The Future Widows' Club

by Rhonda Russell

  Jake had arrived at the same conclusion. Cutting off Marshall’s dick had been the ultimate insult, the final salvo and the entire concept smacked of distinctly feminine revenge. He was most likely looking for a jilted lover, which meant that a trip to see Emily Dean would undoubtedly be on his agenda tomorrow. Now there was something to look forward to, Jake thought, as dread balled in his gut. If she was the one who’d murdered Marshall, she’d undoubtedly be entertaining similar thoughts about him and Mike for outing the affair which had ultimately ruined her marriage. A bulletproof vest and a cup probably wouldn’t be out of order, he thought with a dark chuckle.

  Sadie finished tidying up and slung her purse over her shoulder. “Jolie’s on her way,” she said. “Wanna follow me outside so I can lock up? Rob’s got evening shift tonight and-- “ She glanced at her watch. “--if I leave right now, we might actually have time to eat dinner together before he has to leave.”

  “Sure,” Jake told her with a start. He followed her outside, looked out across the square and tried to avoid staring at Jolie as she made her way closer to them...but it wasn’t easy. With every step that put her nearer to him, he could feel her--feel his belly hollowing, then clenching, then hollowing again.

  The faint scent of petunias, pine mulch and fresh-cut grass wafted toward him on the late afternoon breeze and the sun played hide and seek with low, smeared clouds. Despite the fact that he’d lost his pretty bronze sheen, Jebediah stood proudly on his little patch of marble, seemingly enjoying the soft gurgle of the nearby fountain. On the other side of the square an elderly couple held hands, strolled unhurriedly to some unknown destination.

  Sadie jerked her thumb toward her car. “Hey, Jo, I’m heading out,” she called out. “I want to catch dinner with Rob before he leaves for work.”

  Jolie waved her on. “Go on,” she told her. “I’ll call you later.”

  “You’ll be at your mom’s?”

  “Yeah.”

  Sadie nodded, then slid into her car. She twinkled her fingers at them as she drove away. Thirty seconds later, Jolie arrived in front of him. Several strands of dark red hair had pulled loose of her ponytail and whispered around her face, and one in particular had swept across that lush mouth and clung distractingly. “You got here early,” she remarked with a twinkling smile. “Checking out Sadie, were you?”

  Jake’s gaze slid away from her, felt a grin tease him mouth. She was too damned smart for her own good. God, how he’d missed that. “Just asking questions.”

  She headed toward the back of the building to the entrance to the apartment. “Well, Mom said whenever you get ready to ask her questions to be sure and call first. She’ll put a blackberry cobbler in the oven.”

  A bark of laughter erupted from the back of Jake’s throat as he followed her up the steep stairs. Blackberry cobbler was his absolute favorite dessert and Jolie’s mother made the best he’d ever eaten. “What?” he joked. “You think you have my whole strategy figured out?”

  She fished the key out of her purse, threw him a look over her shoulder. “Not your whole strategy per se,” she said drolly, “but we’ve read enough suspense novels to have a general idea of how things are going to go.”

  Jake felt a sigh slip through his smiling lips. “I’m just doing my job.”

  Jolie pushed open the door, made her way inside. Tall windows painted rectangular wedges of golden light on the worn hardwood floors. “I know. And if I haven’t said it yet, I’m glad that it’s you that’s got this one.”

  Something warm moved into his chest. “Yeah, well, you might not be glad if I can’t figure out who did this.” He grimaced. “So far I’ve hit nothing but dead ends.”

  “But you’re just getting started, right?”

  Jake wandered into the living room part of the giant studio, noted the small touches which told him Jolie had definitely spent a lot of time here. A bottle of nail polish, a paperback book and a hair clip sat on an end table, and though it was probably just her, he could detect the faintest hint of vanilla in the somewhat musty air.

  “I am,” he told her. “Still, I’d like to have a little more evidence to work with. Other than a couple of smudges on the faucet, there’s nothing.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, shook his head. He told her about canvassing the yard, then speaking to the neighbors. “Naturally nobody saw anything.”

  “Chris hadn’t exactly ingratiated himself with the neighbors.” Jolie pulled a brown accordion file from one of the kitchen drawers, walked over and handed it to him. “But maybe this will help.”

  Jake accepted the folder, randomly flipped through it and felt his eyes widen. “The mayor’s daughter?”

  “Yep.”

  “Christ.” What a friggin’ nightmare. The sheriff’s wife, the mayor’s daughter. Was there any prominent citizen in Bless Her Heart that he hadn’t screwed over?

  “I’d like to get in the house tomorrow and get my things. Is that going to be all right?”

  Still engrossed in the file, Jake nodded. “Yeah. We’ve gotten everything we’re going to get out of there, I think, and everything else has been documented.” He looked up. “You could actually move back in if you’d like.”

  She chewed the corner of her mouth and shook her head. “Nope. I just want to get what little is mine and move on, not move back,” she added significantly.

  “Technically it’s all yours now.”

  “I don’t want it. Everything that belonged to Chris can be sold with the house.”

  Jake nodded. Given what Marshall had put her through, he didn’t blame her, could easily see why she wouldn’t want to live in the house anymore. Still, she should probably exorcise a little discretion when it came to actually putting it on the market. He hesitated, then told her so. “I think that you should wait until this is resolved. Like I told you before, everything you do is going to be under intense scrutiny...and considering the fact that you took out an insurance policy last week and researched a pre-burial plan for him, you’re being looked at pretty hard as it is.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she said evasively.

  Jake felt his nostrils flare as he pulled in a slow breath. Which meant she had absolutely no intention of following his advice. She had to be the most provokingly stubborn female he’d ever encountered in his life. “Think real hard, Jo.”

  “I will,” she said, the tone of her voice leaving a not implied. “Did you need anything else tonight?” she asked. She dropped a glance at her watch. “Because if not, Mom’s cooking. You’re, uh... You’re welcome to join us if you’d like,” she said, awkwardly issuing the invitation and there was something distinctly vulnerable about the tentative way she tendered it. “There’ll be plenty.”

  Jake’s first impulse was to accept, to latch onto any reason to be with her. And hell, as far as that went, he had a reason--Dean had told him to stick to her like glue. But somehow he didn’t think enjoying dinner with her would qualify as true surveillance. After a moment, he shook his head. “Thanks, but I can’t. I’ve got to feed the horses and, er... Marzipan is due to foal any day now.”

  Her expression brightened. “She is?”

  Jake nodded. Marzipan had been “her” horse. She’d gone with him to the sale when he’d bought the sweet-tempered almond-colored mare, had even named her. After they’d broken up, Jake had been tempted to sell the horse, hadn’t wanted any unnecessary reminders of Jolie around, but he’d never been able to summon the nerve. It had just felt wrong somehow. “It’s her first,” he said, “so I want to be there.”

  And from the wistful expression on her face, she wanted to be there, too, Jake realized, feeling a tingly whoosh swoop through his midsection. The last damned thing he needed to do was even indirectly try to pick up where they left off, to spend more time with her than what was absolutely necessary. Which made him the biggest fool in the world when he offered to call her when it started. “If you’d like to be there, that is.”

  A big smile slowly dawned across
her lips and she nodded. A bizarre charge passed between them, one that heralded if not a new beginning, then at the very least a truce. “I’d love to be there,” she said, her voice somewhat strangled. “Thanks.”

  Jake nodded, couldn’t tear his gaze away from hers. Jesus, he’d missed her, still ached for her in places that he hadn’t known could hurt. “Okay, then,” he finally managed to say, and gestured toward the door. “We should probably get going.”

  Jolie nodded, seemed to come to her senses as well, and followed him downstairs. She locked up, then after a brief but awkward goodbye, Jake made his way back to his car. He slid behind the wheel and swore. Repeatedly. “Idiot,” he muttered.

  As if things weren’t complicated enough.

  Hell, her friggin’ husband wasn’t even in the ground yet and all he could think about was how much he wanted to feel the sweet curve of her cheek beneath his palm, the taste of her lush mouth against his lips. It was crazy, insane even. Jake pictured Dean’s thunderous expression, could just hear him--And you call this objective?--and felt a burst of wry laughter break up in his throat.

  He needed his head examined, Jake decided. He truly did. Just because Marshall was dead didn’t mean they could just pick up where they’d left off. A lot of damned bitter water had flowed under the bridge--and hers was founded.

  No matter how much he’d like to blame Jolie for jumping the gun with Marshall, for not giving him the time he’d asked for, he knew he’d been the one ultimately at fault. In a moment when she’d needed him most, he hadn’t been there for her, had let her down. It had been his biggest fear and like a self-fulfilling prophecy, it had come true. Jake swallowed, still couldn’t account for the supreme ignorance of that hesitation. He lived with it, carried it around with him all the time. It was the height of idiocy to think that she’d ever truly forgive him for it, courting heartache to even hope that she might.

  Furthermore--and he suspected he’d be reminding himself of this a lot over the few weeks--he’d do better to spend his time thinking about how to clear her of possible murder charges. If he didn’t, he could very well see himself kissing her through a quarter-inch of plexiglass with only a phone line between them.

  CHAPTER 20

  “Well?” Meredith asked with exaggerated patience. “What have you learned?”

  Sophia pushed her half-eaten slice of pie away from in front of her and mourned the loss of the rest of the delightful dessert. After that huge breakfast a couple of mornings ago, though, she couldn’t justify eating the whole thing.

  At just after two, they sat in Dilly’s Bakery--supporting a beaming Cora who enthusiastically worked behind the counter--and had congregated to go over the latest developments. Sophia would have preferred a three-way phone call--she’d needed to prune an out-of-control butterfly bush--but Bitsy didn’t trust “the airwaves.” Who knew who might be listening in? she’d argued, so they’d agreed to meet for tea at the bakery.

  “I called Jolie last night,” Sophia told them. “She went in yesterday and closed the business. She’s repaid the investors--and Fran, of course--and is planning on meeting someone from Bless Her Heart Realty about selling her old house and buying that little bungalow on Lelia Street that she mentioned at last week’s meeting.”

  Bitsy whistled low and beamed. “Why she’s not wasting any time at all, is she?”

  “It would seem not,” Meredith said. But she didn’t seem to share Bitsy’s enthusiasm for Jolie’s swift actions. A worried line emerged between her brows. “Don’t you think that she ought to be a little more careful, Sophia? You know...in light of her involvement with us?”

  Sophia had thought that as well, but ultimately couldn’t fault Jolie for moving as quickly as she had. She told Meredith and Bitsy about Jolie’s concern over the possibility of frozen accounts. “If she’d waited on that, who knows when she’d been able to give everyone their money back, most importantly her mother’s.”

  Bitsy shoveled another bite of lemon-blueberry pound cake into her mouth, swallowed thickly. Her chins jiggled as she bobbed her head in a sanctimonious little nod. “Sounds to me like she’s using her head.”

  Sophia resisted the urge to reclaim her plate and finish her pie. “She’s just ready for it all to be over with.”

  “I know,” Meredith sighed, propping her chin up with her hand. “I just wish she didn’t have to be so...hasty. Makes her look guilty.”

  “Jake knows about the pre-burial plan and the life insurance,” Sophia told them gravely.

  Meredith gasped and her eyes widened. “Already?” she breathed, straightening in her seat. “But how?”

  She nodded, gave them both a droll look. “Apparently Andy called wanting the body and mentioned the plans to Jake.”

  Bitsy’s doughy face folded into a disgusted scowl. “I swear, if it weren’t for having to go to another county to be laid to rest, I’d be damned before I’d let those morbid vultures have my business.”

  She could always pay them in coupons, Sophia thought.

  “How did he find out about the life insurance?” Meredith asked.

  Sophia shrugged. “Put two and two together, I suppose.” She let go a heavy sigh. “But he still doesn’t know about the club, and Jolie has assured me that she isn’t going to tell him. He tried to pump Sadie for information yesterday afternoon, but thankfully she didn’t tell him anything, either.”

  Bitsy snorted. “She’d better not. I save my best coupons for her. Those dollar-offs will dry up in a heartbeat if she opens her mouth, I can tell you that.”

  Sophia resisted the urge to roll her eyes, certain the Sadie fervently wished those coupons would dry up. Everybody who worked in any sort of service capacity in a fifty-mile radius of Bless Her Heart certainly did.

  “What will we do if he finds out?” Meredith asked, blithely ignoring Bitsy’s dire coupon warning.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Sophia said. And pray they didn’t come to it.

  “I don’t think we have anything to worry about,” Bitsy interjected, seemingly unconcerned as usual. “She’s not going to tell. If she doesn’t tell, then he can’t find out about us, right? I mean, we’ve been careful. We’ve had to be in order to keep it together for so long, right?” Her gaze bounced to Meredith. “Stop worrying, Meri. Everything’s gonna be fine. Are you going to eat the rest of that cake?”

  A faint grin tugged at Meredith’s mouth as she slid Bitsy her leftover dessert. “You’re right, I suppose,” she relented. “Still, I can’t help but be nervous.”

  Her thin face red with pleasant exertion and wreathed in a smile, Cora appeared at Sophia’s elbow. “Can I get you anything else, ladies? Mary just pulled some hot apple fritters out a few minutes ago. They’re divine.”

  Sophia’s mouth watered, but she imagined having to buy all new support hose and woefully shook her head. “No, thanks, Cora. I’m good. How are things going here? You look happy.”

  Cora’s smile glowed with delight and just the smallest hint of much-needed pride. “Oh, Sophia, I am. Mary’s just a joy to work with, and I’ve always loved to bake.” Her grin turned downright triumphant. “Then there’s having my own money, of course. I bought a new cake pan last week. It’s shaped like a rose and it’s just lovely. I can’t wait to--” She drew up short and ducked her head. “I know it’s just a cake pan, but it was so nice to get something just because I wanted it.”

  Meredith offered Cora a warm smile. “We’re proud of you, Cora. You always had it in you, you know.”

  “You don’t know how much I appreciate being a part of our bridge group,” she said earnestly, her fingers twisting at her apron hem. “Don’t know what I’d do without it.”

  Sophia, Bitsy and Meredith all shared a significant look. “We’re glad to have you, Cora,” Bitsy told her.

  Cora looked over her shoulder. “Well, I’d better get back to work. The mayor’s coming in shortly to pick up his order and I haven’t gotten it together yet.” She wrinkle
d her nose. “He smells terrible,” she whispered, leaning down where only they could hear her. “But what can you do? Poor man still hasn’t gotten rid of those bloody skunks.” With a shake of her head, she turned and walked back behind the counter.

  Meredith sniggered. “And he won’t until one of us wins the Beautification Award,” she muttered under her breath. “It’s my turn, right?”

  Bitsy nodded. “I’ve got it--“ It being their secret skunk attractor “--in the trunk of my car. Don’t let me forget to give it to you before we leave.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Meredith assured her. “I won’t. I swear if he doesn’t give you that Award next week, I’ll figure out a way to get those stinky suckers in his house instead of just under it. I’ll plant the stuff around his house--at the rate we’re going through it, it would probably be cheaper.”

  “He could give it to one of you two,” Bitsy demurred, preening. “You both have lovely lawns as well.”

  Sophia snorted. “Not as nice as yours, but I appreciate the compliment.”

  Admittedly her yard was looking a lot better this spring--she’d certainly spent a great deal more time outside working it...but it hadn’t been because she’d been angling for the Beautification Award.

  More like she’d been angling for Edward.

  Sophia still flushed like a schoolgirl every time she thought about their delightful breakfast the other morning. Edward had been excellent company, had complimented her--even though she’d looked like a total hag, she thought, mentally writhing with remembered mortification--and had praised her cooking, then had even insisted on staying until they’d finished all of the dishes.

  That had been refreshing, Sophia thought, grudgingly impressed. God knows her own lazy, shiftless husband had never so much as put a coffee cup in the sink, much less taken the trouble to wash it. Once everything had been done, every excuse to linger used, Edward had thanked her and promised to reciprocate the gesture. He could make a decent biscuit, he’d told her, if she’d be willing to try one.