Chapter 5 - What My Husband Had Promised His Mother
Mitchell promised Theresa $200,000.
He admitted it forty minutes later.
Not because guilt overcame him.
Because Theresa had already exposed enough that denial became difficult.
Her Evanston townhouse did have plumbing damage.
That part was true.
What Mitchell had never told me was that Theresa also had substantial debt.
After Mitchell’s father died four years earlier, Theresa continued spending at roughly the same level despite a lower household income.
She refinanced once.
Then again.
She carried credit-card balances.
She borrowed against a retirement account.
Mitchell had been quietly supporting her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you judge her.”
“I didn’t even know.”
“You judge spending.”
“I budget.”
“Exactly.”
I almost admired the logic.
My financial responsibility had become a personality flaw because it interfered with what he wanted.
“Where does two hundred thousand come from?”
Mitchell looked at the floor.
Theresa answered.
“The condo.”
I stared at her.
She shrugged.
“You have nearly four hundred thousand dollars in equity.”
“It’s my home.”
“You’re married.”
“That doesn’t make my premarital property yours.”
Theresa’s eyes narrowed.
“Always with the legal technicalities.”
“Ownership is a technicality now?”
Mitchell stepped between us.
“Nobody was stealing your condo.”
“Then explain the payoff inquiry.”
“I was exploring options.”
“Using a fake email in my name?”
He looked at Theresa.
She looked away.
“I didn’t tell her to do that.”
“You told me the condo would solve everything,” Theresa snapped.
Mitchell’s voice rose.
“I said if Danielle ever wanted to sell—”
“No. You said she’d agree eventually.”
There it was again.
My consent as a future administrative detail.
I sat down because suddenly I understood the bank transfers.
“The eighty-six thousand?”
Mitchell’s expression collapsed.
“Temporary.”
“From where?”
“My commissions.”
“Then why put my name on the account?”
“The bank gave better terms for joint households.”
“Did I authorize it?”
Silence.
“Mitchell.”
“I handled the application.”
“Did I authorize it?”
“No.”
Rachel, waiting near the foyer, shifted her weight.
Mitchell noticed her for the first time.
“You brought a witness?”
“I brought a friend.”
Theresa laughed.
“She’s always preparing for a courtroom.”
I looked at her.
“You threw a pot at me this morning.”
“Because you needed to get out of bed.”
Mitchell closed his eyes.
I stood.
“Rachel and I are staying at a hotel.”
“This is your home,” Mitchell said.
“Exactly.”
I looked at both of them.
“Which is why tomorrow I’m going to decide who still gets to live in it.”
Theresa’s expression changed.
But Mitchell looked almost relieved.
May you like
That relief became my next clue.
He was worried about much more than being asked to leave.
