“Fifty years together, and I get emergency money? Wow.”
His jaw tightened. “Don’t make this ugly, Sylvie.”
I looked at the suitcases, then at his coat, then at the driveway, where Marcy’s red car waited.
“There’s $2,000 in there, Sylvie.”
Marcy was the woman from the book club Walter had suddenly started attending every Thursday.