Chapter 3

The thought turned over in my chest, and all the resentment and hurt I had swallowed rose up until they nearly spilled out of me.

"We're divorced."

3.

I didn't want to listen to Bernice go on, so I said it flatly.

She didn't offer me any comfort. Instead her voice went cutting, and she let out two cold laughs.

"I knew it would end like this."

"I told you all along. A man like him, someone who's clawed his way up through business, they've got no conscience, every last one of them. He got the notice that a matching kidney was found, and decided he didn't need you around anymore."

"The first thing a blind man does when he gets his sight back is throw away his cane. You were the cane."

Bernice was so angry she kept rubbing her own chest to calm herself.

"I could just scream at you for it! Back then I told you to come clean about donating the kidney, and what did you say? You said Walter Gilbert was too proud, that if he ever found out your kidney could save him, he'd feel humiliated."

"Well, look at you now. You've lost everything!"

"Listen to me. Come clean today, and there's still time."

Seeing that I still wasn't showing much of anything.

Bernice grabbed my arm and held on hard, and the pain of it finally pulled me out of the emptiness of being thrown away.

"Ruby, there are only two kidneys, but there are plenty of men out there."

"Honestly, what I most want to talk you out of is this. There's no reason to throw away half your life for a man."

Before I could answer.

The doorbell rang.

I opened the door to find Walter's driver holding luxury shopping bags that cost a small fortune, and in his other hand, a whole stewing hen.

Bernice's gaze swept over the expensive luxury goods, and a satisfied look came over her face.

She shot me a sly little glance.

"See, what did I tell you? Men are contemptible. You take one step back, and suddenly he's chasing after you hard."

"Make the most of today."

Bernice gave a little wave and left.

The driver came in and set the luxury goods down on the coffee table, careful about it.

Then he shoved the stewing hen into my arms.

For five years Walter had ordered me around, so it was no surprise his driver had picked up the habit and gave me none of the respect I was owed.

"Mr. Gilbert says he wants chicken soup tonight. Have it ready before eight."

The driver said his piece and left.

Strangely, I didn't feel that bitter sting of being used, of being ordered about.

If anything, this was the first time in five years that Walter had asked me for something himself, letting me know I was needed.

I pulled at the corner of my mouth in a bitter smile.

Even with the divorce papers signed, the little bit of feeling I still had left for Walter made me accept it on instinct.

Toward evening I heard the lock turn at the door.

To my surprise, Walter came back with Abigail Cannon at his side.

I stood there, stunned, looking at the two of them, and Walter, out of habit, tossed his coat over my arm.

"Is the chicken soup ready?"

Abigail pressed down the smile at the corner of her mouth, and copying Walter, she pulled off her coat and dropped it on me too, as if I were nothing but a servant in this house.

A wave of bitterness filled my eyes. I'd thought that even after the divorce, he wouldn't just openly bring this woman in front of me like this.

He shouldn't humiliate me this way.

"It'll be ready in a minute."

I was holding it in, but I couldn't stop my lips from trembling.

As Abigail passed me, she leaned in close and mocked me under her breath.

"Ruby Lawson, this is the first time I've ever seen a rich man's wife live like such a wretch."

"If you know what's good for you, disappear from Hartwell City for good."

Anger churned in my chest, but I didn't want things to get too ugly, so I answered flatly.

"You're reading too much into it. We're already divorced."

Abigail's gaze sharpened and cut toward me.

"Oh, please. We're both women. Don't think I don't know what you're up to. One pot of chicken soup was all it took to see it. You're not over Walter, and you want to use that worthless little kitchen skill of yours to remind him you still exist."

4.

"Am I wrong? Because if I weren't, you'd have refused already."