The First Wives Club Read Free

when anyone dies, but what are you calling me for? At six A.M.?”
    ”The funeral’s tomorrow morning.”
    “Jesus, what did she die of, the plague? Why are they sinking her so fast?”’ “Brenda, she killed herself. She did it a couple of nights ago. They didn’t find her until yesterday. A very bad scene, apparently.”
    “Jesus.” Brenda was silent for a few moments. ‘Christ, she had the balls to check out, huh? I’m surprised. She was such a cold, snotty WASP.” Annie thought of Cynthia’s hot tears on her shoulder at the hospital. Sometimes Brenda was completely impossible. A reverse snob, and always hiding her feelings with wisecracks.
    ”Are you going or not?”
    “Of course I’m going. Where and when?”
    “Ten o’clock at Campbell’s.”
    Brenda groaned again. “Gil couldn’t wait to bury her, huh? What a strunz.” ”I’m going to call Hudson and have him drive me. If you want, I’ll pick you up at nine.”’ Another groan. “Jesus, Annie, it doesn’t take an hour to drive ten blocks, even in Manhattan. Anyway, this week the city is a ghost town. Everyone’s pushing Memorial Day.
    They’re out at the Hamptons, or up in Connecticut. And there’s no airport checkin at Campbell’s. Make it ten. We’ll be fashionably late.”
    Annie sighed. “I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty. Don’t keep me waiting. Now I’ve got to go. I’ve got calls to make.”
    “What calls?”
    ”Gil asked me to help, to let some people know.”
    “Nothing like short notice to help keep down the turnout.”
    ”Oh, it’s not as if he planned it that way.”
    “Wanna bet?”
    “With a thing like this I suppose it’s best to make it as discreet as possible.”
    “You gonna call Aaron?”
    Annie felt something in her chest flutter. “I hadn’t thought of it.”
    She paused. He should be told. He’d want to come. He always considered Cynthia flaky, but he had liked her. Annie was going to see her ex-husband the day after tomorrow, at their elder son’s graduation from Harvard. She’d hoped it would be a happy time, that maybe . .
     
    .
     
    She thought of calling him now, of the possibility of another woman answering the phone.
    “I’ll call him for you,” Brenda offered. sensing Annie’s hesitation.
    “Would you?”
    “Sure. It would be a pleasure to wake that dickweed up early.”
    Brenda blamed Aaron for leaving Annie, but Annie herself still couldn’t go that far. And secretly, she still hoped. Well, perhaps Cynthia’s tragedy would bring them together again.
    ”Thanks, Brenda. See you tomorrow at half-past nine. Go back to sleep.”
    She hung up and crossed to the range, turning off the flame under the kettle.
    She’d have to call Elise next, but she wasn’t looking forward to it.
    And then all the other phone numbers she’d have to track down. Plus there was packing to finish for Sylvie, and tranquilizers for the cat to be picked up from the vet. She had to select her clothes for the graduation and have Ernesta pack her overnight bag. Then she’d think about the funeral. She’d have to dress.
    Aaron would see her. She felt the flutter in her chest again. Vanity, vanity.
    As if it mattered what she wore or how she looked. Cynthia was dead.
    But still. She would see Aaron. Maybe talk to him. Maybe even cry together. Oh, Aaron. I could use comfort now. But Aaron was still angry at her over Sylvie.
    Over sending Sylvie away to school. Although he himself didn’t visit their daughter much since he’d moved out, and wasn’t participating in her care, he didn’t want her sent away to school.
    Annie looked over at the neat breakfast setting that waited for her and Sylvie on the table. She’d set it last night, in another universe, before she’d heard the news about Cynthia.
    Annie realized she was still holding the kettle. Suddenly she turned, roughly shoving it back on the range. With renewed energy she reached for the refrigerator and began rooting through the freezer. Somewhere in