I slide behind the wheel of John’s beloved silver Audi. It must be 150 degrees in here. I turn the air-conditioning to high as I inhale the smell of his aftershave, still very much present in the leather seats. His aura, his scent, is all around me. There’s a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach, a feeling like dread. I shake it off. It was all his fault, what happened to him. He couldn’t take the altitude, the pressure at work, the pace of a younger wife. But it was everything he wanted. I was everything he wanted. Until he didn’t. And then, well, RIP.

I pull out of the parking lot and turn into traffic. For John, I drive fast, even though I’m on a suburban street, weaving in between cars just like John does. Used to do. I need to stop dwelling on John. I need to move on, move forward. I smile as I scoot through an orange-yellow light and drive into the matching sunset. Poetic, isn’t it?

This day is finished, and it’s a relief to be heading home. I have one more ceremony to suffer through, and then on to my new life. I thought I’d be so happy being Mrs. John Nelson. I imagined myself a younger version of Kate, a hip parent to Ashlyn. But then he turned his back on me, on our life.

It’s time to recreate myself. I’ll become a powerhouse, like Kate. I turn up the radio. It’s John’s favorite station, classic rock, most recorded before I was born. I push the button for “Today’s Hits.” It’s almost time to leave the past behind. Before I know it, I’m pulling into the driveway, and the garage door opens as if by magic. Technology is really something. Our home is what they call “smart,” which makes me laugh.

I teased John about the system when it had been installed, a five-day project that cost tens of thousands of dollars.

As I watched the crew of tech guys climbing around our home, I said to John, “I picture our house with a big cap and gown, its degree tucked proudly under the copper gutter downspout. So educated.”

That word educated rankles me. People think they’re better than you when they have degrees. The more degrees, the more superior. Most of the people around here pay big bucks to get their kids into the best schools, through the back door with their big donations and named buildings, or sometimes through the side door of cheating and bribes. I didn’t try any door, not that I’d had the option or inclination. I do have my GED. I don’t need anything else. I mean, look where I live.

“Honey, the house isn’t educated, it’s sophisticated. Technology to protect you if I’m out of town, that sort of thing.” John had pulled me into a tight hug. I could tell what he wanted. “I’ll always protect you, babe.”

“Actually, the house will, right?” I’d teased, wriggling away.

“Let’s go upstairs, I’ll show you what’s new.”

Back then, when we’d first married, all he wanted was sex.

It wasn’t his fault. I am pretty irresistible. I push the garage button and watch as the heavy door drops before I step into the house. The alarm warns me to disarm it, and I punch in the numbers.

It’s still beeping. More frantically. My fingers fumble over the digital keypad, retrying the code we’ve had since we married: John’s birthday.

Focus, Tish. I take a deep breath and press 0517*.

The beep stops, and the robot voice says, “Disarmed.”

It’s been a long day. Relief washes over me as I step inside my house. But only for a moment. I realize I expected to see John sitting at the counter. The only things that greet me are my breakfast dishes from this morning, tossed hurriedly in the sink, unrinsed.

Unwanted, my mind flashes to another kitchen sink, this one cracked and stained, rust circling the drain. My momma stands at the sink, her back to me, a pile of dishes stacked on the counter on either side of her. I was seven or eight years old, and I remember standing behind her, watching, wanting to help but not knowing how. On good days, my momma was fun and playful, and I knew she loved me. On bad days, she was the opposite. I didn’t know what today would bring, so my body began to tremble when she turned and spotted me.

“Terry Jane, what the hell are you doing? You scared me.” Momma held a dirty wooden spatula in her hand, and before I knew it, she’d swiped at my bare leg, leaving an angry welt on my thigh. “You’re in my way. Get out of here.”

Shocked by the sudden attack, I froze, my back against the kitchen cabinets. Tears filled my eyes, and the dishes and Momma’s face blurred. When the next swipe of the spatula stung my shoulder, I finally ran from the room. It was a bad day.

I shake my head. Enough of the pity, enough of the past that I’ve left far far behind me. I pick up the phone and call the cleaning lady. She’ll get everything in here all sorted. She loved John. She’ll be happy to help me. Well, maybe. A little argument we had a few weeks ago comes to mind, but I push it away. She’ll come over; she needs the money.

“Hello, Sonja?” I am using my friendliest tone.

“Hi, Mrs. Nelson.” She sighs.

“I need you to come clean the house, please. Like ASAP.”

“No, Mrs. Nelson. Remember, I quit.” Big sigh.

“You didn’t really quit. You just left in a huff. I need you. Now with John gone.” I pause and sniff.

“I am very sorry for your loss.” Sad sigh.

She’s cracking. “I don’t have anyone else to turn to. Please. The funeral is tomorrow, and my home is a disaster.” I run a finger along the kitchen counter. It’s spotless. But I hate dishes in the sink.

“I will come one last time. Tomorrow. OK?” Resigned sigh.

“Perfect. Thanks. I’ll likely be at the funeral. So, can you let yourself in? I’ll mail you a check.”

“I know the code. Leave me cash, Mrs. Nelson. Three hundred dollars.”

Sonja is so demanding. So untrusting, too. “Fine. Make sure the sheets are pressed.”

Nothing on the other end. Silence.

“Sonja?” I sound like I’m yelling. Of course I’m not. “Gracias!”

She hung up on me. She has some kind of nerve.

No one treats me that way and gets away with it.

CHAPTER 23

ASHLYN

I wave goodbye to Jennifer and walk to my car. None of this makes sense. My dad was healthy, happy the last time I saw him. Proud of EventCo, proud of my mom. He didn’t want to go on a trip with Tish. He didn’t want to go anywhere at all with her.

I slip into the car and lock the door. I toss my purse on the passenger’s seat and rummage inside until I find it.

My dad’s phone. I saw it in Tish’s purse as we stood together in that terrible line of sorrow. She doesn’t need his phone anymore. I do. I unlock it and see all his apps, everything he used to run his life. I open Find My Friends and watch as Tish’s dot speeds through her neighborhood and pulls up to her house. She’s home already, likely counting all her money. She thinks she knows everything, thinks she’s in charge of everything when it comes to my dad. But she’s wrong. He and I had our secrets, too.

“Oh, Daddy,” I cry as I hold his phone close to my heart and the tears come again.

I jump as someone knocks on my car window. It’s Seth.

I roll the window down.

“You OK?” he asks. What a friend.

“I’m fine, sort of. I just need a little space,” I say. What I need is a little time to investigate some things.

“I get it. Call me. Or come over. Anytime. I’m here, whatever you need,” he says. He squeezes my hand before he walks away.

I wonder if my mom felt like this about my dad in the early days, and vice versa. They had to. How did they let it slip away?

Or maybe it didn’t slip at all. Maybe it was destroyed by a hurricane named Tish. Did she target my dad, is that why she ended up as his assistant? How did she find him, anyway? It seems like such an unlikely coincidence that she would apply for a job at EventCo. Her previous job experience, she says, was in real estate.

Maybe Tish had a plan from the minute she drove into town. And maybe that plan was to marry John Nelson, no matter that he was married, no matter who got hurt along the way. That sounds like Tish.

I decide that I need answers, and I’m going to get them.

CHAPTER 24

KATE

The sun has set, and I’m alone on the couch in the family room. I can hear the neighborhood kids outside, riding bikes, playing hide and seek, jumping on trampolines, their sweaty summer faces tanned and so joyful.

Meanwhile, my house is silent and dark. I still cannot quite believe the way all of this has unfolded, all that has happened. I tried to pretend my life with John was perfect. But sure, there were issues. I never did anything to him like he did to me. I never pushed him aside for a younger model, never flaunted a new version of him in front of the company.

I stand up and shake myself out of the past. I tried to do some Pilates this evening, my home reformer usually provides stress release. But tonight, I didn’t have the heart. I touch the top of a silver picture frame. I know the photo all too well: John, Ashlyn, and me at Disneyland, smiling, holding hands. Ashlyn’s grin is as large as the lollipop in her hand. We did have fun together. It wasn’t all business.

I hear Ashlyn walk into the family room. She’s dressed in a tie-dye T-shirt and jean shorts, her long blonde hair spilling over her shoulder in waves.