Chapter 7: Declined

On Monday morning I stood at a pharmacy counter with a bottle of prenatal vitamins and a card that didn't work.

"It says declined," the pharmacist said gently.

"Try it again."

She ran it again. The machine made the same flat sound.

I knew the reason before I opened the app.

My paycheck went into the joint account, and Damon had set that up.

The balance said zero. A banner said the account was under review at the request of a primary holder.

I paid for the vitamins with the cash in my coat pocket and walked to work.

The dental office was two blocks away, in a brick building I had never once thought about owning.

The waiting room was full, and everyone looked up when I came in.

The receptionist stood and hugged me over my belly, hard and without a word.

"The doctor wants you in his office," she whispered.

My boss sat behind his desk with his reading glasses pushed up on his head.

He was a heavy, gentle man in his sixties who brought donuts on Fridays and cried at weddings.

"Sit," he said. "Please."

I sat.

"Donald Carraway called me at seven this morning."

My hands closed in my lap.

"He says you're having a difficult pregnancy."

"He says you've made false accusations against his family, and that it would be a kindness to let you take leave."

"I'm not sick."

"I know you're not."

He took off the glasses and set them on the blotter.

"He also reminded me that Carraway Realty owns this building, and the lease comes up in March."

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