I’d been too stunned to respond, too confused to question. Why would Robert do this? Where was I supposed to live? What was I supposed to do?

The answers came brutally clear that evening when Jonathan drove me back to what I still thought of as my home, the penthouse overlooking the city that Robert and I had shared for the last fifteen years of our marriage.

I’d barely stepped through the door when Jonathan set my suitcase down in the entryway.

“I think it would be best if you found somewhere else to stay, Mom.”

I’d stared at him, not comprehending. “What do you mean?”

“The penthouse is mine now. It’s in the will.” His voice had that rehearsed quality he’d perfected in business dealings. “I’m having some colleagues over tomorrow to discuss turning Dad’s study into a home office, and I need to start making changes.”