Deadly Beloved(97)

“If it’s being small-minded and petty to be able to add, Henry, then I’m small-minded and petty. Come to your senses for a moment. This deal doesn’t add up.”

“It isn’t supposed to ‘add up,’ as you put it. This is a handshake between friends. That’s the way people do things where there’s a willingness to trust and a commitment to mutual advantage.”

“Kevin Lockwood didn’t trust you for that money. He made you bring a cashier’s check.”

“That was to satisfy the legal requirements.” Henry sounded infinitely patient. “You always have to have a cashier’s check when you buy property. It’s standard operating procedure.”

“We didn’t have to have a cashier’s check when we bought this property. At least, we didn’t for the down payment. I gave him an ordinary check out of my checkbook when we decided on this house. I remember.”

“We had to have a cashier’s check later,” Henry said.

“Yes, we did.” Evelyn nodded. “We had to have it when we closed. But we didn’t close on that property this afternoon, Henry. We just put a deposit on it and promised to buy.”

“I don’t really see the point in this discussion, Evelyn. After all, it isn’t your money. It isn’t like you made it and brought it to the marriage. I made it. My books made it.”

“I know you made it.”

“If anything, you’ve made it more difficult for me to make it. You haven’t helped. Don’t you think this—this appearance problem of yours causes me a lot of stress? Don’t you think it costs me sales?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“I know, Evelyn. I know. It’s my money. And unlike you, I don’t just want to sit where I am forever. I want to move up and out. I want to meet people I have something in common with. There are reasons why successful people stick together, Evelyn.”

“I don’t think Sarah and Kevin are successful. I don’t think they’d be hanging around with us if they were.”

“They might not be hanging around with you,” Henry said, “but they would be hanging around with me. You may not be doing anything with your life, but I’ve been on The New York Times best-seller list.”

The talking head was gone from the television screen. The soap opera was back. Evelyn suddenly had a distinct vision of Patsy MacLaren Willis pulling out of her driveway in the Volvo, the back of the station wagon packed with clothes on hangers.

“That’s funny,” she said.

Henry looked furious. “I don’t see anything funny in the situation we’re in. I don’t know what it is you think you’re doing here, but I’ve had this about as far as I can take it. I want a divorce, Evelyn.”

“All right,” Evelyn said calmly. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“About a divorce? You’re going to make me a deal about a divorce? How can you?”

“I can make a deal about not being a problem to you,” Evelyn said. “I can promise not to call you up at all hours of the night to make your life a living hell. I can promise not to follow your girlfriend all over town with a camera and a tape recorder.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Henry said. “And if I did, and you did any of those things, I’d have you put in jail.”

“I’ll give you a divorce if that deal of Sarah and Kevin Lockwood’s isn’t some kind of scam,” Evelyn said. “If they’re really and truly okay, I’ll just pack my bags and move into an apartment in Philly and that will be the last you ever hear of me. I’ll even go back to my mother. I absolutely promise.”

“Christ,” Henry said. “You’re worse than impossible. You’re ridiculous. I don’t have to listen to any of this.”

“If it is a scam, I’ll fight you all the way,” Evelyn continued. “I’ll hire lawyers. I’ll hire private investigators. I’ll do everything that can be done, and in Pennsylvania it’s a lot of everything, Henry. I’m tired of listening to you tell me how stupid and fat and lower-class I am. I’m tired of listening to you tell me how you know everything in the world it’s worthwhile to know.”

“I don’t have to listen to any of this,” Henry repeated. Then he gave Evelyn his best glowering stare, the one from which she always recoiled, and turned his back on her. Evelyn hadn’t recoiled, but she didn’t know if he had noticed that. His back was stiff and hard. His head was cocked at an odd little angle.

“I’m really sick to death of your attitude,” he said. “I’m really tired to death of your lower-middle-class pettiness. I’m getting out of here.”