The Next Wife by Kaira Rouda (speld decodable readers txt) 📕

“Kate, darling, I’m so sorry for your loss. Standing up here like this must be horrible. How are you holding up?” Christine, my closest friend, whispers in my ear. She looks chic as always, and as always, she’s concerned about me. She thinks I’m a workaholic, and I think she’s right.

I lean into her hug. “Why did all of this happen?” I manage to ask as if she can tell me why our marriage cracked and allowed a horrible person to climb in. Why my daughter used to hang out with the horrible person. Why John married a woman practically his daughter’s age.

“I’ll come over later,” she says, squeezes my hand, and moves on to Ashlyn.

A tap on my shoulder brings me back to the never-ending line. It’s my executive assistant. “The Lord works in mysterious ways. I’m praying for you all,” Nancy murmurs as she pats my back. “You and Ashlyn. John’s real family.”

With that simple phrase, Nancy is on Team Kate. She’s made that clear from the get-go. “Thank you.”

“Can’t believe she is even standing up here, next to you, like she’s family.” Nancy pats my shoulder one last time and moves on to Ashlyn.

I can’t believe it, either, I realize. Even now. Even with all of this. I don’t want to believe it, but it’s true. John’s dead and I’m hosting a memorial service with his young wife.

I wish I’d taken two Xanax.

Why did I agree to a shared memorial? She should have had a service with her friends, and Ashlyn and I would have this one with ours. Tish and John were a blip on the radar screen, a nonsensical affair for a married middle-aged man with an expanding stomach, high blood pressure, an avalanche of work responsibility, and a teenager.

This situation is a joke. I’ll find comfort in the fact that after today, I will never be in the same space with that pathetic young woman again. I will never have to share my family, my husband, my daughter, or my company with her. Not ever again.

I will take charge of EventCo, and she will dissolve into a bad memory.

I take a deep breath and remember. It’s all mine now. I’m the only one in charge. I know what to do, and I know how to keep growing the business. I also know who Tish really is—a scrappy junkyard dog. I can’t erase the fact that she came into our lives, but once John is buried, she will be out of our lives forever. Our assets are protected from Tish, and Ashlyn’s future is more than secure, thanks to the property John transferred to her trust and the shares she owns in EventCo. We are both set for life.

And that thought is the only reason I can handle all this.

It’s almost over.

She’s almost gone. And she will leave with as little as possible. I will see to that.

CHAPTER 19

ASHLYN

More than standing here in this receiving line, more than anything in the world, I realize, I really hate her. I don’t believe a word she says anymore. I will find out all I can about her, where she came from, why she ruined my family. And if she hurt my dad, she’ll be sorry.

Another stupid stranger mumbles “I’m sorry” in my direction. He better not try to touch me. Good, he stays back.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

Tish’s purse is on the ground between us. In between talking to strangers, I check out what’s inside. I am learning a lot, standing here between two adults who hate each other. I learn about my mom’s strength, about Tish’s flashy confidence, and I learn something else, too. I’m a little bit of both of them, I suppose. And because of that, neither of them really sees me as my own person. I’m more of a reflection, I suppose.

And that’s just fine.

I look at my watch. My dad would have hated this whole morbid procession, I know he would. It’s all so fake. None of my friends are here, and from what I can tell, only people who worked for Dad showed up. I know he had friends, at least he used to before Tish came along. Maybe she cut him off from all of them, too. Or maybe it was his decision? I know it was awkward for them to go to dinner with couples who knew Mom.

This whole thing made life awkward for all of us. I look up, and Seth is standing in front of me. He’s made an effort to tame his blond hair, and he’s even wearing a tie. He looks good in his dark-navy suit.

I fling my arms around my best friend and whisper, “Thank you for being here. Did you cut the whole line?”

“Sorry, my bad,” he says. “I wanted you to know I’m here. I’ll wait outside. Text me if you need anything.” He kisses me on the cheek and slips away.

And because of him, I will tolerate this ridiculous line of misery for a bit longer. As another mourner touches my arm, I move my mind to the last time I talked to my dad. And it makes me angry. Angry he picked her over our dinner plans. Angry he was in Telluride against his will.

Angry he is dead.

There is so much I don’t understand.

I make myself a promise: I will get to the bottom of this.

CHAPTER 20

TISH

A quick glance at my watch lets me know I have about another hour to suffer through this memorial service.

And I do mean suffer. Ashlyn stands next to me, and she is a mess. I guess, in most people’s opinion, she’s got it the worst. Her father’s dead. She’s going to miss out on all types of important events with her ever-doting daddy—college graduation celebrations, assuming she graduates on time now; an elaborate and expensive wedding of her dreams to a young titan of industry; the birth of her first