by Kaira Rouda
I lean into her hug. “Why did all of this happen?” I manage to ask as if she can tell me why our marriage cracked and allowed a horrible person to climb in. Why my daughter used to hang out with the horrible person. Why John married a woman practically his daughter’s age.
“I’ll come over later,” she says, squeezes my hand, and moves on to Ashlyn.
A tap on my shoulder brings me back to the never-ending line. It’s my executive assistant. “The Lord works in mysterious ways. I’m praying for you all,” Nancy murmurs as she pats my back. “You and Ashlyn. John’s real family.”
With that simple phrase, Nancy is on Team Kate. She’s made that clear from the get-go. “Thank you.”
“Can’t believe she is even standing up here, next to you, like she’s family.” Nancy pats my shoulder one last time and moves on to Ashlyn.
I can’t believe it, either, I realize. Even now. Even with all of this. I don’t want to believe it, but it’s true. John’s dead and I’m hosting a memorial service with his young wife.
I wish I’d taken two Xanax.
Why did I agree to a shared memorial? She should have had a service with her friends, and Ashlyn and I would have this one with ours. Tish and John were a blip on the radar screen, a nonsensical affair for a married middle-aged man with an expanding stomach, high blood pressure, an avalanche of work responsibility, and a teenager.
This situation is a joke. I’ll find comfort in the fact that after today, I will never be in the same space with that pathetic young woman again. I will never have to share my family, my husband, my daughter, or my company with her. Not ever again.
I will take charge of EventCo, and she will dissolve into a bad memory.
I take a deep breath and remember. It’s all mine now. I’m the only one in charge. I know what to do, and I know how to keep growing the business. I also know who Tish really is—a scrappy junkyard dog. I can’t erase the fact that she came into our lives, but once John is buried, she will be out of our lives forever. Our assets are protected from Tish, and Ashlyn’s future is more than secure, thanks to the property John transferred to her trust and the shares she owns in EventCo. We are both set for life.
And that thought is the only reason I can handle all this.
It’s almost over.
She’s almost gone. And she will leave with as little as possible. I will see to that.
CHAPTER 19
ASHLYN
More than standing here in this receiving line, more than anything in the world, I realize, I really hate her. I don’t believe a word she says anymore. I will find out all I can about her, where she came from, why she ruined my family. And if she hurt my dad, she’ll be sorry.
Another stupid stranger mumbles “I’m sorry” in my direction. He better not try to touch me. Good, he stays back.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
Tish’s purse is on the ground between us. In between talking to strangers, I check out what’s inside. I am learning a lot, standing here between two adults who hate each other. I learn about my mom’s strength, about Tish’s flashy confidence, and I learn something else, too. I’m a little bit of both of them, I suppose. And because of that, neither of them really sees me as my own person. I’m more of a reflection, I suppose.
And that’s just fine.
I look at my watch. My dad would have hated this whole morbid procession, I know he would. It’s all so fake. None of my friends are here, and from what I can tell, only people who worked for Dad showed up. I know he had friends, at least he used to before Tish came along. Maybe she cut him off from all of them, too. Or maybe it was his decision? I know it was awkward for them to go to dinner with couples who knew Mom.
This whole thing made life awkward for all of us. I look up, and Seth is standing in front of me. He’s made an effort to tame his blond hair, and he’s even wearing a tie. He looks good in his dark-navy suit.
I fling my arms around my best friend and whisper, “Thank you for being here. Did you cut the whole line?”
“Sorry, my bad,” he says. “I wanted you to know I’m here. I’ll wait outside. Text me if you need anything.” He kisses me on the cheek and slips away.
And because of him, I will tolerate this ridiculous line of misery for a bit longer. As another mourner touches my arm, I move my mind to the last time I talked to my dad. And it makes me angry. Angry he picked her over our dinner plans. Angry he was in Telluride against his will.
Angry he is dead.
There is so much I don’t understand.
I make myself a promise: I will get to the bottom of this.
CHAPTER 20
TISH
A quick glance at my watch lets me know I have about another hour to suffer through this memorial service.
And I do mean suffer. Ashlyn stands next to me, and she is a mess. I guess, in most people’s opinion, she’s got it the worst. Her father’s dead. She’s going to miss out on all types of important events with her ever-doting daddy—college graduation celebrations, assuming she graduates on time now; an elaborate and expensive wedding of her dreams to a young titan of industry; the birth of her first child. Too bad. But she had him for twenty-one years. That’s seventeen more years than I had with my real dad, before the first awful stepdaddy came around. She should consider herself lucky, but I know she doesn’t.
I’m too far away to hear what Nancy, Kate’s red-haired executive assistant, the office busybody who thinks she’s everyone’s mom, whispers in Ashlyn’s ear. But I know it was something about me. They both turn and stare at me, and I decide to meet their glares. I mean, really? You haven’t scared me away yet, so where do you think I’m going now?
Ashlyn doesn’t realize it, but she works for me now. She’ll be fine with it. We’ll be buddies again. I am much more fun than her mom.
I’m the new Kate. The younger, better version. Ashlyn already likes hanging out with me more, so she’ll get used to the arrangement. Or, rather, she will for a bit before she goes back to college. Bye-bye, Ashlyn. Then it’s just me and Kate. What a team. That thought brings a quick smile to my face. I drop my head and pretend to cough.
Nancy walks toward me. I suppose she must save face and murmur something kind in my ear, too. It’s only right. I am the grieving wife and the co-owner of EventCo. She’ll report up to me. It’s Kate and me in charge from now on. Won’t that be fun?
What? Nancy just wagged her finger at me, turned, and walked away. She didn’t come over to me to express her condolences. How dare she? As I watch her slow retreat, I fantasize about all the ways to fire her. I’ll get awful Sandra in HR on this immediately. Sandra is ruthless, I know from firsthand experience. She tried hard to force me out of the company after John and I were engaged. She’d pleaded with John to have me quit. But I told him I loved working with him, promised him some more after-hours fun on the conference table, and I won. I always do.
I glance at my purse sitting on the ground beside me. John’s phone is in there. I pull it out and hold it in my hand, although I’m not sure why I’m still carting it around. I tried to get into all his apps, but he never gave me a password to anything but his phone. And that doesn’t work on any of the apps—an extra layer of security that I find completely annoying. What was he trying to hide? I tried Ashlyn’s birthday, my birthday, our anniversary, and all the usual suspects. Nothing. I’ve kept it charged, hoping I’ll think of something.
I was able to clean up his texts, delete a few sweet notes from Kate, who calls herself Mabel for some reason. She was a little flirty but nothing overt. I suspect there were more that he deleted to hide them from me, and I have no way to retrieve them. The ones that weren’t deleted covered basic logistics of their sneaky affair: lunch dates, call time reminders, and the like. I can see how many calls John made to her. He even called her the night before he died, but she is the only one who has the voice mail messages if there are any. Not that any of it does her any good now. Or him. The cheaters. Kate likely reads the
texts over and over again, pining away for what might have been. Too bad. She lost. How desperate to go after a guy who dumped you for a younger model.
It’s a shame Kate has no spine, trying to weasel her way back into my man’s life.
I look at John’s phone. Odd, isn’t it, how his voice mail has outlived him.
I drop John’s phone into my purse and grab my phone. I quickly check for messages. There aren’t any. I’m beyond bored. It must be time for this thing to end already. There’s nothing left to say. John is dead.
I, for one, am ready to go. There is so much to do now that I’m back in town.
CHAPTER 21
KATE
Nancy’s words of support give me the energy to handle the last of the mourners. I see the end of the line, some twenty people deep. Jennifer pulls on the heavy doors to seal off the ballroom and to keep anyone else from joining the line. She knows we’ve had enough. I nod thanks in her direction, and she offers a brief wave.
“How are you holding up?” Lance has tears in his eyes. He’s so much more than our COO. He’s family. Lance folds me into his strong arms.
“You must be exhausted, Kate.” Jennifer is behind me, patting my shoulder. “Have a seat. Drink some water.”
I do as she suggests and remind myself to breathe. I sip the cold water, not minding as condensation runs down my hand and puddles in my lap. I’ll never wear this dress again anyway.
Ashlyn is hugging someone I don’t recognize, engulfed in a conversation she doesn’t want to have. Tish is alone. She smiles at me and shakes her head at what she thinks is my weakness.
I want to jump out of my chair, grab her, and shake her. Hard. She has no idea how strong I am.
“Feeling better?” Lance asks. “You looked really pale for a minute, like you were going to faint or something.”
“I’m fine, thank you. Do I need to speak to anyone else?” I’m shielded from the remaining mourners in line by Jennifer and Lance who stand side by side to create a sort of protective screen blocking the view of what they decided was my near fainting.
“You can be finished. You’re not feeling well. You’ve done enough,” Jennifer says. “We’ll tell the rest to send you a note of condolence. They’re happily joining the celebration of life cocktail party.”
My shoulders relax. I glance up just as Tish darts down the center aisle of the room and out of sight. Ashlyn stands alone, staring out at the now-empty ballroom.
Don’t worry, Ashlyn. We’ll be fine. I make that silent promise to my little girl as I watch her. Ashlyn and I will come together. We’re family. We’ll reconnect. She just doesn’t realize that everything I do, I do for her. She’ll understand. It will just take time. I’m all she has now.
As for Tish, I know her type. She’ll take the money and run. I am almost Tish-free.
“Ashlyn, ready to head home?” I don’t tell my daughter that I have a lot of work to do making sure this IPO doesn’t fall apart with John’s death. I know she doesn’t understand. She’d call me work obsessed.
Ashlyn stands frozen at the front of the stage, alone, staring at her phone. When I call her name, she blinks, as if she’d forgotten where she was.
My heart is heavy for my daughter. There is no telling what effect all this will have on her. John and I tried our best to be great parents. He couldn’t help his shortcomings, I suppose. But over time, I’ll help her see things clearly.
“I have some stuff to do, Mom. I’ll see you back at the house later.” Ashlyn picks up her purse from the floor. It looks just like Tish’s purse. The bags were like twins sitting side by side. Likely from one of their girls’ shopping trips. Another thing Ashlyn faults me for, my complete lack of interest in shopping. She can’t believe I outsource it to my stylist. I’m pretty much a big disappointment.
She’s practically running down the aisle of the ballroom. What is so important? I hope she isn’t meeting up with Tish.
She wouldn’t do that, of course not.
CHAPTER 22
TISH
It’s nice to be outside, away from those ghoulish people who wanted to touch my shoulder, hug me. Yuck. As I begin to walk to my car, I stop in my tracks when I see a surprise. Ashlyn walked out the door, too. Maybe she wants to make up? We’ll have a mother-daughter parking lot chat. How wonderful. Or not. She’s giving me a strange look.
Interesting.
“Hey, how are you holding up?” The poor little rich girl and I have barely spoken since I flew home with John’s body. Not his body exactly, his cremains. Strange word, isn’t it?
“Fine.” She crosses her arms, a smirk on her face. The designer bag I bought her hangs from her shoulder.
“You know I loved your dad. More than anything. And I’ll always be here for you.” I take a step toward her.
“He didn’t want to go to Telluride. You know it,” Ashlyn proclaims. “He was dreading it. He was supposed to have dinner with me. Why’d you make him go?”
“He needed a getaway. A break. You wouldn’t understand all the pressure he was under. The IPO was overwhelming, among other things that were taking up his attention. But I won’t fill you in on that adult stuff. He was overly stressed.”
“This doesn’t make sense. Dad was happy. He loved working on the IPO. And once that was finished, he was going to dump you.” Ashlyn takes a step toward me. “I think you knew it, and you did something to him.”
“Oh, stop being dramatic. He had a heart attack. Look at the death certificate. You should be nice to me. I’m running EventCo now.” Am I yelling? No, just speaking with conviction.
Ashlyn steps back, shaking her head. Over her shoulder, I see Jennifer hurrying toward us.
“Everything good, ladies?” Jennifer says, stepping into our standoff like an annoying watchdog.
Jennifer places a hand on Ashlyn’s shoulder. “Where’s your car, honey?”
“Over there,” Ashlyn says, still staring at me.
“Why don’t you get going, Tish?” Jennifer says.
“Good idea. Glad this is over. Is there anything else we’re supposed to suffer through?”
“The funeral?” Ashlyn spews out the words as if I forgot or something.
“I know that. It’s tomorrow. I planned it. I’ll be there, of course. But today? I’m outta here.” I check my watch. I’m not busy, but I’ll pretend to be. “I have an appointment.” I blow a kiss to Ashlyn, just for show, and walk to my car, swinging my hips.
I sense the dagger eyes of the two women behind me slicing into my back. Whatever. I stop, turn around, and wave toward them. Ashlyn and Jennifer ignore me.
I’m surprised how bright the sun is today. The windowless ballroom, with its artificial light and heavy, tearful mourners, would make you think it’s dark out.
I slide behind the wheel of John’s beloved silver Audi. It must be 150 degrees in here. I turn the air-conditioning to high as I inhale the smell of his aftershave, still very much present in the leather seats. His aura, his scent, is all around me. There’s a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach, a feeling like dread. I shake it off. It was all his fault, what happened to him. He couldn’t take the altitude, the pressure at work, the pace of a younger wife. But it was everything he wanted. I was everything he wanted. Until he didn’t. And then, well, RIP.
I pull out of the parking lot and turn into traffic. For John, I drive fast, even though I’m on a suburban street, weaving in between cars just like John does. Used to do. I need to stop dwelling on John. I need to move on, move forward. I smile as I scoot through an orange-yellow light and drive into the matching sunset. Poetic, isn’t it?
This day is finished, and it’s a relief to be heading home. I have one more ceremony to suffer through, and then on to my new life. I thought I’d be so happy being Mrs. John Nelson. I imagined myself a younger version of Kate, a hip parent to Ashlyn. But then he turned his back on me, on our life.
It’s time to recreate myself. I’ll become a powerhouse, like Kate. I turn up
the radio. It’s John’s favorite station, classic rock, most recorded before I was born. I push the button for “Today’s Hits.” It’s almost time to leave the past behind. Before I know it, I’m pulling into the driveway, and the garage door opens as if by magic. Technology is really something. Our home is what they call “smart,” which makes me laugh.
I teased John about the system when it had been installed, a five-day project that cost tens of thousands of dollars.
As I watched the crew of tech guys climbing around our home, I said to John, “I picture our house with a big cap and gown, its degree tucked proudly under the copper gutter downspout. So educated.”
That word educated rankles me. People think they’re better than you when they have degrees. The more degrees, the more superior. Most of the people around here pay big bucks to get their kids into the best schools, through the back door with their big donations and named buildings, or sometimes through the side door of cheating and bribes. I didn’t try any door, not that I’d had the option or inclination. I do have my GED. I don’t need anything else. I mean, look where I live.
“Honey, the house isn’t educated, it’s sophisticated. Technology to protect you if I’m out of town, that sort of thing.” John had pulled me into a tight hug. I could tell what he wanted. “I’ll always protect you, babe.”
“Actually, the house will, right?” I’d teased, wriggling away.
“Let’s go upstairs, I’ll show you what’s new.”
Back then, when we’d first married, all he wanted was sex.
It wasn’t his fault. I am pretty irresistible. I push the garage button and watch as the heavy door drops before I step into the house. The alarm warns me to disarm it, and I punch in the numbers.
It’s still beeping. More frantically. My fingers fumble over the digital keypad, retrying the code we’ve had since we married: John’s birthday.
Focus, Tish. I take a deep breath and press 0517*.
The beep stops, and the robot voice says, “Disarmed.”
