The Reading of the Will
The Other Wife

What She Knew

Rosalind went very quiet, the kind of quiet Whitney associated with her mother holding something together with both hands.

"Mom," Whitney said. "That's Asa's birthday."

"I can read a calendar, Whitney."

"So he was — they were together while you two were still—"

"I know what it means." Rosalind's voice was flat now, stripped of its earlier fury, which frightened Whitney more than the fury had. She sat down slowly in her husband's desk chair, the leather creaking under her like it remembered her.

"There were years," Rosalind said, "when he traveled more than made sense. I asked, once. He said it was easier for both of us if I didn't ask twice." She looked up, and her eyes were dry, which was worse than tears. "I chose the marriage I could live inside of. I didn't know about a house. I didn't know about a—" her eyes flicked to Asa "—a whole other life. But I knew there was something. I want you both to understand that. I knew, and I decided not to know more."

Nobody said anything for a moment. Garrett looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. Asa, by the door, had gone pale.

"I don't need your understanding," Rosalind said, standing again, composure snapping back into place like a mask reattached. "Foster, get me that safe deposit box open. Tomorrow. First thing."

"I can have it opened at nine," Lane said, already dialing.

They didn't wait until nine. Whitney couldn't have slept anyway, so at seven the next morning, the five of them — an arrangement none of them could have predicted a week ago — stood in the cold lobby of First Coastal Bank while a manager checked her father's death certificate against the account.

The manager frowned at her screen, then frowned harder, and looked up at all of them with an expression Whitney had started to dread.

"I'm sorry," she said. "This box was already accessed yesterday afternoon. Whoever it was used the original key."

Continue the story Part 8: The Second Key →