Page 79 of Happy Wife

“Just…for, like, a ride?”

“Yes, Este. I took my boat out for a ride. It was pretty out this morning, and I can do those kinds of things, right? It’s allowed? I’m allowed to be a human person who does things?”

“Ooohkay. Of course it’s allowed.” Este folds her arms. “Listen, Nora, we have a bigger thing to talk about.”

Autumn seems awfully skittish, but I assume it’s because of me and my…“state.”

“Can it wait? I need coffee.”

Autumn nervously checks her watch and glances at Este.

“For fuck’s sake, Autumn, you can’t be a chickenshit about this now,” Este snaps. “She’ll be here in like ten minutes.”

“Her who? And here, where?” I ask.

“Constance. She’s coming here. Fritz called Autumn and said that Constance feels it’s important that you plan Will’s service together.”

I guffaw at the idea of that. “What the fuck?”

Will is dead, and Constance wants us to put on a united front. Nothing is real.

“I know.” Este wrinkles her nose at me.

“She was thinking because of Mia that you should work together,” Autumn says, and even though I’m ready to start a fight with almost anyone these days, I soften when I think about the spot she’s stuck in. She has the worst position in this whole thing. Her livelihood is so embedded in this community. She can’t alienate her clients—not me or Constance. She adds, “I am super happy to help.”

“Constance said the word ‘together’?” I ask.

Autumn frowns. “Well, not as such—”

And just like that, the slightest sign of goodwill vanishes. “What a joke. Constance is incapable of even making eye contact with me. But I have to just slap on a smile and letherplanmyhusband’s service?”

Este raises a hand. “I don’t think you should, personally—”

“Este, I think we have to try to be inclusive here. For Mia.” Autumn shrugs a little.

“Fine. Sure. Whatever. For Mia.” I push past Este and Autumn and don’t stop walking. I need to get to the house to make coffee.

—

Fifteen minutes later, I open my front door to find not only Constance but Gianna Hall on the other side.

Oh, this is perfection. My living nightmare gets worse by the hour.

Any hope I had of contributing to the planning of this service has evaporated. I’m glad there’s Baileys in my coffee.

“Constance. Gianna. Thank you for coming by.” My voice is wooden even to my own ears.

Constance feigns a weak smile but doesn’t say anything.

“That’s quite the collection of reporters you have out front,” Gianna says as she crosses the threshold first. Even next to Constance, Gianna’s a royal wrung higher. Maybe when Constance and Will were still married—before I dethroned her—maybe then they had equal footing. But I doubt it. Gianna always wins.

“All within their reporter rights, I’m afraid,” I say.

“We’re so very sad about Will. All of us.” Gianna places a bony hand on my shoulder and leans in for what I think she thinks is a hug, but to anyone watching could also look like she is about to push me into the glass window by the front door.

“Thanks, Gianna.”

Constance comes in, and I look her over, unable to quell my suspicions. I tense up. The last time I saw her, she was accusingme of disappearing Will, and now he’s dead. I brace myself for a fight, but to my surprise, she gives me a hug. And I’m momentarily stunned that the embrace feels authentic for half a second.

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