Their normal method of operation during these meetings was to talk about what they were doing, or not doing, in their dating lives. What worked and what didn’t. They also spent a good amount of time discussing what they were doing with the money they’d made from their temporary marriages.

Shannon accepted the wine and relaxed on the sofa. “I signed a lease for a studio.”

“That’s fantastic news,” Trina said. “Do you have any clients yet?”

Shannon had a semisuccessful career as a photographer that she wanted to expand postdivorce. But when she was no longer the first lady of California, she ended up closing her business, since the majority of people requesting her services were members of the press searching for a story. Or worse, the activists and lobbyists of the general population that thought she could plead their cause with her ex-husband.

“I do. An engagement party and two weddings.”

“No more lurking jerks walking through the door?” Avery asked.

“Not yet. I’m sure I won’t escape them forever. But I think the public finally realized I’m no longer Mrs. Paul Wentworth.”

“What about you?” Lori asked. “Have you realized you’re no longer married to him?”

Shannon shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Avery tucked her feet under her in the chair she sat on. “So you’re dating, then?”

Silence.

Yeah, Trina didn’t see Shannon dating anyone when she had fallen hard for her temporary husband.

Unfortunately, the feeling hadn’t been mutual.

“It’s hard to meet men.”

Avery laughed. “Dating apps, bars, clubs, walking on the beach, Uber drivers, waiters—”

“Uber drivers, really?” Trina asked.

Avery answered with a smile.

“Please, I can’t pick someone up at a bar,” Shannon said.

“You’re right. You have to actually go into the bar before you can pick someone up,” Lori told her.

“I go to bars.”

“The no-host bar at a wedding reception doesn’t count,” Avery exclaimed.

Shannon didn’t deny Avery’s claim. “Well, dating apps are out.”

“Yeah, those suck. Half the guys on there aren’t real, anyway.” Trina had tried those things before she married Fedor. It wasn’t her pace.

“Good for hooking up, but that’s about it,” Avery said.

“Have you ever considered taking up bowling, or sailing . . . something like that? Something that has tons of testosterone around by default. Football games, anything?”

“Sports aren’t my thing.”

“It doesn’t have to be your thing, it has to be their thing.” Avery was like a dog with a bone.

Shannon passed glances around the room. “Maybe I’ll try sailing. I love the ocean.”

“Okay, then. That’s a direction, at least.”

Trina could almost hear Lori tapping a gavel on a desk with her statement.

“Anything new with you and Reed?” Avery turned her attention to Lori.

Lori slowly smiled, as if the mere mention of her boyfriend warmed a part of her soul. “He’s a good man. He cooked stir-fry for us last Tuesday.”

“Reed can cook?” Shannon asked.

“No. It was awful. Took three days for the soy sauce to leave the back of my throat.”

Trina chuckled. “So what was good about it?”

“He wore an apron.”

They all stared at her.

“And nothing else.”

“Ahh, so, sex in the kitchen,” Avery said.

“Any wedding bells yet?” Trina asked.

Seemed like every time they all got together, they asked if Reed had hinted at the next step.

“He is taking me out of town for our anniversary. I think maybe . . .”

“Let us know as soon as he pops the question.”

Shannon lifted her glass. “I’ll be your wedding photographer.”

“I’ll help plan the wedding. I love that stuff,” Trina said.

“Hold up, guys. He hasn’t asked me yet.”

“It’s only a matter of time. That man adores you.” Avery unfolded from the couch to refill her glass. “So now that we have the obligatory ‘Is Shannon dating’ questions out of the way, and ‘Where is Reed on the commitment meter’ conversation behind us, I think maybe it’s time to dig into what is eating at Trina that made her ditch us.”

Three sets of eyes turned on her.

“Is this an intervention?”

Lori shook her head. “Give it up, Trina, what’s going on in your head?”

After sucking in a long breath and blowing it out slowly, Trina tried to form her emotions into words. “I don’t know what to do. I thought I could find a place at Everson Oil, and maybe I still can, but it feels like everyone there is placating me. My financial goals when I married Fedor are completely obsolete now. I have all the money in the world and nothing to do. I have no cause, no reason to get out of bed in the morning and face the day.”

All the stares in the room turned to worry.

Trina went on. “I started having dreams about Fedor about a month ago.”

Lori set her glass down. “What kind of dreams?”

“Memories. His body . . .” She closed her eyes and tried to erase the image that would forever live with her. The housekeeper had found him after he shot himself, and started screaming. By the time Trina made her way to his detached office at their home in the Hamptons, the entire household staff was there. She rushed into the room to see Fedor at his desk, lifeless, blood everywhere. She only had one look before two people pushed her out of the room and called the police. Once the coroner removed him, and the authorities cleared the room for her to go into, she didn’t. They’d hired an outside company to clean the space, paint the walls, and replace the rug. Trina knew the work had been done, but she never went into the room again. Within a month of his death, Lori had pulled her, along with Avery and Shannon, onto a ship to cruise the Mediterranean to help her forget the tragedy. When she returned, she packed her personal belongings, sealed up the Hamptons house, and moved to Texas.

“Why now?” Avery asked quietly.

“I don’t know. Maybe because it’s been a year. I’ve been thinking of selling the house. Before I do that, I should probably go there and make sure anything personal of Fedor’s is found and given to his aunts.”

“You don’t have to do that. You can hire—”

Trina interrupted Lori. “No. I need to do it. I need to face that home and the memories that are there in order to move on. Do you realize I was still wearing Fedor’s ring until last week? Who does that? We weren’t even married for love and forever.”

“I noticed you put it back on when you moved to Texas,” Avery said. “I didn’t want to ask.”

“It started out of respect at the company. I was there a lot, and the ring reminded people that I had been Fedor’s wife. People expected me to be the mourning widow. Young widows wear their wedding rings.”

“Makes sense,” Shannon said.

“It’s been a year, and the ring is gone, and with it the obligation of playing the sad widow.” That was her plan, in any event.

“It sounds like you have a direction,” Lori said.

“Maybe. I wouldn’t mind a divine sign from above letting me know I’m not on a detour that’s just going to lead me back to walking in circles.”

“Like Wade Thomas?” Shannon asked.

Avery scoffed.

Lori leaned forward. “Have you received any letters from Alice yet?”

Trina shook her head. “The mystery letters from the grave have yet to show up.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they are triggered by the anniversary of her death,” Lori said.

Alice had told Trina, in her will, that letters would be sent explaining Alice’s reasons for her final wishes regarding the estate. An estate that should have been left to Fedor. Alice was already in a coma when Fedor killed himself, so it wasn’t as if she knew that Fedor wouldn’t be around to collect. The entire thing baffled Trina’s mind. For the better part of the year, she’d managed to not think about Alice’s motives. Only now, that was all Trina seemed to contemplate when she was left alone with her thoughts.

And she was alone with her thoughts a lot.

“When did she die?” Avery asked.

“Sixteen days after Fedor.” Trina looked between each of the women in silence. “His death was a year ago tomorrow.”

Silence met her words.

Then Avery added, “Sounds like a good reason to get drunk.”

“Or date a cowboy.” Shannon winked.

For a moment, Trina felt herself smile. Maybe learning the two-step was a good idea, so long as the dance was in the forward motion of moving along in her life.

Chapter Nine

Wade stood to the side of the arena and had yet to be noticed. His mother, the only woman in his life he’d ever really loved with all his heart, rode a six-year-old mare she’d named Nelly. When he was a kid and had run through their one-bedroom apartment instead of walking, his mama would shout out, “Whoa, Nelly . . . where you going to so fast?” Wade wasn’t sure where the name Nelly had come from, but he’d promised his mother that one day he’d buy her a horse named Nelly. Sure enough, Nelly was sniffing out what looked like carrots from his mama’s hand.