At a Charity Auction, My Husband Sold My Best Friend the Seven Days He Promised Me novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: Eight Weeks

June played the recording three times, standing at the barn's workbench with her arms crossed.

After the first time she said nothing.

After the second she said a word I will not write down.

After the third she turned the phone over, face down, and slid it back to me across the bench.

"Co-signer," she said. "On a loan he's never mentioned, with a coat on the hook and a stethoscope. Doctors don't leave stethoscopes at board dinners."

"I noticed."

"You noticed Monday. You're only believing it now."

"I believe it now."

"Good." She pulled up a stool. "Here is what you're not going to do. You're not going to walk in tonight and throw that phone at her head, and you're not going to cry on the lawn Sunday where the neighbors can see."

"I wasn't going to cry on the lawn."

"I know. I want it said out loud." June tapped the bench. "You want them standing in a room full of people who matter, with the news cameras running, while the truth comes out of their own mouths. Is that right?"

"That's right."

"Then Sunday is the only day that works, and you're already on the program."

I nodded.

"The sound," June said. "Who runs the microphones?"

"The charity hires a man with a laptop. He takes my slides from a drive."

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