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

I jump as someone knocks on my car window. It’s Seth.

I roll the window down.

“You OK?” he asks. What a friend.

“I’m fine, sort of. I just need a little space,” I say. What I need is a little time to investigate some things.

“I get it. Call me. Or come over. Anytime. I’m here, whatever you need,” he says. He squeezes my hand before he walks away.

I wonder if my mom felt like this about my dad in the early days, and vice versa. They had to. How did they let it slip away?

Or maybe it didn’t slip at all. Maybe it was destroyed by a hurricane named Tish. Did she target my dad, is that why she ended up as his assistant? How did she find him, anyway? It seems like such an unlikely coincidence that she would apply for a job at EventCo. Her previous job experience, she says, was in real estate.

Maybe Tish had a plan from the minute she drove into town. And maybe that plan was to marry John Nelson, no matter that he was married, no matter who got hurt along the way. That sounds like Tish.

I decide that I need answers, and I’m going to get them.

CHAPTER 24

KATE

The sun has set, and I’m alone on the couch in the family room. I can hear the neighborhood kids outside, riding bikes, playing hide and seek, jumping on trampolines, their sweaty summer faces tanned and so joyful.

Meanwhile, my house is silent and dark. I still cannot quite believe the way all of this has unfolded, all that has happened. I tried to pretend my life with John was perfect. But sure, there were issues. I never did anything to him like he did to me. I never pushed him aside for a younger model, never flaunted a new version of him in front of the company.

I stand up and shake myself out of the past. I tried to do some Pilates this evening, my home reformer usually provides stress release. But tonight, I didn’t have the heart. I touch the top of a silver picture frame. I know the photo all too well: John, Ashlyn, and me at Disneyland, smiling, holding hands. Ashlyn’s grin is as large as the lollipop in her hand. We did have fun together. It wasn’t all business.

I hear Ashlyn walk into the family room. She’s dressed in a tie-dye T-shirt and jean shorts, her long blonde hair spilling over her shoulder in waves.

“Mom, what are you doing in here in the dark?” Ashlyn pushes a button on her phone and the room is alight—the oversize chandelier, the sconces, the table lamps, and the ceiling track lights, all at the perfect evening brightness.

The light hurts. Everything about the past week haunts me when I am alone. The regrets, the decisions we are forced to make. It was all so simple before that woman tore us apart.

Her hand touches my shoulder. “I’m sorry Dad left you for that . . . that woman. Left both of us. I understand now how hard it must have been for you.” Ashlyn is being kind. Maybe she’s beginning to understand the truth.

I look up at my daughter. I pat the hand on my shoulder with my own. “I was just reminiscing. We were good together. I’ll always—”

Ashlyn interjects, finishing my sentence. “Always love him. I know. Me, too.”

“Honey, we need to discuss our next steps.”

“What do you mean, next steps?” She gives me a look like you would a child who has surprised herself by saying her first word, half disbelief and half wonder.

“You and I are business partners now. You receive your dad’s shares in the company with his death. I made sure everything was sorted during the divorce, and Dad and I made a few other moves to protect your interest a few weeks ago. Tish may have stolen your dad away, and some of his money, but she won’t get anything else.” An image of John dissolving into ashes fills my mind. I shudder.

“Tish said she’s running the company now. She told me that in the parking lot after the memorial service,” my daughter says, repeating what Tish must have told her. I would never let that happen. Tish has no role here. I’ve made sure of it. I would never be wrong about something this important. I’m much too careful.

“She’s crazy. The law says she is only entitled to whatever he made during their three years of marriage, any property in her name, and personal items like jewelry. She’ll get a lot of money but otherwise, we’re finished with her. I have a copy of your dad’s will and trust. It’s in the safe. I can show it to you. The shares go to you. We both made that a stipulation of our wills. He wouldn’t change that. He gave me his word. It’s all taken care of. The company and more.”

“I hope so. I’m going out. I won’t be late.” Ashlyn holds up her hand as I’m about to remind her the funeral is early tomorrow. “I won’t miss the funeral. Don’t worry. Are they sliding Dad’s ashes in a drawer or something? How does it work? This is all so stupid. So gross.”

Her words are sharp, but tears swim in her eyes. I really don’t know how it will all work tomorrow—the funeral arrangements were handled by Tish, the interloper.

“It is.” I turn away so my daughter cannot see the fury on my face. Even though John and I spent twenty-three years together, I’m not the one planning his funeral. It should have been me. I cannot wait for this to be over. It’s time to get back to work.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I say. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. And don’t wait up. You need some sleep.” Ashlyn walks out of the room without saying another word. Which is probably for the best. For years we’ve