The Liar

She walked out, distracted, still rehearsing in her head. She barely noticed the woman who fell into step beside her until she spoke.

“Shelby Foxworth?”

“Sorry.” She’d gotten used to “Pomeroy” again in such a short time she nearly said no. “Yes. Hello.”

She stopped, smiled and searched her memory banks. But the stunning brunette with the cold brown eyes and the perfect red lips didn’t ring any bells.

“I’m Shelby. I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you. Who are you?”

“I’m Natalie Sinclair. I’m Jake Brimley’s wife. You knew him as Richard Foxworth.”

The half-smile stayed on Shelby’s face as the words sounded like a foreign language to her ears. “What? What did you say?”

Something feline moved into the woman’s eyes. “We really need to talk, somewhere more private. I saw a cute little park not far. Why don’t we go there?”

“I don’t understand. I don’t know any Jake Brimley.”

“Changing a name doesn’t change who you are.” Natalie reached into a pale blue handbag, drew out a photograph. “Look familiar?”

In the picture the brunette was cheek to cheek with Richard. His hair was longer than he’d worn it, a bit lighter. Something was different about his nose, Shelby thought.

But it was Richard smiling out at her.

“You—I’m sorry—are you saying you were married to Richard?”

“No. Wasn’t I clear? Let me say it again, in case you have trouble understanding. I was, and am, married to Jake Brimley. Richard Foxworth never existed.”

“But I—”

“It’s taken me quite a while to track you down, Shelby. Let’s have a chat.”

Brimley was not one of the names she’d found in the bank box. My God, had he had another? Another name. Another wife.

“I need to make a call. I’m going to be late for work.”

“Go right ahead. It’s a quaint little town, isn’t it? If you go for gun racks and camo.”

And didn’t she sound just like Richard? “There’s also art.” Shelby bit off the words. “Music, tradition, history.”

“No call to get testy about it.”

“People who consider us hicks are generally self-important snobs from somewhere else.”

“Ouch.” Looking amused, Natalie gave a quick shudder. “Struck a nerve.”

Rather than try to explain what was going on in a call, Shelby texted her grandmother, apologized, let her know she’d be a little late.

“Some people like quaint. I’m a city girl.” Natalie gestured toward the crosswalk, began to walk in gorgeous heeled sandals of pale gold. “So was Jake. But you didn’t meet Jake here.”

“I met Richard in Memphis.” Everything seemed just a little blurry. “I was singing with a band during my summer break from college.”

“And he just swept you away. He was good at that. Exciting, charming, sexy. I’ll bet he took you to Paris, a little café on the Left Bank. You’d stay at the George Cinq. He bought you white roses.”

A raw, ugly sickness roiled in her stomach—and must have shown on her face.

“Men like Jake have patterns.” Natalie patted Shelby’s arm.

“I don’t understand. How can you be married to him? I mean, he’s dead, but how could you have been married to him? We were together for over four years. We had a child together.”

“Yes, that was a surprise. But I can see how the family unit could work for him. I had the poor judgment to marry him—whirlwind to Vegas. Sound familiar? And I had the good sense not to divorce him when he left me in the lurch.”

It dropped on her, a single crushing weight. “I was never married to him. That’s what this means. That’s what you’re saying.”

“Since he was still legally married to me, no, you weren’t ever married to him.”

“And he knew.”

“Of course he knew.” Now she laughed. “What a bad boy! Of course, that’s part of the appeal. Such a bad, bad boy, my Jake.”

The park held quiet. No kids on the swings or teeter-totter, none running over the green, climbing on the jungle gym.

Natalie sat on a bench, crossed her legs, patted the space beside her.

“I wasn’t sure if you realized that part and played along. It seems he duped you. But then, that’s what he does.” For an instant something that might have been sorrow flickered over Natalie’s face. “Or did.”

“I can’t think.” Shelby lowered to the bench. “Why would he do this? How could he do this? Oh my God, are there any more? Did he do this to another woman?”

“I couldn’t say.” Natalie gave an easy shrug. “But since he swung pretty quick from me to you, I don’t think there’s another wife in between. And that’s the time I’m interested in.”

“I don’t understand.” Suddenly breathless, Shelby sat back, pushed both hands through her hair, held it back a moment. “I can’t understand any of this. I was never married,” she said slowly. “It was all fake, just like the ring.”

“You lived pretty well for a while, didn’t you?” Natalie angled to her, aimed a look of contempt. “Paris, Prague, London, Aruba, Saint Bart’s, Rome.”

“How do you know all that? How do you know where I went with him?”

“I made it my business to know. You had a luxury condo in Atlanta, country clubs and Valentino dresses. Then the mansion in Villanova. You can’t claim he didn’t give you plenty. Seems to me you had a good deal.”