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I feel his strong arm around my shoulder. “You know what you need? A little gaming in your life.Call of Duty.Come on. To my room. You need to calm down a little. You aren’t thinking straight. Let’s go kill some twelve-year-olds online,” he says. “It will make you feel better.”
I can’t even get Seth to believe me. I need something more. I will figure out something more. “OK, fine. Let’s go kill some twelve-year-olds.”
And after that, I’ll figure out if my stepmonster killed my dad.
CHAPTER 40
KATE
I push open the door to a rather dingy mail supply store and walk to the counter. Dust covers the shelves where gift wrap and boxes should be.
“Hi. I need something notarized. Do you have someone available?” I ask the woman at the counter. She wears thick glasses and doesn’t meet my eye. I almost repeat myself, but she flops a big ledger on the counter.
“I’m the notary,” she says, flipping through pages without further comment.
“Angie?” I ask.
“Yes, that’s my name. What do you have to notarize?” she asks, hand out.
The store is empty, and I’m glad for that. I pull out the copy of the fake will and slap it on the counter. “I don’t need anything from you, but I need you to know you notarized a fake document. You could be in very big trouble.”
She glances at the document and sees her notary seal. She leans toward me across the counter, finger stabbing at her signature. “I simply acknowledge the document here, this last will and testament, was signed by this guy and these two witnesses in front of me. That’s all. Don’t you dare threaten me, honey.”
“Do you remember these people?” I point to John’s name, and then to Mary and Sarah, the witnesses. “What about him? This guy? John Nelson?” A shiver runs through me as I realize someone had to impersonate my former husband. I wonder who that was? How did he have an ID that worked? And then I realize it was likely George Price. “Did this John have a southern accent and a potbelly? Was he wearing a fedora?”
She finally meets my eye, and I see a twitch of acknowledgment. “You know, it’s not my job to remember every person. I just take the ID and fingerprints. And the money, of course.”
“Fine. Can I see the ID records for the two witnesses and John?” I ask, but already know the answer.
“A fancy lady like you already knows that’s not legal without a court order. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She grabs her ledger, slides it under the counter, turns, and walks away.
“This isn’t the last you’ll hear about John Nelson’s fake will. Count on it,” I say to her retreating back.
But she’s right. There’s no way to prove she did anything wrong. As for George Price and the witnesses, well, that’s a different story. One I will be happy to pursue myself.
As I walk back to the office, I feel good about my newly strengthened position in the company. I’ll have the voting rights as the majority shareholder despite Tish’s power play. And soon we’ll prove the will has been forged, whipped up to try to steal my company. What a joke. I decide not to go back into the office and instead to head home.
The sun is setting as I drive. I’m ready for Bob to tell me the will is a clear forgery and that they’ve figured out how to prove it. And I’ll tell him what I’ve learned. Because it is. We all know it. I pull into the garage. My heart thumps in my chest. Ashlyn’s car isn’t here.
I text her:Where are you? You’re supposed to be home.
She answers right away, thank god.I’m at Seth’s. Home in a bit. All fine.
I’m glad she has such a good friend. I need that in my life. I fill a glass of water from the tap and chug it. I’m tempted to open a bottle of wine and invite Christine over. But first I need to speak to Bob. He will tell me the will is fake. We’ll celebrate good riddance to the second Mrs.Nelson. My mind flashes to a powerful memory, the night John announced his plans at our favorite restaurant.
In retrospect, I realized he’d picked a public place so I wouldn’t challenge him. So I couldn’t make a scene. So it would be easy for him to deliver the news and exit the stage, leaving me to find emotional support from the waitstaff.
When you work as hard as we do, you come to discover that you only have each other and the people you pay to be your friends. The dry cleaner is a great guy; Jody, our favorite server at Lindey’s; my yoga teacher; my housekeeper, Sonja. You have that tribe, and then of course, you have your family, and one or two loyal friends like Christine. That’s enough.
John waited until our dinner was served; then he dropped the bomb on our lives. “Kate, it’s settled. I’m moving out. I need some time.”
“What?” I’d rested my fork at four o’clock on the white china plate. I remember the sautéed spinach and the halibut resting on couscous. “What did you just say?” The restaurant was loud. I must have heard the wrong thing, the wrong words. We’d been agitated with each other, short and unloving. And I knew about his flirty behavior with Tish at the office, their illicit romance, but I was ready to forgive him. It was a phase. All couples go through them—it’s normal, typical. I would be the bigger person and welcome him back to us. That’s what I’d decided.
John leaned forward and said, “It’s over between us. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think I understand what you’re saying,” I said. My mouth had grown dry. Everyone and everything in the restaurant moved in slow motion.
John’s face came into sharp focus. I’ll never forget the look in his blue eyes. It was a look of pity for me mixed with confidence. A decisive,final heartbreaking smile that burst across his face before he caught himself. I watched as he covered his mouth, brushed imaginary lint from the shoulder of his black T-shirt, and signaled for Jody, making the signing-the-check motion in the air.
