Hope hadn’t looked at her phone or checked her messages or any of it. But she picked it up now to enter the grocery store into her GPS. She thought she’d seen it when they were downtown in Irish Hills yesterday. Barton’s Food Village, that’s what it was called back in the day.
Hope saw she’d missed a call: It was from her bank.
She hit redial.
“This is Marcia H. Venerable. I received a message to call back.”
“Please hold.”
After a minute of The Carpenters' easy listening hold music, a woman came on the line. “Ms. Venerable, can you provide the answer to your security question?”
Hope did as they asked.
“Thank you, Ms. Venerable. We had an interesting encounter earlier today. Your husband came into the branch and attempted to withdraw a significant amount of money.”
“How significant?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
Hope nearly choked.
“Does hehavefifty thousand dollars?” Hope knew the joint account that they shared sure didn’t have that sum.
“Um, no, he was trying to withdraw it from your business account.”
“Excuseme?”
Hope had an account for her catering and contest win money. She’d always kept it separate, so she could keep her expenses in line. She used that account to buy supplies and ingredients and pay for travel to food competitions. Archie told her in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t pay for any of her cooking hobbies. She did it on her own. And had the meticulous accounting to prove where every dime went.
Her heart sank. She did have fifty thousand dollars. In fact, she had double that. Had her husband managed to steal her food contest winnings? She was at once terrified that he’d pilfered her hard-earned money, her business nest egg, and also infuriated. How low could he go?
“Well, he wasn’t happy, but we had to let him know that you’ve not authorized anyone but yourself to access that account. If you need to add him, we can do that. We’d need to get your signature and his if you need him to have access—”
“—No, you’re exactly right. Do not, I repeat,do notlet him or anyone else touch those funds!”
A wave of relief swept over her. The money she’d earned with every spare moment of her time—learning, perfecting, resetting after losing, and trying again—was there. It was the most she’d ever had. And thanks to Archie telling her he wanted no part of her “hobby,” it was protected from him.
Archie had tried to take her money. He’d slept with Bambi Carla, or whatever her name was, and now, knowing she’d just won the big prize, tried to take it!
“Glad we could help. In the future, if you do want to add someone, we’re happy to do that as well.”
“Nope, we’re good as is. Thanks again.”
She ended the call. She wanted to call Archie and yell and scream and vent. She ran her hand through her hair. That gray lock felt like it was getting wider as she thought about what Archie had done. Sleeping with the new receptionist at the dealership was one thing but taking her money was a new level.
Ha, they were supposed to be a team. She would have used that money for him or for them. She always did.
If he would have asked her for something, presented a bill that they needed to get paid, or given her the respect of congratulating her on earning over one hundred thousand for that account, she would have considered it theirs, not hers.
But the way he’d tried to do it behind her back made her think of it as hers, not his or even theirs.
Another separation happened at that moment. Hope got further away from Marcia H. Venerable and closer to Hope Benton.
Hope Benton had an idea, a dream, and it was getting more real with every second she spent here.
Just then, there was a knock at the screen door. Libby and J.J.
“Girl, your drawers are out on the line. I feel like you’re my mom,” J.J said.
