The Next Wife

by Kaira Rouda

KATE

  Once we were both home from Tish’s house unscathed, I felt a wave of relief.

  I’d been ready to charge in there and grab my daughter, but she texted me the thumbs-up emoji telling me everything was fine. That was our agreement, text every five minutes. Nerve-racking. I wouldn’t put anything past Tish. I know what kind of woman she is. I see her clearly now. She murdered John.

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Nelson. I had the light on in my cab so she could see me watching her every move, even in between trips inside,” Seth had said after escorting Ashlyn home. Once he left, Ashlyn was ready for more Tylenol and a good, albeit late, snack in bed.

  Ashlyn didn’t find anything incriminating lying around the house, but she did tell Tish she never wanted to see her again and to get out of our lives. That had to be a stab in Tish’s cold heart. Is Tish worried? I hope so. Worried enough to leave town? Who knows? I also wonder how long she thinks she can play this game with the fake will. She has to feel the ground crumbling beneath her, because it is.

  It’s good to keep your enemies off balance. It’s true in business—and in life, I’m learning.

  I’ve done all I can for the moment, purchasing stock, getting Bob and the attorneys pursuing our legal recourses. I know who the witnesses were for the fake will, and how to find them when the time is right. For tonight, I’ll make sure Ashlyn is comfortable and safely tucked into bed.

  “I’m going to miss you when you’re back at school,” I say as I carry a bowl of granola and a banana over to her in bed. Hot chamomile tea steams on her bedside table.

  “Me, too. Need help with anything?” Ashlyn winces as she holds her left arm.

  “No, all set. You’ve done so much. Thank you.” She really is lovely. I’m so lucky to be her mom. And she needs to see a doctor in the morning for an X-ray, despite what she says.

  “What?” Ashlyn asks.

  Did I speak out loud? “I was just thinking I’m so lucky to be your mom. And we need to get that arm x-rayed in the morning.”

  “Aww, that’s sweet. But I told you they don’t do anything for elbows, even if it’s broken.” Ashlyn takes a bite of cereal. “Yum.”

  “If you want to tell me anything else about your visit to Tish’s house, I’m all ears,” I say, even though I know I should leave it alone for tonight.

  “See, you can’t help yourself, Mom. It’s in your DNA. You were meant to run a company. I’m proud of you. I am. And I wish Tish would just go away.” She takes another bite.

  “All of this happened to you, too. I just wish we had some more proof. Proof he was leaving Tish, and even more so, proof she put something in his drink. And of course, the ridiculous new will. I ordered a copy of the autopsy report from Colorado.”

  “Why? If they had found anything, they would have flagged it,” Ashlyn says.

  Still, I need to take a closer look. Perhaps hire an expert to review it. “Maybe, but people miss things all the time, overlook what’s right in front of them.”

  Ashlyn covers a yawn. “I looked around when I was there, like I told you, but there wasn’t a bottle with a skull and crossbones sitting on the kitchen counter.”

  “Very funny.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, it was about ninety degrees inside her house, and just about now, the music will start blaring.” Ashlyn is holding her dad’s phone and grinning.

  “You’re bad. You probably shouldn’t,” I say. “But I love it. I do.”

  “She almost ran me over and messed with my car. She practically admitted it. She knew it was an electrical failure.”

  “She said that? My god, we should call Bob.”

  “It’s not proof. She’s careful, devious,” she says, and her head drops with the words. “I don’t think Dad realized what he got himself into. And then it was too late.”

  Ashlyn finishes her granola, and I take the bowl from her.

  “Do you need anything else for school?”

  “I’m good. I’m almost finished packing. I hate to leave you alone to deal with all of this.”

  “I’ll be fine. Go back to school, to all your friends. Remember all the good times with your dad before she showed up.” I’ll be able to focus on things here better once she’s safely back at school. I have an idea. “Ash, take the plane back to school. The pilots would love to see you, and then I’ll know you’re safely moved in. Please, I insist.” I walk to the sink, stroke her long blonde hair.

  Ashlyn reaches for her phone. “Are you kidding? I’d love to. Thank you. You’re still planning on coming down for parents’ weekend? It’s in two weeks.”

  I smile. “Of course. It’s already on the calendar. Can’t wait.”

  “Mom?” She reaches into her bag beside the bed and pulls out a key.

  “What’s that?”

  “The key to Dad’s house. It works. I used it today. And the alarm code is still the same as ours. I just thought, if things get worse, you might need it. All of Dad’s stuff is still there. All the things he cared about.” Ashlyn places the key in my hand.

  I am beyond pleased on so many levels. “Thanks, honey. This could come in handy. I’ll do my best to save what I can for you. I know it’s what your dad would have wanted.”

  She shrugs. “He would have wanted to be alive, to be here, right now.”

  True. But you can’t always get what you want. John learned that the hard way.

  CHAPTER 48

  TISH

  I had the world’s worst night’s sleep. The nightmare of John’s death haunts me every night. I cannot get his face out of my mind, the frozen expression of terror when I had to ID his corpse at the hospital.

  Daylight helps. It is now 7:00 a.m., and I’m getting ready for work. It’s a big day. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Who needs sleep? Clearly, not me.

  I look at my reflection and note the dark circles under my eyes, the unruly hair, and the pasty skin. I don’t look right. I don’t look rested, but it’s more than that. I look a little crazy. Ha. That’s not good. I’ll need to get to work on this before heading to the office. At EventCo, I only have a little bit of time to make some changes. To assert myself. I read it online. New CEOs are judged right away. If I don’t make a good impression, they’ll eat me alive.

  Maybe I’ll start offering free lunch to all the employees. They’d like that. Queen Tish, that’s who I am. Let them eat cake for lunch, every day.

  I’m glad I see Ashlyn clearly now. I thought she was a bitch, but now I know for sure. Who needs her? I don’t. No more stupid “Ashlyn time,” as John used to call it.

  “You understand, don’t you?” John asked me after telling me I wasn’t invited for her sorority’s dad and daughter weekend last spring. “It’s her choice, and she just wants to spend time with her dad. Kate isn’t going, either, if that helps.”

  John had tried to pull me into a hug, but I wasn’t happy, not at all. “I need to be with you, too. You’re always so busy. Can’t it be Ashlyn and Tish time?”

  “I know, you get jealous. That’s so cute.” He reached for me.

  I slapped his hand away. I think I surprised him with the force of the blow. Turns out, I surprised him with a lot of things. “Not jealous. I just don’t like you two talking behind my back, that’s all. She should call and talk to both of us. It should be a rule.”

  John shook his head. “Not smart. You can shut down the communication between Kate and me. That’s fine. But not Ashlyn and me. She’s got a mind of her own, my daughter does. I love that about her.”

  “She’s a child.” I had my hands on my hips, still certain of my power over him.

  “She is. My only one. I’m going to spend some quality time with her. Alone.”

  That had been the first time he’d disobeyed me. The first time he would not agree to play by my rules. My hold was slipping. I was furious.

  “If you go without me, don’t come back.” I stomped my foot.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Tish.” John began packing.


  I looked at his phone as a text lit up. Can’t wait to see you, Daddy!

  Daddy? Really?

  John spotted me with his phone. “You need to calm down. It’s two nights, albeit two nights at the Regency. I’ll be spoiled. I’ll bring you some of their famous body lotion, OK?”

  As the memory dances through my head, so does the realization I’m wasting time standing here. I need to take charge of the present.

  Back to my face. I look in the bathroom mirror and pinch my cheeks. It doesn’t help. The word to describe my appearance is drab. That’s something I’ve never been called, ever. That’s it. The last straw. Period.

  I’ve got to get out of this house. Maybe with a new bedroom, a new bed, and some cool air, I’ll erase the vision of John.

  It’s time to call the real estate agent. I’m reluctant to move too quickly, what with the suburban gossip mill, and Ashlyn and Kate talking about murder, but I have to get out of here. I wonder if I can sue them for slander or libel or whatever it’s called.

  Ashlyn is going back to college, so she’ll be gone; Kate better watch her step.

  Focus, Tish. I dial the number.

  “Chris Cort here. Grandville’s number one agent. May I help?” His deep voice matches the handsome looks of the guy who has sent postcards and calendars to me since we moved into our love nest. We used one of John’s real estate friends to buy the house—I’m using the postcard-sending hunk to find my next home. I need a new place, a city place perhaps, closer to the office.

  “Hi, yes, this is Tish Nelson. 902 Coventry.” I try to add a lilt to my tired voice.

  “Gorgeous home. Stately. I love it.” He pauses. “Mrs. Nelson, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. It’s tragic. And now, I’m afraid, I’ll need to sell the house.”

  I don’t need to see him to know he’s grinning. “I’d be pleased to represent you. Could I come by and take a look at the property? What is your timing?”

  “As soon as possible, really. There are just too many memories here,” I say, not adding that the stupid place is torturing me. I don’t think he needs to know about that. John’s ghost will disappear once I’m gone. It just better not follow me.

  “I can be there in twenty minutes. Does that work for you?” He’s certainly an eager beaver.

  “Yes. That works. Chris, does the fact that John died suddenly taint the price of the home?” I ask in the sweetest, almost southern, voice.

  “He didn’t expire in the home, did he? I mean that creates a stigmatized property situation, but it’s not insurmountable.”

  Expire? Really? Jeez. “No, not in this one. He died in the mountains. At our condo in Telluride. I need to sell that, too.”

  “I’m happy to help you with both properties. I have a strong referral network in Colorado. Will we be buying a new residence here and there?” I imagine Chris’s green eyes glowing with the promise of multiple commissions. I then wonder if they really are green or just photoshopped. I’ll find out in twenty minutes.

  “Yes, I will be purchasing a new home. I’m staying in the area. I work downtown, so perhaps a condo? I’m not sure.” I’m bored with this conversation. “Let’s talk in twenty minutes, shall we?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Nelson. I’ll be there.”

  Oh, I know you will, Chris. I just hope you are as cute as your advertising. And as young. Young. I’m young. It’s time I find a man my own age. No more old guys. I hang up the phone and turn back to the task at hand. I have a lot of makeup work to do.

  By the time the doorbell rings, I’m ready. Hair blown out. Makeup heavily applied. The house is in fairly good shape since Sonja handled the red wine mess. And the thermostat is behaving. I’ll make a note to call a tech guy next. Maybe Chris knows someone.

  When I open the door, I discover Realtor Chris is even more handsome than his advertising. And fit.

  As we shake hands, I feel the tingle. The surge of electricity. I give him a big smile, and he returns the favor. This is going to work out just great, for his business and my pleasure.

  “Please, come in,” I say.

  “Gorgeous,” he says as he walks through the door, following behind me. I know he’s referring to me and not my living room.

  It’s been a while since someone has offered me an overt compliment, I mean, besides my husband. But he hadn’t even noticed me lately. No, he was back in love with his stupid ex-wife. An unfortunate choice for him. I control everything now—the company, the money, everything but this stupid smart home.

  I turn and toss my hair over my shoulder and wink. “Thank you.” I could lean in and kiss him right now. But business before pleasure today, I remind myself. I have work to do in the office.

  “Do you want to give me a tour of the place? I’ll have my team come back this afternoon or whenever you’d like to take the official listing photos, but I’d love to get a feel for the property myself.” Chris’s light-blue tie brings out the green in his eyes.

  “Yes, let’s get you a good feel.” I smile, and he follows me like a puppy into the kitchen. This is going to be fun. I need a release. It’s been tough being a grieving widow. It’s tough being one step ahead of everyone else.

  I wonder how the investigative journalist is doing. I’m glad I called the tip line at the magazine. I’ve never read the thing, it’s all finance and stuff, but they love juicy scandals, too. Like how a rich old woman is trying to intimidate the young second wife who just inherited half of the company. That should keep the pot stirred for me. Mean old Kate taking advantage of the poor young widow.

  I wink at Chris, who is following close behind me up the stairs, so close I can smell his aftershave. “You’ll love the master bedroom.”

  “I already know it will be amazing.”

  CHAPTER 49

  KATE

  By the time I make it into the office, I know Ashlyn has been in for a while. She left the house early, just as my alarm sounded. I saw her hop into an Uber, and I watched it pull away.

  I wonder what in the world would make my daughter wake up so early on her last day at home and work. I jot a note on my desk to-do list to call her in and ask about her early-morning exploits.

  I’m energized. Today’s the day Tish will find out the game is over. For good. It will be fun for Ashlyn to watch. I must admit, it feels like it has been a long time coming. Tish has been a surprising opponent. She’s much more underhanded than I gave her credit for, and much more ruthless. I still cannot believe what she did to Ashlyn’s car. I make a note to call Chief Briggs for the report if he doesn’t call me first.

  A knock on my door pulls me into the moment. It’s Jennifer.

  “Come in,” I yell, and she does.

  Jennifer exhales, shakes her head. “I’ve been trying to kill the story, but the Investor Times got a tip. They say they’re running with a piece about Tish inheriting John’s shares of EventCo, effectively taking control of half the company. I told them the will is being contested and gave them the facts. They maintain the Class B stockholders and investors have a right to know. I’m assuming we have no comment.”

  I turn, walk toward my office window, and stare down to the street. This is it. The thing I most feared because I cannot control it—my company being ripped apart by fake news and innuendos. By sleazy lies and sensational journalism. That my EventCo could be ruined by something as inane as John’s fling that now has led to a private battle between an ex-wife and a current one. This will not be the end of EventCo. It will not.

  “Exactly. We have no comment on their ridiculous story.” I take a deep breath and turn to face Jennifer. This is the dreaded hit piece that no one can stop, not even our multitalented marketing vice president. I’m just surprised it took so long. Likely the press stayed away because of John’s death. But it didn’t hold them off forever, of course. I wonder if Tish had something to do with it. “I know you tried everything to kill it.”

  “I did. But they say they have a solid source. An insider.�
�� Jennifer shakes her head.

  “Tish did this. Damn it.” I knew we were on borrowed time. We need to move faster. But for now, I will stabilize the company. “Get me the list of the lead investors. I’ll make personal calls to them. Now.”

  Jennifer hurries out of my office as Lance walks through the door with a purpose. His face is locked in a frown. That’s unusual.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask as he takes the seat.

  “Everything.”

  “Not a word I want to hear from my COO.”

  “Sorry, but it’s the truth. I got a call from the reporter working on the story. You and the second wife feuding. John the peacekeeper is gone, and the company is falling apart. That’s the angle. Chaos at EventCo.” So, the stories, the rumors, are spreading. I notice the dark circles under his eyes.

  He says, “I miss John.”

  I take a deep breath. So much drama. “We all do. But we need to pull this company through. We’ve worked too hard to lose everything now. How are the employees doing?”

  “They’ll be fine until this story drops,” Lance says. “What do you suggest?”

  What do I suggest? “We go on the offensive. I now own controlling shares of EventCo. In my estimation, about seventy percent of the company with my combined Class A and B shares. I am EventCo.”

  “Congratulations. That’s great.” Lance is impressed.

  I smile. “Tish has no stated title or position in the new will. Get with Sandra and move her to a back office, out of the way if she insists on staying and pretending to work. Call security in if she gives you any trouble. In the meantime, we’ll let it slip to the press that we’ve initiated an executive search and will hire John’s replacement soon. A seasoned president, someone the market will approve of who can help us comfort nervous shareholders. I am now CEO of EventCo, the only CEO of EventCo.”

  “I’ll tell Jennifer to call the Investor Times with this.” Lance stands up and closes my office door. “I’ve heard Bob and Sandra think John was murdered.”

  “None of us know for sure. It’s conjecture.” I shake my head.

  “But think about it. If there’s even a possibility she was responsible, we owe it to John to go to the police.” Lance is more animated now than when he came into my office.