She smiled.
“You heard me.”
Before I could respond, Richard’s voice came from behind us.
“Rebecca.”
She froze.
He was standing several feet away.
He had heard everything.
Rebecca turned.
“I was just being honest.”
Richard looked at her for a long moment.
Then he looked at me.
“She’ll get exactly what she deserves.”
Rebecca’s face hardened.
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”
Richard didn’t answer.
Neither did I.
But that night, when we were alone, I asked him about it.
“Do you think your children hate me?”
Richard sat on the edge of the bed.
“No.”
“Rebecca does.”
“Rebecca is afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
He looked down.
“Of losing something she believes belongs to her.”
I sat beside him.
“Your children think I’m waiting for you to die.”
Richard’s expression changed.
“Are you?”
I stared at him.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then he smiled.
“That’s what I thought.”
