A few days later, Peg called me into the office again.
She had received another phone call.
This time, it wasn't from Faron.
It was from somebody asking whether there had been problems with the diner register.
Peg had answered the questions.
Then she called me in.
"Angela, I want you to know what's happening."
I sat across from her desk.
She explained that Faron had been speaking to people about the business.
He had suggested that money sometimes went missing.
He hadn't made a formal accusation.
But he had said enough to make people curious.
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Peg, I'm sorry."
She shook her head.
"Don't apologize."
She opened the drawer.
The same folder was inside.
She showed me the daily reports.
The deposits.
The shift records.
Everything was accounted for.
"I've run this place a long time," she said. "I know how to keep records."
I nodded.
She looked at me.
"There's nothing here that supports what he's suggesting."
I felt my shoulders relax.
"Thank you."
Peg closed the folder.
"He's trying to get a reaction."
I thought about that.
Maybe he was.
Maybe he wanted me to call him.
Maybe he wanted me to panic and offer money just to make the rumors stop.
But I wasn't going to do that.
"If he says something again, let me know," I told her.
"I will."
We returned to work.
That afternoon, I received a message from a former neighbor.
She asked whether I was doing all right.
I told her I was.
Then she mentioned hearing that Faron was having trouble with money.
I didn't ask for details.
She said he had been complaining that nobody was helping him.
I looked at the phone.
"That's unfortunate," I replied.
I didn't say anything else.
That evening, I took the bank folder out again.
I added the latest account correspondence.
Then I placed Peg's copies of the register records behind it.
I wasn't going to keep living in fear.
The next morning, Faron called.
I answered because I wanted to hear what he had to say.
He sounded irritated.
"Why are you telling people I'm trying to get you fired?"
I stood beside the kitchen counter.
"I'm not telling people anything."
"Peg says you're keeping records."
"Peg keeps records for her business."
He sighed.
"You know what I mean."
I waited.
Then he said he wanted me to stop making him look like a bad person.
I looked at the old recipe box.
"Faron, I'm not responsible for how you look."
He became quiet.
I continued.
"I haven't called anybody about you. I haven't told stories about you. I've simply stopped paying your bills."
He said I was being unfair.
I asked him one question.
"Do you still believe I should pay for you?"
He didn't answer directly.
Instead, he said he had to go.
Then the call ended.
I put the phone down.
I didn't shake.
I didn't cry.
I didn't spend the rest of the afternoon wondering whether I had said the wrong thing.
I simply returned to my work.
That evening, Peg called to tell me the diner had received another positive review.
She was pleased.
I laughed.
It was a small thing.
But it reminded me that my life still had good things in it.
Things that had nothing to do with Faron.
Click here to continue reading: PART 19: When I Finally Put Away the Divorce Papers, I Realized I Had Been Waiting for Permission to Begin Again
I Thought Being a Good Wife Meant Never Making My Husband Feel the Weight of His Own Mistakes
Part 18 of 20
