Chapter 5 - The Escalation
Rob Palmer did not take the divorce filing well.
Within forty-eight hours of receiving the papers, he froze Claire’s access to their joint bank accounts, cancelled her credit cards, and cut off her health insurance. He sent a team of movers to their Richmond home to pack up all of her belongings—or what he deemed to be her belongings—and had them dumped in cardboard boxes on the porch of Mrs. Bell’s house in Briar Glen.
Among the boxes was Claire’s old loom, the frame intentionally cracked as if it had been dropped from a height.
Claire stood over the broken wood in the driveway, her knuckles turning white.
"The bastard," Mrs. Bell spat, walking out with a mug of hot cider. "He thinks he can starve you out, Claire. He thinks if he takes away your money and breaks your things, you’ll crawl back to Richmond on your knees."
"I’d rather crawl through broken glass," Claire said fiercely.
She spent the afternoon repairing the loom with wood glue and twine. As she worked, threading the warped beams back into alignment, she felt a profound sense of reconnection. For twenty-one years, Rob had chipped away at her passions, telling her that her weaving was a childish hobby that cluttered their pristine, minimalist home. Now, in the quiet backyard of Briar Glen, the rhythmic movement of her hands felt like a reclamation of her soul.
The next day, Lydia showed up.
She didn't come in a sleek BMW this time; she drove her own mid-sized SUV, looking frantic and exhausted. She practically burst through Mrs. Bell’s screen door, finding Claire in the kitchen.
"You have to stop this, Claire!" Lydia cried, her voice cracking with hysteria. "Rob is going to ruin me! He called my boss at the boutique. He’s threatening to expose the rental agreement to the IRS if I don’t get you to drop the lawsuit! I could go to jail for tax evasion!"
Claire turned around slowly, holding a kitchen knife she had been using to slice apples. The raw panic in her sister's eyes didn't move her the way it used to.
"You should have thought about the IRS before you signed a fraudulent lease on our mother’s house, Lydia," Claire said coldly.
"I did it for my kids!" Lydia sobbed, dropping into a chair. "Rob told me you didn't want the house. He said you were too depressed to handle it. He said he would manage the investments and give me a cut to help with the kids' private school tuition. I didn't know he was keeping the lion's share! I didn't know he was lying to you about the repairs!"
"You knew I was crying every time I wrote you those checks, Lydia," Claire said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You looked me in the eye at Christmas, took a check for eight hundred dollars for a 'plumbing emergency,' and then went out and bought a new designer coat. You let me believe I was a burden to my husband because I had to keep asking him for money to support you."
May you like
Lydia covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. "What are you going to do?"
"I’m going to take back what’s mine," Claire said. "And if Rob goes down, and he takes you with him... then I suggest you hire a very good lawyer of your own."
