Take Me Home for Christmas (Whiskey Creek #5)(11)
Author: Brenda Novak

Sophia sat in her black Chanel dress, Manolo Blahnik heels and the Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses she’d put on to hide the redness of her eyes, and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. With her hair slicked back in a bun at her nape, she knew she looked like an ice princess. But she was doing her best to cope, didn’t want anyone to know that she was shaking inside. If they understood how vulnerable she was, they might set on her en masse, like vultures. After what Skip had done, there were plenty of people in Whiskey Creek who were looking for a target. She had the feeling they’d be more than happy to pick her bones. Her own reputation wasn’t helping. Thanks to her past mistakes, there was no one to champion her, no one to insist that she was too good a person to have cooperated with Skip.

“…just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in the newness of life….”

Reverend Flores’s voice droned on, but Sophia tuned him out. She didn’t want to hear what he was saying, didn’t want to think about Skip being resurrected. She doubted anyone here—even his brokenhearted daughter and parents—would be too pleased to see him in the afterlife. She wouldn’t. This was one time she wanted to believe that dead was dead. The sight of Alexa sitting beside her with tears dripping into her lap convinced her that Skip had had enough second chances. How often had she forgiven his violent outbursts and agreed to try again?

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

When Alexa nodded, Sophia slid an arm around her. She wished she could’ve kept her from learning the ugly truth, but there’d been no way to preserve her innocence, not with the whole town talking about how Skip had used and tricked and cheated everyone. It was in the papers. It was on the news. It was on the internet, where strangers with various screen names like “chubbydate” and “village-itch” had posted nasty comments about how “vain” and “arrogant” she and Skip were to think they could “get away with it.” “The wife has to be involved,” some claimed. “It takes money to keep a woman as beautiful as that. He probably figured he’d lose her if he didn’t give her the world.”

Their lives had been torn apart in the most public manner possible, the wreckage strewn for all to see. Some kids, or maybe adults, had even thrown eggs at their house two nights ago.

“We could move,” she whispered in Alexa’s ear. The idea of a fresh start gave Sophia hope, but this suggestion just elicited more tears from her daughter.

“No, Mom. Please!” she begged. “I—I don’t want to go. I can’t leave my friends, and Grandma and Grandpa, and Uncle Colby and my cousins.”

Sophia could understand why. Whiskey Creek was all Alexa had ever known. It was all Sophia had known, too. But that made it harder to face the many people Skip had wronged, especially when the presence of Agent Freeman seemed to signify that she might be as guilty as Skip. The longer he remained in town, asking his insidious questions, the more convinced everyone became that she’d been living the high life at their expense. Someone online had even accused her of having a “bundle” tucked away.

She wished she did have some money in a safe place. Then she really could move, providing she could persuade Alexa. As it was, Sophia wasn’t sure how she’d be able to scrape together the funds that relocating would require. She could sell her household furnishings and her wardrobe. They’d been expensive to begin with, but used items of that kind didn’t retain their value. In any case, as soon as she sold her belongings, there’d be people lining up to get the money.

“Okay,” she murmured, reassuring Alexa with a quick squeeze. “I just… I thought I’d make the offer.”

“So we’ll stay?” Alexa confirmed. “You promise?”

“We’ll stay.” At least as long as she could hang on to the house. The cars would go first. She had no way of making the payments. She’d learned this past week that every single one had a loan against it. So did the yacht. Sophia had tried to track down her wedding ring, but there was no record of where Skip might’ve taken it, and it was nowhere to be found in the house or the cars.

Alexa smiled her gratitude and Sophia managed to smile in return, but when she glanced around, she realized that more people were watching her than the preacher. Would the funeral never end?

Fortunately, Reverend Flores seemed to sense the unrest. He finally finished the service. Then the organ music swelled, and Sophia stood, eager to get out of the church and away from the expensive floral sprays his parents had insisted on ordering—since no one else was likely to send flowers. There was the graveside service still to go, but even fewer people would join her at the cemetery, and her time there would be limited to a short prayer. Soon she’d be able to go home, where she could find refuge from the prying eyes….

“I’m so sorry, Sophia. I’m sure that what you’re going through is just…awful.” Gail DeMarco-O’Neal approached her first, with her movie-star husband, and gave Sophia a tight hug. It was a testament to how glum everyone was feeling that they weren’t making a big deal of Simon’s being in attendance. But, of course, they’d seen him around town on a number of occasions.

“Thank you.” She swallowed hard, hoping to stave off the tears that burned behind her eyes now that someone had shown her some kindness. “It’s nice of you to come. Truly.” In recent years, she’d tried to join Gail’s circle of friends, had loved having coffee with them. She would’ve kept going if not for Ted. Although she longed for his forgiveness, he’d made it clear that he couldn’t or wouldn’t forget the past.

“Is there anything we can do to make things easier?” Gail murmured.

Sophia had a feeling she’d need a good attorney and she had no idea how she’d pay for one. Even filing bankruptcy, which was inevitable, cost a couple thousand dollars. But that was none of Gail’s concern. Although Gail and Simon were rich, Sophia had no right to ask for a loan or anything else. She and Gail had connected briefly one night before Gail got married. It wasn’t as if they’d been friends for life. They hadn’t been friends at all—until then. “No, but thank you.”

“You’ll call if something comes up?” Gail prompted.

What else could go wrong? She’d already lost everything. “Of course,” she lied.

“Good. I’m afraid we can’t stay for the graveside service. Simon has commitments in L.A. And we left the children at home. But I wanted to see you in person, if only for a few minutes.”