The Lies Behind Her Marriage novel · Chapter 18 of 24

Chapter 18: The Cottage

Marcia Keane's kitchen had a yellow stove, a pot of soup the size of a bucket, and a calendar from a bus-parts supplier.

"Sit," she said, before we were in the door.

"Both of you. I'm not asking."

She had put her cardigan on over her coat to keep warm while she cooked.

She did not seem to notice.

We sat at the round table, Nolan on one side, me on the other, the soup tureen between us.

"You drove here in a snowstorm," Marcia said, ladling.

"There's no storm," Nolan said.

"There will be," his mother said, and a minute later the window went white.

"Thirty-one winters driving a bus," she said.

"I can smell weather."

I tasted the soup.

It was chicken and rice, with a lot of pepper.

"This is good," I said.

"I know."

Nolan had not touched his bowl.

His eyes were red and his hands were still, and he looked ten years younger and ten years older than he had that morning.

"Eat," Marcia said to him.

"Mom."

"I let you plan your revenge on an empty stomach for eleven years," she said.

"You can eat now."

He picked up his spoon.

"You knew," I said to her.

"I knew," Marcia said.

She set down the ladle and folded her hands.

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