“I told myself it was temporary.”
“Temporary is what people say when they don’t want to say stolen.”
He flinched. “It wasn’t—”
“It was,” Eleanor said, not cruel, not soft. “You took what I set aside to keep this house whole and you turned it into jewelry. Call it what it is so we can stop dancing.”
Harrison’s eyes shone. He blinked hard. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry is a start. Money is a finish.”
“I want the money,” she continued, answering the question he had not finished asking. “All of it. Not a promise. Not a plan. Money.”