No pearls.
No designer coat.
No perfect makeup.
She looked older.
Smaller.
Human.
I hated that.
Hating a monster was easier.
Denise sat down and picked up the telephone.
I did the same.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Finally she whispered, “How’s Vicky?”
“Don’t.”
Her eyes lowered.
“I deserve that.”
“Why were you at my house?”
Denise closed her eyes.
“Howard told me your mother was trying to destroy our family.”
“By exposing the money he stole?”
“I didn’t know about the ledger.”
“Bull.”
“I knew we were in debt.”
Her voice cracked.
“I knew Howard borrowed money from your grandparents years ago. He told me your mother had manipulated the will and was hiding assets that belonged to me.”
“And you believed him.”
“I wanted to.”
I stared at her.
That answer was at least honest.
“Why?”
Denise gave a bitter laugh.
“Because otherwise I’d have to admit I’d married a liar.”
