He staggered toward her, his voice threaded with ice. "How is the key gone. You'd better not be lying to me."
Ivy dropped to her knees with a thud. "This oven was custom-made. It only came with one key. When the maids were cleaning up, they must have thought it was junk and... thrown it away..."
I watched Bernard through half-closed eyes. The pathetic part was that he believed her. An excuse that flimsy, and he swallowed it whole.
He sent someone to get a replacement key made, then pressed his face close to the window. "Sharon, just hold on a little longer. I'm getting you out. Stay with me."
Watching the concern crease his brow, Ivy spoke up again. "Bernard, you brought all my relatives here today. You told them they'd witness your wife apologizing to me. They're all still waiting..."
"The power's off now anyway. Just think of it as giving everyone closure. All she has to do is say she's sorry. It doesn't even have to be sincere..."
Bernard looked at me. Then at Ivy, small and wronged and obedient. He rapped his knuckles against the little window.
"Sharon, no matter how you look at it, today was your fault. Just apologize. Keep it simple. Then I'll drop the whole thing. Alright?"