THE FUTURE WIDOW'S CLUB

by Rhonda Nelson

  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 the 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 unable to 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 next 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 trying to kiss her through a quarter-inch of Plexiglas.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

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

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

  At just after two, they were sitting in Dilly's Bakery—supporting a beaming Cora who worked enthusiastically behind the counter—and going over the latest developments. Sophia would have preferred a three-way phone call—she'd needed to be pruning 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 Moon Valley 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 line of worry 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 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 have 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 and 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 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 released 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 better not. I save my best coupons for her. Those dollar-off's 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 that Sadie fervently wished those coupons would dry up. Everybody who worked in any sort of service capacity within a fifty mile radius of Moon Valley 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 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 into 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 wrinkled 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 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 inside his house. Or maybe I'll just plant the stuff all around his house—at the rate we're going through it, it would probably be cheaper."

  "He could give the award 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 school girl every time she thought about their delightful breakfast the other morning. Edward had been excellent company, complimenting 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, So
phia 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.

  Sophia had been stunned—if she wasn't completely off her rocker, he'd essentially asked her for a date—and had merely toyed nervously with her hair and nodded. So far the invitation hadn't come through, but she'd purposely stayed indoors the past couple of mornings because she loathed the idea of looking eager, or God forbid, needy.

  Furthermore, though she hadn't determined precisely how just yet, Sophia wanted to make sure that all of Edward's … parts were in working order. She didn't want to get too attached to him—or the idea of having sex with him—if he wasn't going to be able to seal the deal. She hated to be callous or unfeeling, but she wasn't buying a pig in a poke here. Time was running out. If she was ever going to have an honest-to-goodness bonafide orgasm again, she had to act quickly. And if you asked her poor neglected—intensely rejuvenated—hormones, the sooner the better.

  Bitsy fished a couple of coupons from her purse and laid them on the table. One was for fifty-cents off a roll of paper towels, the other for a Lean Cuisine.

  Sophia heaved an exasperated sigh. "Honestly, Bitsy, can't you just put down some change? Cora's thin as a rail! What does she want with a low-calorie meal?"

  Bitsy's eyes rounded. "Oh, you're right. Here," she said. She replaced it with a quarter off a half-gallon of ice cream. "She could use that a whole lot more, eh?"

  Sophia looked to Meredith. "Can't you do something about her?"

  "I was instrumental in talking her out of the motorcycle. You'll have to tackle the coupon issue."

  Bitsy's gasped as though just remembering something important. Eyes gleaming behind her purple glasses, she rummaged around in her purse until she'd found a mangled newspaper clipping. "You only think you've talked me out of the motorcycle," she said, sliding the paper to Meredith. "The idea of getting a motorcycle license was the deciding factor against making that purchase. But this," she said, her voice ringing with satisfied excitement, "this is what I'm getting. It's on order. Acid green with purple racing stripes." She practically wriggled in her seat. "Isn't it wonderful? We should all have one. Then we could ride together. Get matching helmets and jackets. We could be the Moon Valley Marauders or something."

  Meredith frowned, adjusted her reading glasses, then her mouth dropped open. "You can't be serious," she said faintly. With a disgusted huff, she handed the paper to Sophia.

  "A pocket rocket?" Sophia asked her, inspecting the ad. "Isn't this a kid's toy?"

  "Technically, yes," Bitsy admitted, not the least bit embarrassed or chagrined. "But it doesn't require a license, it's gas and electric, will go up to thirty-five miles an hour, and it'll hold up to two-hundred-and-fifty pounds."

  Sophia quirked a brow.

  Bitsy scowled at the quiet recrimination. "I'm dieting," she said, irritated.

  "Bitsy, be that as it may, I don't think this is a good idea. You could get hurt."

  She shrugged, unconcerned. "If it's safe for kids, then it's safe for me." She bobbed her head determinedly. "I want it. I'm gonna have it."

  "Do as you please," Meredith said stiffly, "but don't say we didn't warn you." She removed her napkin from her lap, wadded it up and tossed it on the table. "You're blind as a bat. You don't have any business trying to ride something like that. You'll end up getting yourself killed."

  Bitsy grinned and raised her palm. "Talk to the hand 'cause the head's not listening."

  Meredith harrumphed. "You'll be listening when your kids try to have you committed."

  "Nah," Bitsy said, blithely unconcerned. "They're too afraid I'll leave my money to my cat and my coupons to them."

  Sophia suppressed a grin. Knowing Bitsy, her kids better realize that very scenario wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility.

  "But I do appreciate your concern, Meri," Bitsy told her, leaning over to give her an air kiss. "It's nice to be loved. Now what say we do a little shopping, eh?" Her smile turned a wee bit sly. "We'll need a new outfit for the funeral, won't we?"

  Oh, she hadn't even thought of that, Sophia realized with a pleased start. Per tradition, every member of the FWC attended the funeral in support and appreciation of the newly widowed. To the casual observer, they merely looked like concerned friends, paying their last respects, but in truth the event officially kicked off their celebration. Sophia smiled.

  And if there was one thing the FWC knew how to do it was party.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Jolie fingered the single long-stemmed rose loosely held between her gloved fingers and waited for Reverend Hollis to finish the final prayer said over Chris's casket. The warm afternoon sun beat down on her back and a slight breeze ruffled her veiled hat.

  Flanked by her mom and Sadie—both of them wearing somber but relieved expressions—and the entire FWC at her back, Jolie finally felt the beginnings of true closure wrap around her, felt it clawing away at two years of misery and regret, and by the time Hollis muttered the final amen, she had to suppress a triumphant whoop of joy.

  It was over.

  "Or as over as it was going to be until Chris's murderer was found, but at least this was an official beginning to the rest of her life.

  "And that's it," Sadie whispered quietly as she turned and wrapped Jolie in a warm hug. "You made it."

  Sadie had no more than let her go when her mother gathered her up. "It's over, hon," her mom breathed. She could feel her soothing relief washing over both of them, could feel her mom trembling with it.

  Jolie smiled, but didn't speak. She couldn't. She was too overcome. The past several days had been a flurry of activity for her. She'd closed the business, satisfied the investors—most especially her mom—and the profound sense of comfort that doing that brought her had made it worth every miserable moment of the past two years. Just knowing that she'd made things right, that she'd have made her father proud, and that her mother wouldn't have to worry, wouldn't have to scrimp or scrape to get by anymore, had lifted a tremendous weight off her shoulders.

  In addition to all of that, she'd cleaned out her things from the house she'd shared with Chris and, despite Jake's dire warnings about being hasty, she'd listed it with a Realtor, the same one who'd negotiated the deal for her for the house on Lelia Street

  .

  Her mom had told her that she was welcome to stay at home with her, of course, and, while Jolie appreciated the offer, she wanted her own space, something that was hers and hers alone. She couldn't wait to move in, set up her office and flex her neglected decorating muscle. Other than her bedroom, she'd never been able to arrange things to suit her own tastes. She liked rich colors and the combination of old and new, and she couldn't wait to pick out paint samples and furniture.

  Sophia, Bitsy and Meredith, all of them looking polished and gorgeous in varying spring shades, moved toward her. "You look smashing, dear," Sophia told her with an approving nod. "Like a true widow."

  Meredith leaned in. "Plan on staying a little longer this week. It's customary in our little group to celebrate a new official's status."

  "That's right," Bitsy chimed in. She did a little hip-roll shimmy dance move. "We're gonna party."

  Meredith frowned and looked to Sophia who whacked Bitsy on the upper arm. "Cut it out, fool," she admonished. "We're at a bloody funeral, for Pete's sake," she hissed, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention.

  Bitsy blinked and straightened, properly chastised. "Oh, right. Sorry."

  Jolie barely smothered a chuckle. The trio moved aside and slowly the rest of the FWC members came by and, their faces arranged in purposely somber expressions that in no way matched the delight in their eyes, wished her a softly spoken congratulations. Several mentioned the upcoming
party and like Bitsy, seemed to want to dance. Thankfully, they refrained because from the corner of her eye—prompted by a not-so-gentle nudge from Sadie—Jolie caught sight of Jake. A tremble shook her belly, forcing a shuddering breath to escape her lungs.

  He wore his trademark khaki pants and a cuffed white oxford cloth shirt. His dark brown hair was tousled and a pair of trendy shades covered his eyes. The prerequisite cell phone was clipped at his waist and she could tell by the flat shape of that usually carnal mouth that he was supremely displeased.

  In fact, pissed was probably more accurate.

  Jolie drew in a careful breath as a combination of fluttery air and dread wrestled in her belly. He'd obviously made a new discovery, possibly more, she thought warily, hoping that it didn't crush the bud of newfound neutral ground they seemed to have found.

  Every time she thought about him offering to call her when Marzipan went to foal, a light hopeful feeling swelled in her chest and a tingle of tentative happiness sizzled through her blood.

  Jolie knew better than to start entertaining the idea of a belated happily-ever-after with Jake. Even if he were willing, quite frankly she didn't know if she'd be able to pony up the emotional investment to pull it off. She'd given everything she'd had to him and the one time she'd really needed him he'd wavered. Which was what had ultimately sent her down the path she'd just gotten off of.

  Did she love Jake? Jolie swallowed tightly as the truth readily rose in her heart. Yes, she did. Always had, always would. She ached for him, yearned for him, longed for that sense of closeness and familiarity—being his friend, and oh, God, being his lover. She wanted that back more than anything. But could they go back? Could she go back? Jolie frowned. She didn't know.

  Granted she knew that Jake was sorry, that he regretted letting her go, then not having the nerve to try and reclaim her after she'd come back with Chris. He could have, too, Jolie thought. She'd been hurt and angry and miserable, but if he'd asked—just asked—she would have culled Chris in a heartbeat to have Jake back. He had to know it, Jolie thought. And he surely must have known it then … yet he hadn't so much as lifted a finger when he could have merely crooked it and she'd have come running.