The Next Wife Kaira Rouda (book club reads TXT) 📖

it happen. I remember they thought I called. It was weird, but whatever,” she says. She picks up a photo of the three of us and shows it to me. We’re at Atlantis in the Bahamas. “This was fun, remember?”

“You didn’t expedite it?” I ask, my heart beating faster.

“Nope. Not me.”

The heavy door to the mausoleum opens with a moan. We both turn around. It’s my mom.

CHAPTER 29

KATE

Bob pulls the thick wooden door open, and I step inside.

There’s no crowd like I expected. The whole place is empty except for Tish, standing up front where the minister should be, wearing a ridiculously tight brown dress. Ashlyn sits in the front row. Rows of empty chairs face the wall of “drawers” where the deceased reside. I notice our two slots, John Nelson and Kate Nelson labeled in gleaming bronze, side by side. My blood runs cold as I focus on Tish.

“Where are all the people?” I ask. This is an important moment in the history of the city, certainly in the history of one of its most successful companies. This should be a state funeral, a moment to refocus everyone on the new head of the company. I feel my speech in my pocket. “Why is no one here? Where is the mayor?”

Beside me, Bob shifts. “Not invited. It’s private. Per Tish. It wasn’t even announced in the paper. I only know because I still control some of John’s affairs.”

Bob’s hand on my back propels me into action. I walk down the center aisle past rows and rows of empty seats and can’t help but shake my head. John’s friends would want to be here. This makes no sense.

“Sit wherever you’d like, Kate. This is going to be short and sweet,” Tish says as I reach the front of the room. Ashlyn turns around, her face is grim, puffy. I slip into the row behind my daughter. Bob sits beside me.

I touch Ashlyn’s shoulder as I turn my attention back to the front, the altar so to speak. I notice a row of four silver framed photos. Tish and John. Tish and John and Ashlyn. John and Ashlyn. Tish and Ashlyn. How sweet. Next to the photos is a blue ceramic pot. My brain registers: that is John.

Bob whispers, “Oh my god. Poor John.”

I nod, my brain recalculating at the reality of it all, ignoring whatever eulogy spews from Tish’s mouth. I can’t listen to her. All I can do is focus on John.

In that pot.

He’d really hate that. I reach into my pocket and pull out my speech, my Dear John eulogy and company rally.

I tear it into little pieces and watch as they fall to the cold stone floor.

At least it’s all over now.

CHAPTER 30

TISH

I watch Kate’s face contract as I touch the urn. She clearly has a problem with cremation. I should have said more about it in my speech. I had quite the lesson working with the undertaker on this. Ashes to ashes and all. Oh well.

Oh, I almost forgot to bring up the brat. I say, “We all loved you, John. And now, Ashlyn has a few words she’s prepared. She’ll be the last speaker.”

Kate looks at me and brushes bits of paper from her hands. She’s feeling left out. Whatever. She’s so dramatic.

Ashlyn stands and walks to the front next to me. She should kiss my cheek, hug me, show me some love. But she doesn’t. Even so, this must be killing Kate, and I love that. I know I should not feel this way, but I do. She never was nice to me. Ever. And I tried, especially at the beginning. I mean, she didn’t want to have sex with him anymore or else why was he so responsive to me? That’s the thing. I did her a favor, really. What did she lose? Nothing. She has her kid, her company, her house, and her fancy life. She really needs to get over herself.

I pat Ashlyn’s hand, a small but obvious gesture signifying our closeness, and take a seat in the front row. As I wait for Ashlyn to begin, I smile at the elegant simplicity of this funeral. I mean, the photos glisten in their silver frames, John’s urn is masculine and respectful. The creepy drawers full of rich dead people throw things off a bit, but all in all, this is a nice funeral.

I remember I need to pay attention to Ashlyn’s speech, or at least pretend to. She’s reading from a piece of paper that’s shaking between her hands. No composure. But that’s to be expected. She’s never had any adversity in her life until this. If you don’t count the divorce. And you shouldn’t. I mean everybody’s parents are divorced these days. Her day-to-day spoiled life isn’t even affected by it. She told me she considers it a blessing. She gained an older sister. Truth be told, she said that a long time ago, and I think her perspective has shifted.

She should stop talking. Tears stream down her cheeks. The speech is shaking in her hands. “I just miss you so much, Daddy. I don’t understand why you’re gone.”

I can’t take it. I jump up and wrap my arms around her, preempting a move by Kate to do the same thing. I whisper, “There, there, sweetie. You’re going to be fine. I’m here for you.”

Ashlyn shakes harder. I hug tighter.

Kate is behind me. I feel her hot breath on my neck. “Let go of my daughter.”

“I’ve got her. She’s fine,” I answer without turning around.

“Mom.” Ashlyn shrugs out of my embrace and reaches for Kate.

Traitor.

“Step aside, Tish,” Bob says. He’s Kate’s guard dog and for some reason, he is standing behind me. I didn’t invite him here. He invited himself, I bet. To escort Kate. As if she’s the poor widow, incapable of driving herself to this service when I’m the one who’s the widow here.

When Ashlyn came early to meet me