Harbor Light.
I arranged the papers across the bed.
Then I found a statement from our mortgage lender.
Eighteen months earlier, an additional line of credit had been opened against the house.
The balance was $146,000.
My signature appeared on the authorization.
I hadn’t known the account existed.
I stared at the number until my vision blurred.
I’d believed our refinancing had been a single desperate measure.
Apparently, Mark had kept borrowing after I thought we’d reached the limit.
My phone rang.
It was Mark.
I let it go to voicemail.
His message began tenderly.
“Emily, honey, you’re frightening me.
I know the lottery is overwhelming.
Come home.
We can work everything out.”
Then his tone changed.
“Don’t listen to strangers.
You don’t understand how finances work.”
A pause.
“And remember, you’ve been under a lot of emotional strain lately.”
I replayed the last sentence.
