A Room With A View

Chapter Sixty - Elena

December 8, Friday

"You what?" Elena couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Joshua looked away. "I sold the apartment."

"Agatha's apartment?"

Joshua flinched at the mention of her name.

Elena ignored this. She stepped around the coffee table and closed the distance between them.

"And you didn't think to discuss this with me first?" Elena asked.

"Frankly, no. It is—was—my mother's apartment. She left it to me."

Elena bristled at his tone.

"Joshua, we're married. We have two kids and another on the way. Any financial decision is our decision."

Joshua shook his head. He backed away from the coffee table and stormed into the kitchen.

"See," he said, "this is the problem with you. You think everything is a group decision because you grew up with this happy little family. And no—" Joshua raised his hand to silence Elena's retort "—your small beef with Sybil doesn't count. You had a happy childhood. Most people don't El. Most people have to fend for themselves and sometimes people make solitary decisions. And this was a solitary decision."

As soon as Joshua stopped to take a breath, Elena rounded on him.

"That is such bullshit! That entire apartment is filled with photographs of you smiling with your dad and throwing a ball with Neil. You had the idyllic all-American childhood. Don't try to psychoanalyze decisions just to get out of an argument you know you'll lose." Elena followed Joshua into the kitchen. She could see from the set of his shoulders that the argument was going nowhere.

Elena gnashed her teeth. This was how it always went. Joshua believed so firmly in one point of view that he couldn't possibly see—couldn't possibly even imagine—that someone might have a different opinion from him. And he stayed so steadfastly connected to his belief that any argument just ended with the two of them frustrated and sleeping in different parts of the house.

No wonder Neil had left without asking after Agatha's apartment. He must've known Joshua would go ahead and do whatever he wanted with it.

Joshua's nostrils flared. He pulled a high ball glass from the shelf and grabbed the lone bottle of whiskey in the cabinet.

"El," he said steadily, pouring himself a glass, "I am not psychoanalyzing either of us for the sake of this argument. I am simply stating fact. Besides, we made good money from the sale. You should be happy. We can put it toward the kids' college funds."

Elena pressed her hands against the granite countertop, trying to get the cool stone to soothe her temper.

"What'd we, sorry, what'd you sell it at?" she asked.

Joshua sipped his whiskey. He poured himself another glass.

"Three point seven," he said.

Elena laughed. "Three point seven? Three point seven million dollars? For a penthouse apartment on Fifth Avenue? Are you serious? Think, Joshua. We could've sold that for at least seven, maybe even ten. Ten million dollars, Joshua. That's a whole hell of a lot of money."

"We needed to sell it quickly to cover estate taxes," Joshua answered evenly.

"Then sell her furniture, or those paintings you hate. You could've sold those piecemeal at auction and gotten the three million for the estate."

Elena pushed off from the counter and reached for a glass. Whiskey suddenly sounded like a great idea. Besides, she needed something to keep her hands from shaking.