Then another thought hit me.
“If this opens, what happens to your job?”
She looked down.
It wasn’t just a secret project anymore.
“I gave notice three weeks ago. My last shift is next Thursday.”
I knew nursing had been exhausting her.
I’d even told her we’d figure something else out when she was ready.
Apparently, she’d been ready without telling me.
And she’d thrown all our savings into a choice I’d been excluded from.
Apparently, she’d been ready without telling me.
We weren’t rich.
That account had taken us years to build, and because it was our long-term savings, I rarely checked it.
We talked about using it for the mortgage, emergencies, maybe moving someday.
A month earlier, our water heater had started making a noise that sounded expensive. I’d suggested replacing it before it failed. Maeve had pushed hard to wait.
I rarely checked it.
“It’s still working,” she’d said. “Why spend the money if we don’t have to?”
