“You’re keeping secrets from me—so you must be planning for a divorce too.” How one family nearly fell apart over a gift deed.
Eleanor and James were finishing supper when the front door burst open, and his mother, Margaret Whitaker, stormed into the house.
“Son! You’re about to learn a few things about your wife!” she declared, still standing in the doorway, her face flushed.
“Mum, sit down, calm yourself. You’re red as a beet—your blood pressure must be through the roof,” James fretted.
“And for good reason!” she snapped, turning to Eleanor. “I ran into Emily today—the one you work with—and she told me everything!”
“What exactly?” Eleanor asked coolly, meeting Margaret’s gaze without flinching.
“That you were promoted last year, and you’re earning half again what James makes. And he had no idea! You’ve been hiding it from him!” Her words tumbled out in bitter accusation.
“And what of it, Margaret? We don’t ask you for money. We manage just fine. What’s the issue?”
“Last spring, when I asked you both to help with the repairs on the cottage roof, you claimed you had no spare money. But now it turns out you did! Where is it all going? Stashing it away for a divorce, are you?” Her voice rose in indignation.
Eleanor stood and turned to her husband.
“James, fetch the red folder from the top drawer in the bedroom, would you?”
He obeyed without a word.
“What’s this?” he murmured, flipping it open. “Savings accounts?”
“Yes. For William and Charlotte. I’ve been setting aside part of my wages each month—for their future. When I realized I was just a temporary guest in this family, I had to think about protecting my children.”
“What do you mean, ‘temporary’?” James cut in.
“You don’t recall how your parents registered the flat they bought you with the money from selling the townhouse in Chelsea? In your name alone. ‘Just in case of a divorce.’ And you said nothing. Not a word. I was pregnant, and you knew it. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Did you think I’d forget?”
James drew a long breath. His mother interjected, “It was just common sense!”
“Against whom? Against the mother of your grandchildren?” Eleanor’s voice trembled. “And after that, you wonder why I’m distant?”
“Where’s the money, Eleanor?” Margaret pressed. “You’re not sharing it with the family, so it must be a nest egg. You’re planning to leave.”
“James, please see your mother out. We have nothing more to say to each other,” Eleanor replied evenly.
“Oh, I’m going! But mark my words—you’ll be the one tearing this family apart!” Margaret hissed before pausing at the door. “Though, to be fair, you were never quite his equal from the start.”
When the door clicked shut, James stood silent for a long moment.
“You truly thought I was keeping an escape route?” he asked at last, his voice low.
“I didn’t know what to think. Because you never spoke. Silence is an answer too.”
“I don’t want a divorce. I love you. And the children.”
“Then prove it. Show me I’m not a stranger in this house.”
“Alright. I’ll transfer the flat into Charlotte’s name. And I’ll start putting money aside for the children’s accounts—slowly, but regularly. Trust goes both ways.”
Eleanor gave a slow nod.
“And the word ‘divorce’ is banned in this house,” James added.
“Agreed.”
For the first time in years, they spoke not as uneasy housemates, but as family.
