The Next Wife Page 6

  “Did you?”

  Ashlyn didn’t answer. I followed her out of the closet and into the long grand hallway. She stopped at the top of the stairs, turned, and looked at me. “Not at first. But then, when she started having her boyfriend over during the day instead of taking care of me, well, that’s when I told. When she betrayed me, I betrayed her.”

  “I guess a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do. Listen, you can tell on me. It’s fine. I grew up with nothing, so I guess I was just drawn into the closet like a moth to a flame. I’ve never seen so many beautiful things.” I held her stare until she broke the gaze.

  “How poor were you?” Ashlyn asked, bounding down the elegant stairway two steps at a time.

  “Very. Poorest in my school. And all the kids knew it.” I fight back the memories. The dresses with holes in the sleeves, the shame of pants too short for my long legs. The calloused hands touching my body, the hand over my mouth as I tried to scream. The knowledge that no one cared, no matter what he did. My momma’s cold, dark, disbelieving eyes. No one ever believed me. No one ever became my friend. “It sucked. But I got out.”

  “How did you get out?” Ashlyn stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up at me.

  “Well, first I moved to a new state and never looked back. Next I met Ron, the dentist I dated while I was waiting tables at Bob Evans. We were married. Everything was so wonderful. But then he left me.”

  Ashlyn’s face contorts in shock. “He left you? How horrible! You’ve had such a hard life.”

  “Yes,” I said pretending to wipe a tear from under my eye. I did have a horrible childhood, but the part about Ron leaving me wasn’t true. It made a better story, though. Ron had been good for about a minute. He had a fabulous apartment, a stocked refrigerator, and two cars. He checked all the boxes I needed for that moment. I needed him in Cincinnati. I needed the braces I’d never had and a soft bed with someone who loved me. But he was a means to an end—stability after the storm of my childhood. Once I got the corporate job working for Mr. Howe, I didn’t need Ron anymore. When I left Ron, I never looked back.

  “I can’t believe you were married.” Ashlyn’s mouth gaped open. “You’re just a few years older than me!”

  “I know. It’s been hard,” I said. And then, seemingly overcome by emotion, I plunked down on the second to last step and let Ashlyn comfort me.

  “Wow, well, at least you’re here now. There are plenty of great guys out there, and I know you’ll find one of them soon,” she said. So sweet. She didn’t know I wasn’t looking further than her home.

  And that’s when we became BFFs. She really liked me, and I liked her. I could almost feel the love between us, the sense of family forming. Maybe I’d finally found a friend? Maybe more. Operation Ashlyn was a success. The rest of the weekend was fun and games, ordering in and staying up late. Pj parties and boys sneaking over. It was all a high school dream. Like it was supposed to be when you’re a teenager, like it was supposed to be when you had a rich family. I was at once jealous and having fun.

  And then, like a cherry on top, John came home early from the high school reunion in California, leaving Kate all alone across the country.

  Of course, I needed to stay on and babysit. He had to work, so it was the least I could do. And Ashlyn insisted. It was thanks to her that we ended up together. I knew John flew home early to be with me. And I was right. The infatuation was so intense, I was surprised Ashlyn missed it. I didn’t. But teenage girls only care about one thing—themselves.

  It’s too bad Ashlyn and I aren’t as close as we once were. Jennifer slipped into that big sister relationship, and Kate, well, she’s worked hard to get back into her daughter’s good graces.

  I have to watch all three of them at work every day. Well, I used to. It’s disgusting. But I’ll win Ashlyn back, just like I will John. We’re family now, and that’s the strongest bond. At least that’s what my uncle George said last week when we got together in downtown Columbus, and I tend to believe him. I have to believe him. He’s the only family I’ve got.

  But grown women have a lot to worry about. That’s why I’m here in Telluride focusing on my marriage.

  I need to be in the moment and watch the scenery gliding by outside the windows of the gondola. It is electric here. Kool-Aid colors: bright blue, vibrant yellow, neon green. Telluride’s best-kept secret is summer, that’s what all the locals tell us. It might be true. There’s something about the wide, deep blue sky, darkening each moment in the glow of the dying sun. The green grasses covering the meadows drenched in shadows. The towering pines. People who vacation here are the lucky few. Do they even notice the full moon peeking over the mountain? Do they notice nature at all, or simply believe they are masters of all they see? These people only notice the brand of designer attire the couples across the gondola wear. Is the fur real? Is her diamond bigger than mine? It’s pathetic, really, but so fun to observe. I know because I’m watching them. I want everything they have, and more. Why play the game if you don’t want to win?

  I decide tonight the moon is an omen of some sorts. I don’t believe in such things, typically. As a rule, I only believe in myself. Beside me, John gathers up the shopping bags. We’re about to reach the bottom: our gondola stop.

  Dangling here, in this glass box high above a pricey and pristine wilderness, you’d think everyone should be happy. I look at the other passengers on the gondola. Across from us is a young mom and dad with three small kids, the parents working so hard to keep everyone seated for the ride. The mom looks exhausted. These first wives do struggle. They have to give birth to the baby, or babies, and then devote themselves to the kids for the rest of their lives. That’s the biggest thing. Us next wives waltz in after all the potty training, the shots, the school selection, the homework. I watch as she picks up the youngest, a baby who looks to be nine months or so, heavy but not yet walking. The baby arches his back and wails.

  “Oh my god, Jill, can you get him to shut up?” says the young dad.

  Jill bursts into tears along with the baby.

  I glare at the young dad. How rude. She’s doing her best. She’s a first wife. I imagine she lives not far from here, in a small one-story rural home. She has no help, no money for good clothes clearly, and vacation means babysitting her own kids with the extra pressure of making sure the children make the dad look good in public. Likely they saved money all year just to visit for the weekend, and now this. No thank you.

  I like my men wealthy and broken in, and the kids, if they have to be around, happily away at college. That’s why a man like John seemed so perfect. That’s why I asked if he had any single friends.

  Turns out, he didn’t want to share me with anyone. His choice. And I felt like I’d hit the jackpot. He was trained by Kate, his first love, a strong woman who became his business partner. Check. He only had one child, and she was potty-trained and ready for college. Check. He dressed nice, but not flashy. He smiled easily and told corny jokes. He didn’t make a move until he made sure I wanted him. Such a gentleman. Check, check, check, and check.

  No one is going to take him away from me. I’ve provided the training on how to treat a young, gorgeous new wife. I’m the one who has created our exciting life. Kate will not waltz in and take it all back. She will not.

  As we step off the gondola, away from the crying baby, I turn and face him. “Tell me what’s not working? We need to figure things out.”

  He looks up at the sky. “Let’s discuss this back home.”

  I shake my head. “No, let’s discuss this now. How long have you been seeing Kate? Sneaking around behind my back? Tell me the truth. I will forgive you, of course. Everyone makes mistakes. As long as it doesn’t happen again. You’ve been under stress. The grass seems greener, yada yada. And of course, she must resign. I can’t have her working there with you. Not anymore.” My hands land on my hips before I realize it. I tell myself to breathe. To calm down. I’m shaking with fury. There is a regular pa
rade of gondola riders walking past us. I fake-smile at a couple, and they look away.

  “What are you talking about?” John acts puzzled, but he’s not. I guess he’s just surprised I know so much.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Look, you and I did the same thing. Tell me the truth.” My voice is a hiss. I poke him in the chest for emphasis.

  John blinks and backs away, hands held up like he’s surrendering to the police. “The truth is that this isn’t working. Us. You and me.”

  How dare he? He’s tossing up his hands and trying to tell me it’s over. Here? Like this? I stare at him, searching for an answer. He drops his head.

  I’m so mad I can barely speak. “We are fine. You don’t get to claim it isn’t working. No, that’s not how it’s done. You just need to pay attention to our relationship again. Come back to me. Stay away from Kate.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” John is such a bad liar.

  I don’t say another word. I turn and walk toward the condo. In my mind, the image of our perfect family, our perfect life, crumbles into dust. He seemed like just what I’d been looking for, and for a while he was. Now, he’s a disgrace—weak and disloyal.

  I stomp into the lobby of the condominium complex, aware I’m still shaking. I take a deep breath and calm myself. I can handle anything. That’s why I’ve survived on my own for so long. I thought John was different, I thought I could count on him. I learned growing up that you have to keep your options open. It’s time to pivot from love to revenge.

  The elevator doors open, and I step inside, stabbing the button for the penthouse. John arrives at the elevator just as the doors shut, him on the other side. I give him a quick shrug but don’t make a move to reopen the doors. I guess he’ll just have to wait in the lobby for a bit. It will give him time to think about what he’s done.

  It’s too bad he’s turned into a liar. It really is a shame. The truth can set you free, I’ve heard. So what does lying do for you?

  CHAPTER 10

  JOHN

  When the doors of the elevator closed, I almost left. I could have called the pilots and flown home. I did call Ashlyn and cheered myself up with the sound of her voice. I almost walked out, but I didn’t. I promised Tish one night here, and I would keep my word.

  By the time I walked into the condo, it was like nothing had happened between us. As if we’d never fought. Tish made a big pitcher of margaritas, and we’re sitting out on the deck watching the sun drop behind the mountain. The air is turning crisp, and in a few minutes, I’ll need a jacket. I soak up the beauty of the purple sky and take a sip of my drink. All I need to do is get through tonight and get back home. All the way home.

  I inhale a deep breath. In my opinion, this is the best time of day during the summers up here. The light, the warm breeze that turns a little bit chilly once the dying glow of the sun disappears. It’s gorgeous. I remind myself to take another breath. Since our little chat, I’ve been on edge, waiting for an explosion of sorts from Tish. But nothing bad has happened yet. She’s been fine, calm and friendly even. Maybe she realizes it, too. The spark is gone. She’ll be happier without me.

  I sip my cocktail, enjoying the salt rim although I know I shouldn’t be. I think the drink is a margarita, but from the stiff taste of it, she’s added extra alcohol. It’s a tangy, somewhat bitter version of a margarita. I love margaritas, so I’m not complaining.

  I hold my glass up to her as she walks outside carrying a tray with guacamole, chips, and salsa. This is when I fell in love with her, why I fell in love with her. She’s unexpected. Spontaneous. Unlike anyone I’d ever known. Kate and I had gotten into a rut, a pattern where neither of us had the energy to do anything but work and try to manage Ashlyn. We were just barely keeping it together. There was no fun, no laughter. Every day was heavy. Tish was light.

  “Cheers! This is good.” I lie and take another big sip.

  “I wondered if it was too bitter. Glad you like it. I added a little something special.” Tish sits down across from me. I notice she’s drinking wine.

  “Can I pour you one?” I lean forward, reaching for the pitcher.

  “Oh, no thanks, I overindulged at lunch. Gave me a bit of a headache, so I’m sticking with rosé. A little hair of the pink dog.” She lifts her glass. “Cheers, though! I’m sorry for starting a fight. It’s such a beautiful evening. Seems your altitude sickness has subsided?”

  I shrug. “I suppose it has, or the drink is masking it.” I dip a chip into the guacamole and enjoy the salty, lemony taste. “This is just about perfection.”

  Tish wears a fitted white sweatshirt with a lacy bottom. She has on jeans and the summer boots she bought at the boutique in town. Her hair is shiny and tucked behind her ears. Aside from the large diamond studs sparkling in each ear—last year’s Christmas gift, among other things—and the oversize wedding ring, she could still be the same young woman who appeared at EventCo five years ago, fresh off the turnip truck from somewhere in eastern Kentucky. Or was it Cincinnati?

  My mind has a pleasant haze gathering around it.

  Despite what Kate thinks now, I didn’t hire Tish. Sandra from HR did. Actually, truth be told, the only folks I care to really interview are executive level, like Jennifer or Lance. Kate and I used to do those interviews together, making sure we both agreed before extending an offer. Thinking back on it, that sounds so simple, so functional.

  Ah hell, we were good. We just needed counseling, or mediation, or meditation, or maybe a vacation alone.

  We just needed to try a little harder.

  I needed to try a little harder.

  I should have tried harder.

  I pull out my phone. Tish is somewhere inside, so the coast is clear. I take a photo of my margarita glass and quickly text it with a “cheers” message from under the table. All’s well, my cheers is implying. Even though it’s not, and she knows it.

  My phone lights up: Looks delicious. Enjoy.

  I text: It tastes horrible. I’m just trying to get drunk. It’s working.

  She texts: Ha! Xo

  My heart swells. It’s nice to have someone who cares about you. I hurry and delete this text chain so Tish won’t see it when she snoops. She’s always spying on me. I slip my phone under my thigh. This margarita is going to my head. I swipe the moisture away from under my eyes, quickly, before Tish sees it. I grab a chip and dunk it into the salsa. I almost miss my mouth before gobbling it down.

  She’s filling my glass again. I probably should tell her to stop, but the drink takes the edge off this shit show. I’ve got nowhere to be, nothing to do, until I fly out of here tomorrow. “What time do you have the plane scheduled?”

  Tish throws her hands in the air. “Why? Ready to get away from me?”

  “No, of course not. Just a lot to deal with back home, that’s all.” I know my speech is slurring. I tell myself to talk slowly. I tell myself I’m happy to be here, drinking on the deck, watching the moonrise. Pretending everything is fine. Meanwhile, my inbox is piled high with emails. What does she expect? I just took a company public.

  Then a word comes to me, the word to describe Tish: selfish.

  “When did you stop loving me, John?” She’s put sunglasses on, big black-rimmed sunglasses. She looks a little like a fly. Which is funny. I hear myself chuckle. I cover my mouth.

  “What are you talking about, honey?” I gulp some more margarita as Tish’s face blurs and then comes into focus. My phone vibrates under my thigh. I can’t take the chance of looking at it, not with Tish staring at me. I need to say something. “I love you.”

  “I think that’s past tense. You’ve made it very clear today that you’ve moved on, that our relationship isn’t working. I believe that’s exactly what you said. I know the signs, remember? You did this with me, too. It’s a shame, John. You shouldn’t go backward in life. Kate is a mistake. She’s not as perfect as she seems, remember? You left her for a reason.”

  I left
her for a stupid reason: to screw you. But I’m not talking about this. I’m too drunk. We will talk in the morning. I will leave here tomorrow, with or without her. And I will file for a divorce. All of this is clear, and then the deck sways.

  “Do you remember why you left her?” Tish asks.

  I won’t answer that. “You think I have the bandwidth to sell my company, hang out with you, and start something up with my ex-wife?” I am too drunk. I need to stand up, get some blood flowing, but I’m not sure I could without toppling over. I try to reach for Tish’s hand, but she pulls it away.

  Tish stands. She’s mad, I realize, really mad. “It’s time to stop the lies. I know all about your plans to dump me for her after the sale went through. Which it did. Yesterday. But surprise, I swooped you away to Telluride. One step ahead of you, John.”

  Tish disappears inside the condo, and I take stock of my predicament. It’s funny. That’s all I can think. How did she know? And when I think that, I start to chuckle. And then, before I know it, I’m laughing so hard tears spill from my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I’m laughing so hard now I can’t catch my breath.

  The deck sways under my feet again and I gasp for air as I stand, trying to follow Tish inside. I’ll do it tonight. I owe it to her to tell her I’m finished.

  CHAPTER 11

  TISH

  I pull the chicken dish out of the oven, an ugly flowery pot holder covering my hand, and poke at the center with a fork. All I need to do is reheat it, but I’ve been known to ruin a dish simply by giving it too much heat. I know, I’m intense about everything. Plus, I never cared much for cooking or for lingering around in the kitchen. I like food from cans and drive-through windows, and most recently, from my favorite gourmet restaurants in town. I mean, lobster dinner for two delivered to your door is a delicious option, especially since John thought I made it from scratch, the fool.