“Who the hell are you?”
Elena let out a startled shriek and slapped a hand to her chest. At the end of the hallway, a gray-haired woman with a deep scowl stood with her hands on her hips and a massive dog at her side. The black Newfoundland let out a thunderous bark and launched into a gallop toward Elena. She barely had time to stretch out her palms to ward off the coming attack before the dog jumped and planted his paws on her shoulders. Elena collided with the railing to the staircase as she stumbled under his weight. With another loud woof, the dog dragged his long tongue up the side of her face.
“I said, who the hell are you and what are you doing in Vlad’s house?” the old woman demanded.
“Can you please call off your dog?” Elena begged. She loved dogs. All dogs. In fact, she preferred dogs to most humans. But this one could fit her whole head in his mouth, and she wasn’t sure if the licking meant I love you or I’m going to eat you.
“It’s not my dog,” the woman said.
“Well, whose is it?” Elena asked. Had Vlad gotten a dog and not told her about it? She thought his rejection in the hospital stung, but not telling her that he’d adopted a pet would be an outright fuck you.
“I’m not answering any of your questions until I know who you are,” the old woman argued. “Are you some kind of stalker? One of those lunatic groupies who chase after famous athletes or whatever? How did you even get in here?” She spoke over her shoulder. “Call the police, Linda.”
Elena snapped out of her stunned state. “I don’t think so,” she said, gently pushing the dog away. He dropped all four paws to the floor and wagged his bushy tail. Elena gave him a tentative pat on the head and sidestepped him to face the intruder at the end of the hallway. “I will be calling the police.”
The old woman snorted. “For what? We have a right to be here.”
“Really? So do I.”
“Bullshit. Who are you?”
Elena crossed her arms. “I am his wife.”
Just then, two more women raced into the hallway to stand next to the gray-haired one. They wore matching expressions of OMG.
“Elena?” the old woman croaked.
“Holy crap,” said the one in the middle. Was that Linda? Elena realized upon closer inspection that she looked like a younger and less-intimidating version of the older one. The third woman, a trim fifty-something in yoga pants and bright lipstick, squeak-gasped and covered her mouth with her free hand.
“I can’t believe it,” the older one hissed. “You have some nerve, showing up here like this. Does he even know you’re here?”
Elena stiffened in indignation. “Yes, he knows I’m here. I spent the night at the hospital with him.”
“That’s a lie,” the old woman said.
“Ma!” The younger one glared. “Stop.”
“What?” the old one snapped. “You expect me to be nice to her after everything she has put him through?” She turned an accusing finger at Elena. “You have no idea what he’s been like the past few months.”
Wow. This woman really, really hated her. What had Vlad told them?
Probably the truth.
Elena swallowed her own reproach. The dog, as if sensing her discomfort, scooted closer to her and leaned against her legs. Elena had to brace her hand against the railing of the staircase to keep from falling again.
“Ignore my mother,” the nicer one said. She walked forward and extended her hand. “I’m Linda. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Elena stared at the woman’s long fingers skeptically before slowly accepting the handshake.
“That is my mother, Claud,” Linda said, gesturing reluctantly to the cranky one. Then she nodded to the one in yoga pants. “And this is Andrea.”
“We’re Vlad’s neighbors,” Andrea said. “When we heard about what happened, we decided to come by and help get the house ready for him. We were cleaning out his fridge.”
Elena tucked her hands under her arms. “That’s very kind of you, but I can take care of everything.”
Claud made an ugly, nasally noise.
Linda looked at the ceiling as if praying for peace and said, “Ma, please.”
The dog, whose owner had yet to be determined, woofed and leaned harder into Elena’s legs.
“We’re the Loners,” Andrea said.
“The what?” Elena said.
“That’s what we call ourselves because our husbands are all dead.”
Elena cleared her throat. “How . . . unfortunate.”
“Technically,” Andrea clarified, “I got divorced before my ex-husband died.”
“My condolences.”
Andrea shrugged. “We started coming over here almost every day to have coffee with Vlad when he’s home, and now he’s a member of our little club. We swap recipes, gossip about the neighbors, stuff like that.”
“I see.” Actually, Elena didn’t see. At all. Every word out of their mouths wove a thicker and thicker cobweb in her brain. The beginnings of a headache throbbed a warning behind her temples. Elena pressed her fingers into one as she tried to make sense of the situation. “I don’t understand. Why exactly is Vlad in your club?”
“Because he’s alone, too, thanks to you,” Claud sneered.
“Ma,” Linda hissed. “Stop.”
Elena squared her shoulders. “I am sure he will appreciate that you stopped by to help, but I have to get ready for the team to drop off some equipment for him—”
“And then you’ll be leaving, right?” Claud said.
“Ma!” Linda said. “Vlad wouldn’t like this.”
“Because he’s too tender for his own good.” Claud lowered her voice. “And what will Michelle think?”
Elena blinked as the name of another woman rocketed through her. “Michelle?”
“Another member of our club,” Andrea said quickly. Too quickly. “Except her husband isn’t dead. They’re divorced because he cheated on her, so we just wish he was dead.”
Elena rubbed both temples.
Claud pointed that accusatory finger again. “Why did you come back here? Afraid his injury means he won’t be able to play anymore and you’ll be cut off from his money?”
The oxygen evaporated Elena’s lungs in a whoosh. Claud’s words hit a target deep inside Elena’s worst insecurities and shame.