When Never Comes

by Barbara Davis

but all she felt was dread. She had managed to get through the morning, skipping breakfast to rake through her closet for something to wear to the service. Now, as she descended the stairs, she caught her reflection in the mirror at the end of the gallery, a dry-eyed ghost wearing the suit she had purchased two years ago for her mother-in-law’s funeral. She dreaded the day ahead, queasy at the thought of facing Stephen’s friends, playing the grieving widow when the truth was she was quietly fuming. She hadn’t let herself be angry at first, passing those early few days in a kind of haze. It seemed wrong somehow, to be angry with someone who had just died. But then out of nowhere she had been struck with a mix of fury and curiosity, propelling her to Stephen’s study in search of the usual red flags—suspicious hotel bills, clandestine e-mails, lingerie receipts. Initially, she had come up empty. But then she noticed a pattern of monthly autodrafts paid to Star Properties LTD. The name didn’t ring any bells. For all she knew, Star Properties was one of the publicity firms Stephen used to book events and draft press releases. But there were also regular transfers to an account labeled TRAVEL—$4,000 drafted on the fifth of every month. Not that either was proof of an affair. It was entirely possible the payments were legitimate business expenses or that they were related to Stephen’s investments. But her intuition told her they were not. In the end, it was a photograph that prov...