Chapter 13: The Inspection

Constance arrived at nine the next morning with her lawyer, a driver and two suitcases.

I was standing in the old kitchen in Hayes's sweater, trying to light a camp stove.

Hayes came in from the hall with his jaw set.

"She says she has the right," he said.

"Does she?"

"The trust says the trustee may inspect the marriage. It doesn't say for how long."

Constance walked into the kitchen and set her handbag on the only clean counter.

She looked at the camp stove, at the cracked sink and at me.

"Dear," she said. "How rustic."

"Come in, Constance," I said. "Don't touch anything. Most of it's older than you."

Her lawyer opened his leather folder and uncapped a pen.

"The inspection is simple," Constance said. "I ask you both a few things any husband and wife would know. The office reads the answers."

"And if we answer wrong?" I said.

"Then the certificate is not accepted, the marriage is a convenience, and the Sayre note falls due in full."

The lawyer wrote that down.

My stomach dropped, and I kept my face still.

"Joanna," Constance said. "How does your husband take his coffee?"

"Black. And he drinks mine anyway."

"What does she take, Hayes?"

"Two sugars," Hayes said. "She says one."

I felt my ears go warm.

Constance's mouth thinned.

"Which side of the bed is yours?"

"Left," I said.

"Left," Hayes said at the same moment.

The lawyer wrote.

"Where did you sleep last night?"

"Upstairs, in his father's room," I said. "With the window open, because the radiator doesn't work."

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