by Kaira Rouda
Most of all, I remember the smug look on John’s face, the smirk on his lips. I’d never felt so enraged, and alone.
Back then I’d summoned up my resolve, balled my hands into fists, and said, “I will never resign from this company. It is half mine, most of the big ideas were mine. You won’t drive me out with your stereotypical young fiancée prancing around with that obscene engagement ring. You are both a laughingstock. For the good of the company, you should get rid of her, or at the very least tell her to stay home and go shopping. I hear she’s good at that. Spending.”
Yes, low blow. I know now I should have attempted to stay as unemotional as possible. But the rumor mill, and my own daughter, brought me continual stories of Tish’s excessive spending. It was an open secret. Still is, I suppose.
“You’re a piece of work. Not sure how we lasted so long. But I’m glad we’re finished.” And with that, my former husband, the love of my life, turned around and walked out of my office, slamming the door behind him.
The War of the Roses, office-style, had begun.
CHAPTER 32
ASHLYN
I sit on the living room couch and search my dad’s phone. It turns up a lot of useful information. The most stunning is the number of times my parents were talking, and what they were talking about.
I think they were falling in love again, despite what my mom just told me. He’d changed her name in his contacts to Mabel, an old nickname or something I remembered hearing. But it was Mom’s number.
My mom’s texts were flirty and supportive. They arranged lunch dates, and she asked about his health and made sure he was taking time to exercise.
It’s sort of surreal. Their text exchanges were normal, as if my dad wasn’t married to Tish at all.
But Tish was reading Dad’s texts. Dad warned Mom as much. So of course Tish worried she was losing him. I would have.
I don’t like how you’re treating me. I know you’ve been talking to HER. Tish texted my dad, just a week before he died. I won’t put up with it. You’ve been warned.
And this, a few days later: How dare you John? I won’t stand for this.
And about my mom, She’s horrible. She’s watching me. She’s trying to break us up!
If I were reading these exchanges, I would have been worried about what my mom and dad were planning, too. My poor dad. He seemed so sad and stressed the last time we had any quality time together. It was lunch, a week before the IPO. We met for pizza, just like the old times. No Tish. No Mom. Just the two of us at our favorite table at Tommy’s.
“You look terrible, Dad,” I said as soon as I sat down. And he did.
“This thing should wrap up in a week, and then I’ll get some sleep, some peace, have some fun again,” Dad said.
“You and Tish, you aren’t getting along, are you?” I said, and watched his reaction. He hadn’t told me anything, but I’d been keeping an eye on everything at the office. When you’re an intern, you have plenty of time to poke around. Tish and Dad weren’t kissing in the hallway or holding hands in his office anymore. The horrible PDA other people in the office had told me about had stopped by the time I arrived for the summer, thank goodness. Whenever I stopped by to see Dad, the door to his office was closed. Before, it was open so he and Tish could flirt from her desk just outside his door.
“Oh, honey, it’s hard. I have made some mistakes. I need to fix things, but I’ve got to get through the IPO first,” he said.
My heart beat a bit faster, and I grinned like a he’d made a promise, because to me he had. I pull myself out of my memories when I hear the knock.
It’s Seth. I open the front door and step outside, joining him on the front porch.
“Hey, how are you holding up?” We’ve been best friends since elementary school. His presence now means a lot.
“I miss my dad,” I say, and a sob breaks out from deep inside me. “And I think Tish killed him.”
Seth takes a step back onto the porch, pushes his thick blond hair back with his hand. “Uh-huh. That’s a lot to unpack.”
“You don’t believe me, do you?” I ask, pushing the tears aside. I need to focus, find proof. I’ll have plenty of time to cry for my dad.
“I do want to believe you, but that’s a lot to process. I think you need a hug, Detective,” Seth says.
The hug does feel good, but it doesn’t change my mind. “Fine, don’t believe me. I’ll find proof. I’ll outsmart her.” I’m going to keep watching her, keep digging into her past. I need to keep pushing her until she cracks. And she will. I know it.
Seth shakes his head. “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you. If anyone can, it’s you. But even detectives need to eat. Let’s go.”
I’ll allow myself a momentary distraction. But I’m not letting this go.
CHAPTER 33
KATE
It’s like any other Monday, arriving at the office before anyone else, having this place, all of this beautiful office space to myself. My space.
I turn the key and push on the heavy all-glass door. The familiar warning beep of the alarm system greets me, and I hurry to disarm the panel. That done, I inhale. Perfect. There are no morning office smells yet. No perfume fighting with aftershave. No roasted coffee beans competing with the scent of pressed juices and ginger shots.
Early in the morning, the office is my sanctuary. Even when John and I were married, when everything was still happy, or as happy as any couple working together can be, I’d leave home first. To experience this—a slice of solitude in the place I created.
Because when it comes right down to it, I created EventCo. It’s my name on our first patent.
I reach my office and slip the key in the door. I didn’t even have a lock on my private office, not until she came along. The locksmith rekeyed both executive offices again last week.
So much for listening to my own intuition: I protected my office, but not my marriage. There’s likely something juicy in this statement for my therapist, but I’ll tuck that away until later. I know what Dr. Ray would say: “Let’s delve deeper, Kate, shall we? There’s so much more to mine in that statement.”
I remember the look on Dr. Ray’s face when I told her John and I were having lunch together. And her worried brow when I told her I knew that when we were cordial, it was driving Tish crazy. I’d hoped a wedge between them would be enough to get her out of the office at least. It was just a week before he died.
“I need you to be realistic,” Dr. Ray had said at the time, swiveling back and forth in her desk chair. “You can’t control another couple’s relationship. It’s a dangerous proposition you’re playing with here. You have every reason to stay angry, to be angry. You have every reason to move on. I’d hate to see you backslide here.”
“But we do have business to discuss. Sometimes we do it over lunch,” I told her.
Dr. Ray shook her head. “No. That’s a terrible idea. You’ll never be able to trust him again. Stay distant. Professional, but distant. You share a daughter and a business, that’s all.”
“True. But what about forgiveness, Dr. Ray?” I’d asked.
“Yes, you should forgive John. But you also should never forget what he did to you.”
I’d nodded but didn’t say anything. Our session was over. And now I suppose I don’t really have much more to talk to her about. I’m just not angry anymore. I drop my favorite pod into the Italian espresso machine and enjoy the familiar hum, the smell of the dark liquid as it swirls into the mug. Another simple ritual I enjoy in the morning.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a shadow down the hall beyond my door, and goose bumps tickle the back of my neck like a finger. My imagination has been having a field day lately. I’m jumpy, suspicious of the slightest odd sound. It may be because I’m haunted by John’s death and especially spooked by the way she had him cremated. Was it John’s ghost I saw walking down the hall? No, of course not.
It could be the unease of everything right now, the tension in t
he air here at the office, everywhere. I take a sip of espresso to combat the chill spreading inside me. I can’t fight the feeling of being watched.
When I turn around, Tish stands in the hallway just outside my office, looking at me with a deadly stare.
CHAPTER 34
TISH
Oh, hello, princess. Did I startle you?
I smile at Kate, and she looks, well, I can only say, terrified. I’m not certain why. I guess she’s surprised to see me. She’s standing so delicately in her fancy designer pants suit, sensible Jimmy Choo pumps, enjoying a perfectly brewed cup of coffee in her over-decorated corner office.
As for me, I’m dressed in my John-copying, business-as-usual all black. Black silk top, dress pants, pumps. I turn the handle of her office door and let myself in.
I expect her to jump back, but she doesn’t. She eyes me over her coffee, sizing me up, challenging me. It’s funny and appropriate, I suppose. Here we are, two equals, the two Mrs. Nelsons.
“Good morning. Do you have a few minutes to chat?” I ask. I’m accessible. Friendly. We’re a team now, although I suppose she doesn’t know that yet.
She holds her coffee cup with both hands like a vise. “I don’t have anything to talk to you about. I don’t know why you’re at the office. Remember you resigned? Go back to wherever it is you came from.”
Kate is feistier than I expected.
I take a step forward, my hands on my hips. Power position. “Everything has changed with John’s sudden death. I’m not going anywhere. I’m family.”
“I need you to leave. Now.” Kate points to the open door behind me.
“Fine. If and when you decide you want to be civil, I’ll be in my office.” I’m about one step toward the door when she explodes.
“You don’t work here. Do you understand? Get out.” Kate slams her coffee cup down and splatters coffee all over her desk. I know it’s hard for her to yell. She was raised in a nice family where children were to be seen, not heard. I know this because I had the opposite upbringing. My family is all about rage.
Therefore, unlike Kate, I know how to mask it.
“Oh, what a mess!” I say on my way out. I hurry down the hall of what I like to think of as Kate’s World, her half of the office building where all her loyalists are housed—sales and computer geeks mostly—and into the lobby atrium, the beloved Ping-Pong table’s space.
I cover my mouth and stifle a yawn. It’s hard to sleep without John in bed next to me. As soon as I closed my eyes, I’d see him, foaming at the mouth, fist clenched on his chest. I bolted upright, wide-awake, and stayed that way. During the night, my heater turned on and went haywire, too, adding to my misery.
My house went after me again when I was getting ready for work. This time, some ridiculous hick music switched on in my bedroom suite, blaring Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire” at 6:00 a.m. The expert at the A/V and security company who stopped by for an emergency visit this morning can’t seem to come up with an explanation.
“Ma’am, we’ve checked the system. Everything is as it should be. Are you sure you’re not just imagining things? You have suffered a big loss. The mind can do powerful things. All the stress.” He shoved his hands in his pockets with a shrug.
“I am grieving the loss of my husband, but what I’m more upset about is the loss of control of my house. I expect answers, not lame sympathy. Understand?” Had I been too firm? I think not. My house is haunted.
Focus, Tish. Lance’s office is next door to John’s, and I knock on his closed door and pop my head inside.
“I need to get into John’s office. Can you help?” I blink, a damsel in distress.
Lance furrows his brow. “Yes, sure. We changed the locks last week, ah, after he died. You’re just stopping by to clean some things out, I assume?”
“Sure, yep.” I don’t feel the need to explain myself. I step into John’s corner office—my office now, the mirror image of Kate’s except mine is larger—and close the door behind me.
As I pull out the black leather desk chair to sit down, there is a knock on the door. It’s not Kate, of course not. I smile through the glass at Ashlyn. What a surprise.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, walking into my office without permission. She pulls the door closed behind her before leaning against it. “I want to make it clear we won’t be hanging out anymore. We aren’t friends. I don’t even know you. Everything you ever told me was a lie. Remember your sob story about your marriage? Remember how you told me the dentist dumped you?”
“Yes, of course,” I say, pulling open John’s desk drawer and rummaging around.
“A lie. Ron says you left him. Without so much as a goodbye. He really hates you,” she says.
What? How does she know his name? How did she find him? I slam the desk drawer closed and stand up.
“I don’t even know what you’re saying.” I am furious. She spoke to Ron? I’m livid. I let out a deep breath as my stomach turns. “Can you just go? Get out of my office.”
“Oh, I talked to your mom. She wants to know where you are. Should I tell her?”
“You what? How dare you.” I walk to the door and face her. She has gone too far.
“I just thought I should learn a little more about you, Terry Jane,” Ashlyn says. “Your momma was very helpful. She wants me to connect you two. Says your stepdad died under mysterious circumstances, sort of like my dad.”
“Your dad died of a heart attack.” I feel my hands clench into fists. I tell myself to take a breath. “She can’t know where I am. She’s dangerous.”
“It’s not fun when people mess with your family, is it?” Ashlyn asks. “How about you leave now, get out of town even, and I won’t tell your mom where to find you.”
“You wouldn’t dare. And I’m not leaving. I have worked too hard to get here,” I say.
Ashlyn laughs. It’s guttural, cruel. “You’ve worked hard? You’re delusional.”
I don’t care what George said. I’m beginning to realize I’m better off without her. Good riddance. I smile and touch my heart to feign compassion. “I know you’re still getting used to the notion that your dad is gone, and you’re lashing out like a child. But you’re not calling my momma again. As for this office, it’s mine.”
She crosses her arms. She’s digging in. I’m surprised. I didn’t think she had it in her, not against me.
“You’re wrong. You’ll see. The thing is, Dad left the company to Mom and me. That was part of their divorce deal. You get your jewelry and some money.”
Think again, sweetheart. “Actually, your father revisited his will just before he died. He had complete faith in me, and you’re so young, too young to handle a company like this. He named me co-president, with your mom, should anything happen to him. And shockingly, it did. You’re picking the wrong side here.”
“You’re only four years older than me. Don’t tell me I’m too young to figure things out.” Her voice wavers. I’ve outmaneuvered her. She knows it.
“You did something to my dad. I’m going to prove it,” she says, pointing her finger at me. “Your own mom says you’re capable.”
“She’s crazy. She’ll say anything.” I need to soften my tone, even if she is accusing me of things. She’s just confused, and sad. “Look, it’s hard, I know. I miss John, too.”
Ashlyn stares at me and shakes her head. I hear her mumble, “OMG.”
I turn on the charm. “College is special. I never had a chance to go myself, but you do. Senior year is supposed to be the best. We can worry about all this business stuff after you graduate. I’ll keep everything at EventCo under control. Sound good? Nothing works if my momma shows up here. Do you understand me? That would be a bad, dangerous choice. She’d for sure bring this whole place down.”
Her mouth moves as if she wants to say something but can’t. Poor girl. I wonder what’s running through her little entitled brain.
“I don’t believe you. I don’t believe anything you say.�
� She opens the door to my office. “You are not my parent. You never have been, never will be. Stay out of my life.”
How dare she? She thinks she has power here. Calling my momma? Calling dentist Ron? She shouldn’t be stirring up trouble she doesn’t know how to serve. I’ll have Uncle George handle this. It’s his specialty.
I sit down at John’s desk. I wonder how long it will take to feel comfortable in my new role. I take a deep breath and look around at this gorgeous space. I think I’m used to it already.
CHAPTER 35
KATE
Sandra finally turns up with Bob by her side. I meet them at the door to my office.
“We have a situation,” I say, ushering them into my office.
“I know. Tish is here despite the fact she signed the separation agreement before we launched the IPO,” Sandra says. “I don’t get it.”
“She’s delusional and dangerous for our company, and a major distraction. I’ll take care of it. I just need proper witnesses. Let’s go.”
As I walk through the office, my employees wave at me. A few clap their hands. I’m energized. These are my people. I feel like an elite athlete about to enter the ring for the fight of her life. The undefeated champion.
Ashlyn appears as I cross through the atrium. “Mom, I need to talk to you.”
“Can it wait?” I ask. “I’m dealing with Tish.”
“She says Dad wrote a new will. That she’s your equal.”
“Impossible.” But is it?
What has he done now?
I look at my daughter and realize she’s scared.
“Honey, she’s bluffing,” I say. She must be.
“I hope so,” Ashlyn says.
My heart beats rapidly in my chest as I reach John’s office. My anger and frustration with Tish build with every step. And now, it feels something like rage. My therapist said rage is a dangerous form of anger: violent and uncontrollable. Maybe so, but I will put it to good use.