The Next Wife

by Kaira Rouda

  She finally meets my eye, and I see a twitch of acknowledgment. “You know, it’s not my job to remember every person. I just take the ID and fingerprints. And the money, of course.”

  “Fine. Can I see the ID records for the two witnesses and John?” I ask, but already know the answer.

  “A fancy lady like you already knows that’s not legal without a court order. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She grabs her ledger, slides it under the counter, turns, and walks away.

  “This isn’t the last you’ll hear about John Nelson’s fake will. Count on it,” I say to her retreating back.

  But she’s right. There’s no way to prove she did anything wrong. As for George Price and the witnesses, well, that’s a different story. One I will be happy to pursue myself.

  As I walk back to the office, I feel good about my newly strengthened position in the company. I’ll have the voting rights as the majority shareholder despite Tish’s power play. And soon we’ll prove the will has been forged, whipped up to try to steal my company. What a joke. I decide not to go back into the office and instead to head home.

  The sun is setting as I drive. I’m ready for Bob to tell me the will is a clear forgery and that they’ve figured out how to prove it. And I’ll tell him what I’ve learned. Because it is. We all know it. I pull into the garage. My heart thumps in my chest. Ashlyn’s car isn’t here.

  I text her: Where are you? You’re supposed to be home.

  She answers right away, thank god. I’m at Seth’s. Home in a bit. All fine.

  I’m glad she has such a good friend. I need that in my life. I fill a glass of water from the tap and chug it. I’m tempted to open a bottle of wine and invite Christine over. But first I need to speak to Bob. He will tell me the will is fake. We’ll celebrate good riddance to the second Mrs. Nelson. My mind flashes to a powerful memory, the night John announced his plans at our favorite restaurant.

  In retrospect, I realized he’d picked a public place so I wouldn’t challenge him. So I couldn’t make a scene. So it would be easy for him to deliver the news and exit the stage, leaving me to find emotional support from the waitstaff.

  When you work as hard as we do, you come to discover that you only have each other and the people you pay to be your friends. The dry cleaner is a great guy; Jody, our favorite server at Lindey’s; my yoga teacher; my housekeeper, Sonja. You have that tribe, and then of course, you have your family, and one or two loyal friends like Christine. That’s enough.

  John waited until our dinner was served; then he dropped the bomb on our lives. “Kate, it’s settled. I’m moving out. I need some time.”

  “What?” I’d rested my fork at four o’clock on the white china plate. I remember the sautéed spinach and the halibut resting on couscous. “What did you just say?” The restaurant was loud. I must have heard the wrong thing, the wrong words. We’d been agitated with each other, short and unloving. And I knew about his flirty behavior with Tish at the office, their illicit romance, but I was ready to forgive him. It was a phase. All couples go through them—it’s normal, typical. I would be the bigger person and welcome him back to us. That’s what I’d decided.

  John leaned forward and said, “It’s over between us. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t think I understand what you’re saying,” I said. My mouth had grown dry. Everyone and everything in the restaurant moved in slow motion.

  John’s face came into sharp focus. I’ll never forget the look in his blue eyes. It was a look of pity for me mixed with confidence. A decisive, final heartbreaking smile that burst across his face before he caught himself. I watched as he covered his mouth, brushed imaginary lint from the shoulder of his black T-shirt, and signaled for Jody, making the signing-the-check motion in the air.

  “You can’t just walk away from us. Everything we’ve created. What about Ashlyn? The company?”

  “Ashlyn will be fine. I’ve already talked to her.”

  What? “You’ve spoken to our daughter about leaving me?” My god, he told our daughter first. How long did Ashlyn know the truth? How foolish I’d been. What a joke I was to my daughter. To everyone. What the hell did John think he was doing?

  Jody arrived, handed John the check, and turned to me. “You can’t be finished, Kate. You’ve barely touched your meal. Was something wrong with the fish?” It was then she must have noticed the tension. She grabbed the credit card from John and fled.

  “Ashlyn will be fine. She’s focused on her own life at college. We’ll work out all the details. I want you to know this will have no reflection on EventCo, nor will it affect what we’ve built together there. We’ll have the attorneys protect everything. EventCo is on a huge upward trajectory, with lots of investor interest. Soon we’ll both be rich beyond our wildest dreams.” John stood, reached out to touch my shoulder, but I pushed his hand away. A bolt of electricity shot through me. A jolt of realization.

  My husband is leaving me.

  For her.

  I stood up. “Why?”

  “The truth? I’ve found my soul mate, as corny as that sounds.” John shrugged as he shoved his hands in his pockets. And then the diabolical grin reappeared. “I’m in love.”

  How can you compete with that?

  “You’re in lust,” I retorted as he turned and walked out of the restaurant. I knew about their affair. But I never would have imagined it would come to this.

  That he’d pick her over me.

  And now he’s gone, and Tish thinks she can saunter into his place. But she’s wrong. She will not take the company I worked so hard to create.

  Never going to happen.

  I walk to the kitchen window and try to appreciate the beauty outdoors. The sunset’s orange glow, the green grass, the new mom pushing a baby in a stroller along the sidewalk, the privileged peace of the suburbs.

  But I’m not at peace.

  I take a deep breath as the doorbell rings. That will be Bob. Bob will have good news.

  And then none of us will see Tish ever again.

  But when I open the door, Bob’s face tells me the game isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

  “I found the notary. She’s lying. We need to go after her,” I say to Bob as I open the door. “You don’t look like you found anything to help us.”

  “It’s going to be tough,” Bob says.

  I remember that look in John’s eye the night he left me. And the fire builds. “I’m tough. Tougher than she knows.”

  CHAPTER 41

  TISH

  I don’t enjoy it when Ashlyn gets out of line. Sure, she’s mad I was at the office, in her daddy’s office, but she’ll get used to it. And what about me? My needs. My grief. And then, she takes it a step further and threatens me. The nerve. Uncle George told me to calm down when I told him what I wanted him to do. Said it was a mistake. I told him to handle things or I’d find another lawyer. I predict he’ll handle it.

  I pull into my garage, but I’m restless. And hungry. I hurry inside the house, into the kitchen, and yank on the refrigerator door. I am greeted as usual by empty shelves. I need to learn this work-life balance thing now that I’m an executive. I need someone to do the grocery shopping for me. As I stand staring at the empty shelves, I feel the heat start pumping from the ceiling. I know what’s next. Music will blast from the speakers any minute.

  I slam the refrigerator door and remind myself to stay calm. Heat is good for the skin, I tell myself as I push open the kitchen windows. This situation makes me furious. I don’t believe in letting ghosts get the upper hand. I believe in winning, and I will outlast this hot haunted house, and all of these people who are out to get me.

  Nobody better try to mess with me. Not Kate, certainly not Ashlyn. I’m a step ahead, and I just may have a few more tricks up my little old sleeve.

  CHAPTER 42

  ASHLYN

  I know Seth doesn’t believe me about how dangerous Tish is, but he still walks me out to the car. I also know he wants to kiss me, and I’m start
ing to think that might be a good idea, despite the fact I’m going back to college in the next couple of days.

  “Thanks for calming me down this afternoon,” I say and reach for his hand. It’s dark outside, and crickets chirp like crazy.

  “You’ve been through a lot,” he says. “I’m here for you. One of the benefits of going to Ohio State.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck, and the next thing you know we share a heart-tingling kiss. I pull away. “Let’s take it slow. We’ve been friends forever.”

  “You’re right.” He opens the door to my car. “Hey, this isn’t good. You left your door unlocked. Lock the doors. All the time. I’m worried about you.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say, and I know he’s right. In my hurry to get inside his house, I forgot. I look around the front seat, and everything seems fine. “I’ll text when I get home.”

  Seth stays at the curb as I drive away. I push my new confusing feelings for him away and focus on the drive, constantly looking in my rearview mirror. I don’t trust Tish, but I know I’m being paranoid and I’m imagining things. Seth is right. She’s crazy, but she’s not dangerous. I need to let it go.

  As I pull onto Lane Avenue, my car starts freaking out. My fried emotions go into overdrive, and my hands shake on the wheel. What is happening? My dashboard has crazy lights everywhere. I’m going forty miles an hour, but my car isn’t responding to anything I do. I pump the brakes but nothing happens, the steering wheel won’t turn when I pull on it. Ahead is the highway and a huge intersection. On my right is a shopping mall parking lot. I use all of my strength to yank the steering wheel. I close my eyes so I don’t have to watch as I feel my car fly over the curb and crash into a parked car.

  The last thing I remember is the sound of crunching metal, the airbag muffling my screams.

  CHAPTER 43

  KATE

  I escort Bob into the family room, a place that used to be a refuge, but not anymore. Everything has shifted, nothing is as it seems. I need to focus. I shove the will, the real will, across the coffee table as we sit facing each other. I still don’t like the worried expression on his face. But I’m not backing down. Bob should know that by now.

  “I know one thing for sure—the John I married, the John I built a company with, and the John who is the father of our daughter would never do this. He wouldn’t. This is his will. The only will.” I slap the paper with my hand for emphasis, and Bob jumps. “He never went to that notary. He never sat down with George Price. He would have used you to execute a new will.”

  “I agree. There’s something I need to tell you.” He shakes his head and places the new will on the table. “This was filed with the state one week before John’s death.”

  “What? Just a week before John died. What are you trying to say?” I ask, and pull my cardigan closed to fight a sudden chill.

  “I think it’s suspicious. I mean they file a new will, they even added in a no-contest clause of all things. It’s buttoned up, and then, conveniently, John dies a sudden death a week later.” Bob stands and paces the room as my mind struggles to take in his words.

  Oh my god. I place my hand over my heart and lean back into the couch. “What has she done?”

  Bob stops pacing and stands in front of me. His suit is rumpled, his hair is, too, and there’s a dark five-o’clock shadow taking hold, matching the color of the circles under his eyes. “I just wouldn’t put anything past her, would you?”

  “No,” I answer. My voice is shaky.

  “The timing is suspect. They could have filed the will and then set the plan in place to kill him.” Bob stares at me.

  My hand covers my mouth as I shake my head. Everything is in slow motion, like I’m watching Bob on a movie screen. “Tish is a killer? Tish killed John?”

  Bob nods, unblinking.

  This isn’t a joke.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” I manage, the words coming out slow and thick.

  “It’s possible, I’m afraid.”

  The realization that John may have been murdered by Tish is overwhelming.

  “I need a minute. Can you excuse me, please?” I hurry from the room and run up the stairs to the privacy of my bedroom. What was once our bedroom. I sit on John’s side of the bed and try to imagine his last evening. His last night on earth. I force myself to imagine Tish murdering him.

  Oh, John, I wish you could tell me what happened that night.

  And then I remember. Maybe he did tell me. His last words spoken to me were on a voice mail he left me after I’d fallen asleep. The night he died. I haven’t listened since the morning after, since he was gone. I reach for my phone and press the voice mail from John. I hold the phone to my ear as I listen to his last words.

  When I heard this message originally, I didn’t think anything of it. But now, in this context, with what Bob has told me about the will? Holy shit.

  I fall back onto the bed, cradling the phone on my chest. Now I know the truth. John doesn’t sound drunk in his message to me on the night he died, he sounds drugged. I’m sure of it. I need to tell Bob. I sit up slowly, push myself off the bed, and stand on shaky legs. I hurry back downstairs to the family room.

  Bob sits on the couch where I left him. “I’m so sorry to have upset you.”

  “Oh my god, I’m so glad you figured out the timing, and I think you’re right. It’s just so horrifying. And you’re not going to believe this, but I have proof that what you’re saying is true. I have a voice mail message from John, the night he died. I really didn’t think anything of it. Not until this moment.”

  Bob shakes his head. “We all were rooting for you two to get back together. I knew you two were talking again.”

  I am pleased they noticed. “Yes, we were reconnecting.”

  “I knew it.” Bob’s such a romantic at heart.

  “On the night he died, John texted me. He was miserable. He wanted to come home and couldn’t believe she had forced him to leave his own IPO launch party. He only had to make it through Saturday night. He was flying back here Sunday morning. So, when she served him margaritas, he decided to get drunk.”

  “I would have done the same,” Bob says.

  “He called me later in the evening. I was asleep. He left a voice mail message. He slurs his words, but I just listened to the message again. In light of the fake will, it’s terrifying.” I drop my head into my palm. “I should have done something that night to save him.”

  Bob’s hand is on my shoulder. “Do you still have the texts? Can you play the voice mail message?”

  “Yes.” I hand Bob my phone and show him the text series. He sees John’s selfie with the margarita and the “cheers” message. My text back that it looks delicious. And his final text. It’s horrible. Usually she makes good ones, but not tonight. I’m just trying to get drunk. It’s working.

  Bob shakes his head. “I mean that’s sad, but not really incriminating.”

  “I didn’t think anything of it, either. Not until now because of the timing of the will.”

  I find the voice mail message from John. His last words as far as I know. I play his message on the speaker of my phone, causing a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  Bob and I stand side by side as John’s strange voice says from the grave, “Hey, listen I’m uh, really, really drunk but I uh, just wanted to call and you know, say hi and well, I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow as soon as I can get out of here I, uh, I will. I don’t feel so good. And, uh—”

  “My god. It sounds like he’s gasping for air. The poor man.”

  I look at Bob. “His voice isn’t right. That’s not a drunk voice. That’s a drugged voice. I know him better than anyone else. Oh my god, she killed him. She poisoned him. She forged a new will and then she killed him.” I’m shaking with the realization, the revelation of it all. “And I didn’t answer his final call.”

  “You can’t blame yourself. You had no idea what she was up to, that she would try to harm him. I mean, they we
re supposed to be on a romantic getaway. We all should have stopped it somehow. Long before he married that woman.”

  I have to agree. “But no one did. And now, John’s dead.”

  Bob looks at his hands. “John sounds so sad in that message, and very drunk.”

  He’s infuriating. “I know what John sounds like drunk better than anyone, and I’m telling you his voice is off. It’s slurry, he’s not right. She did something to him. I know it. You do, too.”

  I turn away from him and walk to the kitchen, open a bottle of wine, and pour us each a glass. I carry them back to the living room, hand him a glass, and sit facing Bob. I try one last time.

  “I mean the will is obviously a forgery. John loved Ashlyn more than anything. And she is cut out. It was filed a week before his sudden death and leaves everything to the person who benefits the most. This isn’t a coincidence. It’s murder.” My voice is shaking. Is it grief? Maybe. John was killed by his young trophy wife. How awful. I take a deep breath.

  Bob stands. “You should know that voice mail wouldn’t be admissible in court. But I am convinced, as you are, that she had something to do with John’s death. That’s why I brought this timing to your attention.”

  Good. “What can we do?” I stand up, too. Let’s go, team.

  “We move forward against Tish. Legally. It’s our best chance for a quick resolution for you and the company and to protect the IPO,” Bob says.

  “I agree. Let’s tackle the fake will first.”

  Relief softens Bob’s features. He is afraid of Tish, I realize. He likes to focus on the paperwork. That’s fine. I’ll focus on her.

  Bob says, “We need to prove John would never write this or agree to it. We take it apart piece by piece to build our case for the probate judge.”

  I grab the will from the coffee table and read through it again. “There is no stated position for Tish in the company here. It doesn’t say she is co-president. She has no official title in the actual company.”