The Second Wife by Brenda Chapman Page B

a rut exactly, but it’s not headed where she’d like it to be. Things begin to look up when she joins a community rock choir and meets Anna Rai, a local tv personality. When Anna’s personal journal goes missing and ends up in the hands of a blackmailer, the two women lay a trap to snare the crook.

PROLOGUE
    O ne day, a few years ago, I found a wallet in the parking lot of the mall where I worked. It was sitting on the ground, open, right under the driver’s door of a bmw. Like it fell from the driver’s lap when he got out of the car and he didn’t notice.
    The wallet bulged with cash. Four hundred dollars’ worth. And credit cards, a bank card, a driver’s license. Everything.
    I picked it up and looked around. Was anyone running back to the car in a panic? Nope. The parking lot was empty of pedestrians. And the spot where I stood was out of sight of the mall’s outdoor video cameras. No one would see if I slipped the wallet into my bag and kept walking. Or if I removed the cash and dropped the wallet back on the ground.
    I stood there for a minute and considered those options. And others. I could leave the wallet where I found it, money and all. Or I could write a note, stick it under the windshield wiper, and turn the wallet into mall security. But I didn’t trust some of the guards who worked there.
    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 it—contents intact—to 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.
    â€œThanks 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.
    â€œThere 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. “‘I Gotta Feeling’ by the Black Eyed Peas, for instance. You like that song, don’t you?”
    â€œI liked it when it was current.”
    â€œAnd there’s a Pointer Sisters song. Talk about music from my era.”
    â€œWho the hell are the Pointer Sisters?”
    â€œAnd there’s something by Journey on the list, and ‘Honesty’ by Billy Joel. I love that song.”
    â€œBilly Joel? Are you kidding me? Next you’ll say the choir’s singing Elton John.”
    â€œHow did you know?”
    â€œLook, 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?”
    â€œYou 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