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

“Chris Cort here. Grandville’s number one agent. May I help?” His deep voice matches the handsome looks of the guy who has sent postcards and calendars to me since we moved into our love nest. We used one of John’s real estate friends to buy the house—I’m using the postcard-sending hunk to find my next home. I need a new place, a city place perhaps, closer to the office.

“Hi, yes, this is Tish Nelson. 902 Coventry.” I try to add a lilt to my tired voice.

“Gorgeous home. Stately. I love it.” He pauses. “Mrs. Nelson, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. It’s tragic. And now, I’m afraid, I’ll need to sell the house.”

I don’t need to see him to know he’s grinning. “I’d be pleased to represent you. Could I come by and take a look at the property? What is your timing?”

“As soon as possible, really. There are just too many memories here,” I say, not adding that the stupid place is torturing me. I don’t think he needs to know about that. John’s ghost will disappear once I’m gone. It just better not follow me.

“I can be there in twenty minutes. Does that work for you?” He’s certainly an eager beaver.

“Yes. That works. Chris, does the fact that John died suddenly taint the price of the home?” I ask in the sweetest, almost southern, voice.

“He didn’t expire in the home, did he? I mean that creates a stigmatized property situation, but it’s not insurmountable.”

Expire? Really? Jeez. “No, not in this one. He died in the mountains. At our condo in Telluride. I need to sell that, too.”

“I’m happy to help you with both properties. I have a strong referral network in Colorado. Will we be buying a new residence here and there?” I imagine Chris’s green eyes glowing with the promise of multiple commissions. I then wonder if they really are green or just photoshopped. I’ll find out in twenty minutes.

“Yes, I will be purchasing a new home. I’m staying in the area. I work downtown, so perhaps a condo? I’m not sure.” I’m bored with this conversation. “Let’s talk in twenty minutes, shall we?”

“Yes, Mrs. Nelson. I’ll be there.”

Oh, I know you will, Chris. I just hope you are as cute as your advertising. And as young. Young. I’m young. It’s time I find a man my own age. No more old guys. I hang up the phone and turn back to the task at hand. I have a lot of makeup work to do.

By the time the doorbell rings, I’m ready. Hair blown out. Makeup heavily applied. The house is in fairly good shape since Sonja handled the red wine mess. And the thermostat is behaving. I’ll make a note to call a tech guy next. Maybe Chris knows someone.

When I open the door, I discover Realtor Chris is even more handsome than his advertising. And fit.

As we shake hands, I feel the tingle. The surge of electricity. I give him a big smile, and he returns the favor. This is going to work out just great, for his business and my pleasure.

“Please, come in,” I say.

“Gorgeous,” he says as he walks through the door, following behind me. I know he’s referring to me and not my living room.

It’s been a while since someone has offered me an overt compliment, I mean, besides my husband. But he hadn’t even noticed me lately. No, he was back in love with his stupid ex-wife. An unfortunate choice for him. I control everything now—the company, the money, everything but this stupid smart home.

I turn and toss my hair over my shoulder and wink. “Thank you.” I could lean in and kiss him right now. But business before pleasure today, I remind myself. I have work to do in the office.

“Do you want to give me a tour of the place? I’ll have my team come back this afternoon or whenever you’d like to take the official listing photos, but I’d love to get a feel for the property myself.” Chris’s light-blue tie brings out the green in his eyes.

“Yes, let’s get you a good feel.” I smile, and he follows me like a puppy into the kitchen. This is going to be fun. I need a release. It’s been tough being a grieving widow. It’s tough being one step ahead of everyone else.

I wonder how the investigative journalist is doing. I’m glad I called the tip line at the magazine. I’ve never read the thing, it’s all finance and stuff, but they love juicy scandals, too. Like how a rich old woman is trying to intimidate the young second wife who just inherited half of the company. That should keep the pot stirred for me. Mean old Kate taking advantage of the poor young widow.

I wink at Chris, who is following close behind me up the stairs, so close I can smell his aftershave. “You’ll love the master bedroom.”

“I already know it will be amazing.”

CHAPTER 49

KATE

By the time I make it into the office, I know Ashlyn has been in for a while. She left the house early, just as my alarm sounded. I saw her hop into an Uber, and I watched it pull away.

I wonder what in the world would make my daughter wake up so early on her last day at home and work. I jot a note on my desk to-do list to call her in and ask about her early-morning exploits.

I’m energized. Today’s the day Tish will find out the game is over. For good. It will be fun for Ashlyn to watch. I must admit, it feels like it has been a long time coming. Tish has been a surprising opponent. She’s much more underhanded than I gave her credit for, and much more ruthless. I still cannot believe what she did to Ashlyn’s car. I make a note to call Chief Briggs for the report if he doesn’t call me first.

A knock on my door pulls me into the