The sterile white light of the Fairfield County oncology clinic flickered above Eleanor Harrington\u2019s silver hair.<\/p>\n
At seventy-two, after two brutal years of chemotherapy that left her retching into blue plastic basins, the doctor\u2019s words felt like a resurrection.<\/p>\n
\u2018No evidence of disease.\u2019<\/p>\n
She whispered a prayer and clutched the small gold cross her grandmother had given her on a wedding day forty years ago, when she\u2019d been a blushing bride in lace and dreams.<\/p>\n
For the first time in decades, she allowed herself a flicker of pure, untainted hope.<\/p>\n
She drove the familiar route home, past the white-steepled church where she and Robert had exchanged vows, past the duck pond where their children once toddled in rubber boots.<\/p>\n
The autumn leaves were a blaze of crimson and gold, a benediction of color after so many gray days of treatment.<\/p>\n
She imagined telling Robert the news, maybe over a pot roast with those little pearl onions he used to love.<\/p>\n
Perhaps this diagnosis had been the dark cloud, and now the sun could finally break through.<\/p>\n
But as she turned into the circular driveway of the stately colonial mansion she\u2019d called home for thirty-five years, a red convertible sat where her sensible Buick always parked.<\/p>\n
Loud music thumped from inside, something raucous that rattled the leaded glass windows.<\/p>\n
Her heart, still fragile from the chemo, began to race.<\/p>\n
She walked through the front door, and the smell of cheap perfume hit her before the sight did.<\/p>\n
Her mother\u2019s Limoges vase lay shattered on the hardwood floor.<\/p>\n
Champagne flutes, half-full, dotted the antique mahogany table she\u2019d spent years polishing.<\/p>\n
And there, on the chintz sofa she\u2019d reupholstered with her own hands, sat Robert with his personal assistant, Melissa\u2014a peroxide blonde young enough to be their granddaughter.<\/p>\n
A gaudy diamond ring glittered on Melissa\u2019s finger.<\/p>\n
Robert\u2019s arm was draped around her with the casual possession of a man who\u2019d never once been denied.<\/p>\n
\u2018Eleanor, you\u2019re back early,\u2019 Robert said flatly, not bothering to move.<\/p>\n
\u2018Melissa and I were going to do this more formally, but since you\u2019re here, congratulations are in order. I\u2019ve asked her to marry me. She\u2019s carrying my child.\u2019<\/p>\n
He squeezed Melissa\u2019s shoulder as if she were a prize steer.<\/p>\n
Eleanor\u2019s throat closed.<\/p>\n
\u2018Robert, I just came from Dr. Wells. The cancer\u2014it\u2019s gone. I\u2019m in remission.\u2019<\/p>\n
Her voice was thin, a desperate thread reaching for some memory of the man she\u2019d married.<\/p>\n
Robert glanced at her with the mild irritation of a man whose football game had been interrupted.<\/p>\n
\u2018Well, that\u2019s convenient. You\u2019ll be healthy enough to move out quickly. My lawyers prepared this.\u2019<\/p>\n
He tossed a thick envelope onto the coffee table.<\/p>\n
\u2018Divorce papers. Vacate this house by Friday. The prenup you signed leaves you nothing\u2014surely you recall. I\u2019ll set up a modest trust to keep you in some apartment in Bridgeport.\u2019<\/p>\n
Melissa twirled the ring.<\/p>\n
\u2018We\u2019re redecorating, Mrs. Harrington. I\u2019ve always wanted a walk-in closet for my Louboutins. Your garden will be so much cuter with pink flamingos instead of those tired hydrangeas.\u2019<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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