I almost closed it.
Then my fingers brushed against something
inside the side pocket.
It was flat and stiff.
I unzipped the pocket.
Inside was a white plastic key card.
A small green pine tree was printed on it.
Beneath the image were the words:
LAKEVIEW INN — ROOM 12
My hands began trembling.
The men always stayed at the Pine Rest Motel.
That cheap place near the highway with the unreliable ice machine.
The Lakeview Inn was somewhere else entirely.
A beautiful old Victorian hotel overlooking Loon Lake.
It had a wraparound porch, rocking chairs, and large windows facing the water.
I knew that hotel.
Because twenty-six years earlier, Mark and I had spent our honeymoon there.
In Room 12.
I stared at the key card.
The memory hit me so hard I almost couldn’t breathe.
Our wedding night.
The brass bed.
The lake outside the window.
Mark laughing as he carried our bags into the room.
Had he taken
another woman to the place where our marriage began?
I reached into the pocket again.
There was a folded receipt.
I opened it carefully.
HOLLOWAY & SONS FINE JEWELRY
Birch Falls.
A town about twenty minutes from Loon Lake.
The receipt was dated Saturday morning.
9:15.
Around the same time Ray had photographed the others eating pancakes without Mark.
The amount was more than $2,000.
The description simply said a custom order had been paid in full.
I turned the paper over.
Someone had written a note in careful handwriting.
Ready September 14. Engraving as requested. Congratulations, Mr. Ellison.
I stared at the final word.
Congratulations.
A jewelry purchase.
A hotel room.
A new ring.
And a woman at a café who seemed to know something about my marriage.
I felt physically sick.
The explanation seemed obvious.
Mark was having an affair.
Perhaps he’d already proposed.
Perhaps he’d
secretly married someone during the weekend.
And perhaps he’d taken off the new ring before returning home, forgetting that the August sun had left its outline on his finger.
I returned the receipt and key card exactly where I’d found them.
Then I carried the bag back to the closet.
I went into the bathroom, locked the door, and sat on the edge of the bathtub.
I pressed a towel against my mouth so Mark wouldn’t hear me crying.
That night, I barely slept.
Instead, I remembered our life together.
I first met Mark when I was twenty-three.
