The Second Wife (8 page)

Authors: Brenda Chapman

Tags: #Fiction, #Crime, #FIC050000

BOOK: The Second Wife

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In the end, I left a note with my name and my cell number. I took the wallet into work. An hour later, I handed itâcontents intactâto a relieved man who matched the picture on the driver's license. As soon as he got it, he pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and gave it to me.

“Thanks for your honesty,” he said.

I took the fifty. Who wouldn't?

CHAPTER
ONE

M
y mom, Joanne, heard about the community rock choir from her teacher friend, Wendy. I heard about it from Joanne. So no wonder I wasn't interested. Not that I didn't get along with my mom. I did. I mean, I was twenty-four and working full-time as manager of the Gap store in Fairview Mall. But I still lived with her in the townhouse where I grew up.

Joanne liked my company. I liked not paying rent while I was saving to buy a car. For a fifty-five-year-old mom, she was pretty chill. And I was pretty easygoing. I always have been. Except for when I was nineteen and dropped out of university after one semester. And refused to ever go back.

We were over that, and things were all good between us. But I didn't want to join a choir that met on Tuesday nights in a church and sang rock music. I didn't even like rock music. I was more into pop and urban, top-40-type tunes.

“There
are
pop tunes on the play-list,” Joanne said. This was one night in September after the choir's first practice. She came home, warmed up the Thai food I'd ordered in, sat down to eat it and raved about the fun she'd had. “âI Gotta Feeling' by the Black Eyed Peas, for instance. You like that song, don't you?”

“I liked it when it was current.”

“And there's a Pointer Sisters song. Talk about music from my era.”

“Who the hell are the Pointer Sisters?”

“And there's something by Journey on the list, and âHonesty' by Billy Joel. I love that song.”

“Billy Joel? Are you kidding me? Next you'll say the choir's singing Elton John.”

“How did you know?”

“Look, I'm glad you found something to do that you like. A bunch of people your age singing classic rock just doesn't sound like my scene. At all. No offense.”

She sagged in her chair. “Oh, Stephanie.”

I hated when she said my name like that. Like I'd disappointed her. “What?”

“You were such a good singer when you were little, such a born performer. I think you'd like the choir.”

She also thought that by working in retail, I was throwing away some bright future I could have had. The kind of future university grads have.

“I'm not a good singer,” I said. “I never was. You just thought I was good because you're my mom.”

“How about if you come to choir practice next week and try it, one time? The choir members aren't all my age. Some are in their twenties and thirties. And Wendy and I are in the soprano section. You wouldn't have to hang out with us, or even talk to us. You'd be an alto or a tenor with your raspy voice.”

I picked up my phone from the coffee table and pretended it had vibrated. “I missed a call from Nathan. I should call him back. I'm working twelve to nine tomorrow, so I'm staying at his place tonight.”

“Say you'll at least think about the choir. I'll pay the fee if you join.”

She had that right.

“I'll think about it. I promise.”

“Good. Could you pass me my wallet? It's in my purse, on the floor. I want to give you money for the Thai food.”

I fished out the wallet and waited while she picked through the receipts, ticket stubs and dollar bills she had stuffed into it.

She said, “That's weird. I thought I had more cash than this. Did you take some out of here already?”

“How could I have done that? I just handed you the wallet two seconds ago.”

“I meant before I went to choir practice.”

Was she losing her mind? “I wasn't here before your practice, remember? I got home from work after you left. And ordered the Thai food. As you instructed.”

She shook her head. “So you did. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. Here.” She handed me a ten and a twenty. “I thought I had more cash on me. I must have spent it somewhere.”

“I love how your first thought when money is missing is that I took it.”

“I said I was sorry.” She smiled up at me. “I used to take money from my mother's wallet all the time when I was a teenagerâ a five here, a few singles there. She never noticed.”

“Well, I'm not a teenager. And I guess I'm more trustworthy than you were.”

So far I was anyway.

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