The Future Widows' Club

by Rhonda Russell

  “Which is precisely what I told him.” And precisely what he meant. If he laid another hand on her, Jake wasn’t so sure that a strong respect for the law would be enough to prevent him from hurting him.

  Still laughing, Mike turned and walked away. “I’ll let you know what happens with those pictures.”

  Good, Jake thought. Until then, thankfully, he wouldn’t have to worry about it.

  He had enough to worry about as it was.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Can you talk?”

  Jolie shouldered the cordless phone, walked down the hall and shot a look toward the bathroom. “Yeah. He’s in the shower. What’s up?”

  “I saw Mike Burke come out of your office today,” Sadie said. “Anything in particular that he wanted?”

  Jolie grinned. Sadie didn’t miss much and even if she did, she’d hear about it at The Spa. “Yeah,” she said. “He wanted a copy of those pictures you took of Chris and Emily Dean.”

  “Did you give them to him?”

  “I did,” Jolie replied hesitantly. She’d shown Mike the pictures, hoping that he would let Dean in on what was going on, but Mike hadn’t wanted to do that without the proof to back it up. Jolie understood, couldn’t blame him really and, though, it was completely self-serving, she’d originally intended to keep the pictures in her own possession until she filed for divorce, strictly because she didn’t want Chris aware of the fact that she was secretly documenting his behavior.

  The less he knew the better.

  But it was hardly fair to Sheriff Dean to hide the proof of the affair, and in good conscience, she simply couldn’t tell Mike no. She’d made the copies and had felt better after she’d handed them over.

  “Well,” Sadie said. “For what it’s worth, I think you made the right call. Dean’s an innocent bystander in all of this as well.”

  “I know,” she said heavily. With the exception of her, who’d made the original mistake in judgment, they all were. Jolie swallowed. “He, uh... He also shared something with me.” Something that had made her heart alternately jump and squeeze, that had forced her to blink back tears long after Mike had left.

  “Oh? What?”

  Jolie let go a shuddering breath. “He told me who broke Chris’s nose.” She’d been curious about it, of course, but had refrained from asking because she knew Chris was just vain enough to draw the incorrect assumption that she cared. She’d just figured another pissed off husband had planted him a facer.

  Sadie’s voice positively vibrated with glee. “Oh, do tell? To whom do I owe my thanks? My gratitude? My firstborn?”

  A broken laugh erupted from her throat. “Jake.” Just saying his name aloud made something twist deep down inside her. Love and loss, regret and longing. His image rose readily in her mind, the slant of his cheek, that slightly full mouth, the very shape of his hands and the way his calloused palms felt against her own, against her cheek.

  “Oh, Jolie,” Sadie said, her voice tight with emotion.

  She forced another laugh. “Last person I expected,” she said. “I honestly didn’t think he cared enough anymore to go to the trouble.”

  “I’ve told you all along that he did. He came in here the same day that you filed the report. Mike must have told him,” she said, reaching the same conclusion that Jolie had.

  “I, uh... I guess so,” she replied haltingly, still having a hard time absorbing it. Though he’d certainly come to her defense many times over the years--and one incident in particular stood out.

  Senior year, homecoming. They’d won. She’d been standing outside the locker room, waiting on Jake to come out when a couple of guys from the opposing team had walked by. One of them had mouthed off about her hair-- she’d gotten that a lot over the years, particularly as a child. He’d called her a freak, then a witch. Jake had caught the tail end of the taunts and...

  Jolie could still remember the way he looked that night. Dark hair wet from the shower, his face flushed from the heat and excitement of the game. He’d been muscled but rangy, a good-looking boy hovering on the edge of manhood. He hadn’t uttered a single word, just walked up cool as you please, and slammed his fist into the guy’s jaw. Then he’d dragged him up, hauled him over and shook him until he’d apologized to her. After it was over, he’d wrapped his arms around her. “Stupid idiot,” he’d said. “Everybody knows that’s the mark of an angel’s kiss.” Then he’d kissed her there as well.

  Jolie let go an unsteady breath, felt the backs of her lids burn. She could still remember the absolute bliss of that moment. He’d been her rock, her champion, her secret hiding place.

  And she’d been too impatient and had given him up for Chris...and, though Jake might care enough to throw a punch on her behalf, she knew it was nothing more than he’d do for anybody else. He hated a bully. Reading anything beyond regular human decency into it was an invitation for more heartache and, while she couldn’t deny that she’d brought it upon herself, she’d had all she could stand of that for the time being.

  She glanced at the clock and started. “Oh, hell. I’ve got to go. My meeting starts in fifteen minutes.”

  “You’d better hurry up then,” Sadie told her, a smile in her voice. “After all, you’ve got a lot to report this time.”

  Promising to call with a full report once the meeting was over, Jolie grabbed her purse and the spinach quiche she’d made, then headed for the door. She didn’t bother telling Chris good-bye. He was still in the shower and, since courtesy wasn’t something he valued, she’d just as soon not waste her time.

  Jolie had shared her new status in The Future Widows’ Club with Sadie the minute she’d left the meeting last week. She’d been too pumped, jazzed and excited to wait and had driven straight over to her house the minute she left Meredith’s.

  Predictably, Sadie had jumped on board with gleeful enthusiasm. They’d poured over the handbook together, had laughed over the darkly humorous instructions laid out by the founding members.

  Things like, FINDING THE OUTFIT--the perfect ensemble for the funeral is simply a must. It puts you in the “widow” mindset and gives you something to look forward to. The perfect veiled hat--to hide your tears of joy and small satisfied smirk--is particularly difficult to find. Start early!

  And SHOW ME THE MONEY--regardless of present insurance and assets, another half-mil is prudent. Contact your agent at once.

  X MARKS THE SPOT--think of a treasure map, and The Will as your treasure. In this case, you don’t want it to be a buried treasure that requires a long and possibly fruitless search. Make sure you’re properly provided for--being sole beneficiary is best--and that the document is signed and stowed in a safe place.

  PREPAY IS THE BEST WAY--Planning a funeral nowadays before one kicks the bucket is completely acceptable, even deemed considerate, thoughtful, and prudent. Take advantage of this perk, ladies! Have fun with it! Pick a plot, pick a casket, pick a service. Graveside or chapel? Efficiency now will make your special day run more smoothly. Your un-dearly departed...may he never rest in peace.

  Jolie shook her head and laughed, remembering. But Sadie had been right--she did have a lot to report. She’d embraced the idea of being a widow with the sort of single-minded tenacity of a person clinging for dear life off the side of a cliff. The group had given her a purpose beyond getting her mother’s money back. Being able to secretly thwart Chris made her feel empowered and alive--proactive. Better than she had in months.

  Now, when he trickled acidic sarcasm over her, she merely smiled and thought about the additional life insurance she’d just purchased on him. She hadn’t been able to get as much as the handbook suggested--that would have required a physical--but she’d added another hundred grand to what they’d already had. Getting the signature was simple enough. She’d slipped it in with other business which had required his careless scrawl and he’d signed the form without looking at it.

  In addition to the life insurance, she’d found The Outfit. A black, fitted dress
with sharp lines that accentuated her waist. A pair of long, sleek gloves, a pair of killer stiletto heels, the hat that Meredith had told her about at Prim and Proper.

  And she hadn’t stopped there.

  She’d also bought a black merrywidow corset, with a blood red bud nestled between the cups, matching lacy undies, and a pair of micro-fishnet thigh-highs. The fact that she’d never actually wear it hadn’t kept her from dropping a small fortune on the outfit, nor had it kept her from trying it on. She’d felt a like a femme fatale mob widow...and she’d looked damned good, too.

  Once she’d gotten the outfit, it only seemed fitting to swing by the funeral home and pick up some literature on burial plans, and she had to confess that leafing through the little brochure had engendered satisfying visions of herself standing on a windswept hillside in her sexy widow gear, a mound of freshly dug earth at her feet.

  The whole process had been wickedly fun, extremely liberating and now instead of merely surviving her current hell, she could feel the cool breeze of freedom beginning to blow through her life. Even Chris had noted the difference.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he’d sneered earlier this afternoon. “What are you smiling about?”

  The comment had pointed out two things--one, she’d been stunned to realize that she had been smiling. For no apparent reason, it would seem. And two, the fact that she’d been so miserable for months that he’d noticed a smile meant that things were definitely making a turn for the better.

  Jolie slowed to a stop outside of Meredith’s house and eagerly anticipated the time she’d spend with these women tonight. It was ridiculous she knew, but she’d found it intensely comforting that an invitation into the club meant lifetime membership regardless of a woman’s marital status. She’d worried that when she finally kicked Chris’s worthless ass to the curb that she’d have to give up her membership.

  Meredith opened the door again and promptly handed over her hat. “Oh, good,” she said darting a glance over Jolie’s shoulder. “You beat Bitsy here--she’s out test-driving one of those little mini-motorcycles I told you about last week. Anyway, she took a real shine to your hat last week--had even gone down to Prim and Proper Wednesday to buy one for herself, but someone had just bought the last one.” Her eyes twinkled knowingly. “My sources say that you’ve been busy this past week.”

  Jolie grinned. Sources, eh? she thought. This was Bless Her Heart. Nobody needed a source--all you had to do was make an appointment at Sadie’s, walk around the square, or make a trip to the local garden center. “I’ve gotten a pretty good bit done,” she finally confessed.

  Meredith smiled at her as though she were a failing student who’d just aced an exam. “Excellent,” she said warmly. Her gaze dropped to the dish in Jolie’s arms and she sniffed appreciatively. “That smells wonderful. You know the drill, hon. Put it on the table, fix your plate and find a seat. We’ll get started soon.”

  Jolie found an empty spot next to a plate of mini-muffins for her quiche, chatted amiably with Gladys, the woman who’d talked her husband into investing in the pre-burial plan. “It went smashingly well,” Gladys said, positively aquiver. “You’ll hear all about it soon enough. What about you, dear? Make any progress?”

  Jolie nodded. “Quite a bit.”

  Gladys poured them each a glass of lemonade. “That’s wonderful. Good therapy, isn’t it? I remember when Sophia, Meredith and Bitsy first approached me about joining.” Her gaze focused inward, presumably on the memory, then she blinked and looked at Jolie. “It saved me,” she said simply. “Gave me something to do besides being miserable. I look forward to these meetings all week, have made some great friends. It’s good to be with people who understand.” She smiled. “I suspect that’s what you think, too, isn’t it?”

  Touched by the insight, Jolie nodded. “Yes, it is,” she murmured softly. She followed Gladys into the parlor where more and more of the women were slowly beginning to congregate.

  Bitsy and Meredith were bickering over the scooter again--from what Jolie could gather, Bitsy had nearly run Meredith down again. Jolie stifled a smile. Bitsy had tricked out her little ride with a sewing basket and a couple of racing flags. She’d just noticed that Sophia was absent when she heard the front door open. A cake plate full of petite fours, tote and purse in hand, Sophia, looking harried but elegant as always, quickly made her way into the dining room to deposit her dish. Bitsy fell immediately in behind her and quickly loaded her plate down with Sophia’s little cakes.

  With an exasperated look at Bitsy, seconds later Sophia breezed back into the room. “Good evening, ladies,” she called gaily. She wore a red pantsuit and had donned her hat. “It’s lovely to see all of you again. I hope you all had a good week, that you all have a lot to report.” Her gaze drifted significantly over Jolie and a touch of humor curled her lips. “Unless there’s any new business, we can start.” She waited a beat, and when no one spoke, she let go a little breath. “Okay, then. Gladys, how about it? How did your meeting at the funeral home go?”

  Gladys set her plate aside and smiled at the room at large. “Fantastic!” she chortled. “We took care of everything and get this,” she confided, leaning almost off the edge of her seat. “I’d planned on suggesting that we economize based on being practical--when you’re dead what’s the difference between a three-thousand dollar casket and a five-thousand dollar casket, right? Well, I didn’t have to say a word. Robert took one look at the price tag on those suckers and insisted that he be buried in the next best thing to a pine box. So not only did I get to plan his funeral, I saved several thousand dollars by letting him go with me.”

  A chorus of nods and praise for this accomplishment echoed around the room. “Just more for you, eh, Gladys?” Bitsy said. “Bank it for that cruise you’re planning on taking.”

  “On the pretense of needing to ‘get away’, of course,” Meredith chimed in with a sly smile.

  “I will need to get away,” Gladys said with a disgusted harrumph. She snorted. “God knows the old tight-wad has never let me go anywhere. When he’s gone, I’m going to travel the world,” she sighed dreamily. “I’m gonna go everywhere. See it all.”

  “I’m so glad that your trip to the funeral home exceeded your expectations, Gladys,” Sophia told her. “I know you’re thrilled.”

  Gladys sighed, patted her permed hair, then reached down and snagged a strawberry from her plate.

  Sophia’s twinkling gaze found Jolie’s. “What about you, Jolie? I understand you’ve been very busy this week.”

  Jolie grinned. “I have been,” she confirmed. “I’ve added one-hundred thousand dollars worth of life insurance, found my Outfit, and picked up one of those pre-burial plan packets from the funeral home.”

  The women all beamed at her, and Bitsy, Meredith and Sophia shared a proud look. “Oh, wonderful!” Sophia cried happily. “Wonderful, wonderful!” She laughed. “You certainly didn’t waste any time.”

  Jolie poked her tongue in her cheek. “Yeah, well, I’ve wasted enough up until this point, haven’t I?” she admitted truthfully.

  “But you’re making up for it now,” Meredith replied. “And that’s what’s important.”

  “What are your plans for after your husband is gone, dear?” Bitsy wanted to know. “Anything you can share?”

  Somewhat surprised by the question, Jolie tucked her hair behind her ear. “Er...yeah.” She glanced nervously around the room. “I’m, uh... I’m looking at a little house on Lelia Street and I’d like to start my own accounting business.” It’s the first time she’d said it aloud, hadn’t even shared her plan with Sadie yet. Like a secret gift, she’d been keeping it to herself, but actually lending voice to her agenda made it all the more real, made something light and happy expand in her chest.

  “Oh, are you talking about Maudy Hawkins old place?” Lois asked fondly. “White siding, green shutters, big weeping willow tree in the front yard?”

  “That’s the one,” Jolie sa
id.

  Meredith’s face blushed with pleasure. “Oh, that’s a lovely old home. I can see you being very happy there.”

  She could, too, Jolie thought with an inward sigh. She could see herself happy anywhere away from Chris.

  Sophia moved the meeting forward, asked several other Futures what they’d been doing this week to further their widow cause. Margaret was still slipping real eggs and milk into her husband’s egg substitute and Lois had reported picking up a prescription of Viagra for her husband. Initially Jolie hadn’t understood the importance of this move, but Gladys had quickly explained that men with heart conditions were warned against taking the drug. Apparently, Lois’s husband was just a few slices of bacon away from a good coronary and therefore didn’t have any business taking the sexual enhancement aid.

  “Dr. Gibson generally gives out the prescription regardless,” Gladys told her. “The last time he refused to dole out a free sample, his tires were slashed.”

  Jolie felt her eyes widen, chuckled softly.

  “Let me tell you, women around here take that stuff seriously. My daughter’s a pharmacist and boy has she told me some stories,” she shared with a grim laugh. “Most of those women anchoring the front pew down at the Baptist church have acted like regular heathens when she’s run out.”

  “Has anyone not shared?” Sophia called above the lively din.

  On the far side of the room a thin woman with eyes the color of coffee gone cold raised her hand and blinked back tears. “I haven’t.”

  Sophia’s smile softened. “Sorry, Cora,” she said. “I didn’t mean to overlook you.”

  Cora shook her head, fished a mangled napkin from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “It’s all right, Sophia.”

  “Tell us what’s wrong, dear,” Meredith encouraged. The room had gone silent, their faces somber as they waited for Cora to share her story.

  “Jed took the checkbook from me again,” she said, her voice thick with unshed tears. “He goes with me everywhere now. To the market, the gas station. Doesn’t let me have so much as a nickel of my own,” she said bitterly. “Doles it out like I’m too incompetent to be trusted with his hard-earned money.”