name?"
Michael looked toward the dining room.
"Because I knew how it would look."
"You knew how it would look because you knew it was wrong."
"That's not the same thing."
Emily stared at him until he looked away.
Their kitchen had always been the safest room in the house.
They had painted the cabinets together, argued over backsplash tile, and celebrated Michael's promotion by eating takeout on the floor before the table arrived.
Now every familiar object seemed to belong to somebody else's life.
"What happens on Thursdays?"
Michael leaned against the counter.
"Lauren came to me about a financial problem."
"What financial problem?"
"She was behind on some debt."
Emily frowned.
Lauren had complained about money before, but she also posted vacation photos, bought designer handbags, and insisted everything was fine whenever Emily offered help.
"How much?"
"It started small."
"How much, Michael?"
He hesitated.
"About eighty thousand."
Emily's breath caught.
"Eighty thousand dollars is not small."
"I know."
"And you gave it to her?"
"Not exactly."
The phrase made her skin go cold.
"What does 'not exactly' mean?"
Before Michael could answer, Evelyn appeared in the doorway.
Her dress was damp, but her expression had regained its hard composure.
"It means he didn't have eighty thousand dollars to give her."
Michael's jaw tightened.
"Go home, Mom."
"You called me here."
Emily looked sharply at him.
"You invited her tonight?"
Michael said nothing.
Evelyn folded her arms.
"He thought I would help smooth things over after the bank letter arrived."
Emily stared at Michael.
"What bank letter?"
He pushed away from the counter.
"I was going to tell you."
"You keep saying that about things you already chose not to tell me."
Emily walked to the small desk beside the pantry where unopened mail sat in a brass tray.
She sorted through envelopes until she found one from Commonwealth Harbor Bank.
It was addressed to both Emily Carter and Michael Carter.
The top edge had been carefully slit open and then tucked beneath a grocery flyer.
Emily pulled out the letter.
Her eyes moved over the first paragraph.
Then she read it again.
"Notice of collateral review," she said.
Michael moved toward her.
"Emily."
She stepped back.
"Why is my father's trust property listed as collateral for a line of credit?"
Michael's face lost color.
Evelyn watched him with open contempt.
"Because Thursday nights weren't dates," she said.
"They were planning meetings."
Emily read the letter a third time.
Her father had left her a minority share in a commercial property outside Boston, an asset managed by a trust until she turned thirty-five.
She had turned thirty five months earlier.
The transfer paperwork was still being finalized.
She had never authorized the property as security for anything.
"This says the credit line is four hundred fifty thousand dollars."
Michael raised both palms.
"We didn't draw all of it."
Emily looked up slowly.
"We?"
Michael closed his eyes.
The word had escaped him.
Emily picked up his phone.
"I'm calling Lauren."
Michael stepped forward.
"Please let me explain first."
"You just did."
She dialed Lauren's number.
This time Lauren answered after two rings.
"Emily, I can explain."
Emily gave a quiet, stunned laugh.
"Apparently everybody can explain."
Lauren's breathing came fast through the speaker.
"Michael said you knew about the investment."
Emily looked at her husband.
He stared at the floor.
"What investment?"
Lauren went silent.
"Lauren."
"The Cedar Ridge project."
Emily had never heard the name.
"What did Michael tell you I agreed to?"
Lauren whispered the answer.
"Everything."
Emily felt a pressure behind her ribs.
Michael reached toward the phone.
She moved away.
"Send me every document you have."
"Emily, please."
"Tonight."
She ended the call.
Michael looked exhausted now, but Emily felt no sympathy.
"Where are the originals?"
"What originals?"
"The papers with my signature."
His silence lasted half a second too long.
Emily understood.
"You have documents with my signature on them."
Evelyn turned toward her son.
For the first time that evening, even she looked surprised.
Michael swallowed.
"They're copies."
Emily's voice dropped to almost nothing.
"Copies of what?"
Michael did not answer.
His phone buzzed under Emily's palm.
A message preview appeared from Lauren.
I found the signed authorization.
Emily stared at those five words.
Then another message arrived.
May you like
You need to know Michael changed the last page after you signed.
THE THURSDAY CALL
