“There is one thing Daniel hasn’t told you.”
My smile disappeared.
“About the money?”
“Not exactly.”
“What?”
She hesitated.
“He met with a lender yesterday.”
“To refinance?”
“Yes.”
“He told me.”
“He didn’t tell you what they said.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did they say?”
“They can refinance.”
“That sounds like good news.”
“It would pay you back.”
“But?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“But Daniel would have to empty most of the children’s education savings to qualify comfortably after closing costs and pay down another debt first.”
I stared at her.
“What other debt?”
Her eyes met mine.
“A business loan.”
“What business?”
“Daniel’s.”
I shook my head.
“He doesn’t own a business.”
Rebecca’s expression told me I was wrong.
“He does now.”
Since when?
Why had he hidden it?
And most importantly, if Daniel had been carrying a financial burden large enough to threaten the children’s savings, why had no one thought I should know?
PART 4
For most of Daniel’s life, I had known when he was hiding something.
At seven, he hid a broken lamp behind the sofa.
At thirteen, he hid a report card beneath his mattress.
At seventeen, he tried hiding the fact that he had backed Arthur’s car into our mailbox.
He always became unusually helpful.
That week, he sent me three messages asking whether I needed groceries.
The third one arrived Tuesday morning.
Need anything from Costco?
I stared at it.
Then typed:
No. But I would like to know about your business loan.
The little dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Finally:
Rebecca told you.
Yes.
Can we talk tonight?
Yes.
He arrived at seven carrying nothing.
No flowers.
No groceries.
No attempt to soften the conversation.
That gave me hope.
We sat on the balcony.
The Arizona evening was cool, and below us people moved between restaurants and shops.
Daniel rubbed his hands together.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I was going to.”
“When?”
He looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
“Then you weren’t going to.”
He sighed.
“Probably not.”
I appreciated the answer.
“What business?”
He leaned back.
“Consulting.”
“You already consult.”
“For someone else.”
He explained.
For nearly fifteen years, Daniel had worked for a healthcare technology firm. He earned well, traveled occasionally, complained about management, and stayed because stability seemed sensible with two children and a mortgage.
Two years earlier, a colleague named Marcus had approached him about starting a small consulting company specializing in software transitions for medical offices.
