The Chelsea Widow

By Millie Estevez

New York City is not the best place to raise a child alone. This comes as a surprise for Kiara. After losing the love of her life, her husband, Alex, in a sudden accident, she discovers there is little tolerance or time for grief in a big city. She has little time to mourn. She is a single parent. At times, she wonders if she will ever find closure. She learns to depend on her three best friends for support—Brian, Charlotte, and Marie. But after noticing changes in Kiara’s behavior, her friends begin to worry about her mental health. With her dead husband’s help, she is able to find the person responsible for his death. After the trial, she falls in love again, remarries, and has another child. Standing in her backyard, she has an experience with the afterlife. This leads her to communicate with the spirit of her dead husband. Alex helps her find Nicole, the person responsible for Alex’s death. After Nicole is trialed and sentenced for killing Alex, during this time, Kiara falls in love again. She remarries and has another child. It takes time and many tears, but Kiara finally learns that it is all right to move forward with her life. She will always love and miss Alex. But he helps her understand that it is all right to let go and be happy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781647018504

Book preview

Chapter One

Our Last Morning

Early on a sunny morning in October, very early since my husband, Alex, was an early bird, I felt a kiss on my cheek. Now? I said. But I’m sleepy. I pulled the covers over my head. I want to sleep in, honey, I said. I had had a busy week at work.

That’s what you say every Saturday morning at six-thirty in the morning, Alex said. His voice was hoarse.

I hate you for not letting me sleep in, I said. I slipped my pajama pants to my ankles. My hands held the headboard, and I held on tightly.

I hate you too, Alex said as he rolled on top of me. He kissed my cheeks again. His unshaven cheek was against mine. He was breathing heavy. Our Saturday morning routine had been going on for about four years before our daughter Madison was born. In fact, this was probably how she was conceived. Our curly-haired chubby daughter was born on Mother’s Day three years ago.

Pleasure brought me back to the bed—the bed which had not known a quiet moment since Alex moved in. I was still holding on to the headboard. We had cracked it a few years ago. There was no place to fix it. But then again, what would be the point? Alex held me tight.

On Saturday mornings, Alex liked to be at the Chelsea Market on West Twenty-Third Street. He liked to be there early before the crowds came. He always took Madison with him. He enjoyed showing off our daughter to his old chef buddies. He enjoyed smelling the fresh produce, bagged some grapes, apples, peaches, and grabbed an espresso.

I knew tonight’s dinner would be amazing even if it was something simple like a grilled cheese sandwich or something more enticing like linguine with duck sausage and maybe truffles for dessert. Alex had been a chef until he had retired to stay at home and raise our daughter and of course, write his cookbooks.

Alex had written a series of books. One of them was The Gourmet Cooking for Singles Series. Alex had been a busboy, a waiter, a sous chef, and a head chef before writing his series of books. He had spent many years as a bachelor. He was forty years old when we met.

I hated being forced to wake up early on a Saturday morning since I had to wake up early all week to go to work. But I loved eating Alex’s scrumptious dinners. So I got up on this Saturday as usual. I went to wake up Madison, but he stopped me.

I checked in on her after I showered. She is fast asleep. Do not wake her, he said.

I thought that was strange since he always insisted on taking her with him. Okay, I said. I did not feel like arguing. I got back under the covers. As I started to pull the covers over my head, Alex reminded me that our new patio chairs would be delivered today.

They should be here around 9:00 a.m., so listen out for the doorbell, he told me.

Alex kissed me on the cheeks. Then I heard him pick up his keys from the dresser. As he was about to close the door, he again reminded me. Don’t forget to listen for the doorbell. Our chairs, babe, he said.

Yes, I said groggily. Then he was gone, off to the Chelsea Market. I fell asleep again.

I woke up suddenly. I reached for Alex’s pillow. I breathed in his perfume, Dolce & Gabbana. On the night table was a latte and a note on the side that said, I am one lucky guy.

The doorbell rang—the patio chairs. Our dog, Spanky, was at the front door, barking. Then the phone rang.

Chapter Two

The Call

Everything happened at once—the delivery of the patio chairs, the dog barking, the phone ringing. I was just waking up. I felt nervous and disoriented.

The phone continued ringing. I hope it does not wake up Madison. I answered it. My hands were shaking.

Hello, I said groggily. Thoughts raced through my mind—a work issue, a deal falling through, network boss having one of his brilliant ideas, Alex finding the first organic persimmons at the Chelsea Market, one of my parents dying.

The doorbell was still ringing. I was not dressed. I couldn’t open the door undressed. I searched for my pajama bottoms. I found my top and slipped my arms through it.

I heard an unfamiliar voice. Am I speaking with Kiara Sanders-Forsythe? It was a woman’s voice. She sounded stressed, anxious. I had a bad feeling. Whatever it was, it was bad.

Who is this? I asked. How do you know my name? Why are you calling?

I am sorry, but I need to speak with Kiara Forsythe, the woman said.

I was pulling up my pajama bottoms. But when I heard the serious tone in her voice, I stopped. My pajama fell to the floor.

This is Kiara, I responded. Who is this? Why did I feel scared all of a sudden?

My name is Dr. Steinberg, she replied. I am calling from Mt. Sinai Hospital’s emergency room. My hands felt cold. My knees started to shake. I remained silent and listened. What was this woman about to tell me? What horrible news was I about to hear?

I do not understand why you are calling me, I said.

Kiara, your husband, Alex Forsythe, he has been in an accident.

I froze. My body literally could not move. What? I said.

Kiara, is someone there with you? she asked.

No, I am alone, I said. Where is my husband?

Mrs. Forsythe.

Where is my husband? I want to speak to Alex.

Mrs. Forsythe, please, Dr. Steinberg kept repeating my name. She sounded so calm. That made me more anxious. You need to come down to the hospital, she told me. You need to find someone to accompany you. Alex was hit by a car. I am afraid he did not make it. I am afraid your husband is dead, Mrs. Forsythe.

Noooooo! Nooooo! I screamed into the phone.

Mommy?

Nooooo!

Mommy?

I am so sorry, Mrs. Forsythe. I am sorry to inform you. Mr. Forsythe did not make it.

Where is he? I said. He can’t be dead. I need to speak to my husband.

Your husband died in the ambulance. He did not die alone. I am so sorry.

Mommy! Madison somehow appeared before my eyes. Her huge eyes were staring up at me—Alex’s big blue eyes. The phone rolled out of my hands. I grabbed Madison. I looked into her eyes, Alex’s eyes. I held her again. I held her very tight. I sank my face into her hair. Alex had washed her hair last night. Alex was Madison. And Madison was Alex. She was his shadow. Had they ever been apart?

Alex always took Madison to Chelsea Market. He always went to the market on these crisp fall mornings. And he always took Madison, always. He did not take her today. Madison was sleeping when he left.

Madison lived. Alex died.

I hate God, Madison, I said. I hugged her again. I started to scream.

Mommy, what is wrong? What did God do to you? Why are you crying?

I love you very much, Maddie, I said to her, crying. Now Madison was crying too.

Mommy has to call Uncle Brian, Aunt Marie, and Aunt Charlotte, okay? I said. Madison stood there, watching me.

I started dialing Brian’s phone number. The numbers danced as my fingers fumbled.

Can Daddy make me pancakes?

My heart sank. Mommy will make you pancakes today, I told her.

Mommy doesn’t know how. Daddy knows how, she said. My heart stopped beating.

Mommy will learn, I told her, smiling—then into the phone. Brian, come here. Come here ASAP. I know it’s early but get here quick. Something happened to Alex.

Externally, I seemed calm. I kept hysterics at bay. To this day, I have no clue how. Then I checked our bed. I checked it over again. Our dog, Spanky, Alex’s dog, was watching me. He began to circle me.

Mommy, what are you looking for? Madison asked. Mommy, where is Daddy? she asked.

I ran and