Chapter 8 - LINDA'S FORTY-EIGHT HOURS
Grace would not let Daniel interrogate Linda in the office.
“Go home or don't. But do not turn this into a confession session before I have the form.”
Daniel hated that.
She was right.
He went to his workshop instead.
Harper Custom Interiors occupied a twelve-thousand-square-foot industrial unit behind a flooring distributor.
At fifty-two, Daniel no longer spent every day on the saws.
He still preferred them to paperwork.
That preference had helped create the HELOC problem.
His foreman, Luis Ortega, found him sitting on a stack of cabinet doors.
“You okay?”
Daniel almost lied.
Then:
“Not really.”
Luis waited.
Daniel told him only what affected the business.
Insurance repayment.
Financial review.
Possibility Daniel might need to sell equipment or reduce space.
Luis nodded.
No melodrama.
Then:
“You should've told us last winter.”
Daniel looked at him.
“About what?”
“How bad the hotel job was.”
There.
Another current person forcing old truth.
Luis knew cash flow had been tight.
He did not know Daniel had put the family house behind a line of credit.
“If we'd cut overtime for two months—”
“I didn't want you guys carrying my mistake.”
Luis laughed softly.
“So you carried it into your kitchen.”
Daniel looked away.
That afternoon he went home.
Linda was packing a suitcase.
Not dramatically.
Three sweaters.
Jeans.
Toiletries.
“Where are you going?”
“My sister's.”
Daniel had not asked her to leave.
He also had not asked her to stay.
“Why?”
“You need space.”
“Do not decide what I need.”
Linda stopped.
Good.
Daniel put his keys down.
“Why forty-eight hours?”
She sat on the bed.
For once, no document between them.
Still, Daniel did not want a long emotional defense.
“Short version.”
Linda nodded.
“The bank letter came the same afternoon as pathology.”
“I know.”
“I found the full HELOC balance.”
“Yes.”
“You were asleep.”
“Yes.”
“I called the bank.”
Daniel waited.
“They told me the line could be frozen and the missed amount had to be cured.”
“You could've woken me.”
“I could have.”
She looked at him.
“I was furious with you.”
Good.
Not only fear.
“I thought you had gambled the house on the business.”
“I kind of did.”
“Yes.”
She continued.
Then St. Matthew called.
The cancer was not cancer.
For about ten minutes Linda felt pure relief.
She stood in the laundry room and cried.
Then she looked at the bank letter again.
“If the diagnosis was wrong, I knew the critical illness claim might fail.”
“So you chose the claim.”
“I chose time.”
“Same thing.”
“Yes.”
She planned forty-eight hours.
Use the payout if it arrived.
Call Northstar.
Ask how to return any excess after stabilizing the bank situation.
Tell Daniel.
Instead the $150,000 arrived.
Linda moved eighty thousand to the HELOC immediately.
Twenty-nine thousand to payroll taxes after Daniel's accountant warned the business could face levy action.
Seven to medical bills.
Eleven to arrears.
The money was almost gone before the forty-eight hours ended.
Daniel stared.
“So once you used it, telling me meant telling me we might owe money we no longer had.”
“Yes.”
“Then every day got more expensive.”
“Yes.”
“Why the cancer story?”
Linda's face twisted.
“That part wasn't about the insurer.”
Daniel waited.
“You were different.”
His expression hardened.
“Careful.”
“I don't mean better because you thought you were dying.”
“Then what?”
“You stopped working sixteen-hour days.”
Daniel said nothing.
“You slept.”
“Because I had surgery.”
“You ate dinner.”
“Linda.”
“You talked to Emma.”
He looked away.
Linda continued.
“You let people help you.”
“That doesn't give you the right to fake cancer.”
“No.”
She did not argue.
“I saw what happened when you believed your body could break.”
Daniel stared.
“And you liked it.”
Linda's face crumpled.
“No.”
He waited.
Then she answered more honestly.
“I liked not being the only person begging you to stop.”
There.
Human.
Ugly.
Not enough.
Daniel stood.
“So part of you kept the diagnosis because it gave you authority over me.”
Linda looked down.
“Yes.”
He took that sentence with him and left the bedroom.
Behind him, Linda zipped the suitcase.
She went to her sister's that night.
May you like
No grand separation announcement.
Just a different address for now.
