I ignored every single one of them.
Monday morning the tension inside our house was heavy. Claire moved through the kitchen with angry movements, slamming cabinet doors and setting her coffee mug down harder than necessary. On Tuesday she barely spoke to me at all. Wednesday was even worse, filled with cold silence and dramatic sighs.
Then Thursday arrived.
I was sitting in a quiet café downtown, halfway through lunch with someone I never expected to be having a meeting with—Mark Stevenson, Claire’s boss. We were discussing a possible consulting opportunity. He knew several small business owners who needed someone dependable to maintain equipment and handle minor repairs, and he believed I would be perfect for the job.
Suddenly my phone vibrated in my pocket.
I looked down and saw Claire’s name on the screen.
I ignored the call, but a second later another message appeared:
“What are you doing having lunch with Mark?”
I looked across the table at Mark, and he gave a small knowing smile, as if he had been expecting exactly this situation.
That was when two things became clear to me at the same time.
First, Claire was definitely watching me somehow—either someone from the office had seen me or she had tracked down where I was.
Second, she wasn’t confused.
She was panicking.
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