He didn’t really believe she didn’t want a house on Cabot Lake, just as it was hard for him to believe she was ever truly angry with him. She thought of the cavalcade of workers required to keep two or more places running. She wanted something easily manageable, one small place in the world, entirely hers.

There was another reason she didn’t want the house. It surprised her⁠—⁠or, really, it was more like surprise and condemnation⁠—⁠that the rich always lived like the rich, coming to the same conclusion, which was to keep their money for themselves. The most surprising aspect of this was how predictable humans were, when often they seemed so unpredictable.

She disliked what it meant to bring this up in an argument. “You’re right, of course, you’re right,” Peter was forced to say, without ever changing his mind. She’d feel crabbed and ungrateful and even unrealistic. Indulging in his money only when it suited her⁠—⁠that was in part true. She ate nicer food, had nicer clothes than many of her colleagues. She never had to worry about a lack of money.