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

“The IPO?” I ask.

Bob pats my hand. “Married that woman. Such a fool. I told him he had it all.”

It wasn’t enough, though. I’m not sure what to say, so I just smile at Bob.

“Ready?” Bob asks. “Let’s get this over with. None of it is how John imagined it would be, I can tell you that much.”

That much is entirely true.

Bob slips out of the car and opens my door, helping me out. I notice the parking lot is quite full, but I don’t know if these are regulars visiting grave sites of loved ones or people here for John. I realize I don’t know who was invited to the funeral. My parents wouldn’t have come if they’d been invited, and all of John’s family members are deceased. They’re all here.

The cemetery has a parklike feel, if you don’t focus on what’s beneath. Mature trees, rolling green lawn, the oldest in the city. And the mausoleum where we purchased our his-and-her drawers are the most “requested” and “desired” in town, at least that’s what the man told us when we reserved our slots. John’s own parents have a similar setup. John and I had an awkward laugh about it afterward, the afterlife next to my in-laws. A girl’s dream.

Bob is beside me, and while I’m grateful for his support, I’d like to step inside alone. Unsupported. Since John left three years ago, I’ve learned how to stand on my own. He forced the lesson. And I’m a quick study. I’ve practiced my eulogy speech in front of my bathroom mirror. It’s short, sweet, and thankful: a reminder to everyone in attendance that EventCo is fine, even if our cofounder perished. Our beloved cofounder perished. I scratched both out. I’ll say, “EventCo is in my capable hands, even as we mourn John’s loss.”

“I’m ready,” I say.

CHAPTER 28

ASHLYN

On my drive to the cemetery, to take my mind off where I’m going, I call dentist Ron Pleasant’s office. Dentist Pleasant has a nice ring to it. I’m surprised when his answering service puts me right through to him on a Sunday. It’s not really an emergency.

“Look, I don’t know what you want, Terry Jane, but you better leave me alone. Do you understand? The nerve of you, calling after all these years. Let me guess, you’re in trouble again? Well, you’ve come crying to the wrong mark. I won’t be fooled by you again. And I’m a married man,” Ron said in rapid fire, like he’d been waiting to say this for years. He sounded anything but pleasant.

I suppose I do know why I was put through to him. I pretended to be Tish. I clear my throat. “Actually, Dr. Pleasant, my name is Ashlyn, and I’m calling because I think Terry Jane hurt my dad. Like she hurt you, only worse.”

I hear a big sigh. “Damn it. I finally got over that woman, and I don’t want to hear her name again.”

“She married my dad, and now my dad’s dead,” I say, and tears spring to my eyes. “I really need your help. You were married to her, too. Did she try to hurt you? Please help me. I miss my dad, so much.”

“I’m sorry, I am. And I’m sorry your dad had anything to do with her. She met me, married me, I fixed her teeth, gave her a place to stay, new clothes to wear, and then one day she was gone. No note. Nothing. She didn’t hurt me physically, but emotionally and monetarily, I was a mess for a long time.”

“That stinks,” I say.

“Sounds like I might have gotten off easy,” he says.

“You didn’t ask her for a divorce,” I am speaking through sobs. I can’t help it. I’m mad and sad all rolled into one. “That’s what she said. She told me you left her. I felt sorry for her.”

“No. It’s the other way around. I had to get the court to give me an annulment. She just left,” he says. The sadness in his voice matches mine, but the anger doesn’t. Mine’s more visceral, more raw. “I wish I could help you. But I can’t. My advice. Stay far away from her.”

I finish the rest of the drive to the cemetery wiping tears away. I’m mad at myself for falling for Tish’s lies. And I’m mad at my dad for falling for her, too.

I park and look around. It’s surprising how few cars are here. I make my way across the parking lot, my flats crunch on the gravel path leading up to the ornate mausoleum. Stained glass windows and heavy, dark wood architecture give the outside of the building a somber, church-like feel. If it was dark outside, I’d be freaked out.

I open the door to the creepy place where my dad will be buried and walk inside. Tish stands up front with a ghostly white guy. Behind her are drawers full of dead people, including my grandparents. I almost turn around. I feel sick.

Tish spots me first. “Ashlyn, darling, come in.”

The first thing I think is she’s wearing brown when she should be wearing black. The second thing I think is why did she cremate my dad. He has a drawer reserved. One of those right behind her. His whole body would have fit just fine.

“Can I talk to you? Alone?” I ask.

Ghoulish mortuary worker nods and disappears.

“How are you holding up? I thought maybe we could do some retail therapy after this?” Tish says. Her eyes sparkle. I don’t know if she’s serious or just messing with me. Or, worse, is she a psycho?

“Why did you cremate Dad?” I ask.

“We’ve been over this. It’s environmentally sound.”

“Why didn’t you bring his body here? Have them do it?” I ask. “It all seems rushed.”

“Well, it was rushed. Someone called the coroner’s office in Colorado and told them your dad was a big shot, so they expedited the death certificate. It was such a hectic time it didn’t matter to me who made