The Lies Behind Her Marriage novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Binder
At her anniversary dinner Serena finds the closing binder with her signature page and her husband's note, and walks out in front of his guests.
Our second anniversary dinner had six candles, five guests, and one lie I did not know about yet.
I was carving the lamb when Nolan said, "Serena, my study. Top drawer. The good corkscrew."
He kissed my temple as he said it.
His hand stayed on the small of my back a second too long.
I should have noticed that.
The study was dark except for the lamp, and the lamp was on the closing binder.
It sat open in the middle of his desk, thick as a phone book.
The tab on the front read DRAY COLD CHAIN, SALE TO REDFERN LOGISTICS.
My father had built Dray Cold Chain from one truck.
He had died thirteen months ago, and Nolan had run the company since.
Nobody had told me it was for sale.
I turned the pages with two fingers.
Page nine was a signature block with my name typed under it.
SERENA DRAY, HOLDER OF THE DRAY SEAT.
The line above it was empty.
A yellow sticky note was pressed beside it, in Nolan's handwriting.
"Dinner Thursday. She signs after the toast. Friday I file. Leave her the house."
I read it three times.
Then I opened the top drawer for the corkscrew, and under it lay a photograph.
A man in a canvas jacket stood in front of a truck that said KEANE HAULAGE.
He had Nolan's jaw.
On the back, in Nolan's hand, were the words "Dray took it. 2012. Finish it."
My hands were steady when I picked up the binder.
That surprised me.
I carried it down the hall and into the dining room, and I set it on the table beside the lamb.
Five faces looked up.
Roland Haldeman, the chairman of my father's board, stopped with his fork in the air.
Colm Redfern, the man from Redfern Logistics, leaned back in his chair.
Nolan stood so fast his chair scraped.
"Serena."
"You asked me for a corkscrew," I said.
"I found a sale."
Nobody moved.
"I didn't know my father's company was for sale," I said to the table.
"I didn't know it had a buyer."
I turned the binder to page nine and slid it across to Roland.
"Did you know my husband planned to file for divorce on Friday?"
Roland looked at the page, then at Nolan.
He did not look surprised.
I noticed that too.
"Serena, sit down," Nolan said quietly.
"Let me explain."
"Explain the sticky note," I said.
"Explain 'Leave her the house.'"
Colm laughed.
It was a short, easy laugh, the laugh of a man who had been told this part would go smoothly.
"Nolan, you said she'd sign anything with a candle lit," he said.
"You said you'd had two years of practice."
Nolan shut his eyes.
It was the first true thing I saw on his face all night.
I took off my wedding ring.
I set it in the gravy boat.
It made a small wet sound that I will hear for the rest of my life.
"Nolan was kind to me for three years," I said.
"He cooked.
He held my hair when I had the flu.
He cried at my father's funeral, and I held him up."
Nobody at the table could look at me, so I looked at each of them.
"I want to be sure I have this right," I said.
"He married me to take my father's company."
"Serena," Nolan said.
"Say yes or no."
His throat worked.
"Yes," he said.
One word, and the whole room heard it.
My knees did not shake.
I told myself they would later, in private, and they could wait.
I picked up my purse.
I picked up page nine and tore it free of the binder.
"What are you doing?" Colm said.
"This is a sale document."
"It's a blank page with my name under it," I said.
"It stays blank."
"You're leaving?" Nolan said.
"Tonight?"
"I have a key to my own father's house," I said.
"You never asked me about it."
I walked past him.
I could feel him not touching me.
At the door I stopped, because something Colm had said was still sitting wrong.
"Why does he need me to sign it at all?" I said.
"He has my proxy.
He has the shares."
Nobody answered.
Then Roland Haldeman cleared his throat.
"The Dray seat isn't shares, Serena."
"It's you."
"It can't be sold or signed over.
Your father put it in your name."
My heart gave one hard beat.
Colm had gone the color of the tablecloth.
"Nolan," he said.
"Nolan, tell me she doesn't hold it herself."
Nolan said nothing.
I looked down at the torn page in my hand.
I smiled at my husband for the first time that night.
"Then nothing closes," I said, "without me."
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