Chapter 2 - BREAKFAST FOR EVERYONEPatricia Monroe entered my kitchen like she owned it.
She had been doing that for years.
She came through the hallway carrying an enormous designer tote, wearing white capri pants, a coral sweater, and the expression of a woman arriving at a hotel where the staff had disappointed her.
Behind her came Derek’s younger sister, Jenna, Jenna’s husband Tyler, and their three children.
Nobody said happy birthday.
Not one person.
Patricia placed her handbag on my kitchen island.
“Good, you’re awake.”
I was standing barefoot beside the coffee maker, still wearing the wet pajamas Derek had soaked.
Her eyes moved over me.
“Why are you drenched?”
“Derek poured a bucket of water over me.”
Patricia paused.
Then she chuckled.
“Oh, boys.”
I looked at her.
Derek was forty-one.
Apparently, Patricia believed masculinity came with a lifelong exemption from adulthood.
Jenna wandered into the pantry.
“Do you have maple syrup?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
She turned toward me as if I had failed an inspection.
“The kids won’t eat the cheap kind.”
“Then perhaps you should have brought some.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
Before she could respond, Derek appeared at the top of the stairs freshly showered and smiling.
“There she is!”
He came down wearing jeans and a gray polo.
His mother kissed him.
“Did you remember Claire’s birthday?”
Derek looked at me.
“Of course.”
Patricia smiled.
“At least one of my children remembers these things.”
He hadn’t.
She opened her purse and removed a small gift bag.
For half a second, I thought it was for me.
She handed it to Derek.
“I saw this yesterday and thought of you.”
He pulled out a leather wallet.
“Mom, this is great.”
I almost laughed.
On my birthday, my mother-in-law had brought my husband a gift.
Jenna was opening cupboards.
“Where’s the pancake mix?”
“I’m not making breakfast.”
The kitchen became quiet.
Even the children stopped arguing.
Derek turned slowly.
“Claire.”
“I told you upstairs.”
“You said fine.”
“I said fine because I was finished discussing it.”
His face changed.
Patricia stepped between us.
“Sweetheart, everyone drove nearly forty minutes.”
“I didn’t invite anyone.”
“We’re family.”
“Family can cook.”
Jenna closed the cupboard.
“What is her problem?”
Derek rubbed his forehead.
“She woke up in a mood.”
I stared at him.
“You dumped ice water over me while I was sleeping.”
Tyler looked uncomfortable.
He was the only one who did.
Patricia sighed.
“Claire, Derek has always been playful.”
“Playful?”
“You’re making it sound sinister.”
“Would you like me to dump a bucket over you while you’re asleep tomorrow?”
Her mouth tightened.
“That’s disrespectful.”
Exactly.
But the irony sailed peacefully over her head.
Derek took my elbow.
“Come here.”
I pulled away.
His eyes hardened.
“I said come here.”
“No.”
The children were watching.
Tyler quietly suggested taking them outside.
Jenna refused.
“No. Claire clearly wants to make some kind of announcement.”
She folded her arms.
“So go ahead.”
I looked around the kitchen.
At the people who had spent years treating my home as an extension of Patricia’s.
Family gatherings I hadn’t agreed to host.
Weekends where Jenna arrived with bags of laundry because our washer was “better.”
Christmases where I cooked for sixteen people while Derek watched football.
Times Patricia rearranged furniture because she thought my taste was “too plain.”
And every time I objected, Derek used the same word.
Family.
Family needs you.
Family helps each other.
Family doesn’t keep score.
Curiously, family always seemed to mean I gave and they received.
I crossed the kitchen.
Derek frowned.
“Where are you going?”
I opened the hallway closet and retrieved the suitcase.
His suitcase.
I rolled it across the tile.
Patricia stared.
“What is that?”
“Derek’s things.”
Derek actually laughed.
“You packed my suitcase?”
“Yes.”
“Because of a bucket of water?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
I looked straight at him.
“Because I want you out.”
Nobody spoke.
The refrigerator hummed behind me.
A faucet dripped.
Then Derek laughed again.
Louder.
“You want me out of my own house?”
“My house.”
His smile faltered.
Patricia stepped forward.
“Claire, don’t start talking nonsense.”
“It isn’t nonsense.”
“Derek pays bills here.”
“Sometimes.”
“He’s your husband.”
“That doesn’t make him the owner.”
Derek’s face flushed.
“We’ve been married twelve years.”
“And the house was inherited from my grandmother before we married.”
“I renovated it.”
“With money from our joint account.”
“My money.”
“Our money.”
He pointed toward the living room.
“I built that deck.”
“Contractors built that deck.”
“My company.”
“And my inheritance paid the invoice.”
His family looked from him to me.
Something ugly moved behind Derek’s eyes.
He came closer.
“You’re not throwing me out.”
“I’m asking you to leave voluntarily this morning.”
“This is unbelievable.”
“No. What’s unbelievable is forging my signature.”
Everything stopped.
Derek’s face went blank.
Patricia looked at him.
“What is she talking about?”
I watched him carefully.
“Tell her.”
He recovered quickly.
“She’s confused.”
“I have copies.”
“Copies of what?”
“The application submitted to Harbor State Credit Union.”
Patricia’s confidence finally cracked.
Derek glanced at his mother.
“It was preliminary paperwork.”
“With my signature.”
“You knew we needed financing.”
“I told you I would never put this house against your company debt.”
“The company supports us.”
“The company is nearly seven hundred thousand dollars in debt.”
Jenna gasped.
Derek turned toward her.
“Stay out of it.”
“You told Mom you had a great quarter.”
“It’s temporary.”
I went to the drawer and removed my folder.
Derek stared at it.
“What is that?”
“The reason you’re leaving.”
He reached for it.
I moved it away.
“Don’t touch me or the documents.”
His voice became low.
“What did you do?”
“Yesterday, I met with an attorney.”
Patricia immediately scoffed.
“An attorney?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“Several things.”
Derek’s face lost some of its color.
I continued.
“The property protections my grandmother established allowed me to transfer this home into the Claire Bennett Family Trust. That was completed yesterday.”
Derek shook his head.
“That doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes your ability to use it as collateral.”
Silence.
“And my attorney has already notified Harbor State that I did not sign the loan documents.”
Now he looked frightened.
Not angry.
Frightened.
“That could trigger an investigation.”
“Yes.”
“You had no right.”
I almost smiled.
“No right to report my forged signature?”
“I was trying to save the business!”
“You were trying to gamble my home on a company you’ve been hiding losses from me about for more than a year.”
Patricia looked at Derek.
“You said the company was fine.”
“I said it’s temporary.”
“Seven hundred thousand dollars?”
“Mom, stop.”
She did.
That surprised me.
Derek returned his attention to me.
“You think some paperwork means you can humiliate me in front of my family?”
“You brought your family here.”
“For breakfast.”
“Then take them to a diner.”
His voice rose.
“I live here!”
“For now, legally, you have occupancy rights as my spouse. Rebecca explained that very clearly. I can’t simply physically remove you.”
Triumph flickered in his eyes.
Then I finished.
“But I filed for divorce yesterday.”
Patricia sat down.
Jenna whispered, “Oh my God.”
Derek stared at me.
“You what?”
“The petition will be served Monday.”
His face became almost unrecognizable.
“You filed for divorce?”
“Yes.”
“Over breakfast?”
“No.”
“Over a stupid prank?”
“No.”
“Then over what?”
I looked at him.
“Over twelve years of learning exactly who you are.”
His mouth opened.
No words came.
Then headlights flashed outside.
A black sedan stopped beside the curb.
Derek looked through the window.
“Who is that?”
I did too.
And suddenly my stomach tightened.
Because I recognized the man getting out.
It was not my attorney.
It was Martin Hale.
Derek’s business partner.
And Martin looked terrified.
He walked straight toward my front door carrying a thick envelope.
When I opened it, he didn’t even greet Derek.
He looked at me.
“Claire, I’m sorry to show up like this.”
“What happened?”
Martin glanced at Derek.
Then he handed me the envelope.
“You need to see what your husband did with the company accounts.”
Derek lunged forward.
“Get out.”
Martin stepped back.
“No.”
“Get out of my house.”
Martin’s eyes moved to me.
Then back to Derek.
May you like
“I don’t think it’s your house anymore.”
And for the first time that morning, nobody was thinking about pancakes.
Related Stories
