Not Enough Support From My Husband, His Best Friend Stepped In novel · Chapter 3 of 16

Chapter 3: The Harbor Club

In front of the whole gala Marissa produces withdrawals on a card in Lainey's name, then points at Shane.

Marissa's smile didn't move at all.

She leaned into the microphone.

"Oh my goodness. Mrs. Sumner came!"

Three hundred heads turned toward the door.

Toward me, in my tight navy dress, with a milk stain I'd missed on the shoulder.

"Everyone, this is Dalton's wife," Marissa said. "She just had a baby, so be nice."

A few people laughed.

She handed the microphone to the quartet's cellist and came down the steps toward me.

The crystals on her gown threw little lights on the ceiling.

Dalton was behind her, trying to get through the crowd.

"Mrs. Sumner," Marissa said, loud enough for the tables around us. "Did you come for the buffet? The crab cakes are amazing."

A woman at the nearest table snorted into her wine.

"I came to see the statements," I said.

"Here?"

"You said you had them."

Marissa tilted her head.

She looked at my dress, from the neckline to the hem.

"Is that from Target? It's cute. It's very brave."

More laughter.

Shane stepped up beside me.

He didn't say anything.

He just stood there, close enough that I could feel his shoulder behind mine.

Marissa's eyes flicked to him and back.

"Oh, and you brought a date," she said. "How fun."

Then a hand closed on my elbow and pulled me half a step back.

Ingrid Sumner, in pearls and black silk.

"What are you doing?" she said through her teeth. "Look at yourself. Go home."

"Hello, Ingrid."

"You are embarrassing my son in front of his entire board."

Dalton finally got through.

He looked at me, then at Shane behind me.

"Lainey. Not here."

"You said you'd go through every statement yourself," I said. "So go through them. Right now. Here."

"We'll do it in the morning."

"She's had them for three months. She said so on the phone. What's one more minute?"

The tables around us had gone quiet.

A man in a gray suit set his fork down to listen.

Marissa looked at Dalton with big wet eyes.

"Dalton, it's fine," she said. "I don't mind. I have nothing to hide."

She took her phone out of a tiny crystal bag.

She tapped the screen a few times and held it out to him.

Not to me. To him.

He read it.

He scrolled with one finger.

He scrolled again, slower.

Somewhere behind us, the quartet had stopped playing.

I watched the color leave his face.

"Show her," Shane said.

Dalton turned the phone around.

It was the household account.

On the first of every month, $80,000 in from Dalton Sumner.

Then $800 out to me.

Then, on the fifteenth, a cash withdrawal at a bank branch on Boylston Street.

$79,200.

Then the same in March.

Next to each withdrawal it said "Debit card ending 4471, L. Sumner."

"I've never seen that card in my life," I said.

"It's in your name," Marissa said gently.

"I didn't open it."

"Mrs. Sumner, I'm not accusing you of anything. Postpartum is hard. Maybe you needed something for yourself. Nobody would blame you."

"I needed formula."

"Then where is the money?"

That was Ingrid.

She said it loud enough for the back of the room.

"Nearly eighty thousand dollars a month, in cash. Where did it go, Lainey?"

Dalton was still looking at the phone.

"Lainey," he said. "If you needed something, you could have told me."

"I called you."

"You didn't."

"I called you forty times."

He shook his head slowly.

That hurt more than Ingrid did.

Marissa put her hand on Dalton's arm.

"I didn't want to bring this up," she said quietly.

But she didn't say it quietly enough.

She looked right past me, at Shane.

"Maybe you should ask Dr. Coyle where the money went. He's been at your house an awful lot, hasn't he?"

The man in the gray suit made a small, delighted noise.

Every eye at every table moved from me to Shane.

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