Chapter 16: Married When It Paid

Spencer's car sat in the driveway of the rented house with the trunk open.

Lydia stood on the porch in her cream coat.

Beside her, the landlord, a heavy man in a Browns cap, held a clipboard and looked unhappy to be there.

"I own this place," he told me as I came up the walk. "Your husband tells me he's breaking the lease."

"He's not my husband," I said.

"He's the name on the lease."

"He put only his name on it," I said. "I paid the rent."

The landlord looked at Lydia, and then at the clipboard, and then at the sky.

Inside, the living room I had lived in for two years was half in boxes.

My boxes were by the door, labeled in my handwriting.

His were stacked by the stairs.

Spencer came down with a lamp in his arms and stopped on the bottom step.

"You brought a crowd," he said.

"I brought a witness," said Lydia.

She held up her phone with the red dot running.

"Eighteen thousand dollars," she said. "In September, you asked me for the venue deposit for June. You said they only took a bank draft."

"Lyd."

"I called the venue from the car. They have no booking in your name. They have no booking in mine."

Spencer set the lamp down, carefully, on the stair.

"There was a mix-up."

"There was a mix-up with eighteen thousand dollars."

"I'll get it back to you by the end of the month."

"Where is it?"

He didn't answer.

His eyes went to the box by the stairs, the one marked Papers, and then away.

I saw it, and Lydia saw me see it.

"Sir," I said to the landlord, "I'd like you to stay for this."

"I'd like to be anywhere else," said the landlord, but he stayed.

I walked to the box and lifted the flap.

"Don't touch that," Spencer said. "That's my private..."

"You took them off my kitchen table."

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