Free Yellowcake by Ann Cummins

Like her marriage. Empty.
    She supposes she figured at the time that given all the lies, she'd never had a real marriage, so why should she have a real divorce?
    Overhead the neon light flickers soundlessly. On the Muzak channel Engelbert Humperdinck blends seamlessly into John Denver, who sings about sunshine on his shoulders.
    It's not that she deliberately didn't file the papers. It's that Sam wanted out so fast. They agreed on the terms, signed the documents, and he gave her a cashier's check for half of his pension from the mill—ten thousand dollars. Then he left, taking the truck. Left the papers with her to file. Left her to do the packing. Left her stranded on the reservation without a vehicle. She had to rely on Ryland and Rosy for transportation. It was horrible, having to make arrangements to get places, go through paperwork and memorabilia from twenty years of marriage. And then pack it all up, haul the boxes to Durango, find a place to live, get the utilities hooked up and the phone started—and she had to do everything by herself, which her sister has never done. Rosy has never found her way in the world alone. She complains that she's tired, but she doesn't know tired. She chose Ryland, a good man, a man who would never do what Sam did. Though Rosy doesn't say that, it's implied. Actually, it seems to Lily that Rosy chose Sam for her. He was Ryland's good buddy...
    No. She is not going to fret about Rosy today and she is not going to feel guilty.
    She closes that drawer and opens the third, which has no folders but is packed full of loose papers. Mostly numbers and charts. She flips through them to bound stacks underneath, some of which seem to be data collected for the Atomic Energy Commission, letters from scientists, physicists, people she doesn't know, never heard of, studies, all with different dates, some as early as 1946.
    Should she take all of this stuff? There's so much to carry. It really would be better if Rosy came and looked for herself, though Lily knows that Rosy's plate is full now, what with getting ready for Maggie's wedding, plus she can't leave Ryland alone for long. He has fallen twice in the last six months. Poor Rosy. Lily thinks that pretty soon Rosy will have to face the fact that she cannot take care of Ryland by herself. Ryland is failing, it's clear. She will have to start looking into long-term-care options. Which they cannot afford. She's not good with money. Rosy and Ryland have never been good with money.
    Lily is good with money. She and Fred are alike in that way. They are financial equals. Lily invested her half of Sam's pension in real estate here in Durango, a very good investment, as it turned out. She now owns a string of apartment buildings up near Fort Lewis College, highly desirable, a steady ninety percent occupancy, and she employs property managers who do their jobs and don't bother her. Fred likes that about her. "Do you know how many women your age are looking for husbands to take care of them? They find themselves divorced or widowed and have no idea how to support themselves. Not you, Lily." He said he wanted a woman who can hold her own in all things, a true equal, financially, emotionally...
    Lily has tried to talk with Rosy about what she's going to do if Ryland needs expensive long-term care. Rosy says she'll piece something together. Lily suspects she's figuring on her sister's nest egg as a large part of the piece.
    Oh, she hates herself for thinking this way. Rosy would do anything for her, Lily knows this.
    She pulls several of the reports out, drops them on the floor, closes the drawer, and opens the fourth. She just hopes Ryland holds on for another few years. She wants to travel, and Fred wants a travel partner. He's just about where he wants to be financially and is planning to retire in November, while he's still young enough to enjoy it. He wants to see the Yucatán. He's something of a history buff, he told her. He wants to explore Mayan