Page 1 of The Wilder Widows

SYLVIE

CHAPTER ONE

“Goodbye, Susie. Thanks again for everything.” I waved while she pushed the hospital bed down the walkway to the van parked out front.

“Take care of yourself, Sylvie,” she called back. “I really am sorry for your loss. Bruce was a good man.”

Leaning against the doorway, I crossed my arms and watched Susie and Virginia lift the bed into the back of the van. With one last wave, they climbed inside. It was surreal watching them drive away, knowing I would likely never see them again. They had been a staple in my life this past month while Bruce slipped away. Their job had been to keep him comfortable, but they’d been as much a support system for me as they had for him. Making it through the horrors of the last few weeks would have been impossible without their comforting words and their knowledge of caring for someone in their final days.

With a heavy sigh, I stepped back inside and closed the door behind me. As it clicked shut, it sealed out the sounds of the engine driving away and the birds chirping at the feeder just outside. Silence settled over the empty house, and for the first time in months, there were no sounds other than my own breathing.

In. Out.

In. Out.

I no longer heard the soft beeping of the machines and the buzzing of equipment keeping Bruce comfortable. No longer did I hear the nurses’ hushed whispers while they worked to adjust his medication or the blaring television because Bruce had refused to get a hearing aid years ago when he’d needed it. No one called my name, asking me to change the channel or bring them something to drink.

Silence. Just silence.

But it didn’t last long. The doorbell rang and caused me to jump. Craning my head, I peered out the bay window overlooking the entry, but the covered awning hid away the surprise visitors. Part of me welcomed guests to bring noise to my life once again. The silence still unsettling, but the other part of me was exhausted from the past few days of people smothering me with their comfort after I said goodbye to my husband. The doorbell rang again, and I suppressed my groan and went to answer it.

When I opened the door, three older women stood squished together, each gripping something in their hands. Though I recognized them from seeing them around the neighborhood, I didn’t know them personally.

“Hello, Sylvie, I’m Doris,” the short round one said while she tipped her head and gave me the sympathetic smile I’d grown accustomed to since Bruce passed. “This is Alice and Marge.” She pointed to each woman at her side. “We all live just down the road, and we wanted to check in on you.”

“Thank you. I’m hanging in there,” I answered while I looked to the other two. They all appeared a little older than me, but the similarities ended there.

Alice, the tall one with sleek modern-styled silver hair and legs up to my ears, mimicked the sympathetic smile. “You have my sympathies.”

“Me too,” grunted Marge, the one with a face like a pug.

“We’re all widows, so we know how you’re feeling. In fact, we call ourselves the Wilder Widows because, well, we all live on Wilder Lane.” Doris gestured behind her to our suburban street. “Since you’re a widow on Wilder Lane now, we wanted to welcome you to the group.”

“Oh.” I raised my brows. “I didn’t realize there was a widow’s group.”

“We get together and do stuff since we’re all bored and lonely.” Marge shrugged.

“Lonely? Speak for yourself.” One of Alice’s meticulously groomed eyebrows rose in a challenge. “I’m not lonely, Marge. I’ve still got plenty of suitors to keep me occupied.” She pursed her rose-colored lips and peered down her nose.

Marge rolled her eyes and grumbled beneath a long exhale.

“Anyway,” Doris interjected, puckering her face while she scolded Alice with a look. “We just wanted to welcome you to the club.” A wide grin spread across her chubby cheeks.

A widow’s club? How had I lived here for a decade and never known such a thing existed? I supposed it was because until five days ago, I wasn’t one of them. But now I stood in my doorway with three widows staring at me, awaiting my answer.

“I appreciate the invite. I’m not really sure what to think. I’m still trying to process what to do now that Bruce is gone, but—”

“That’s why we’re here. To help!” Doris grinned wider and pushed past me into my house. Trying to hide the shock in my eyes at the intrusion, I let her pass before gesturing for Alice and Marge to enter as well.

Marge hoisted the covered dish in her hands. “Where should I put this?” Her rough voice matched her unladylike exterior. Perhaps with a little make-up and a new hairstyle she could pass for a woman in one glance, but that dark grey bowl-cut and her bulging eyes had made me look twice the first time I’d seen her walking around the neighborhood. It had taken several long stares before I’d decided she was, in fact, a woman and not a short old man.

Still trying to process the invasion into my sanctuary, I pointed to the kitchen island. “You didn’t have to make me anything, but you can set it there.”

“I didn’t make it. My mother did. It’s lasagna.”

Mother? Judging by the look of her, she was easily seventy years old. Either her mother was ancient, or she’d been very young when Marge was born. My own parents both passed away already, and I had only just turned sixty.

“Really, you didn’t have to bring anything.” In fact, I wished she hadn’t. More sympathy casseroles than I’d ever be able to eat in this lifetime took up every inch of my fridge.