The Wife Upstairs: A Novel

By Rachel Hawkins

Instant New York Times and USA Today Bestseller

"Compulsively readable...a gothic thriller laced with arsenic." ––EW

One of the Most Anticipated Books of 2021: CNN • Newsweek • Vulture • PopSugar • Parade • BuzzFeed • E!Online • TimeOut • Woman's Day • Goodreads • She Reads • Good Housekeeping • CrimeReads • Frolic • Hello! • Mystery and Suspense

January 2021 Indie Next Pick and #1 LibraryReads Pick

A delicious twist on a Gothic classic, The Wife Upstairs pairs Southern charm with atmospheric domestic suspense, perfect for fans of B.A. Paris and Megan Miranda.

Meet Jane. Newly arrived to Birmingham, Alabama, Jane is a broke dog-walker in Thornfield Estates––a gated community full of McMansions, shiny SUVs, and bored housewives. The kind of place where no one will notice if Jane lifts the discarded tchotchkes and jewelry off the side tables of her well-heeled clients. Where no one will think to ask if Jane is her real name.

But her luck changes when she meets Eddie Rochester. Recently widowed, Eddie is Thornfield Estates’ most mysterious resident. His wife, Bea, drowned in a boating accident with her best friend, their bodies lost to the deep. Jane can’t help but see an opportunity in Eddie––not only is he rich, brooding, and handsome, he could also offer her the kind of protection she’s always yearned for.

Yet as Jane and Eddie fall for each other, Jane is increasingly haunted by the legend of Bea, an ambitious beauty with a rags-to-riches origin story, who launched a wildly successful southern lifestyle brand. How can she, plain Jane, ever measure up? And can she win Eddie’s heart before her past––or his––catches up to her?

With delicious suspense, incisive wit, and a fresh, feminist sensibility, The Wife Upstairs flips the script on a timeless tale of forbidden romance, ill-advised attraction, and a wife who just won’t stay buried. In this vivid reimagining of one of literature’s most twisted love triangles, which Mrs. Rochester will get her happy ending?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Jan 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781250245519

Rachel Hawkins

Rachel Hawkins is the New York Times bestselling author of The Wife Upstairs, Reckless Girls, The Villa, and The Heiress, as well as multiple books for young readers. Her work has been translated into over a dozen languages. She studied gender and sexuality in Victorian literature at Auburn University and currently lives in Alabama.

Book preview

PART I

JANE

1

FEBRUARY

It is the absolute shittiest day for a walk.

Rain has been pouring down all morning, making my drive from Center Point out here to Mountain Brook a nightmare, soaking the hem of my jeans as I get out of the car in the Reeds’ driveway, making my sneakers squelch on the marble floors of the foyer.

But Mrs. Reed is holding her dog Bear’s leash, making a face at me, this frown of exaggerated sympathy that’s supposed to let me know how bad she feels about sending me out in the rain on this Monday morning.

That’s the important thing—that I know that she feels bad.

She still expects me to do it, though.

I’ve been walking dogs in the Thornfield Estates subdivision for almost a month now, and if there’s one thing I’ve definitely figured out, it’s that what matters most is how everything looks.

Mrs. Reed looks sympathetic. She looks like she absolutely hates that I have to walk her collie, Bear, on a cold and stormy day in mid-February.

She looks like she actually gives a fuck about me as a person.

She doesn’t, though, which is fine, really.

It’s not like I give a fuck about her, either.

So I smile, tugging at the bottom of my army-green raincoat. Came prepared, I tell her, taking Bear’s leash. We’re standing in the front foyer of the Reed home. To my left is a giant framed mirror propped against the wall, reflecting me, Mrs. Reed, and Bear, already straining toward the door. There’s also a distressed wood table holding a bowl of potpourri as well as a pair of diamond hoop earrings, flung carelessly when Mrs. Reed came in last night from whatever charity function she’d been attending.

Charity functions are big around here, I’ve noticed, although I never can figure out what they’re actually raising money for. The invitations I see lying on end tables or fastened to refrigerator doors with magnets are a word salad of virtue signaling. Children, battered women, homeless, underprivileged: various euphemisms that all mean poor.

No telling what Mrs. Reed was supporting last night, really, but that’s another thing I don’t actually care about.

And I don’t let my eyes linger on the earrings.

Bear’s leash is smooth in my hand as I give Mrs. Reed a little wave and head out onto the wide front porch. It’s painted cement, slick in the damp, and my ancient sneakers nearly skid across it.

I hear the door close behind me, and wonder what Mrs. Reed will do this morning while I’m off walking her dog. Have another cup of coffee? Chase it with a Xanax? Plan some other charity function?

Maybe a brunch to raise money for kids who don’t know how to yacht.

The rain has tapered off some, but the morning is still cold, and I wish I’d brought gloves. My hands look raw and chapped, the knuckles an angry red. There’s still a light pink burn mark splashing across my skin between the thumb and forefinger of my right hand, a trophy from the last day I worked at Roasted, a coffee shop in Mountain Brook Village.

I remind myself that walking dogs sucks, but at least it doesn’t carry the threat of second-degree burns.

Bear tugs on his leash, sniffing every mailbox we come to, and I let him pull me along behind him, my mind more on the houses, the neighborhood, than on my charge. Behind every one of these McMansions is a bright green backyard, so it makes no sense that anyone would even need a dog-walker. But need is not a word people like this think of. Everything with them is want.

That’s what all these houses are about.

Mrs. Reed and her husband live alone on Magnolia Court in eight bathrooms and seven bedrooms, a formal living room and a family den, an upstairs lounge and a gentleman’s study. Every house in Thornfield Estates is like that from what I can tell. I’ve been in four of them so far because of course once one neighbor has a dog-walker, everyone else needs—wants—one. I work for the Reeds, walking Bear, and now for the McLaren family on Primrose Lane, walking their dalmatian, Mary-Beth. Then there’s the Clarks on Oakwood with their shih tzus, Major and Colonel, and Tripp Ingraham on Maple Way just hired me to walk his late wife’s Labrador, Harper.

All in all, it’s a good gig, certainly better than working at Roasted. Here, people actually look me in the eye because they want to be the kind of people who tell themselves they’re not assholes if they actually call the help by their first name. Jane is like family, Mrs. Reed probably says to the other ladies at the country club, and they all make simpering sounds of agreement and have another Bloody Mary.

My sneakers squeak as I walk down the sidewalk, and I think of my apartment, how it’s probably leaking in that one spot in the kitchen again, the ceiling a darker, dingy gray against the rest of the dingy gray. The apartment is cheap and not in a terrible part of town, but sometimes it feels like living in a little concrete box, and no matter how much I try to dress it up with posters from Target or pretty blankets I’ve picked up from thrift stores, the gray fights back.

There isn’t any dingy gray in Thornfield Estates.

Here, the grass is green no matter the time of year, and every house has flowerpots or window boxes, or huge bushes covered in colorful flowers. The shutters are bright yellow, navy blue, deep red, emerald green. If there’s any gray at all, it’s soft and elegant—dove gray, I heard Mrs. Reed call it. There’s a constant hum of activity from lawn services, carpet cleaners, and housekeeping vans going in and out of driveways, even on a rainy day like today.

Bear stops to pee against a curb, and I use my free hand to push the hood back from my head, cold rainwater slithering down my neck as I do. The rain jacket is old, and the seam on the left side is torn, but I can’t bring myself to buy a new one. It’s an expense that doesn’t seem quite worth it, and sometimes I wonder if anyone around here would notice if an older raincoat went missing.

Too big a risk, I remind myself, but I still spend a solid two minutes imagining walking through this neighborhood in something sleek and pretty, something that doesn’t leak cold rainwater all over me. Something like the Burberry jacket Mrs. Clark had hanging up by the door last week.

Don’t even think about it.

So instead, I think about the diamond earrings at Mrs. Reed’s, how if both went missing, well, that looks suspicious, but one? One could’ve fallen off the table. Could be pressed into the carpet at the country club. Could be loose in a pocket somewhere.

Bear stops to smell another mailbox, but I pull him on, making my way toward my favorite house.

It’s at the end of a dead-end street, set back farther from the road than the others, and it’s one of the few that doesn’t seem to have a steady stream of people going in and out. The yard is just as green as the other lawns in the neighborhood, but shaggier, and the pretty purple bushes that bloom out front have climbed too high, blocking off windows on the first floor.

It’s the biggest house in the neighborhood, rising taller, two massive wings sprouting off either side, two oak trees climbing high on the front lawn. It was clearly older than the other homes in the neighborhood, probably the first house ever built here.

The sameness of Thornfield Estates means that eventually, all the houses blur together. I like that—a beautiful blur is better than the depressing monotony of my part of town—but there’s something about this house, all alone at the end of a cul-de-sac, that draws me back every time.

I step off the sidewalk, and into the center of the road, to get a closer look.

This part of the neighborhood is always so quiet that it doesn’t even occur to me that standing in the street might not be the safest thing to do.

I hear the car before I see it, but even then, I don’t move, and later, I’d look back at that moment and wonder if I somehow knew what was going to happen. If everything in my life had been leading me to that one spot, to that one house.

To him.

2

Almost all of the cars in Thornfield Estates are the same, some version of luxury SUV. They’re basically movable versions of the houses—notably expensive, bigger than could ever be necessary. I barely notice them anymore, just register them as champagne or midnight-blue tanks that roll through the streets regularly.

The car that comes flying out of the driveway of my favorite house isn’t an SUV, though. It’s a sports car, an older one with a growling engine, and candy-apple red, bright as a wound against the gray day.

Bear barks, dancing on his back legs, and I try to move out of the way, my fingers getting tangled in the leash as the car’s bumper rushes toward us.

The asphalt is slick with rain, and maybe that’s what saves me because as I step back, my foot skids and I fall, landing hard enough to rattle my teeth. My hood drops over my face, so I can’t see anything except army-green vinyl, but I hear the squeal of brakes, then the soft crunch of metal. Bear is barking and barking and barking, moving nervously, and the leather leash bites into my wrist, making me wince.

Jesus Christ, I hear a man say, and I finally manage to push the hood back.

The back half of that gorgeous car now rests against one of the fancy streetlights that line the road. He hadn’t been going all that fast, but the car was so lightweight that the metal had crumpled like paper, and my mouth suddenly goes dry, heart pounding heavily in my chest.

Shit, shit, shit.

A car like that is worth more than most people make in a year. It would take me ages at the coffee shop to even afford a down payment on something like that, and now it’s seriously fucked up because I’ve been gaping at this guy’s house from the middle of the street.

The driver’s door is open, and I finally make myself look at the man standing there, one arm slung across the top of the door.

He doesn’t look like the other men I’ve seen in Thornfield Estates. They wear polo shirts and khakis, and even the ones who are young and in good shape have a sort of softness to them. Weak chins or bellies that sag slightly over their expensive leather belts.

There’s nothing weak or sagging in this man. He’s wearing jeans and boots that are meant to look lived-in, but I know are expensive. Everything about him looks expensive, even his rumpled white button-down.

Are you alright? he asks, stepping toward me. Even though it’s raining, he’s wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses, and I can see myself reflected in them, the pale oval of my face against the dark green of my hood.

And when he takes off the glasses, hooking them in the collar of his shirt, his eyes are very blue. A trio of wrinkles pop up over the bridge of his nose as he looks down at me.

It had been a long time since anyone looked at me like they were actually worried about me, and that’s almost more attractive than the nice clothes, the gorgeous car, the perfect bone structure.

I nod at him as I push myself to my feet, yanking on Bear’s leash to bring the dog closer.

Fine, I tell him. I shouldn’t have been standing in the street.

One corner of his mouth kicks up, revealing a dimple in his cheek. I shouldn’t have been pulling out of the driveway like a bat out of hell.

He leans down then, giving Bear a quick scratch between the ears. The dog twists into his touch, tongue lolling out.

I’m guessing you’re the new dog-walker everyone’s so excited about, the man says, and I clear my throat, cheeks suddenly hot.

Yeah, I am, I say, and he keeps watching me, waiting. Jane, I blurt out. That’s … my name is Jane.

Jane, he repeats. Don’t see many Janes around lately.

I don’t tell him that it’s not even my real name, but the name of a dead girl I knew in a dead life. My real name is equally boring, but it’s one he might hear more often than Jane.

I’m Eddie, he tells me, offering his hand, and I shake it, painfully aware of how clammy my palm must feel and the grit of the road still embedded in the meaty place just below my thumb.

Don’t see many Eddies around lately, either, I say, and he laughs at that. It’s a rich, warm sound that makes something at the base of my spine tingle.

And maybe that’s why when he asks if I want to come in for a cup of coffee, I say yes.

3

Up close, the house is even more impressive than it is from the street. The front door towers over us, curving into an arch. It’s a defining feature in all these houses, these massive doors. At the Reeds’, the bathroom doors are at least eight feet tall, making even the smallest rooms feel grand and important.

Eddie ushers me and Bear inside, and the dog immediately shakes himself, sending droplets of water to the marble floor.

Bear! I say sharply, tugging on his collar, but Eddie only shrugs.

Floors will dry faster than you, huh, big guy? He gives the dog another pat, then gestures for me to follow him down the hall.

There’s a heavy table just to the right—more marble, more wrought iron—holding an elaborate flower arrangement, and when I pass by, I let one finger trail over the nearest blossom.

It feels cool and silky, slightly damp under my finger, so I know the flowers are real, and I wonder if he—or his wife, let’s be real—have new ones brought in every day.

The hallway leads to a massive living room with high ceilings. I’d expected something like the Reeds’ house again, a sea of neutrals, but the furniture in this room is bright and looks comfortable. There’s a pair of sofas in a deep cranberry, plus three wingback chairs with bold prints that don’t match, but manage to go together. The floors are light hardwood, and I spot a few rugs, also in bright colors.

Two tall lamps throw warm pools of golden light on the floor, and the fireplace is framed by built-in bookshelves.

You have books, I say, and Eddie stops, turning to me with his hands in his pockets, his eyebrows raised.

I nod at the shelves, which are crammed full of hardbacks. Just … a lot of these houses have that shelving, but I usually don’t see books.

The Reeds have a few framed photos, some weird-looking vases, and a whole bunch of blank space on their built-ins. The Clarks prefer china plates on little stands with the odd silver bowl.

Eddie’s still watching me, and I can’t read his expression. Finally, he says, You’re observant.

I’m not sure if that was supposed to be a compliment or not, and I suddenly wish I hadn’t said anything at all.

I turn my attention to the wall of windows looking out onto the backyard. Like the front, it’s a little shaggier than the other yards in the neighborhood, the grass higher, the bushes not as uniform, but it’s prettier than those other cookie-cutter lawns, too. This property backs up to woods, tall trees stretching out toward the gray sky.

Eddie follows my gaze. We bought the land behind this plot so that we’d never have to look at the back of another house, he said. He’s still holding his car keys, and they jangle in his hand, a nervous tic that doesn’t seem to fit the rest of him.

I think about what he just said—we.

It’s stupid to be disappointed. Of course, a man like this has a wife. There are no single men in Thornfield Estates except for Tripp Ingraham, and he’s a widower. Single men don’t live in places like this.

It’s pretty, I tell Eddie now. Private.

Lonely, I also think, but don’t say.

Clearing his throat, Eddie turns from the window and walks into the kitchen. I follow behind, Bear still trudging in my wake, my coat dripping on the floor.

The kitchen is as grand as the rest of the house with a massive stainless-steel refrigerator, a dark granite island, and beautiful cream-colored cabinets. Everything seems to gleam, even the man standing in front of the Keurig, loading up a coffee pod.

How do you take it? he asks me, his back still to me, and I perch on the edge of a stool, Bear’s leash in one hand.

Black, I reply. The truth is, I don’t really like black coffee, but it’s always the cheapest thing at any café, so it’s become a habit.

I see, you’re tough, then.

Eddie smiles at me over his shoulder, his eyes very blue, and my face goes hot again.

Married, I remind myself.

But when he hands me the cup of coffee, I glance down at his hands. Fine-fingered, manicured, a smattering of dark hair over his knuckles.

And no ring.

So, tell me about yourself, Jane the Dog-Walker, he says, turning back to make his own cup of coffee. Are you from Birmingham?

No. I blow across the surface of my coffee cup. I was born in Arizona, lived mostly out West until last year.

True, but vague: my preferred way of explaining my background to new people.

Eddie takes his mug from the Keurig machine and faces me, leaning back against the counter. How’d you end up down here?

I was looking for something new, and a friend from school lived here, offered me a room.

There’s a trick to spinning lies. You have to embed the truth in there, just a glimmer of it. That’s the part that will catch people, and it’s what makes the rest of your lies sound like truth, too.

I was looking for something new. I was. Because I was running from something old.

A friend from school. A guy I met in a group home after my last foster situation ended badly.

Nodding, Eddie takes a sip of his coffee, and I fight the urge to squirm in my seat, to ask why the hell he brought me into his house to make small talk, where his wife is, why he isn’t at work or wherever it was he was going in such a hurry this morning.

But he seems happy to just sit there in the kitchen with me, drinking coffee and looking at me like I’m a puzzle he’s working out.

I can’t help but feel like I cracked my head on the road this morning and dropped into some alternate universe where rich, handsome men seem interested in me.

What about you? I ask. Are you from Birmingham originally?

My wife was.

Was. I hold that word, that tense, in my mind.

She, uh. She grew up around here, wanted to move back, he goes on, and his fingers are drumming on the side of his mug, that same gesture I’d noticed earlier in the street. Then he puts the mug down and leans on the island in front of him, arms crossed.

You’re staying in Mountain Brook? he asks, and I raise my eyebrows, making him laugh. Is this creepy? The third-degree thing?

It maybe should be, but instead, it’s nice to have someone actually interested in me—not the fake, feigned interest of Mrs. Reed, but something genuine, real. Plus, I’d rather sit here talking and drinking coffee in his gorgeous kitchen than walk Bear in the rain.

I let my fingers trace a vein in the marble as I say, Only mildly creepy. Tier One on the creep meter.

He smiles again, and something tingles at the base of my spine. I can deal with Tier One.

I smile back, relaxing a little. And no, I’m not staying in Mountain Brook. My friend’s place is in Center Point.

Center Point is an ugly little town about twenty miles away, once part of the suburban sprawl of Birmingham, now a haven of strip malls and fast-food joints. There are still nice neighborhoods tucked in and around it, but on the whole, it feels like another planet compared to Thornfield Estates, and Eddie’s expression reflects that.

Shit, he says, straightening up. That’s quite a hike from here.

It is, and my crappy car probably can’t take it much longer, but it’s worth it to me, leaving behind all that ugliness for this place with its manicured lawns and brick houses. I knew it would’ve been smarter to find work in Center Point, like John, but as soon as I’d moved in, the first thing I’d done was look for ways to escape.

So, I didn’t mind the drive.

There wasn’t much work in Center Point, I tell him, which is another half-truth. There were jobs—cashier at the Dollar General, checkout girl at Winn-Dixie, cleaner at the Fit Not Fat! gym that used to be a Blockbuster Video—but they weren’t jobs that I wanted. That would get me any closer to the type of person I wanted to be. And my friend knew someone who worked at Roasted in the village, and that’s where I met Mrs. Reed. Well, I met Bear first, I guess.

At the sound of his name, the dog wags his tail, thumping against the base of my stool, a reminder that I should probably get going. But Eddie is still watching me, and I can’t seem to stop talking. He was tied up outside, and I brought him some water. Apparently, I was the first person he hadn’t growled at since Mrs. Reed got him, and she asked if I ever did any dog-walking, so now…

So now here you are, Eddie finishes up, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. The movement is elegant despite his wrinkled clothes, and I like how his lips are caught somewhere halfway between a smile and a smirk.

Here I am, I say, and for a moment, he holds my gaze. His eyes are very blue, but they’re rimmed in red, and his stubble is dark against his pale skin.

The house is well taken care of and clean, but something about the feeling of emptiness inside of it—and the emptiness in Eddie’s eyes—reminds me of Tripp Ingraham. I hate walking his dog because then I have to go into that stuffy, shut-up house where it’s as if the pause button was hit the second his wife died.

And then I remember that Tripp’s wife didn’t die alone. She and her best friend were both killed in a boating accident just six months back. I never registered the friend’s name because to be honest, I hadn’t really cared about old gossip, but now I wish I had.

Was. He’d said was.

And I’ve kept you from your work by nearly running you over, then forcing you to make small talk with me, Eddie says, and I smile, turning my mug around in my hands.

I like the small talk. Could’ve done without the near-death experience.

He laughs again, and I suddenly wish I didn’t have anywhere else to be, that I could sit here talking with him the rest of the day.

Another cup? he asks, and even though I still have half my coffee left, I push the mug away.

No, I should probably get going. Let Bear finish up his walk.

Eddie puts his own mug in the smaller sink there by the coffeemaker. All the houses have that because god forbid rich people have to walk the extra three feet to use the main sink, I guess.

How many dogs are you walking in the neighborhood? he asks as I slide off the stool, reaching for Bear’s leash.

Four right now, I tell him. Well, five, the Clarks have two. So five dogs, four families.

Could you squeeze in a sixth?

I pause as Bear pushes himself to his feet, stretching.

You have a dog? I ask.

He smiles at me again, a real smile this time, and my heart turns a neat flip in my chest.

I’m going to get one.

4

"Since when does Eddie Rochester have a

Reviews for The Wife Upstairs

[TinaMarie Baldwin · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I couldn't put it down! Kept me interested from the beginning.

[tinkerbellkk · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Easy to read, fast paced thriller. Unfortunately a little bit predictable and not sure how believable it is. Poor, dog walker with major secrets gets noticed by the rich guy in the neighbourhood who is recently widowed. Some nice twists and enjoyable if you want something that is entertaining and a quick read.

[mojomomma_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Another audiobook that falls into the category of "naive but beautiful woman falls in love with a rich handsome man who turns out to be dangerous, abusive, or both." Jane goes from being a dog walker to the live-in woman after Eddie's wife has been missing and presumed dead for several months. Turns out she is locked into the panic room upstairs that Jane is unaware of. Now, who would put a panic room on the top floor of a house in Alabama? Minor point, but these things annoy me. Eventually, Jane inherits the fortune of both the dead wife (who isn't really dead) and the husband (who may or may not have perished in a house fire that he started in the panic room.) Jane is pleasantly manipulative, the other characters are a nightmares of the Southern gothic variety. Entertaining, but clearly formulaic.

[brianinbuffalo · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Built on an interesting premise and written in a way that keeps things moving, "The Wife Upstairs" was an enjoyable way to wrap up my summer reading. Having said that, I could barely remember the plot line a couple weeks after finishing it. This just isn't my genre, but I thought I would give it try after reading many favorable reviews.

[huntersun9 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This was a well-paced, modern take on Jane Eyre. This Jane, working as a dog-walker to the rich, is no shrinking violet; she has a dark past, sticky fingers, and secrets of her own when she meets the charming widower, Eddie Rochester. Hoping to finally get more than a foot inside the world of the wealthy after a hard life, Jane cozies up to Eddie and the friends of his dead wife, Bea. But Jane is not the only person playing a role and she soon suspects that Eddie's widowhood was not accidental after all. I enjoyed Hawkins' writing style and the different points of view. (And Eddie's dog being named Adele gave me a chuckle.)

[micareads · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Jane is a woman with a past that she is trying to hide. In order to make ends meet, she begins walking dogs in a well-to-do part of town when she meets Eddie, a well-to-do widower who she gets close to. Eddie has his own secrets though and they may end up costing Jane everything.

When I picked this book up I expected a thriller but not one quite as predictable as this. While I found the ending a little surprising else, everything else was as I thought it would be. Jane was a basic character with an unsurprising past who manages to find an equally basic character who also had an expected past. I think I expected a little more of this story based on the fanfare I saw for the book.

[dara85 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Jane is the dog walker in upscale Birmingham, Alabama neighborhood. As a former foster child, she escaped from a bad situation. Jane soon falls for one of her clients, and he for her. Eddie's wife and best friend were killed in a boating accident not long ago. Jane soon moves in with Eddie, but there appears to be many secrets that each of them is keeping from each other.

[geauxgetlit · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Poetic justice!

Jane who is the local dog walker in a super rich neighborhood accidentally meets the man whose wife was killed not long before. Eddie was married to Bea, who made hundreds of millions on a decor company she started from the ground up. Now Eddie was worth millions, that Bea was marked officially deceased even though they never discovered her body. But, her best friends body was discovered after some time and cause of death was murder! Did someone murder Bea also?
Jane, growing up in foster care, knew how to work people and she hit the jackpot when Eddie proposed to her. She is smart and things don’t add up like it should.

What happens when Jane discovers Bea isn’t dead? Jane, Eddie and Bea are all very conniving, smart and borderline sociopathic! Who comes out on top of this wild ride?

I enjoyed this book and from the beginning and from the start I knew something was off with both Jane and Eddie! I however, didn’t care for the ending. I wish it would have gone into more details about each of the characters.

All in all, it was a great read and would recommend it! I also can’t wait to read Jane Eyre, since this book was a reworking of it.

Thank you to St Martin’s Press for the gifted copy In exchange for my own opinion!

[jynell-71874 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I went into this blind. The only thing I read was the title and saw the cover. I like to go into books this way - it adds to the excitement because in a thriller, you never know what's going to happen.

On a scale of thrillers, this wasn't very scary or thrilling, if I'm being honest. I don't think my pulse picked up even a little bit while listening to this one. With that said, I genuinely enjoyed the story of it all though and the ending was absolutely a shocking twist! It was definitely not something I saw coming.

Some of the beginning felt like a Pretty Woman scenario, but I knew there would be more to it. The author seemlessly flows in backstory with present day and keeps the reader interested. I certainly was.

If you're not sure if thrillers are for you or if you're wanting to give one a try, this is perfect for you!

The audiobook is wonderful as well. There are 3 narrators, each with a unique voice who lends character and depth to the story. I had zero issue listening to this on 2.5x and still understanding and enjoying their voices.

Thank you Libro.fm for allowing me to listen to this and give my honest opinion.

[squirrelhead_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Jane is new to the Birmingham Alabama area and is trying to start a new life. She has a secret about her past life, one she is running from, and this keeps you guessing about her past. She is employed as a dog walker in this ultra rich community where women casually discard their diamond earrings in a bowl as they enter their mansions. The neighborhood is basically full of millionaires who haven;t experienced hardship.One day Jane is staring at one elegant home while walking a dog and Eddie Rochester careens out of his driveway, almost running Jane down. Eddie is newly widowed, very handsome and fit. Her invites Jane inside for coffee and apologizes for almost killing her. This is the start of the Eddie and Jane storyline.The very title called The Wife Upstairs is a bit of a spoiler and that crazy scenario is revealed early in the book. I was interested in this book because a Jane Eyre comparison was mentioned. It's not a ripoff story but you'll see a nod to the names and some of the relationships. Jane, Rochester, Bertha plus the poor character of Jane who had a horrid upbringing.This story has mystery, two big twists in the narrative (be patient and wait for it!) and a warning to those who are offended by the F-bomb. It's not used as much as in The Big Lebowski but you've been forewarned :-) Doesn't bother me and was, in my opinion, approprite for the scenarios.

[gpangel_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Wife Upstairs by Rachel Hawkins is a 2021 St. Martin’s Press publication. A dark, modern-day spin of Jane Eyre…. Obviously, I’m a big fan of the Bronte Sisters. That said, I’m really picky about re-telling’s, updates, or reboots- of one of my all-time favorite classics- which is why I waffled back and forth about reading this one, until finally my curiosity got the better of me.The setup has Jane, a young woman who came from the foster system, walking dogs for a living. She meets the wealthy neighbor of one of her clients and he hires her on the spot. Before long, she’s moved into his home and gets to work seducing the lonely widower. Eddie Rochester’s wife, Bea, was allegedly drowned in a tragic boating accident along with her best friend. Then a body found… not Bea’s, but her friend’s… And detectives are highly suspicious… and so is Jane! This book turned out to be a highly entertaining read! Darkly humorous, and well executed, the author did a fabulous job switching the genres around- from gloomy Gothic- to twisty psychological thriller- somehow, if one is open to new interpretations- it works! While some fans of the classic may feel the liberties taken go too far- and I can be that way, too sometimes- but maybe it’s time to lighten up, and not take all these various incarnations so seriously, every single time. My only gripe was the overuse of ‘colorful metaphors’, which was meant to modernize the story, I’m sure, but was not always in context with the story, therefore unnecessary.Other than that- I thought this was a wickedly fun story, with a different, surprisingly satisfying- very contemporary conclusion. 4 stars

[judithrs · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The Wife Upstairs. Rachel Hawkins. 2020. The illusion to Jane Eyre is pretty weak: The wife is locked in safe room and the husband’s last name is Rochester. Jane has fled Arizona and is working as a dog watcher in Mountain Brook when she meets Mr. Rochester, a widower. The attraction is immediate, Jane moves in with Rochester. She struggles to overcome her inferiority complex and ingratiate herself into to the life of the rich women she used to work for. Rochester’s wife and a friend of hers supposedly drowned in Smith Lake. Questions arise about her future husband and what really happened at his dead wife. There are not a lot of likable people here. The attraction is the setting in the Birmingham area and the way the author skewers the people of Mountain Brook.

[desiree_reads · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

*SOFT SPOILERS*

An entertaining novel with a genuinely surprising climax and conclusion.

Dog walker, Jane, can’t believe her luck when she catches the eye of the wealthy – you guessed it – Mr. Rochester (Eddie). As Jane gets to know Eddie, she yearns to more about his recently deceased wife, Bea, who died in a boating accident along with her best friend Blanche.

In this version, Jane solves the mystery of what really happened to Bea and Blanche, and finds herself in a life or death situation as well. The question – who really are Eddie, Bea, and Blanche – and will Jane get to keep the security she’s always longed for, that Eddie finally provides.

A decent entry into the popular Jane Eyre copycat market, and another in a recent spate of quasi-psychopathic, female, lead characters, such as the also recently released White Ivy and Bad Habits. Yet, I would have enjoyed more without the comments peppered throughout that bashed Southerners, Republicans, and “rich white dudes”. Ladies, I realize you are fictional, but perhaps your problems are your own and not the result of “the man”. (Seriously, I’m not even sure how these blame game comments made sense with the plot at all.)

Also, of note, for the readers who do not care for crass or crude language, there were several spots of vulgar word choices.

As I was surprised and entertained overall, awarding four stars.

A big thank you to Rachel Hawkins, St. Martin’s Press, and NetGalley for providing an Advance Reader Copy in exchange for this honest review.

#RachelHawkins
#TheWifeUpstairs
#StMartinsPress
#NetGalley

[katherinegregg · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I thought I was reading a book by Paula Hawkins, author of Girl on a Train, and kept waiting for the book to get better. It did not. The characters are shallow and one dimensional and the story line not terribly interesting. Jane, a 23 year old down and out woman running from her prior life, meets Eddie, her fiance, in a wealthy subdivision where she works as a dog walker. The neighborhood gossip reveals that Eddie's wife and her best friend Blanche are presumed dead after a boating accident. The turn of events towards the end of the book was unexpected but that is the only positive thing I can say about the book.

[amcheri-1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I wanted to give a higher rating to this audiobook but I couldn't find anything redeeming about it. I know how harsh that sounds. But a Goodreads two stars rating is "It was ok" and this was not. It was not ok. By the time I got to 75% I was ready to launch my phone (reminder: audiobook) across the room and stomp on my headphones.

So what issues did I have with the book? Well, I will do my best to avoid any spoilers but some might get spoiler-adjacent.

Let's start with the narrators. There were three of them. One for each of the female POV characters and one for the male. The male narrator I'd heard before and enjoyed just fine. Eddie has a tiny portion of the book from his POV which was narrated in a pretty much emotionless, excruciatingly slow cadence. The narrator for Bea was meh. The narrator for Jane had that constant "I'm irritated with everything and breathe-too-heavily-and-too-often" thing happening that ended up being super annoying and distracting.

Now lets talk about the story. This is where it might be more information than you want so if you're still interested in maybe reading with your eyeballs to avoid the narration issues, be warned.

I'm usually fine with an unreliable narrator but this book has three of them. Yes, all three POV characters. Which might still be ok except so much of the book had my BS meter screaming off the charts. So many absolutely unbelievable twists that I eventually got to the point where I only wanted it to end.

I know I can be rough on books that push my ability to suspend disbelief too far but the combination of the narration, not being able to trust a single person telling a part of the story, and the total unbelievableness (yes, I'm using a pretend word because I need it) of most everything, I have to go with the one-star review.

I received the audiobook from the publisher and NetGalley.

[smcgovern-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Fast page turner, dog walker in rich neighborhoods falls for widow and engaged while his supposedly dead wife is liv8ngnin a panic room in the house

[paulagalvan-323293 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This "who-dune-it" was an up-and-down thrill ride to the very end—smart, sassy, and surprising. When Jane Bell, aka Helen Burns, shows up in the exclusive Thornfield Estates, she's running from a sorted past and hoping for a better future. She thinks life would be perfect if she could only be just like the bejeweled, pampered women that hire her to walk their dogs. Then she falls for Eddie. What she doesn't know is Eddie is living the kind of nightmare that could get her killed. I guess this is supposed to be a remake of Jane Eyre, but I enjoyed it as a modern thriller that kept me enthralled to the very end.

[angiestahl-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Really enjoyed this! I thought I'd figured it out - unreliable narrator who may be a sociopath meets another potential sociopath. But...there were a couple of twists and at least two I didn't see coming. The ending is ambiguous and while that's not always satisfying, in this case...I thought it was a solid choice. If you like them kinda dark and fairly twisty, this one is highly readable and despite the apt, but sea-of-sameness title, this one stuck with me more than most!

[twink_2 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Hmmm....I thought the premise was good, having taking some inspiration from Jane Eyre. I was curious to see what Hawkins had come up with.I found each and every character to be unlikable. Jane isn't a lead that earned any empathy from me at all. She's a conniving user, a thief and a fake, matching much of what she despises about the wealthy residents of Thornfield Estates. I'm okay with having no clear 'good' or redeeming character in a novel, but found the character development missed the mark for me as well. I never bought into the 'romance' between Jane and Eddie at all.Most of the story is told from Jane's point of view. Chapters from Bea do pique the reader/listener's curiosity. I do applaud Hawkins' manipulation of the reader/listener as we hear more from Bea. But again, it was somewhat predictable. I just, well I just expected more I think. More of a fresh story perhaps. The Wife Upstairs ended up being just an okay book for me. Still, this was a good listen while doing some quilting. I'm definitely in the minority on this book. St. Martin's chose to use multiple readers for this book - Emily Shaffer, Kirby Heyborne, Lauren Fortgang. They're all readers I have enjoyed previously and they all did a good job with this novel.

[taleofnight · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is a retelling of Jane Eyre, which I have never read so I can't compare the two. I went into this not knowing anything other than it was a thriller. I have loved Rachel Hawkins young adult books, so I was excited when I saw she was publishing an adult thriller. I didn't love it in the beginning. I wasn't a fan of Jane and I didn't like the overall voice. But the mystery kept me reading, and I did end up getting used to Jane and enjoying the mystery of it all.

[allison_krajewski-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I re-read Jane Eyre a few years ago in anticipation of another retelling of sorts about Mr. Rochester (appropriately, called Mr. Rochester). Since it was relatively fresh on my mind, I was excited to pick this book up, which is a modern-day thriller loosely based on the classic Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte.Honestly, this book wasn't what I expected it to be, but I did enjoy it. In the story, we follow three narrators - Jane, Eddie, and Bea (Bertha) - as we slowly learn what happened on the night of a tragic boat accident where Bea and her friend were both lost and presumed dead. I thought the three narrators format lent insight into each of the characters, even though most of the story focused on Jane. However, the characters themselves lacked depth and weren't that likeable (though I guess that was the point), and a lot of the story read as cliche.It was a pretty fast read, and overall it was good.3.5 stars, but rounded down.Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin's Press for an eARC of this book in exchange of an honest review. All thoughts are my own.

[adonisguilfoyle · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I get where Rachel Hawkins was going with this update of Jane Eyre - and a little Rebecca thrown in for added flavour - but her good intentions fell down a plot hole the size of Thornfield Hall. In Charlotte Bronte's novel, nobody (in Jane's Life) knows that Rochester is already married, let alone that he keeps his 'crazy' wife locked up in the attic. Here, 'Eddie' Rochester's wife is only missing, presumed dead, after less than a year and already he's taken over her company and is planning to remarry. And nobody but nobody has a problem with any of his plans!Gaps in logic aside, the entire cast of characters was also unlikeable. Now, Jane Eyre is not my favourite novel and Rochester is far from a romantic hero, but even I can admire how well Charlotte crafted the story - I can certainly swallow Jean Rhys' revision of his personality far easier, but he is quite sympathetic in the original text, I'll give him that. Here, Rochester is a grasping psychopath, Jane herself is a petty thief turned grifter, and Bea (Bertha) falls victim to 'Gone Girl Syndrome' - which I HATE and utterly killed any praise I might have had for this book. Oh, and both women are too easily swayed by the mere thought that charming old Eddie might really, true love them, while the men are pathetic victims. Even the 'Stepford Wives' neighbours on Thornfield Estate, the gated community where the Rochesters live in Alabama, are clichés. Ugh!And dear lord, if the ending didn't just compound the issues above! Yes, Jane Eyre deserved better, but this just made no sense. None of the book made any sense, in fact. The 'new' Jane is a 'brave' character in the sense that hinging the story on a woman who thinks she 'deserves' other people's wealth because she had a terrible childhood is a ballsy move from the author, but the original Jane had far more dignity and the unnamed narrator in Rebecca was more sympathetic.The first person narration is convincing, until everybody gets a say - including Eddie - and the flashbacks start, and yes, I was gripped by the unfolding drama, but I wouldn't read this again or shelve a copy alongside the original novels. Disappointing.

[bookczuk · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Pandemic read. A tribute to Jane Eyre, in the format of the sudden spurt of "wife in the/wife of the/wives etc" genre. Read on recommendation.

[tibobi · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

*No Spoilers*The Short of It:This is the perfect read for now. Quick, impossible to put down and some twists for good measure.The Rest of It:Jane’s life has been less than luxurious. As a product of the foster care system, she is skeptical, guarded and envious of those who have it easier. Scraping pennies to get by and forced to live with a roommate she truly cannot stand, she finds a job walking dogs in a ritzy neighborhood. Jane is not much of an animal lover but she is fascinated by the McMansions in this community and the people who live in them. The women, all rich and well-taken care of, have no idea what it’s like to not make the rent. Jane wonders what it would be like to be one of them.Jane’s fascination with these women leads her to Eddie who is recently widowed. His wife Bea went missing in a boating accident with her best friend Blanche. Bea was eventually declared dead even though they never found her body because in order for Eddie to take over her home decor business her death had to be legally noted. Eddie lives alone in his big, beautiful house but when he sees Jane walking the neighbor’s dog there is a little spark. A spark that prompts him to get his own dog so that Jane can walk his dog too. The two find an instant connection but Jane senses something more there.Eddie’s wife has only been gone for a short while and since many of the ladies in the neighborhood were good friends with Bea and Blanche, they can’t help but be skeptical over this new, young woman in Eddie’s life but Jane is determined to be one of them and when Eddie provides free use of his credit card, she begins to find her way in.It all sounds very superficial but it’s superficial in the way those rich housewives shows are. Juicy and full of gossipy goodness. Jane is not perfect by any stretch of the imagination but as the story unfolds, you quickly begin to realize that something much darker is at play and it’s good, very good. I picked this book up and didn’t put it down until I turned the last page.It’s being called a modern retelling of Jane Eyre which I find interesting. I didn’t see it as that myself but it was juicy and twisty in all the right places and perfect for my mood. Very entertaining.For more reviews, visit my blog: Book Chatter.

[drapple_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A modern retelling of Jane Eyre, this novel has you thinking you know what is going on, then surprises you.

[silversurfer_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Excellent! A real page turner with a wallop of a twist!

[mnicol_11 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

What if “Jane Eyre” were set in the modern American South? That is what the Economist asked – and proceeded to talk up what it termed “a modern take on a classic”. I was initially diverted: St John Rivers, the moral blackmailer of the novel, was recast as creepy events co-ordinator at a struggling Baptist Church. But I must never again rely on the Economist for novel reviews. This is the third time I have been misled. The Kindle edition however was economical and simply appeared on my MacBook, after a ‘one click’ Amazon purchase.

[fredreeca · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Jane is determined to be a part of the elite. She is a dog walker but she wants to live like the people she works for. She meets Eddie one morning and her dream, all of a sudden, is within reach. But, Eddie’s first wife, Bea, is ever present in their relationship. However, Jane is determined to be the one and only.I enjoyed so much about this read! This story moves so quickly and takes the reader through all sorts of loops and flips. I didn’t know whom to trust.Jane is a character you want to trust and like but her motives are not exactly pure and honest. Then there is Eddie. As a reader you know something is just not right but you just can’t put your finger on it. And finally there is the ghost of Bea…boy oh boy….you must read this to find out.Talk about twisted and full of suspense. This one is it. Grab your copy today!I received this novel from the publisher for a honest review.

[jmchshannon · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Wife Upstairs by Rachel Hawkins has plenty to offer for those familiar with Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre. What you might not realize is that it also has vibes from Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca. Given that I continually list both classics among my top five all-time favorite books I have ever read, you can bet I enjoyed every minute of Ms. Hawkins’ story.Ms. Hawkins does a fantastic job with her Jane Eyre retelling. She does not just modernize the story, but she has fun playing with the characters and settings. All of the characters in the original do make an appearance in The Wife Upstairs but not as you might expect. I loved seeing how Ms. Hawkins changed the characters and settings and made them her own.At the same time, because Jane knows about Eddie’s first marriage, as well as the constant state of comparison in which Jane finds herself, strongly reminds me of Rebecca. Bea was gorgeous, successful, beloved, wealthy. Jane is not. Jane moves into Eddie and Bea’s house and does little to make any changes to the house to make it her own. At one point in time, Jane even finds herself mimicking Bea’s style of dress and accessories. While there is no spooky and sinister housekeeper to undermine Jane’s decisions, Bea’s influence in her social sphere, now Jane’s, that it is as if Bea haunts Jane all the same.Jane is a great character. She is not the meek Jane from Charlotte’s story. Instead, she has tremendous street smarts and is particularly people-savvy. This makes her assessment of the country club set in which she now finds herself particularly entertaining and biting. All this to say that she enters into a relationship with Eddie Rochester with eyes wide open. Plus, she does so with her own agenda. After all, after a childhood in the foster system, it makes sense that a comfortable life filled with love is more than a little enticing.For those unfamiliar with either story, take heart. You don’t need to know Jane Eyre’s story to enjoy The Wife Upstairs because at its heart it is also an exciting Southern thriller. The ending is anything but the foregone conclusion I expected it to be. Instead, I found myself guessing incorrectly at every turn, which is my personal hallmark of a great mystery. Plus, Ms. Hawkins slowly and steadily increases the tension, much like the proverbial frog in a pot. By the time you realize the danger Jane faces, your pulse is already racing and you are fully committed to the story.The Wife Upstairs is a fantastic book to start the year. Fans of the Brontë classic will enjoy the reimagined version of the story Ms. Hawkins has to tell, and fans of Southern suspense will enjoy the atmospheric mystery surrounding Bea’s death. Ms. Hawkins shows once again that she knows how to write compelling characters and entertaining stories.

[brangwinn · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I seldom like a book filled with so many unlikeable characters, but Rachel Hawkins has used their unpleasant characteristics to good advantage in this modern retake on Jane Eyre. You need not have read that classic to be quickly enmeshed in the story of Jane who moves to Birmingham Alabama to restart her life. Taking a job as a dog walker in a wealthy community, she becomes romantically involved with one of her clients and moves in with him as she prepares for their marriage. Her fiancé’s wife and her best friend have been murdered although the body of Eddie’s wife has never been found. From the title, readers will guess correctly that Eddie has hidden Bea in a secure room upstairs. Lots of twists and turns and an unexpected ending make this one a stay up late to find out what happened. The audiobook adds to the suspense with great voice changes for the three narrators make it a very easy book for listening enjoyment.