The Reading of the Will
The Other Wife

Every Month

Rosalind laughed — a short, wrong sound. "No. No, he was home every night. I made his coffee this morning — I mean, I used to. This is a mistake. Someone stole his identity, someone—"

"Mom." Whitney put a hand on her arm. It felt like touching a live wire.

"Don't 'Mom' me like I'm the one being unreasonable!" Rosalind yanked free. She turned on Juniper. "Where did you even meet him?"

Juniper's composure slipped, just at the mouth. "I'd rather not do this in front of Asa."

"You don't get to decide what happens in front of my family."

"He's my family too," Juniper said quietly, and the room seemed to tilt again.

Garrett had been silent, arms crossed, jaw tight, but now he crouched slightly, addressing the boy directly, the way he might talk to a spooked dog on a job site.

"Hey. Asa, right?" Garrett kept his voice even. "How long have you known Holt?"

Asa's eyes flicked to his mother, then to the floor. "My whole life."

"Sixteen years," Garrett said slowly, doing the math out loud. "That's not two years after the divorce. That's five years before it."

Silence.

"He came for dinner every Sunday," Asa said, so quiet Whitney almost missed it. "Every month at least, my whole life. Sometimes more."

"Every month," Whitney repeated. Her mind was already running backward through a decade of missed birthdays, "conferences," a business trip to Reno that lasted a week every spring like clockwork. She'd never once questioned it. Why would she. He was her father. He came home.

"He told us he had another family," Asa said, looking up now, and for the first time there was something sharp under the fear in his voice. "He told us you knew."

Continue the story Part 4: The Second Address →