The Widow's Husband's Secret Lie

by Freida McFadden

“Um, excuse me?” She plants a hand on her hip. “I just saved your life by hitting your homicidal husband on the head with a shovel, and now you’re repaying me by telling me that I’m not real?” “But you’re not,” I insist. “So how did I hit Grant on the head with a shovel?” I drop my gaze to my own palms. “I must’ve hit him on the head with that shovel. Somehow.” Poppy rolls her eyes. “Okay, and what about those five casseroles I brought you?” “I must have made them myself.” “How about the times I drove you to the mall, and we went shopping together?” “I must’ve been driving.” “What about when I made that huge charcuterie platter for book club, with all those little prosciutto roses I spent hours shaping?” “I guess I made the charcuterie tray and shaped all those roses myself.” Poppy gives me a look, and I shrug helplessly. “I’m sorry. Believe me, I genuinely wish you were real. But I went over to your house a few hours ago, and…” I gesture out the window at the colonial-style house where the old woman had turned me away. “There was somebody else living there. She told me that there had been a Poppy living there many years ago, but she died in a fire.” Poppy gawks at me. “Alice, seriously? You know I live in the house on the left, don’t you? That’s Mrs. Hubbard on the right, and she is completely confused half the time.” “What?” “Oh my God.” She blows out a breath between her teeth. “This is why it’s annoying that I am always the one coming over to your house. Maybe if you c...