Blue Dahlia

now.”
    “Good riddance.”
    Stella took a deep breath. No arguments, she thought, as her stomach clenched and unclenched like a fist. Too tired to argue.
    “The kids are sleeping. They’re just worn out. Tomorrow ... we’ll just deal with tomorrow. I guess that’s the way it’s going to be.” She let her head fall back, closed her eyes. “I keep thinking this is a horrible dream, and I’ll wake up any second. Kevin will be here. I don’t ... I can’t imagine life without him. I can’t stand to imagine it.”
    The tears started again. “Mom, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
    “Had insurance, didn’t he?”
    Stella blinked, stared as Carla set a cup of coffee in front of her. “What?”
    “Life insurance. He was covered?”
    “Yes, but—”
    “You ought to talk to a lawyer about suing the airline. Better start thinking of practicalities.” She sat with her own coffee. “It’s what you’re best at, anyway.”
    “Mom”—she spoke slowly as if translating a strange foreign language—“Kevin’s dead.”
    “I know that, Stella, and I’m sorry.” Reaching over, Carla gave Stella’s hand a pat. “I dropped everything to come here and give you a hand, didn’t I?”
    “Yes.” She had to remember that. Appreciate that.
    “It’s a damn fucked-up world when a man of his age dies for no good reason. Useless waste. I’ll never understand it.”
    “No.” Pulling a tissue out of her pocket, Stella rubbed the tears away. “Neither will I.”
    “I liked him. But the fact is, you’re in a fix now. Bills, kids to support. Widowed with two growing boys. Not many men want to take on ready-made families, let me tell you.”
    “I don’t want a man to take us on. God, Mom.”
    “You will,” Carla said with a nod. “Take my advice and make sure the next one’s got money. Don’t make my mistakes. You lost your husband, and that’s hard. It’s really hard. But women lose husbands every day. It’s better to lose one this way than to go through a divorce.”
    The pain in Stella’s stomach was too sharp for grief, too cold for rage. “Mom. We had Kevin’s memorial service today. I have his ashes in a goddamn box in my bedroom.”
    “You want my help.” She waggled the spoon. “I’m trying to give it to you. You sue the pants off the airline, get yourself a solid nest egg. And don’t hook yourself up with some loser like I always do. You don’t think divorce is a hard knock, too? Haven’t been through one, have you? Well, I have. Twice. And I might as well tell you it’s coming up on three. I’m done with that stupid son of a bitch. You’ve got no idea what he’s put me through. Not only is he an inconsiderate, loudmouthed asshole, but I think he’s been cheating on me.”
    She pushed away from the table, rummaged around, then cut herself a piece of cake. “He thinks I’m going to tolerate that, he’s mistaken. I’d just love to see his face when he gets served with the papers. Today.”
    “I’m sorry your third marriage isn’t working out,” Stella said stiffly. “But it’s a little hard for me to be sympathetic, since both the third marriage and the third divorce were your choice. Kevin’s dead. My husband is dead, and that sure as hell wasn’t my choice.”
    “You think I want to go through this again? You think I want to come here to help you out, then have your father’s bimbo shoved in my face?”
    “She’s his wife, who has never been anything but decent to you and who has always treated me kindly.”
    “To your face.” Carla stuffed a bite of cake into her mouth. “You think you’re the only one with problems? With heartache? You won’t be so quick to shrug it off when you’re pushing fifty and facing life alone.”
    “You’re pushing fifty from the back end, Mom, and being alone is, again, your choice.”
    Temper turned Carla’s eyes dark and sharp. “I don’t appreciate that tone, Stella. I don’t have to put up with it.”
    “No, you don’t. You certainly don’t. In fact, it would probably be best for both of us if you left. Right now. This was a bad idea. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
    “You want me gone, fine.” Carla shoved up from the table. “I’d just as soon get back to my own life. You never had any gratitude in you, and if you couldn’t be on my back about something you weren’t happy. Next time you want to cry on somebody’s shoulder, call your country bumpkin stepmother.”
    “Oh, I will,” Stella