“What lake house?”
David’s smile stayed on his face a second too long. Then it slid off.
“The house on Willow Lake. The one I bought for you. Two years ago.”
My fingers tightened around the serving spoon. “David, I don’t own a lake house.”
“Yes, you do. I put the deed in your name twenty five months ago.”
“I think I’d remember someone giving me a house.”
His wife, Victoria, had been taking off her camel colored coat by the door. She stopped, one arm still in a sleeve.
David looked from me to her and back. “I also send you fifteen hundred dollars a month.”
My throat closed. “You send me money?”
“On the first business day of every month. For two years.”
“David. I have never received a single payment.”
Victoria picked up her phone. “I need to check something in the kitchen,” she said, and she left the room before either of us could say another word.
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