He Left Me to Die. Now I'll Survive Without Him! novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Her Half

She takes her half of the joint account in front of Brent and Shelby, then finds survey stakes on her grandfather's fence.

The credit union opened at nine, and I was the first one through the door.

The banker at the desk knew me from the night shift.

I had once driven her father to the hospital with a blocked artery.

"I want to withdraw half of our joint savings," I said. "Fifty-six thousand. Cashier's checks, payable to me."

She tapped at her keyboard. "That's allowed with either signature, Lena. Is everything all right?"

"It will be."

She printed the checks while I watched the clock over her head.

The account had a text alert on it.

Brent had set it up himself in the spring, because he liked to know where the money was.

I had been standing there twenty-two minutes when the glass doors opened.

Brent came through them fast, in his dealership polo, with his phone in his hand.

A woman followed a step behind him, out of breath.

I had never seen her in person, and I knew her anyway.

Shelby Dunning had shoulder-length brown hair and an open, anxious face.

She carried a cardboard tray with three coffees in it.

"Lena?" She lit up when she saw me. "Oh my gosh, Lena, finally. Brent talks about you all the time."

She held out a cup. "Oat milk, no sugar. He says that's how you take it."

I took the cup, because my hands needed something to do.

It was exactly how I take it.

"Babe." Brent set his palm flat on the desk. "My phone just lit up with a fifty-six-thousand-dollar withdrawal. What's going on?"

"I'm taking my half."

"Your half of what?" He laughed and looked at the banker for backup. "We're saving for the boat."

"We are not saving for a boat," I said. "You've wanted one for six years, and I've said no for six years."

The banker kept her eyes on her screen.

Two people in the waiting chairs had stopped pretending to read.

"Lena." Shelby touched my sleeve. "Whatever this is, I'm sure you two can talk it out. I hate seeing people upset."

Her hand was warm and her voice was kind.

Brent had told me she was shy.

"I'm not upset," I said to Brent. "Sign here, and I'll leave you the other half."

"You can't just empty it."

"I haven't. Fifty-six thousand is still in there. The banker can show you the signature card. Either one of us, any amount."

The banker nodded without looking up.

Brent breathed out through his nose.

When he spoke again his voice had gone soft, the one he used on customers who were walking off the lot.

"Okay. I hear you. Something's gotten to you, and I get it. Let's go home and talk."

"I'm going out to the farm."

"The farm? We agreed to sell the farm."

The waiting room went quiet.

"Did we?" I said.

Shelby's cup stopped halfway to her mouth.

Brent's smile held, which was the impressive part.

"I mean eventually. Someday. Come on, Lena. You know I'm only thinking about us."

"I know exactly what you're thinking about," I said.

I took the cashier's checks and slid them into my jacket.

"Thank you," I told the banker. "Keep the coffee. It's good."

I set the cup on her desk and walked out.

Brent didn't follow me, though I had been a little afraid he would.

Behind me Shelby's voice rose, small and worried. "Brent, should we go after her?"

Then the doors shut.

The drive to the farm took twenty minutes.

The road narrowed after Marlow, and the pavement gave way to gravel at the cattle guard.

My grandfather's ridge rose ahead of me, eighty acres of hayfield and hardwood with a limestone cellar dug into the hillside.

He had left it to me and nobody else.

I was a mile from the gate when I saw the orange.

Wooden stakes ran along the fence line, one every thirty feet.

Each one had a strip of bright ribbon tied to the top.

I stopped the truck and got out.

Somebody had walked the whole boundary of my land last week and measured it for a sale.

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