The Another Try Collection

CHAPTER FIVE-2

Maddie did indeed have a mild concussion, as it turned out. On the emergency room doctor’s orders, she took it easy the next few days.

But in the middle of it all was the day of the funeral, which taxed her to her very limits.

She followed Mr. Gates as he led the family procession into the chapel where Eric’s casket was on display. Closed, of course. Whoever had taken his life had done so much damage that Mr. Gates had gently told Maddie, “You really need to have a closed casket service, dear, trust me on this.”

As she sat in the front row, staring listlessly at the flower arrangements, Maddie listened to the pastor talk about her husband’s life, and it was all she could do not to laugh out loud.

If you only knew, Preacher, she scoffed internally. He was a complete fraud! Managed to fool every single person he ever met. I wonder if there was ever anything real about him at all.

She closed her emotions off to keep herself from screaming them out at the top of her lungs and derailing the entire service.

Cause boy howdy, wouldn’t that just make old Caroline’s day?

With effort, she stifled the giggle that thought summoned.

Keep it together, Mad. Keep it together. Fall apart when you get home, honey. You can do this.

She almost broke when the mourners in attendance began to file past the family and lie after lie of ‘he was a great man’ was heaped on her psyche like so many cement blocks.

The single thing that kept her from coming completely undone was the realization that all these people didn’t know the truths about Eric that she did.

Only blessing in all this, really, is that at least the rest of the world doesn’t know what he really was.

She managed to get through the rest of the service, and the graveside ceremony, and the house full of well-wishers.

At long last, the crowd dissipated, and she was finally among the ones she knew she could completely trust – Kathy, and her parents.

They all offered to stay overnight with her, but she declined politely.

“I love you, and I know you’re worried about me,” she told them. “But right now, I just want to soak in the tub with a glass or two of wine, then go to bed. I’m all right, I promise.”

“At least come over for breakfast tomorrow,” Deborah stressed.

“I will, Mom.”

Maddie saw them out, grabbed a glass and the bottle of wine, and headed upstairs to her garden tub. She dropped a lavender bath bomb into the steaming water as the tub filled, then climbed in and poured herself a glass of sangria.

Fifteen years, she reflected as she drank. Not just gone, like I thought when I realized I was going to get divorced. Nope. Gone was an understatement. A complete fabrication, is what they were...

My whole existence all that time was built on lies.

The tears ran unchecked down her face and swirled unnoticed into the fragrant water.

***

* * * *

Mason Gentries walked into his apartment, threw his keys on the kitchen counter, and headed straight to the liquor cabinet to pour himself four fingers of whiskey over ice before he slumped down in his armchair.

“Un-freaking believable,” he muttered aloud to no one. He wanted to rant, yell, throw things.

But what would that accomplish? Precisely nothing. No good whatsoever. And this is partly my fault, for not thinking ahead enough to arrange daily back up of all the files onto a portable drive that I could keep at home. I overlooked a vulnerable spot, and they exploited it.

He ran his right hand over his face then through his hair as he considered his next move, but he felt adrift in the middle of a waking nightmare, with no safe harbor anywhere in sight.

And to make things worse, every spare cent of operating capital was tied to this project, he reminded himself. Allen and Jennifer and I are the only three that know that. If I can’t salvage this, Gentries Unlimited will have to shut down, and my entire staff will be out of work. They don’t deserve that. None of them do. They’ve all busted their asses for this.

But I can’t think of any way to keep it from happening.

He threw back his whiskey, set the tumbler on his coffee table, and put his head in his hands.

***