Chapter 10 - The Mother's Complicity
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Bethany stared at Lorraine in absolute, horrified disbelief.
I turned around very slowly, facing my mother-in-law.
"You knew?" I asked, the sheer audacity of it almost taking my breath away.
Lorraine lifted her chin defiantly, refusing to back down. "He has been terribly unhappy in this marriage for years, Claire."
"Did he actually tell you that?"
"He didn't have to spell it out," she retorted. "A mother simply knows these things."
"You knew that another woman was practically living in a cabin that I partially own and pay for?"
"It is Andrew's house too. He has rights."
"You actively helped him hide a seven-month affair from me."
"I was protecting my son from your harsh judgment and your constant demands," Lorraine stated, as if she were the victim.
Bethany took a step back toward the steps of the porch. "I really should get going."
I turned back to her, offering a tight, appreciative smile. "Thank you, Bethany. Would you be willing to email the original, timestamped digital files directly to my attorney?"
Bethany nodded quickly. "Yes, of course."
As the front door clicked shut, shutting out the rain, Lorraine crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
"You really can't place all the blame on him, Claire," she lectured. "Men need warmth. They need a peaceful, welcoming home environment to thrive."
"And throwing a heavy iron pot at my head was your idea of fostering peace?" I shot back.
"You are always so incredibly cold and distant."
I looked down at the stack of printed photographs again.
"Did Andrew ever bring you up to the cabin to meet her?" I asked.
Lorraine hesitated for a fraction of a second. That tiny pause was all the confirmation I needed.
"How many times, Lorraine?"
"She cooked dinner for us twice," she finally admitted, her tone defensive.
"In my cabin?"
"I already told you, it doesn't belong exclusively to you!"
"Did this woman know he was married?"
"She knew his marital situation was very complicated."
"Did she know we were still actively living together in the same house?"
Lorraine pressed her lips together and refused to answer.
I gathered the photographs and slid them carefully back into the manila envelope.
"What are you going to do now?" she asked, a hint of nervous tension finally entering her voice.
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"I am going to make myself some breakfast," I replied, walking past her toward the kitchen.
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