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“I was wondering something…”
I hope it leads to sex.
“How many men at New Hope have younger wives?”
Talking about other women rarely leads to sex. “Why do you ask?”
She twists her mouth. “Just
curious.”
“I really like this one,” I mention, stabbing at my french toast. If she’s going to blow off my desire for a morning quickie by talking about other women, I’ll join her.
Melanie tilts her head. “This chef,” I say. “I think this one can stay awhile.”
“Tom?” She repeats my name, which is her way of reminding me of her question. “How many?”
“I don’t know.”
She softens. “Like, what percentage would you say?”
I spin the bread around in the syrup and watch it pool together. Same as blood, I tell myself. Call it conditioning, if you will.
“Tom!” I meet my wife’s eye. For a second, I consider killing her now. At least then I could enjoy my breakfast in peace. But she looks so good in that new nightie, and I haven’t yet found a replacement, so I keep it simple instead. “It’s fairly common in this tax bracket.”
Another email from Adam arrives. This time thankfully I’m already on my way into the office.
The subject line reads: Only open if you’re alone.
Not again.
I am alone. But I would have opened it anyway.
Staring at me on the screen are words that change everything.
Melanie uploaded a photo of New Hope vitamins to Instalook. Mark is livid. That’s proprietary information, Tom. Surely, you had to have warned her. But brace yourself...that’s not the worst of it…not for you. I’m sorry, man. You need to be careful. Not only that, you won’t want to hear what I’m about to say. Melanie’s been visiting Vanessa Bolton. Sean’s wife. Which I guess isn’t such a bad thing considering the rest of it…
Fine, I’ll bite. I write back. The rest of it?
Adam responds immediately. Supposedly, Melanie told her she was never really pregnant—that she tricked you into marrying her.
Everyone knows Sean Bolton’s wife is crazy, I type. We’ve sent her for reprogramming, what like six times? And, what’s wrong with posting the vitamins? I’m sure she thought it was branding. That’s what Beth wants…
My notification chimes. I scan Adam’s response. It was the ingredients she posted. Pretty telling, don’t you think?
I don’t write back. I call Mark.
“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “It’ll be taken care of tonight.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Melanie
Planned obsolescence. I can see what’s happening here. What a surprise to realize my husband is not the first man in the church to bring home a new young wife shortly after being recently widowed. I’ve learned about seven cases in the neighborhood so far. One of the wives died like June, two have committed suicide and the other four simply disappeared.
What I intend to find out for sure, before my gravy train runs out, is just how much Tom knows. As soon as the time is right, I have every intention of a confrontation. In the meantime, I need to safe guard my future. More than anything, I’d like a taste of the settled in, married life, I’m always hearing about.
When Tom calls me from work a few days later, and I detect blatant anger in his voice, I think the time has come to go toe-to-toe. “Pack a bag,” he tells me. Those three words put the brakes on things.
