Chapter 10: The Loan

I did not sleep.

At six in the morning I was still at the counter on Fourth Street.

The blue binder lay open beside a cold cup of tea.

Clark had stayed, on the floor by the door with his back against the wall and his boots crossed.

I had asked him to.

He had said yes before I finished the sentence.

"Four hundred and twelve thousand," I said, to the window.

"Last year's profit," he said. "That's what the yard cleared after payroll."

"And I got two hundred and twenty dollars and eighty cents."

"Twelve cards, yes."

I turned a page.

"They paid for the cabin out of it. And the boat slip. And the cars."

"Yes."

"And they let me scrape a card on Sunday and feel grateful."

My voice cracked on the last word.

Clark got up.

He crossed the room and stood beside me without touching me.

I could feel the warmth of his arm through his sleeve.

"Katie. Look at me."

I looked.

His eyes were grey, I noticed.

I had never noticed.

"They're going to spend the next month trying to scare you," he said. "A custody fight. Money. Lydia."

He shook his head.

"You don't give them one hour of that."

"I want to burn the house down."

"I know."

"I want Constance to read that number out loud at her own table."

"I know."

He almost smiled.

"You'll get to. But we do it in front of everyone, and we do it once."

I put the pen down.

I did not want to be strategic.

I wanted something simple and warm and mine.

He was standing eight inches away with the first light on his beard.

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